fic: meta
Title: Meta
Character(s)/Pairing(s): RM, Rachel, Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG
Summary: Rachel Berry has a bone to pick with one Mr. Murphy.
Spoilers: This post.
A/N: A little after the fact, but... this was inspired by this comment by arishako from this post.
Ryan startles awake at the sound of his office door slamming open and Mary Janes slapping furiously against tile flooring. When he looks up from the papers (slightly dampened from drool) on his desk to see Lea -dressed in character- standing before him with an indignant scowl on her face, his eyebrows furrow automatically. His mouth drops open and he almost has time to remember how to form words, but the angry brunette cuts him off before he has a chance to speak.
“I read this interview,” Lea spits, tossing a printed article from The Advocate.com on his desk, “and, let me just say, the hypocrisy you never cease to display is, quite frankly, appalling.”
Ryan looks down at the article lying on top of the stack of scripts in front of him, and then looks back up at the star of his latest hit television show. Who is currently staring him down. While dressed in character. On her day off from filming.
She should be in New York.
“Lea?”
“Rachel Berry,” the brunette corrects, her face scrunching up in confusion momentarily before she re-composes herself. She crosses her arms over her chest and quickly gets back to business. “As you know, my fathers have a very close relationship with our local branch of the ACLU and, let me tell you, they’re filing a complaint about your blatant sexism and double standards as we speak.”
The writer/producer stares blankly at his character -no, actress- while shaking his head slowly, in disbelief. “Lea… what's this about?”
“It’s Rachel,” the brunette sighs exasperatedly, “and this is about you, a gay man no less, reducing the perhaps dysfunctional, but clearly loving relationship between Brittany and Santana to a running joke directed towards, and I quote, dirty old men. Now, after doing some extensive research, I’ve noticed that marginalizing -at times downright belittling- lesbian and bisexual female characters and relationships seems to be a trend in your filmography. A trend that I find rather baffling, I might add, and one that I simply will not stand for.”
By the time Rachel (no, Lea) stops talking, Ryan’s jaw has succumbed to gravity again and his eyebrows are no less furrowed. He glances down at the article on his desk -an interview with Heather- and notices that one passage has been highlighted.
Q: You don’t think we’ll ever see a Santana-Brittany makeout session?
A: I don’t think so. I asked Ryan about that and he said there was no way. He said that since we’re a prime-time television show, he didn’t want to do that.
Ryan doesn’t look up from the article again until Rachel (Lea) clears her throat. She looks at him pointedly as she waits for a response that he doesn’t have. He’s about to ask the brunette what exactly she thinks she’s doing (and remind her who’s responsible for her claim to television fame) when Brittany and Santana -Heather and Naya, he quickly corrects himself- waltz into his office hand in hand.
In their Cheerios costumes.
On their day off.
Three thousand miles away from where they should be.
“Berry,” Naya greets the other brunette curtly, but in a way that is not altogether unfriendly, before she directs an icy glare towards Ryan. “You’re a little bitch, you know that?”
“Uh…”
Ryan can only watch on dumbfounded as Naya continues to glare at him.
Meanwhile, Heather let’s go of the other girl’s hand, only to wrap her arms around her from behind and rest her head on the brunette’s shoulder. “We’d really like it if you’d, like, just let us be a couple,” the blonde says with a blank tone and facial expression that is decidedly Brittany.
(Not that she is Brittany because that's just... that... He doesn't remember taking any hard drugs recently, so...)
“Seriously,” the brunette agrees with Heather, leaning back into the other girl, “I mean, is it really that hard for you to let us be happy, Benedict Homo?”
Lea nods in agreement. “Santana raises a valid point, Mr. Murphy. From what I’ve read, I know that Kurt is going to get a boyfriend sometime this year, an official boyfriend, so I don’t see why Brittany and Santana can’t be an official couple. And as far as any concerns of making-out being too sexual for a primetime television show, there have already been several instances of heterosexual couples making-out and we’ve done several risqué performances. I mean, in my practically flawless rendition of Like a Virgin, I even very nearly lose my virginity.”
“Um…” Ryan knows that his mouth is capable of words, he just can’t quite figure the process out.
“Talking about Berry losing the big V,” Naya (?) shudders before she continues, “could we please discuss you making me take Shrek Hudson’s v-card at that cheap-ass motel? Because, first of all, I’m not a whore.”
Heather (?) nods against the brunette’s shoulder. “Just because she’s, like, totally hot and really good at sex, doesn’t mean she’s a whore.” The blonde seems to think for a moment, then adds, “Like, I’ve never had to pay her or anything.”
“Right, so that whole subtle red light thing? Not subtle. I’m not a whore, bitch. And second of all, Finn?” Naya scowls disgustedly. “Just… ew. That’s never happening again. Got it? K thanks.”
Ryan moves his jaw up and then down again in an attempt to say something, but it doesn’t work. He knows the trick has something to do with vocal chords…
“Oh, and Britt,” San-Naya starts, turning to smile at and kiss said blonde on the cheek before directing her glare back to Ryan, “While she might not be, like, the cover girl for normal, she’s not completely insane either, just fyi.”
“Yeah,” the blonde nods. “Though… sometimes my locker talks to me.”
The brunette raises an eyebrow. “Not helping, babe.”
“Oh.” Bri-Heather’s eyes widen. “I mean, it only speaks Canadian, though, so I don’t understand what it’s saying.”
Ryan runs his hand over his lack-of-hair to think and... that’s it! He finally remembers how to produce syllables and arrange them into coherent patterns, but before he has the chance to speak -and ask Lea, Heather, and Naya what the hell is going on- Lea walks into the room… Another Lea walks into the room?
Ryan looks on, dazed, at the two Leas (or one Lea and one Rachel?), who glance at each other in shock before, seconds later, they both vanish.
Santana/Naya smirks and Brittany/Heather pokes at the empty spot where Rachel/Lea had been.
“The paradox created by them both being in the same place at the same time must have created a loophole in the space-time continuum,” Brittany explains, inexpressively, while Ryan lowers his head onto his hands because he’s done.
He’s clearly gone insane.
The next thing he knows Heather or Brittany or whoever starts poking him in the head. “Hey, are you okay?” she asks. "Hey... Ryan..."
"Ryan..."
......
"Ryan?"
Ryan startles awake -knocking a stack of papers off his desk in the process- to find an apologetic Chris Colfer standing in front of him. "I'm so sorry."
Ryan waves the boy's apology off as he collects the papers from the floor and sets them back down in a haphazard pile on his desk. "You're fine." Ryan rests back against his desk chair, closing his eyes and rubbing at his temples. A dream. He really should stop falling asleep while writing... "So," he gives Chris a smile, "what did you need?"
"Actually, Jane wanted to talk to you. Over lunch?"
"Yeah, that's fine," Ryan rubs at his eyes, "that'd be good."
Chris nods and leaves the office to go find Jane, and Ryan gets up to leave shortly after. He stares at the stack of papers on his desk, debating for a moment whether he should take them to lunch to reorganize them. He decides that, yes, he probably should.
But when he picks up half the stack to find a highlight article from The Advocate.com, his eyes widen and he immediately sets the papers back down.
They can wait an hour or two.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): RM, Rachel, Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG
Summary: Rachel Berry has a bone to pick with one Mr. Murphy.
Spoilers: This post.
A/N: A little after the fact, but... this was inspired by this comment by arishako from this post.
Ryan startles awake at the sound of his office door slamming open and Mary Janes slapping furiously against tile flooring. When he looks up from the papers (slightly dampened from drool) on his desk to see Lea -dressed in character- standing before him with an indignant scowl on her face, his eyebrows furrow automatically. His mouth drops open and he almost has time to remember how to form words, but the angry brunette cuts him off before he has a chance to speak.
“I read this interview,” Lea spits, tossing a printed article from The Advocate.com on his desk, “and, let me just say, the hypocrisy you never cease to display is, quite frankly, appalling.”
Ryan looks down at the article lying on top of the stack of scripts in front of him, and then looks back up at the star of his latest hit television show. Who is currently staring him down. While dressed in character. On her day off from filming.
She should be in New York.
“Lea?”
“Rachel Berry,” the brunette corrects, her face scrunching up in confusion momentarily before she re-composes herself. She crosses her arms over her chest and quickly gets back to business. “As you know, my fathers have a very close relationship with our local branch of the ACLU and, let me tell you, they’re filing a complaint about your blatant sexism and double standards as we speak.”
The writer/producer stares blankly at his character -no, actress- while shaking his head slowly, in disbelief. “Lea… what's this about?”
“It’s Rachel,” the brunette sighs exasperatedly, “and this is about you, a gay man no less, reducing the perhaps dysfunctional, but clearly loving relationship between Brittany and Santana to a running joke directed towards, and I quote, dirty old men. Now, after doing some extensive research, I’ve noticed that marginalizing -at times downright belittling- lesbian and bisexual female characters and relationships seems to be a trend in your filmography. A trend that I find rather baffling, I might add, and one that I simply will not stand for.”
By the time Rachel (no, Lea) stops talking, Ryan’s jaw has succumbed to gravity again and his eyebrows are no less furrowed. He glances down at the article on his desk -an interview with Heather- and notices that one passage has been highlighted.
Q: You don’t think we’ll ever see a Santana-Brittany makeout session?
A: I don’t think so. I asked Ryan about that and he said there was no way. He said that since we’re a prime-time television show, he didn’t want to do that.
Ryan doesn’t look up from the article again until Rachel (Lea) clears her throat. She looks at him pointedly as she waits for a response that he doesn’t have. He’s about to ask the brunette what exactly she thinks she’s doing (and remind her who’s responsible for her claim to television fame) when Brittany and Santana -Heather and Naya, he quickly corrects himself- waltz into his office hand in hand.
In their Cheerios costumes.
On their day off.
Three thousand miles away from where they should be.
“Berry,” Naya greets the other brunette curtly, but in a way that is not altogether unfriendly, before she directs an icy glare towards Ryan. “You’re a little bitch, you know that?”
“Uh…”
Ryan can only watch on dumbfounded as Naya continues to glare at him.
Meanwhile, Heather let’s go of the other girl’s hand, only to wrap her arms around her from behind and rest her head on the brunette’s shoulder. “We’d really like it if you’d, like, just let us be a couple,” the blonde says with a blank tone and facial expression that is decidedly Brittany.
(Not that she is Brittany because that's just... that... He doesn't remember taking any hard drugs recently, so...)
“Seriously,” the brunette agrees with Heather, leaning back into the other girl, “I mean, is it really that hard for you to let us be happy, Benedict Homo?”
Lea nods in agreement. “Santana raises a valid point, Mr. Murphy. From what I’ve read, I know that Kurt is going to get a boyfriend sometime this year, an official boyfriend, so I don’t see why Brittany and Santana can’t be an official couple. And as far as any concerns of making-out being too sexual for a primetime television show, there have already been several instances of heterosexual couples making-out and we’ve done several risqué performances. I mean, in my practically flawless rendition of Like a Virgin, I even very nearly lose my virginity.”
“Um…” Ryan knows that his mouth is capable of words, he just can’t quite figure the process out.
“Talking about Berry losing the big V,” Naya (?) shudders before she continues, “could we please discuss you making me take Shrek Hudson’s v-card at that cheap-ass motel? Because, first of all, I’m not a whore.”
Heather (?) nods against the brunette’s shoulder. “Just because she’s, like, totally hot and really good at sex, doesn’t mean she’s a whore.” The blonde seems to think for a moment, then adds, “Like, I’ve never had to pay her or anything.”
“Right, so that whole subtle red light thing? Not subtle. I’m not a whore, bitch. And second of all, Finn?” Naya scowls disgustedly. “Just… ew. That’s never happening again. Got it? K thanks.”
Ryan moves his jaw up and then down again in an attempt to say something, but it doesn’t work. He knows the trick has something to do with vocal chords…
“Oh, and Britt,” San-Naya starts, turning to smile at and kiss said blonde on the cheek before directing her glare back to Ryan, “While she might not be, like, the cover girl for normal, she’s not completely insane either, just fyi.”
“Yeah,” the blonde nods. “Though… sometimes my locker talks to me.”
The brunette raises an eyebrow. “Not helping, babe.”
“Oh.” Bri-Heather’s eyes widen. “I mean, it only speaks Canadian, though, so I don’t understand what it’s saying.”
Ryan runs his hand over his lack-of-hair to think and... that’s it! He finally remembers how to produce syllables and arrange them into coherent patterns, but before he has the chance to speak -and ask Lea, Heather, and Naya what the hell is going on- Lea walks into the room… Another Lea walks into the room?
Ryan looks on, dazed, at the two Leas (or one Lea and one Rachel?), who glance at each other in shock before, seconds later, they both vanish.
Santana/Naya smirks and Brittany/Heather pokes at the empty spot where Rachel/Lea had been.
“The paradox created by them both being in the same place at the same time must have created a loophole in the space-time continuum,” Brittany explains, inexpressively, while Ryan lowers his head onto his hands because he’s done.
He’s clearly gone insane.
The next thing he knows Heather or Brittany or whoever starts poking him in the head. “Hey, are you okay?” she asks. "Hey... Ryan..."
"Ryan..."
......
"Ryan?"
Ryan startles awake -knocking a stack of papers off his desk in the process- to find an apologetic Chris Colfer standing in front of him. "I'm so sorry."
Ryan waves the boy's apology off as he collects the papers from the floor and sets them back down in a haphazard pile on his desk. "You're fine." Ryan rests back against his desk chair, closing his eyes and rubbing at his temples. A dream. He really should stop falling asleep while writing... "So," he gives Chris a smile, "what did you need?"
"Actually, Jane wanted to talk to you. Over lunch?"
"Yeah, that's fine," Ryan rubs at his eyes, "that'd be good."
Chris nods and leaves the office to go find Jane, and Ryan gets up to leave shortly after. He stares at the stack of papers on his desk, debating for a moment whether he should take them to lunch to reorganize them. He decides that, yes, he probably should.
But when he picks up half the stack to find a highlight article from The Advocate.com, his eyes widen and he immediately sets the papers back down.
They can wait an hour or two.