FIC: A Girl's Guide to Becoming a Double Agent (Glee, Brittany/Santana) 1/1
Title: A Girl's Guide to Becoming a Double Agent
Author: Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
Genre: Glee
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: T
Spoilers for: Hell-O
Summary: Santana straddles the thin line between pleasing Sue Sylvester and keeping Glee Club from imploding.
--
I thought I was a fool for no one
But ooh, baby I'm a fool for you
You're the queen of the superficial
And how long before you tell the truth?
- Muse, Supermassive Black Hole
"I don't want to ruin Glee." Brittany admits this to her with a look on her face that is both terrified and conflicted.
They're in the Cheerios locker room.
Santana grips one hand against the porcelain side of the sink, blotting the sweat off her face. She pauses, taking a moment to bring down the blotting paper and stare through the mirror to her best friend.
Brittany's knees haven't stopped trembling since they left Sue's office, but at the very least they're no longer knocking together hard enough to make sound.
Biting down a sigh, Santana crumbles the blotting paper in her fists and tosses it towards the trashcan, turning to settle beside Brittany. Almost immediately, clammy hands slip into hers and fingers tangle tight.
"Sue will kick us off the Cheerios if we don't," Santana says. She's firm, but there's no acidity in her voice, just simple resignation. "And you don't want that. You saw what happened to Quinn."
She hears Brittany swallow audibly, and winces at her own stupidity. Because really, there's no one else to blame. It was just plain stupid to think they could get away with it. That just because Sue had been suspended meant that they had been granted a reprieve.
She should have known. There was no one in the world like Sue Sylvester, and that was why it meant everything that they stay on her GOOD side, because if they were ever going to get out of this Podunk town they needed her.
It had been damn naive to think they could have had it both ways.
"Do we really have to go after Finn?" Brittany's voice cracks. "I mean, he's cute and all but… "
"Don't worry." Santana forces a smile and reaches up until her fingers curl against Brittany's chin, turning her until they're face to face. "It'll be fun. And it won't change anything."
Brittany looks unsure. "But Rachel-"
"Won't quit Glee for anything," Santana tells her assuredly. "It'll take more than Finn being a boy. And we'll get a free meal out of it. We just have to make Sue happy. And then everything will be okay."
Brittany's eyes glisten with hope, and it causes the muscles in Santana's stomach to clench. "We just have to make Sue happy," she repeats. "So we can be happy."
Santana nods resolutely. "Exactly."
When Brittany's crooked smile starts to emerge, she smiles back and since the locker room's empty and she needs it, Santana leans forward and kisses her hard.
--
There's not a lot of shit on television that Santana can sit through, but she's got a soft spot for Chuck. What's not to love? It's got secret agents, and hot girls with guns and knives and Chuck Bartowski, who is adorable, if not a little stupid.
It's about living double lives and straddling lines and breaking the rules and looking hot in the process.
And it's about a girl, a killer, someone who isn't all that moral and doesn't really care, and a guy who could be her soul-mate, who is naive and silly and smart in his own way, with a soul so pure it's hard to imagine, that Agent Sarah Walker would kill to protect and can't help but love.
Not that she's projecting or anything.
Still, Santana knows that one of the only reasons Brittany is untouchable is because of that Cheerio's uniform. Because of Santana.
Santana is a master of straddling lines. She knows lesbionic-tendencies are okay in their small-homophobic town as long as guys are still involved. She knows Brittany can be dumb as a box of rocks and do weird shit like keep birds in her locker and hang with Down Syndrome Kids as long as Santana stays smart.
And she's damn smart.
She's double agent smart, and knows there's a way to please Sue Sylvester, maintain her popularity, try to undermine Glee and still keep from destroying it completely.
There has to be.
--
"Status report."
Sue Sylvester's sharp voice cuts through the air and spikes a chill up Santana's spine, causing her to jump and nearly fumble her books out of her locker.
The Cheerios coach stares at her with hard, cold eyes, and it's that look, and only that look, that makes Santana feel like a 16 year old weakling.
"We have a date with him," she says immediately, palm gripping the side of her locker, as the students filing past them give them wide berth. "Tonight at 8PM."
Sue's eyes burn with rage and authority. It's a look that Santana has long admired and fought to emulate.
Today it just frightens her.
"Good," Sue says, nostrils flaring slightly. "Slut it up, Lopez. This is no room for error here." She leans in closer, until Santana can smell the calcium chew on her breath. "I want Finn Hudson so turned on his crotch looks like the Astrodome." Sylvester smiles. "And here I thought you and your little pet's extracurricular activities would never be useful."
The chill turns into a shudder, and Santana fights to keep her face neutral as Sue snarls her way into a smile and heads away.
It's not until she registers the pain in her palm that she's realizes how hard she's been fisting the door of her locker.
"I know what you're doing." It's Quinn whose taken Sue's place, dressed in her puffy maternity shirts, and with her hair down, an exemplary example of everything Santana has to lose if she makes just one slip. "I won't let you do this."
Irritated, and not nice even on a good day, Santana is in no mood. "Mind your own business, Tubbers."
Santana's look of utter disdain would have sent anyone else running. But this is Quinn Fabray, ex-head cheerleader, former Head Bitch in Charge, and Santana isn't surprised when Quinn just arches a brow, unimpressed. "You'll have to do better than that."
Like she needs the encouragement. "Don't you have a deadbeat Baby Daddy to chase after?"
Quinn's mask slips, just for a second, before her expression hardens once again. "So all that stuff that you spilled at Sectionals, about Glee being the best part of your day-"
Santana's eyes widen, her head whips about. "Shut up."
"What was that, just crap?" Quinn shakes her head. "I know what you're doing, and I'm not going to let you do it."
Santana slams her locker door shut, feeling the heat of sudden emotion on her face. "Oh, really?"
"It's wrong. And it's low, even for you."
Santana lets out a snort.
"Even for me?" She whirls, eyes widening with rage, and narrowing when her expression becomes smug and disgusted. "This from the pregnant girl who saddled a virgin with his best friend's baby? Please. Pious doesn't work for you, Quinn."
Quinn's eyes water, and it's validating, because she still stings in a place where Santana doesn't want it to. The part of her heart that thought there was actually a friendship, way back when. That thought that maybe they weren't all just playing parts all the time.
Quinn's lower lip quivers, her chin lifts defiantly. "I've learned from my mistakes, San. I'm trying to be a better person. For my daughter. And Glee is all I've got left. I won't let Sue Sylvester destroy it. I won't let you do her dirty work for her."
Santana's mouth twitches cruelly. "And what are you going to do?"
"Everyone's got their secrets, San." Quinn's brow arches knowingly. "And I know yours."
"You know as much about me as you do about birth control, Sperminated." She slams her locker door closed, and turns away. "I'm done with this conversation."
"I know you love her."
The sentence cuts through her, forces her to still.
"You think you can play both sides? Have her and be a cock-tease because that'll keep you safe? That you can be in Glee and be a Cheerio and not have to choose sides? Think again. You can't have everything, Santana."
She keeps her shoulders high, swallows hard, and turns toward Quinn, expression carefully constructed to be smug and vicious.
"Watch me," she snarls.
--
She knows what she's doing.
Santana has Latin blood inside her for a reason. She's inherited her mother's good looks and watched over and over again as her mother brings home some dope who falls for her so fast it's like a cat playing with a toy.
Brittany mentions one day that Santana's mom treats men like things; possessions, and Santana's self-aware enough to know that it's rubbed off.
Men are easy to manipulate, even at 16.
All it takes is the slightest bit of effort, and she could have one Finn Hudson wrapped around her finger, like a worm on a hook.
The problem is, Santana doesn't want to give any kind of effort. Deep down, she actually resents him, because the only reason they're doing this anyway is because she's trying to keep Sue Sylvester happy, and if he would just shut the hell up and not be so DUMB, she might actually have a good time with Brittany.
She loses patience with Finn the second time he opens his big, dumb mouth, and sends him to the car.
--
They pissed him off.
He's probably going to go running back to Rachel Berry with his tail between legs, because he's one of those pathetic little boys who cares about feelings.
Santana will tell Sue Sylvester that they tried.
"Coach is gonna be mad."
Brittany's soft voice cuts through quiet of the car. Pulled out of her thoughts, Santana shifts in her seat, glancing across to see Brittany sitting with her hands in her lap. Her eyes shine at her, but her expression is obscured by darkness. She's purposely parked them two houses down from where Brittany lives, underneath a broken street lamp.
Santana mouth quirks into a reassuring smile, and she reaches over the elbow rest to slide her palm over Brittany's hands.
"No, she won't," she lies smoothly. "We did our job, right? We went after him. We did what we usually do. It works on every other guy. It's not our fault Finn got pissed off."
"But we didn't even make out in front of him."
"Did you want to?"
Brittany shrugs, but there's a sweet smile playing on her lips that Santana can barely make out. "You didn't want to." Santana arches a brow. "I can tell when you're not into it."
Santana grins. Her fingers slip past Brittany's and smooth onto her thigh, spreading her fingers until she's underneath the skirt. "Can you tell what I want to do now?"
Brittany's smile widens. Her legs part, and body leans forward, easily pushing back the divider and opening her mouth against her lips.
Brittany kisses her wetly, her tongue sliding between her teeth, and Santana fumbles for the controls, drawing her seat back and reaching underneath Brittany's shirt, palming bare breasts.
Minutes later, the car is permeated with the smell of sex and heavy breaths. The windows have long since fogged over, as Brittany's long body arches above her, and her slender fingers are between them, sliding into Santana when she whispers in her ear, "I always know what you want."
--
"I heard something." Brittany's pinkie tangles in hers, whispering close to her ear. "About Rachel."
Santana's spine stiffens as the tall, imposing figure of a track-suit clad Sue Sylvester clomps through the hallway, heading in their direction.
She waits until Sue is momentarily distracted by a girl wearing a shirt with red swirls that Sue claims 'looks like a blood clot', before she pulls Brittany into an empty classroom.
"What did you hear?"
Brittany bites down on her lip, looking conflicted before she leans in. "I went into the choir room to get my bag and I heard Finn telling Mr. Schue that Rachel's dating a guy from Vocal Adrenaline. The lead guy."
Santana's mind is a Rolodex. She narrows her eyes and files her brain for memories, and finds herself flipping to one particular instance - a moment of Rachel's blathering on and on about Vocal Adrenaline and their lead vocalist-
"Jesse St. James?"
Brittany nods.
"Oh, God, seriously?" Santana sighs. "Why the hell do we have to help the Coach destroy Glee if Rachel's amped on doing it herself?"
Brittany's brow furrows. "She wouldn't have gone out with him if we hadn't gone out with Finn first." Santana finds herself shrugging carelessly. "We have to tell Sue, don't we?"
Before Santana can answer, the door to the empty classroom has burst open, and the dark shadow of Sue Sylvester fills the frame.
"Ladies. If I didn't know better , I'd say you were avoiding me." Santana's mouth goes dry. She can't respond. Sue's lip curls, and she quirks her head toward the hallway. "My office. Now. Judging by the tires you two are sporting, I can guess you two completely ignored the prescribed Cheerios diet of a radish."
Brittany's palm slaps to her flat stomach, eyes meeting her in wild supplication.
"That's what I thought. There's two exercise balls with your names on them. I want 500 crunches, and then you'll explain to me why I saw one Finn Hudson chasing after Rachel Berry this morning."
Shit.
--
Staying one step ahead of Sue Sylvester is next to impossible. Coach Sylvester plays dirty, and to be honest, she terrifies Santana.
And it's stupid, because as long as Santana didn't give a damn about Glee, she has nothing to be scared of.
Correction, she had.
But Quinn looks at her with that glint in her eyes, and Rachel Berry walks around looking ecstatic one minute and ready to cry the next (but really, what's so new about that), and aside from being with Brittany, Glee is still the best part of her day.
And Coach knows. Santana knows she does, because she looks at her with a disappointed cluck, and Santana feels the world slipping on either side of her, because there's still that twisted pull to do whatever Sue wants at any cost.
And it's fucking tiring, because Santana's already straddling so many lines, and she's doing it for both her and Brittany, and sometimes Glee just isn't worth the fucking effort.
"What are we going to do?" Brittany asks her, as soon they leave Sue's office with their new orders.
Santana 's head-ache is blistering close to a migraine. She's tired. She's starving. And she has no fucking idea what to do.
"Santana? What are we going to do?"
"I don't know, Britt," she replies tiredly.
"But-"
"No, I don't fucking know!" she explodes before she can stop herself, whirling on the girl she loves. "I have no fucking clue, Brittany. And you know what? I could give a shit. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of always having to know what to do, and I'm tired of having all the answers, and I'm tired of having to save Glee all by myself. I'm tired. Okay?"
She smacks a nearby locker in frustration. The sound echoes through the hallway.
When Brittany stays quiet, Santana finally looks up.
The look on Brittany's face is, for once, impossible to read.
"Britt," she says, exhausted but with regret.
"Who said you were alone?" Brittany asks.
Santana blinks, unable to respond when Brittany suddenly leans forward and presses her mouth to hers in a fierce, possessive kiss.
When she lifts her head, Brittany already has her cellphone out, and she's dialing.
"It's me," Brittany says when the voice on the other line picks up,tone clear and firm. "We need your help."
--
She arrives early to Glee rehearsal to see Rachel sitting alone, just like she knew she would be.
"What do you want?" Rachel asks, flint in her voice that irritates the hell out of her, because who the hell does Rachel think she is, talking to her like that?
Biting down her savage retort, Santana instead arches a brow and says simply, "Shut up, and listen to me. I know you didn't break up with Jesse St. James. I'll tell everyone today, and they'll kick you out of Glee."
Rachel's big brown eyes are so wide she looks like a wounded deer. Her mouth opens, then closes, and her body slumps. "What?" she whispers.
"No matter what I say, no matter what Brittany and I do, you'll stay in Glee."
Rachel blinks, gaping at her like a trout gasping for air. "What?"
"You heard me. I don't care what happens, you keep this group together. And whatever I say, whatever I do, you will never let it get to you. You will stay in Glee, even if I try like hell to get you kicked off of it."
That she seems to have rendered Rachel Berry speechless is feat for which she thinks she deserves a damn medal.
"I'm not sure I understand."
"Big surprise," she snarls.
"Why are you doing this?"
Santana feels a lump of emotion in her throat. She pushes it down slowly, and says quietly, "Because when I told you I didn't want to mess up Glee, you believed me."
Their eyes lock, connect, and then there's no more time to explain, because Puck and Quinn enter the room, bickering about the fact that Quinn gained another two pounds.
--
It goes how it's supposed to.
She follows Sue's orders. She announces to the club that Rachel is still dating Jesse St. James. She recommends immediate expulsion, all the while pinning Rachel with a glare that DARES her to quit.
It's Quinn that saves Rachel, backs her up; accuses Santana of spying for Sue.
They engage in a bitchfest to end all bitchfests and it ends in the principal's office, where Rachel, Quinn, Brittany and Santana watch Mr. Schuester and Sue rail at each other from opposite sides of the desk.
Sue grabs her by the scruff of her neck and hauls her into her office. She gets yelled at for failing. For insubordination. Sue throws things.
Santana takes it. She takes all of it.
Sue calms down and leaves her in there, deeming her punishment to spend her Friday evening cleaning up the mess of the office.
"You disappointed me, Santana," Sue finishes. "I thought you had what it takes. What I needed. I was wrong. You'll have to work extra hard to get back into my good graces. My guess is that it still won't be enough."
She locks the door behind her.
Santana is still wearing her Cheerios outfit.
This is a win. She knows that.
It takes her a full minute to recover from the onslaught. Santana wipes the tears from her eyes that she will never admit were shed.
When the door snicks open, it's Brittany that smiles at her. "Hi."
"Hi," she whispers back.
Behind her, pushing Brittany gently into the room is Quinn, who wears a pained smirk on her face. "You'd think she'd find a new punishment."
Santana shares a look of commiseration with the former Cheerio before Brittany is before her, smoothing hands over her shoulders and drawing her into an intimate hold.
"I can't believe she threw things." Rachel is in awe, kicking at a pile of strewn paper with her Mary Janes.
"She's done worse." The sentence is said in tandem by both Quinn, Brittany and Santana.
Rachel arches a brow and smiles stiffly. "I can't say I understand exactly what happened back there…but Quinn has assured me that by trying to get me kicked out of Glee you were trying to save it."
"Santana's a double agent," Brittany says, and Santana takes a moment to close her eyes and tilt her forehead against Brittany's cheek. "Like James Bond."
"Or Chuck."
Brittany kisses the corner of her mouth and heads for an exercise ball, sitting down on top of it and bouncing lightly.
"Why did you do it?" Quinn's eyes are frank.
Santana just glares at her. "Why do you care?"
Papers rustle, catching their attention. Rachel pauses mid-bend. "What? If we let you do this by yourself you'll be here all night."
"I got it."
Quinn shrugs her shoulders and settles against the desk. "You can't do this alone. You'll need help. You can't keep taking the heat for both you and Britt. Sue will murder you."
"She's not alone." Brittany has settled her stomach on the rubber ball, and is now rolling, moving her torso back and forth on it. "What? Even Chuck has a team."
Santana smiles mutely. "A team? Is that what you are?"
Quinn smiles quietly. "You could do worse."
"I could do better."
Brittany arches a brow. "I don't think so."
Santana looks at her and allows a reluctant smile. "I don't think so either."
Rachel wrinkles her nose as she picks up a sports bottle with some sort of congealed protein drink inside. "Ew."
Quinn pushes off the desk. "You know she's not going to stop."
"I know."
"You'll need help."
"That's debatable." They're empty words. Quinn's been around her long enough to understand that.
"Still think you can have everything?" There's no malice beneath her tone. She's almost teasing.
Santana glances at Brittany, who is now bouncing her way to Rachel to hand her another stack of papers, and says quietly, "Watch me."
FIN
Author: Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
Genre: Glee
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: T
Spoilers for: Hell-O
Summary: Santana straddles the thin line between pleasing Sue Sylvester and keeping Glee Club from imploding.
--
I thought I was a fool for no one
But ooh, baby I'm a fool for you
You're the queen of the superficial
And how long before you tell the truth?
- Muse, Supermassive Black Hole
"I don't want to ruin Glee." Brittany admits this to her with a look on her face that is both terrified and conflicted.
They're in the Cheerios locker room.
Santana grips one hand against the porcelain side of the sink, blotting the sweat off her face. She pauses, taking a moment to bring down the blotting paper and stare through the mirror to her best friend.
Brittany's knees haven't stopped trembling since they left Sue's office, but at the very least they're no longer knocking together hard enough to make sound.
Biting down a sigh, Santana crumbles the blotting paper in her fists and tosses it towards the trashcan, turning to settle beside Brittany. Almost immediately, clammy hands slip into hers and fingers tangle tight.
"Sue will kick us off the Cheerios if we don't," Santana says. She's firm, but there's no acidity in her voice, just simple resignation. "And you don't want that. You saw what happened to Quinn."
She hears Brittany swallow audibly, and winces at her own stupidity. Because really, there's no one else to blame. It was just plain stupid to think they could get away with it. That just because Sue had been suspended meant that they had been granted a reprieve.
She should have known. There was no one in the world like Sue Sylvester, and that was why it meant everything that they stay on her GOOD side, because if they were ever going to get out of this Podunk town they needed her.
It had been damn naive to think they could have had it both ways.
"Do we really have to go after Finn?" Brittany's voice cracks. "I mean, he's cute and all but… "
"Don't worry." Santana forces a smile and reaches up until her fingers curl against Brittany's chin, turning her until they're face to face. "It'll be fun. And it won't change anything."
Brittany looks unsure. "But Rachel-"
"Won't quit Glee for anything," Santana tells her assuredly. "It'll take more than Finn being a boy. And we'll get a free meal out of it. We just have to make Sue happy. And then everything will be okay."
Brittany's eyes glisten with hope, and it causes the muscles in Santana's stomach to clench. "We just have to make Sue happy," she repeats. "So we can be happy."
Santana nods resolutely. "Exactly."
When Brittany's crooked smile starts to emerge, she smiles back and since the locker room's empty and she needs it, Santana leans forward and kisses her hard.
--
There's not a lot of shit on television that Santana can sit through, but she's got a soft spot for Chuck. What's not to love? It's got secret agents, and hot girls with guns and knives and Chuck Bartowski, who is adorable, if not a little stupid.
It's about living double lives and straddling lines and breaking the rules and looking hot in the process.
And it's about a girl, a killer, someone who isn't all that moral and doesn't really care, and a guy who could be her soul-mate, who is naive and silly and smart in his own way, with a soul so pure it's hard to imagine, that Agent Sarah Walker would kill to protect and can't help but love.
Not that she's projecting or anything.
Still, Santana knows that one of the only reasons Brittany is untouchable is because of that Cheerio's uniform. Because of Santana.
Santana is a master of straddling lines. She knows lesbionic-tendencies are okay in their small-homophobic town as long as guys are still involved. She knows Brittany can be dumb as a box of rocks and do weird shit like keep birds in her locker and hang with Down Syndrome Kids as long as Santana stays smart.
And she's damn smart.
She's double agent smart, and knows there's a way to please Sue Sylvester, maintain her popularity, try to undermine Glee and still keep from destroying it completely.
There has to be.
--
"Status report."
Sue Sylvester's sharp voice cuts through the air and spikes a chill up Santana's spine, causing her to jump and nearly fumble her books out of her locker.
The Cheerios coach stares at her with hard, cold eyes, and it's that look, and only that look, that makes Santana feel like a 16 year old weakling.
"We have a date with him," she says immediately, palm gripping the side of her locker, as the students filing past them give them wide berth. "Tonight at 8PM."
Sue's eyes burn with rage and authority. It's a look that Santana has long admired and fought to emulate.
Today it just frightens her.
"Good," Sue says, nostrils flaring slightly. "Slut it up, Lopez. This is no room for error here." She leans in closer, until Santana can smell the calcium chew on her breath. "I want Finn Hudson so turned on his crotch looks like the Astrodome." Sylvester smiles. "And here I thought you and your little pet's extracurricular activities would never be useful."
The chill turns into a shudder, and Santana fights to keep her face neutral as Sue snarls her way into a smile and heads away.
It's not until she registers the pain in her palm that she's realizes how hard she's been fisting the door of her locker.
"I know what you're doing." It's Quinn whose taken Sue's place, dressed in her puffy maternity shirts, and with her hair down, an exemplary example of everything Santana has to lose if she makes just one slip. "I won't let you do this."
Irritated, and not nice even on a good day, Santana is in no mood. "Mind your own business, Tubbers."
Santana's look of utter disdain would have sent anyone else running. But this is Quinn Fabray, ex-head cheerleader, former Head Bitch in Charge, and Santana isn't surprised when Quinn just arches a brow, unimpressed. "You'll have to do better than that."
Like she needs the encouragement. "Don't you have a deadbeat Baby Daddy to chase after?"
Quinn's mask slips, just for a second, before her expression hardens once again. "So all that stuff that you spilled at Sectionals, about Glee being the best part of your day-"
Santana's eyes widen, her head whips about. "Shut up."
"What was that, just crap?" Quinn shakes her head. "I know what you're doing, and I'm not going to let you do it."
Santana slams her locker door shut, feeling the heat of sudden emotion on her face. "Oh, really?"
"It's wrong. And it's low, even for you."
Santana lets out a snort.
"Even for me?" She whirls, eyes widening with rage, and narrowing when her expression becomes smug and disgusted. "This from the pregnant girl who saddled a virgin with his best friend's baby? Please. Pious doesn't work for you, Quinn."
Quinn's eyes water, and it's validating, because she still stings in a place where Santana doesn't want it to. The part of her heart that thought there was actually a friendship, way back when. That thought that maybe they weren't all just playing parts all the time.
Quinn's lower lip quivers, her chin lifts defiantly. "I've learned from my mistakes, San. I'm trying to be a better person. For my daughter. And Glee is all I've got left. I won't let Sue Sylvester destroy it. I won't let you do her dirty work for her."
Santana's mouth twitches cruelly. "And what are you going to do?"
"Everyone's got their secrets, San." Quinn's brow arches knowingly. "And I know yours."
"You know as much about me as you do about birth control, Sperminated." She slams her locker door closed, and turns away. "I'm done with this conversation."
"I know you love her."
The sentence cuts through her, forces her to still.
"You think you can play both sides? Have her and be a cock-tease because that'll keep you safe? That you can be in Glee and be a Cheerio and not have to choose sides? Think again. You can't have everything, Santana."
She keeps her shoulders high, swallows hard, and turns toward Quinn, expression carefully constructed to be smug and vicious.
"Watch me," she snarls.
--
She knows what she's doing.
Santana has Latin blood inside her for a reason. She's inherited her mother's good looks and watched over and over again as her mother brings home some dope who falls for her so fast it's like a cat playing with a toy.
Brittany mentions one day that Santana's mom treats men like things; possessions, and Santana's self-aware enough to know that it's rubbed off.
Men are easy to manipulate, even at 16.
All it takes is the slightest bit of effort, and she could have one Finn Hudson wrapped around her finger, like a worm on a hook.
The problem is, Santana doesn't want to give any kind of effort. Deep down, she actually resents him, because the only reason they're doing this anyway is because she's trying to keep Sue Sylvester happy, and if he would just shut the hell up and not be so DUMB, she might actually have a good time with Brittany.
She loses patience with Finn the second time he opens his big, dumb mouth, and sends him to the car.
--
They pissed him off.
He's probably going to go running back to Rachel Berry with his tail between legs, because he's one of those pathetic little boys who cares about feelings.
Santana will tell Sue Sylvester that they tried.
"Coach is gonna be mad."
Brittany's soft voice cuts through quiet of the car. Pulled out of her thoughts, Santana shifts in her seat, glancing across to see Brittany sitting with her hands in her lap. Her eyes shine at her, but her expression is obscured by darkness. She's purposely parked them two houses down from where Brittany lives, underneath a broken street lamp.
Santana mouth quirks into a reassuring smile, and she reaches over the elbow rest to slide her palm over Brittany's hands.
"No, she won't," she lies smoothly. "We did our job, right? We went after him. We did what we usually do. It works on every other guy. It's not our fault Finn got pissed off."
"But we didn't even make out in front of him."
"Did you want to?"
Brittany shrugs, but there's a sweet smile playing on her lips that Santana can barely make out. "You didn't want to." Santana arches a brow. "I can tell when you're not into it."
Santana grins. Her fingers slip past Brittany's and smooth onto her thigh, spreading her fingers until she's underneath the skirt. "Can you tell what I want to do now?"
Brittany's smile widens. Her legs part, and body leans forward, easily pushing back the divider and opening her mouth against her lips.
Brittany kisses her wetly, her tongue sliding between her teeth, and Santana fumbles for the controls, drawing her seat back and reaching underneath Brittany's shirt, palming bare breasts.
Minutes later, the car is permeated with the smell of sex and heavy breaths. The windows have long since fogged over, as Brittany's long body arches above her, and her slender fingers are between them, sliding into Santana when she whispers in her ear, "I always know what you want."
--
"I heard something." Brittany's pinkie tangles in hers, whispering close to her ear. "About Rachel."
Santana's spine stiffens as the tall, imposing figure of a track-suit clad Sue Sylvester clomps through the hallway, heading in their direction.
She waits until Sue is momentarily distracted by a girl wearing a shirt with red swirls that Sue claims 'looks like a blood clot', before she pulls Brittany into an empty classroom.
"What did you hear?"
Brittany bites down on her lip, looking conflicted before she leans in. "I went into the choir room to get my bag and I heard Finn telling Mr. Schue that Rachel's dating a guy from Vocal Adrenaline. The lead guy."
Santana's mind is a Rolodex. She narrows her eyes and files her brain for memories, and finds herself flipping to one particular instance - a moment of Rachel's blathering on and on about Vocal Adrenaline and their lead vocalist-
"Jesse St. James?"
Brittany nods.
"Oh, God, seriously?" Santana sighs. "Why the hell do we have to help the Coach destroy Glee if Rachel's amped on doing it herself?"
Brittany's brow furrows. "She wouldn't have gone out with him if we hadn't gone out with Finn first." Santana finds herself shrugging carelessly. "We have to tell Sue, don't we?"
Before Santana can answer, the door to the empty classroom has burst open, and the dark shadow of Sue Sylvester fills the frame.
"Ladies. If I didn't know better , I'd say you were avoiding me." Santana's mouth goes dry. She can't respond. Sue's lip curls, and she quirks her head toward the hallway. "My office. Now. Judging by the tires you two are sporting, I can guess you two completely ignored the prescribed Cheerios diet of a radish."
Brittany's palm slaps to her flat stomach, eyes meeting her in wild supplication.
"That's what I thought. There's two exercise balls with your names on them. I want 500 crunches, and then you'll explain to me why I saw one Finn Hudson chasing after Rachel Berry this morning."
Shit.
--
Staying one step ahead of Sue Sylvester is next to impossible. Coach Sylvester plays dirty, and to be honest, she terrifies Santana.
And it's stupid, because as long as Santana didn't give a damn about Glee, she has nothing to be scared of.
Correction, she had.
But Quinn looks at her with that glint in her eyes, and Rachel Berry walks around looking ecstatic one minute and ready to cry the next (but really, what's so new about that), and aside from being with Brittany, Glee is still the best part of her day.
And Coach knows. Santana knows she does, because she looks at her with a disappointed cluck, and Santana feels the world slipping on either side of her, because there's still that twisted pull to do whatever Sue wants at any cost.
And it's fucking tiring, because Santana's already straddling so many lines, and she's doing it for both her and Brittany, and sometimes Glee just isn't worth the fucking effort.
"What are we going to do?" Brittany asks her, as soon they leave Sue's office with their new orders.
Santana 's head-ache is blistering close to a migraine. She's tired. She's starving. And she has no fucking idea what to do.
"Santana? What are we going to do?"
"I don't know, Britt," she replies tiredly.
"But-"
"No, I don't fucking know!" she explodes before she can stop herself, whirling on the girl she loves. "I have no fucking clue, Brittany. And you know what? I could give a shit. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of always having to know what to do, and I'm tired of having all the answers, and I'm tired of having to save Glee all by myself. I'm tired. Okay?"
She smacks a nearby locker in frustration. The sound echoes through the hallway.
When Brittany stays quiet, Santana finally looks up.
The look on Brittany's face is, for once, impossible to read.
"Britt," she says, exhausted but with regret.
"Who said you were alone?" Brittany asks.
Santana blinks, unable to respond when Brittany suddenly leans forward and presses her mouth to hers in a fierce, possessive kiss.
When she lifts her head, Brittany already has her cellphone out, and she's dialing.
"It's me," Brittany says when the voice on the other line picks up,tone clear and firm. "We need your help."
--
She arrives early to Glee rehearsal to see Rachel sitting alone, just like she knew she would be.
"What do you want?" Rachel asks, flint in her voice that irritates the hell out of her, because who the hell does Rachel think she is, talking to her like that?
Biting down her savage retort, Santana instead arches a brow and says simply, "Shut up, and listen to me. I know you didn't break up with Jesse St. James. I'll tell everyone today, and they'll kick you out of Glee."
Rachel's big brown eyes are so wide she looks like a wounded deer. Her mouth opens, then closes, and her body slumps. "What?" she whispers.
"No matter what I say, no matter what Brittany and I do, you'll stay in Glee."
Rachel blinks, gaping at her like a trout gasping for air. "What?"
"You heard me. I don't care what happens, you keep this group together. And whatever I say, whatever I do, you will never let it get to you. You will stay in Glee, even if I try like hell to get you kicked off of it."
That she seems to have rendered Rachel Berry speechless is feat for which she thinks she deserves a damn medal.
"I'm not sure I understand."
"Big surprise," she snarls.
"Why are you doing this?"
Santana feels a lump of emotion in her throat. She pushes it down slowly, and says quietly, "Because when I told you I didn't want to mess up Glee, you believed me."
Their eyes lock, connect, and then there's no more time to explain, because Puck and Quinn enter the room, bickering about the fact that Quinn gained another two pounds.
--
It goes how it's supposed to.
She follows Sue's orders. She announces to the club that Rachel is still dating Jesse St. James. She recommends immediate expulsion, all the while pinning Rachel with a glare that DARES her to quit.
It's Quinn that saves Rachel, backs her up; accuses Santana of spying for Sue.
They engage in a bitchfest to end all bitchfests and it ends in the principal's office, where Rachel, Quinn, Brittany and Santana watch Mr. Schuester and Sue rail at each other from opposite sides of the desk.
Sue grabs her by the scruff of her neck and hauls her into her office. She gets yelled at for failing. For insubordination. Sue throws things.
Santana takes it. She takes all of it.
Sue calms down and leaves her in there, deeming her punishment to spend her Friday evening cleaning up the mess of the office.
"You disappointed me, Santana," Sue finishes. "I thought you had what it takes. What I needed. I was wrong. You'll have to work extra hard to get back into my good graces. My guess is that it still won't be enough."
She locks the door behind her.
Santana is still wearing her Cheerios outfit.
This is a win. She knows that.
It takes her a full minute to recover from the onslaught. Santana wipes the tears from her eyes that she will never admit were shed.
When the door snicks open, it's Brittany that smiles at her. "Hi."
"Hi," she whispers back.
Behind her, pushing Brittany gently into the room is Quinn, who wears a pained smirk on her face. "You'd think she'd find a new punishment."
Santana shares a look of commiseration with the former Cheerio before Brittany is before her, smoothing hands over her shoulders and drawing her into an intimate hold.
"I can't believe she threw things." Rachel is in awe, kicking at a pile of strewn paper with her Mary Janes.
"She's done worse." The sentence is said in tandem by both Quinn, Brittany and Santana.
Rachel arches a brow and smiles stiffly. "I can't say I understand exactly what happened back there…but Quinn has assured me that by trying to get me kicked out of Glee you were trying to save it."
"Santana's a double agent," Brittany says, and Santana takes a moment to close her eyes and tilt her forehead against Brittany's cheek. "Like James Bond."
"Or Chuck."
Brittany kisses the corner of her mouth and heads for an exercise ball, sitting down on top of it and bouncing lightly.
"Why did you do it?" Quinn's eyes are frank.
Santana just glares at her. "Why do you care?"
Papers rustle, catching their attention. Rachel pauses mid-bend. "What? If we let you do this by yourself you'll be here all night."
"I got it."
Quinn shrugs her shoulders and settles against the desk. "You can't do this alone. You'll need help. You can't keep taking the heat for both you and Britt. Sue will murder you."
"She's not alone." Brittany has settled her stomach on the rubber ball, and is now rolling, moving her torso back and forth on it. "What? Even Chuck has a team."
Santana smiles mutely. "A team? Is that what you are?"
Quinn smiles quietly. "You could do worse."
"I could do better."
Brittany arches a brow. "I don't think so."
Santana looks at her and allows a reluctant smile. "I don't think so either."
Rachel wrinkles her nose as she picks up a sports bottle with some sort of congealed protein drink inside. "Ew."
Quinn pushes off the desk. "You know she's not going to stop."
"I know."
"You'll need help."
"That's debatable." They're empty words. Quinn's been around her long enough to understand that.
"Still think you can have everything?" There's no malice beneath her tone. She's almost teasing.
Santana glances at Brittany, who is now bouncing her way to Rachel to hand her another stack of papers, and says quietly, "Watch me."
FIN