fic: A Slippery Slope
Title: A Slippery Slope
Author: slacker_d
Pairing/Characters: Rachel/Santana, Will, New Directions, Sue, Dr. Lopez, Mrs. Lopez, Marisa Lawson, Figgins
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Reactions and consequences to Rachel being slushied.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: ~13, 050
Spoilers: Not really, though reading the previous story would probably help.
A/N: Technically starts before the end of Assume Crash Positions.
2nd A/N: Unbeta’ed, so all mistakes are mine.
series masterlist
"Can you believe Mr. Schue?" Santana says, pacing in Rachel's room.
Quinn gave Brittany a ride home, leaving Santana to head over to Rachel's. Now that the relationship is out in the open, Santana has permission to spend the evenings after glee at Rachel's. Santana thinks her mom feels bad about Rachel being home alone so much. Santana has similar feelings, so she's glad it's expected that she be at Rachel's now.
"As I said before," Rachel replies, not looking up from her homework. "I'm not surprised."
"I know you and Mr. Schue don't really get along, but still."
"This is the man who tried to trick me into confessing to being the prankster," Rachel reminds Santana.
"Yeah, I remember. And I know I don't have the right, but the fact that he blew off that slushie like that really pisses me off."
"I noticed," Rachel replies wryly.
"Why aren't you more pissed off?"
"I find it better to channel that anger elsewhere. Besides, it's a futile exercise. Being mad at Mr. Schue is like being mad at the puppy that just peed on the carpet."
"Are you calling Mr. Schue a dog?"
"It's a simile," Rachel replies.
"So that's a yes."
"Santana."
"He deserves worse," Santana mumbles.
"Perhaps," Rachel allows. "But he's still our teacher and so we're supposed to treat him with respect."
"That's a two way street."
"We'll get there."
"Though, you threatening him was choice," Santana smirks.
"As I said before, I wasn't making a threat," Rachel says. "I was simply informing the occupants of the room that something which negatively affects my girlfriend and my bro who were defending my honor isn't a good thing. People will interpret things how they wish."
"C'mon. Just say it."
They stare at each other for a moment.
"Fine," Rachel huffs. "Yes, that was me threatening people on your behalf."
"Awww, thanks, babe."
"The fact that Mr. Schue would turn you guys in really gets to me," Rachel admits. "It's one thing for him to be like that with me. I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't stand for it," Santana tells her.
"What would you like me to do?"
"I don't know? Do another slushie pool prank and push him in? He deserves it," Santana growls.
"Easy tiger," Rachel replies. "I'm willing to admit it would be gratifying to witness, but I just don’t think I can. Every time I do something similar to Mr. Schue, I always feel guilty afterwards."
Santana looks confused. "How many times have you pranked Schue?"
"Um, a few times."
"Huh," Santana replies. "I'm starting to think you don't share enough."
…
Santana's still stewing over Mr. Schue's brush off when she gets home that night. Someone needs to teach him a lesson. Santana had hoped that maybe Rachel would take up that mantle, but apparently not. So being the doting girlfriend she is, it seems that it's up to Santana.
Knowing Rachel is right, though she'd never tell her, Santana begins planning. Feeling some vengeful gleefulness, she starts a list in her Spanish notebook.
The first thing Santana knows for sure is that she's slushieing Mr. Schue to see how he likes it. And it's going to happen every day for at least a week, if not more, so he can understand how it feels.
Santana knows she has no idea how it feels either, but she's managed to pry the information out of Rachel. It took some doing; her girlfriend initially wasn't willing to share. Apparently, the key to her forgiving nature lay partly in letting the past stay in the past, making her less willing to talk about slushies.
Looking over the basic plans she's made, Santana realizes she'll need help. She'll have to ask Britt to help. Maybe Quinn will too. She seemed pretty annoyed with Mr. Schue as they were walking to the parking lot.
Tomorrow she'll talk to her best friends and start gathering the necessary provisions. Santana grins to herself; this is going to be fun.
…
Wednesday morning, Santana practically bounces into McKinley, though she'd never admit it out loud. While getting ready earlier, Santana remembered that Rachel actually had a slushie cannon she used to torture Stacey Hudson. Borrowing it is step one of getting the materials she needs. She'd texted Rachel who agreed to bring it and surprisingly didn't question why Santana wanted it.
She finds Quinn first, who is predictably at her locker.
"Hey Q."
"Santana."
"I need help with a little project this week. Wanna help?"
"What's wrong with asking Berry?"
"I don't think she'd approve."
Now Quinn's intrigued. "Explain."
Santana looks around, but everyone's staying as far away as possible.
"I wanna show Schuester that slushies are a big deal," Santana says, lowering her voice. "I'm gonna slushie him for like a week at least."
"What? Why?"
"You heard him yesterday," Santana replies. "I want him to know it is a big deal."
"Like you would know," Quinn scoffs.
"Well, not exactly, but I know what it did to Rach," Santana says. "And I hate how flippant he was about her being slushied."
"But you're keeping it from Berry," Quinn ventures.
"Yeah," Santana admits. "She'll think it's hilarious, but then she'll feel guilty--"
"Why?"
"She's too nice for her own good."
"That's for sure."
"And I don't want that, so I'm just going to not mention it to her," Santana says.
"Won't she notice Mr. Schue is getting slushied?" Quinn asks.
"Maybe," Santana admits. "But she won't ask me about it."
"Why?"
"We don’t ask questions we don’t want the answer to."
"That's… healthy."
Santana shrugs. "It works for now."
…
Finn doesn't understand what's happening. He thought for sure Puck would tell Rachel or at the very least, Santana about his role in Rachel being slushied. He was certainly pissed off enough. A triple swirlee seems pretty harsh to him. But when he sees Rachel in the hall Wednesday morning, she just smiles. Later when he passes Santana on his way to lunch, she just ignores him; which isn't unusual.
He's pretty sure Puck didn't tell Rachel because they both know how she'll react. Finn's grateful because Rachel's disappointed face is one that he really hates to cause.
It occurs to Finn that maybe Santana does know and is just bidding her time. He wouldn't put it past her. She's devious like that. He prays it's just Puck sparing the girls' feelings because otherwise, he's screwed.
…
Santana doesn't really see Brittany until lunch.
"Where have you been hiding?"
"I've been keeping Rachy company," Brittany answers. "Trying to distract her from everyone's reaction to her."
"What are they doing?"
"They're treating her like a leaper," Brittany says. "I think it's weirding her out."
"Oh. Maybe I should go be the comforting girlfriend," Santana replies, looking around the lunchroom.
"You can't," Brittany tells her. "She's tutoring Melissa."
"Marisa," Santana corrects. "Again?"
Brittany nods.
"That freshman just better keep her hands to herself," Santana mutters.
"She wouldn't dare," Brittany replies.
Catching something in the blonde's tone, Santana stares at Brittany for a moment. "Good to know."
"You were looking for me?
"Yeah," Santana says. "I wanna do a week long slushie marathon on Mr. Schue."
"For Rachel?"
Santana nods.
"But you're not doing it with Rach cause she'll feel guilty?"
Santana nods again, smirking. She should have known Britt would understand.
"Sounds like fun."
…
After Cheerios' practice, they all head to Santana's house. Quinn doesn't want to deal with her mom and Santana doesn't want to deal with Britt's little sister, so her house is the only logical choice.
They stop in the kitchen to get something to drink.
"Hi Mrs. Lopez."
"Quinn. It's been a while. It's lovely to see you again."
"You too, Mrs. Lopez."
"No Rachel?"
Quinn looks at her in surprise. Santana just rolls her eyes.
"Not today mom. She has a voice lesson."
"Well she's still coming to dinner Sunday isn't she?" Mrs. Lopez asks.
"Yes, mom, she is," Santana replies, exasperated.
"All right. Nice to see you again, Quinn. Brittany."
They head upstairs to Santana's room
"Your mom really likes Rachy," Brittany says, plopping down on Santana's bed.
"Yeah, I know," Santana replies. "Better than me, I think."
"Duh," Brittany says, smirking.
This earns her a pillow to the face.
Quinn sits at Santana's desk and watches the pillow fight. "It's nice to see you two are still just as ridiculous."
"Whatever Fabray," Santana says. "You're too fucking uptight anyway."
Brittany gets in a good wallop causing Santana to lose her balance and bounce onto the bed.
"I win!" Brittany crows.
…
Once Brittany and Santana have settled down, they try to focus at the task at hand.
“I took a page from Rachel’s book,” Santana says. “And drew up a plan.”
“Rachel’s book?” Quinn asks.
“Cause she always plans things out before she takes on a big project,” Brittany explains.
“Right,” Quinn says. “Of course.”
“Anyway, I think the first couple should be in his office,” Santana continues. “I figure even after the first one or two, he won’t think another is coming. Especially if the timing is different each time.”
“And how are you going to pull that off?”
“Set a timer,” Santana answers.
“How are we going to set all this up?” Quinn asks.
“We’ll break in after hours, silly,” Brittany answers. “I know how to pick locks.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.”
“Anyway, I also have a small cannon we can set up that shoots slushies,” Santana continues.
“Why do you have something like that?” Quinn asks.
“Because I just do,” Santana answers.
“Okay. Don’t get snippy.”
“Well, if you would stop interrupting me,” Santana says.
“Yeah, well, I have questions. You don’t explain things very well,” Quinn tells her.
“Maybe you’re not paying the proper attention.”
“I’m listening just fine, thank you very much,” Quinn snarks back.
“How many days are you gonna slushie him, S?” Brittany interrupts.
“I was hoping to start tomorrow and go through at least next Friday.”
“Seriously, S?” Quinn asks. “That seems like a lot.”
“It has to be if he’s going to learn his lesson,” Santana tells her.
“I can’t believe we’re really doing this,”
“Hey, no one’s making you,” Santana points out.
“I know,” Quinn replies. “I want to. It’s been a while since we’ve schemed together.”
“True.”
“You do a lot of scheming with Rachel?”
“Um, she does it enough on her own,” Santana answers. “Occasionally, though.”
“Figures,” Quinn mutters.
"What?" Santana snaps.
"Nothing," Quinn replies sullenly.
"Stop with the martyr routine."
"Leave her alone, San," Brittany says. "She's just feeling sad because Rachel is even more awesome than she thought."
"Oh."
"Brittany."
"So where are other good places to slushie him that we know he'll be there at a certain time and place?"
"When he's teaching," Quinn says. "But are you really going to slushie him in front of a class? That seems particularly harsh."
Santana seems to mull this over a moment. "I suppose you're right. Maybe at the end if we think he still hasn't learned his lesson."
"You're kind of taking this rather seriously," Quinn comments.
"Hey. No one messes with my girl," Santana replies. "Especially not curly haired teachers who have never been on her side."
"And he should be," Brittany adds. "Rachel's super."
Quinn sighs. "I know."
"Sorry, Q," Brittany says. She jumps up and engulfs Quinn in a hug. "Don't worry. We'll find you someone who's perfect for you like Santana is for Rachy."
"Thanks Britt."
…
As Mike changes after practice, he watches Finn stay clear of Puck. The quarterback isn't that subtle. He's been avoiding Puck all day, going so far in practice to not even throw him the ball. Mike thought Coach was going to actually shake him.
Though watching Puck right now, Mike wonders if maybe Finn is smarter than they give him credit for. The wink Puck just threw Mike isn't reassuring. Assuming Puck wasn't hitting on him, then he's up to something really not good for Finn. Mike watches as Puck speaks quietly to their teammates. Once he's done and moving on to someone else, the jock looks pissed off and begins searching the locker room. The anger in their eyes makes Mike glad that Finn dressed quickly and fled.
Mike knows he should probably do something, but he tries to stay out of these things. He prefers to witness and learn than actually get involved in the ridiculous drama. Some weeks it's better than TV.
Besides, he's kind of pissed at Finn as well. Mike know he doesn't have all the information about what went down between Finn and Rachel and Santana, but he doesn't think Rachel deserves to be slushied by a friend. Well, he doesn't think anyone deserves to be slushied, but those that were terrorized by it before? Definitely should never have to experience it again.
Feeling rather grim, Mike gathers his stuff and heads home, ignoring the rumbling growls that follow him out of the locker room.
…
Santana already knows the joy of pranking and breaking the rules. However, it’s been quite a while since she’s done anything major. The times with Rachel don’t count. She kind of misses it. Maybe she should try to join Rachel more often. Or maybe start doing her own stuff. The school could be under the thumb of two pranksters. They’d be quaking in their boots or whatever.
As she sets the stuff up to spring on Mr. Schue, Santana wonders if there’s a more efficient way to do this. Her brain screams to ask Rachel, but Santana knows that won’t work. Her girlfriend would most likely just scold her and not offer too much help.
And besides, she’s Santana fucking Lopez. She doesn’t need anyone’s help to be a badass. She’s gotten lax because she’s had other things to distract her. But she’s definitely been losing badassery points lately. She’ll have to work on that.
She stops at Britt's house and texts her. A moment later, a blonde head is sticking out Brittany's bedroom window and the blonde is climbing onto a tree by her window. She shimmies down the tree like a monkey and lands on the ground with a flourish. If they weren't trying to be sneaky, Santana might have more patience and would clap.
"Britt," Santana hisses.
Brittany nods and scurries to the car, slipping quietly inside.
"Hi Santana," Brittany whispers loudly as Santana backs out of her driveway.
"Hey, B."
…
As Santana stands back to admire her work, she can't help but wonder if there's any aspect of her life that Rachel hasn't affected. The intricate detail needed to pull this off is more than she's ever attempted with anything. This whole thing is simple in idea, but complex in execution.
"Not to mention, you're doing it for Rachel," Brittany adds.
Santana looks over at the blonde in confusion.
"You were thinking out loud," Brittany clarifies.
"Oh."
"Don't be sad, San," Brittany continues. "You've changed her plenty. I mean, did you ever think Rachel Berry would pull pranks on a regular basis? Or blatantly threaten Mr. Schue? Or somehow get on the rare good side of Coach Sylvester?"
"I guess not."
"Maybe you guys bring out the best in each other."
"I'm not sure best is the right word. We bring out something in each other that's for sure."
"Best is the right word," Brittany answers. "You guys just aren't using it right at the moment. You'll see later."
Santana smiles. "I hope you're right Britt."
"Of course I'm right, silly."
…
Thursday morning starts out typical for Will. He gets up, gets ready and has some coffee before heading to McKinley. Sitting at his desk, humming Keep Holding On to himself, Will begins to look over his lesson plan for the day.
When suddenly he feels a rush of cold and wet.
Will finds himself covered with grape slushie.
Looking up, he sees a large plastic up hanging from the ceiling. He wipes the sugary ice from his face and heads to the bathroom to clean up.
Once he's wiped off as much as he can, he heads back to his office. Warily, he sits. Looking up at the still tilted cup. Trying to ignore the massive amount of stickiness he feels, Will attempts to work again.
Only to be shocked by a frontal blast of grape slushie.
Wiping the slush from his eyes, Will sees a hose at the other end of his desk. Standing, he walks around his desk to investigate. The hose is attached to a pole that taped to his desk. He follows it to the floor where he finds another empty slushie cup.
He kicks the empty cup in frustration.
After cleaning up in the bathroom, again. Will seeks out Sue.
…
“Sue!”
Sue looks up as her door is thrown open, hitting the wall with a lot of force. There in her doorway, stands Will fuming and apparently covered in something.
“You wanted something, William?” Sue drawls. “Your manners are less than impeccable today.”
“You know exactly what this is about,” Will fumes. He gestures to his clothing. “You slushied me.”
Sue smirks. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” she replies. “Trust me. I would remember and relish that moment.”
“Who else would it be?” Will asks. “Who else would set up a slushie cup to fall on me?”
“I can think of a couple people, actually,” Sue replies. “Maybe the prankster?”
“Why would the prankster go after me?”
“Maybe he’s going after all the incompetent teachers. You’d definitely fit the bill there.”
“I do just fine, thank you very much,” Will replies.
“Please,” Sue scoffs. “The kids here can’t even order properly at Taco Bell™, must less any place that actually speaks Spanish. They definitely don’t habla español.”
“My kids do just fine, Sue.”
“Yes, well good luck with the slushies,” Sue says, waving him out. “Nasty, sticky business, I hear.”
“This isn’t over, Sue.”
“I expect nothing less, William.”
…
Will actually considers cancelling glee. He's not sure how to face the kids looking like he does. Thankfully, he has another shirt on underneath his shirt. If anyone asks, he'll just say he split coffee on it.
When he enters the room, the noise dies immediately. Will feels embarrassed even if he's done nothing wrong. Logically he knows the kids were most likely not discussing him, just something they don't want him to know about. Though that list isn't particularly comforting either.
Still after the discussion that happened on Tuesday, the room feels different. Will doesn't want to say things have changed, but maybe they have.
…
Watching Santana, Brittany and Quinn huddled together during glee makes Kurt and Mercedes even more curious than usual. They have no idea what to think about that development.
"Maybe they're just comparing notes on being Rachel's Berry's girlfriend," Kurt suggests.
"And Brittany?"
Kurt shrugs. "She's probably dating Rach too. I wouldn't be surprised."
"Wouldn't she have said something?"
"It's Brittany."
Mercedes nods in agreement while wondering how that's even a legitimate argument.
…
Friday, Will enters his office feeling apprehensive. It’s logical that Sue would continue her attack with more slushies. He checks his surroundings before he sits down. He checks his ceiling, his chair and his desk, but can see no evidence of any sort of slushie throwing device.
Maybe it was just a one day thing. The double dose was to really surprise him and Will can admit whoever did it, succeeded.
This becomes more evident when the first bell rings and he hasn’t been slushied. He lets himself relax a bit as she exits his office.
Only to have another grape slushie fall on him as he exits his office. He groans, thankful he at least closed his eyes this time. The burn of sugar is rather painful.
Eyes still closed, he feels some chuckles, but ignores them as he wipes his eyes clear. Thankfully only a handful of people witnessed it. Sighing, he heads towards the bathroom to clean up again.
…
Santana is pleased how her little project is going. When she catches a glimpse of Mr. Schue throughout the day, she can make out fade slushie stains. It's part of the reason she chose grape, it's definitely visible. Though Santana knows blue raspberry would have been for that, but Santana didn't want to advertise what she was doing. Not yet, anyway. Besides, grape is Rachel's favorite and she's doing this for Rachel, Santana thinks it's only right.
…
Finn is shoved into a locker for the tenth time today. He glares at Karofsky but the hockey player just laughs and pushes him again as he and Azimio strut away.
He's starting to get paranoid. For a moment he wonders if he got a girl pregnant again, but even he knows that's impossible since he's no way even close to having sex with anyone. Still, he can't figure out why all the jocks are suddenly going after him.
He thinks maybe Puck's behind it, but he can't figure out how. It's not like the hockey players care if Rachel is slushied. Maybe they're pushing the whole gay thing again since he and Kurt have been hanging out around school. Though now that they're brothers, he doesn't see why that would matter.
He's glad when it's finally the end of the day, so he can have a bit of a break from all the harassment. Maybe this weekend, he can figure out what the hell's going on.
…
“You up for a prank tonight?” Rachel asks Puck.
“Always.”
“Excellent, Rachel replies. “I feel like it’s been ages.”
Puck doesn’t reply, just smirks.
“What?”
“You’re totally addicted to it,”
“What? Why would you say such a thing?” Rachel asks indignant.
“Because it’s true,” he replies. “You can’t go too long without pulling something, even if it’s small.”
“This one is definitely not small,” Rachel retorts.
“Still,” Puck continues, grinning. “I totally got you addicted to being a badass. I have managed to corrupt the great Rachel Berry.”
“Have you been drinking already?” Rachel asks. “And it wasn’t just you. Santana helped.”
Puck is now dancing around the room in celebration.
Rachel watches, an amused expression beginning, before she tries to scowl again.
“Come on, Berry,” Puck says. “Dance with me.”
Puck grabs Rachel’s left hand with his right and begins twirling her around before leading her around the room. Counting off the steps, Rachel finds it’s something between a waltz and a fox trot. It shouldn’t work so smoothly, but it does.
“Ballroom dancing,” Puck tells her before she can ask. “Jewish Community Center. Remember? We were ten?”
“Of course I remember,” Rachel replies. “I’m just surprised that you do.”
“Just cause the Puckasauraus is a badass, doesn’t mean he forgets. Besides, in a few years, this will totally impress the chicks. You know that whole bad boy with a heart of gold or whatever.”
“Couldn’t you just be a good guy?”
“Nah,” Puck replies. “What fun is that?” He manages to surprise her with a small dip and she giggles as he smiles charmingly. “See,” Puck says. “My charm is chick getting gold.”
…
Once Rachel deems it late enough, they head to McKinley. They unload the supplies from the truck and put it in the Radio Flyer™ wagon Rachel brought along. She quickly picks the lock on the side door and they slip inside.
“Do I even want to know how you figured this out?” Puck asks, pulling the wagon behind him.
“I don’t know,” Rachel replies, quietly. “How much do you care about my planning process?”
“Depends,” Puck says. “Does the answer involve a long Berry rant?”
“I don’t know. Ask me and we’ll see where I end up.”
“That’s okay,” Puck replies. “Maybe later.”
They work in silence. It takes longer than Puck thought and shorter than Rachel anticipated. She knows all this work will most likely go over people’s heads because it all seems so simple. However, she believes in a job well done.
Puck just wonders how Rachel's mind works. Or at least how she thinks of these things.
…
Sunday evening once again find Rachel knocking on the Lopez front door. She's empty handed this time, but was told not to bring a thing.
"Except your sparkling personality," Santana had grumbled before she left that morning.
"Don't sound too complimentary," Rachel had replied.
"An exact quote from my mom. She threatened grounding if I didn't rely the info exactly like that."
"Oh."
So despite feeling like she should have brought something, she didn't.
This time the door is answered by Santana. She's pulled inside before she can utter a greeting. Once the door is firmly clicked shut, Rachel finds herself pressed against it being thoroughly kissed. She tries to fight it because getting caught making out is definitely not on the agenda for the evening. However, the way Santana's tongue is curling around hers is very distracting; she decides to try and enjoy the sweetness of the moment because despite the fact that Santana's parents could walk in on them at any moment, there's so much intensity and love in the kiss that Rachel actually feels overwhelmed.
"Hi," Rachel breathes when they finally break apart for air.
"Hey babe."
"Missed me, did you?"
Santana actually blushes. "Maybe."
"It's nice to see you too."
"If you two are done molesting each other in the entryway, do you think we could sit down to dinner?"
Santana's arms are still wrapped around her and apparently her girlfriend has no intention of letting go, so Rachel turns the best she can while still encircled by Santana.
"Sorry, Tomás," Rachel says. "But I couldn't turn down a greeting like that."
Luckily he just smirks. "Come on, you can hold hands under the table and play footise."
"Papa," Santana whines. "Footise. Really?"
Tomás winks at Rachel as he offers her his arm. She links arms and walks with him to the table. Fingers still laced with Santana's, she drags her girlfriend along behind them.
"…own father hitting on my girlfriend." Rachel hears Santana mumble behind them, causing her to giggle.
Still they hands never separate as they sit at the table and Clara joins them. They stay joined throughout the whole meal. Thankfully Rachel is just ambidextrous enough to be able to eat with her left hand.
…
Santana knows she threw Rachel off a bit with her greeting. She couldn't help it. She hadn't realized until today what hiding her relationship with Rachel from her family was doing to her. But now that the burden seems to be lifted and there weren't any of the negative consequences she was expecting didn't happen, she can almost relax.
She blames it on her father. He had pulled her aside earlier that afternoon for a serious father daughter talk.
"We haven't had a chance to really discuss your relationship with Rachel," he had told her.
Santana had felt the apprehension churning in her stomach. This is exactly what she was afraid of.
"We can start," he continued. "By you telling me about your reluctance to tell us."
Santana shrugs, trying to be nonchalant.
"Santana."
"I don't know why you're surprised," she had replied. "I don't talk about a lot of things with you guys."
"Perhaps. But this was to such an extreme point."
"What does it matter?"
This was met with a silent stare.
"I don't know. Maybe because I never felt like this before? Maybe I was scared. Maybe I was worried about what you'd think. I mean, me and Britt was never really anything serious. And I thought maybe that's why you guys were so cool about it. But me and Rach? It's serious."
"I'm sure it is," he had told her. "But you two are in high school. There's a big wide world out there."
"Don't care. We're it for each other."
"You're seventeen."
"I know. Doesn't matter."
"I'm not trying to discourage you, Santana," he had said. "I simply have concerns."
"I'm good to her. I swear," Santana had told him. "I look out for her. I don't let people say shit to or about her. She knows I have her back."
"And what about her? Does she look out for you?"
"I don't need anyone to look out for me," she had almost sneered.
Another silent stare.
"She does. Sometimes I can't believe it because she's so low on the social totem pole, but she still manages to protect me. But the best thing is that she just seems to get me. Because of that, it sometimes it feels like she does more for me than I do for her."
"I'm sure you both do just fine."
"I mean she even does stuff she doesn't want to. Because I want to."
"Such as?"
"Uh…" The first thing that had come to mind had been the tattoo, but Santana was pretty sure that's a conversation that needs to happen years from now, if never. "I don't know. Little stuff, I guess. Like what movie we watch when we hang out?"
She should have known her father would see through that.
"Santana. What aren't you telling me?"
"Papa, come on, it's no big deal."
"Santana."
Santana took a deep breath, but still couldn't make the words come out.
"Santana Lopez, tell me. Now."
"Wehaveeachother'snamestattooedonus."
This time the silence is extremely uncomfortable and long.
"Please tell me you did it properly, so there were no concerns for infection," he said finally.
Santana supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised that her father the doctor would respond like that.
"We did. We were very safe. Rachel wouldn't have it any other way."
"No, I suppose she wouldn't."
The silence that falls this time is less tense, but Santana knows her father is still waiting for something.
"Well," he said finally. "Let me see it."
"What?"
"I want to see it."
"Papa."
"I know it's not someplace inappropriate. That doesn't seem like Rachel's style," her father told her. "Nor is it X rated. So you're going to show me."
"Why?"
"To ease my state of mind at the moment."
Reluctantly, Santana stood and pushed her jeans down and pulled her shirt up.
Her father had looked at it and his eyes widened almost comically. And then he let out a loud, full belly laugh.
Feeling highly embarrassed, Santana fixed her clothes and sat.
When her father finally calmed down, he asked, "What does hers say?"
"Property of Santana Lopez."
Santana could only call his grin, shit eating. "Well good. I'm glad they're both equally possessive and mildly offensive."
"Rachel's idea," Santana muttered.
"I assumed as much."
"Are you going to tell mom?" Santana asked.
"Eventually," he admited. "But for the moment, we'll keep it between ourselves. All right?"
"Felix can never know," Santana told him. "Never."
Her father had chuckled at that. "I won't tell him."
"Thanks, Papa. Does this mean you're okay with me and Rach?"
"More than okay."
He then stood and pulled her into a hug.
"Maybe you'll actually start to believe your mother and I when we tell you we're on your side."
"Yeah, okay."
She'd spent the rest of the afternoon, feeling slightly anxious to see Rachel. It felt like something major had changed. So when she opened the door for Rachel a couple hours later, Santana couldn't help herself. She wanted to kiss her girlfriend, so she did. For once she didn't have to worry about what her parents would think if they saw them.
…
Monday, Will is extremely wary. He checks the ceiling, his chair and his desk, as well as the doorway, but can see no evidence of slushies. He sighs and sits at his desk. When it’s time for the students to arrive, he stand and carefully approaches his doorway. He walks through, but nothing happens. Perhaps last week was just an isolated incident.
He is proven wrong when he sits down to lunch in his office. It’s safer to eat alone; no confrontations or odd looks in here.
Except once again, he receives a slushie to the face. Feeling confident about it being an isolated incident, Will hadn’t checked his desk before he sat. If he had, he might’ve noticed the hose on the other side of his desk. When Will approaches it, it sprays out more grape slushie directly in his face. Sputtering, he rips it off his desk and whips it into the garbage can.
This subterfuge is more than he expected from Sue. Even if she did prank him for an entire week, he didn’t expect to be slushied daily. He could confront her again, but he knows it won’t stop the attacks. He’ll have to brainstorm counter attacks.
Part Two
Author: slacker_d
Pairing/Characters: Rachel/Santana, Will, New Directions, Sue, Dr. Lopez, Mrs. Lopez, Marisa Lawson, Figgins
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Reactions and consequences to Rachel being slushied.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: ~13, 050
Spoilers: Not really, though reading the previous story would probably help.
A/N: Technically starts before the end of Assume Crash Positions.
2nd A/N: Unbeta’ed, so all mistakes are mine.
series masterlist
"Can you believe Mr. Schue?" Santana says, pacing in Rachel's room.
Quinn gave Brittany a ride home, leaving Santana to head over to Rachel's. Now that the relationship is out in the open, Santana has permission to spend the evenings after glee at Rachel's. Santana thinks her mom feels bad about Rachel being home alone so much. Santana has similar feelings, so she's glad it's expected that she be at Rachel's now.
"As I said before," Rachel replies, not looking up from her homework. "I'm not surprised."
"I know you and Mr. Schue don't really get along, but still."
"This is the man who tried to trick me into confessing to being the prankster," Rachel reminds Santana.
"Yeah, I remember. And I know I don't have the right, but the fact that he blew off that slushie like that really pisses me off."
"I noticed," Rachel replies wryly.
"Why aren't you more pissed off?"
"I find it better to channel that anger elsewhere. Besides, it's a futile exercise. Being mad at Mr. Schue is like being mad at the puppy that just peed on the carpet."
"Are you calling Mr. Schue a dog?"
"It's a simile," Rachel replies.
"So that's a yes."
"Santana."
"He deserves worse," Santana mumbles.
"Perhaps," Rachel allows. "But he's still our teacher and so we're supposed to treat him with respect."
"That's a two way street."
"We'll get there."
"Though, you threatening him was choice," Santana smirks.
"As I said before, I wasn't making a threat," Rachel says. "I was simply informing the occupants of the room that something which negatively affects my girlfriend and my bro who were defending my honor isn't a good thing. People will interpret things how they wish."
"C'mon. Just say it."
They stare at each other for a moment.
"Fine," Rachel huffs. "Yes, that was me threatening people on your behalf."
"Awww, thanks, babe."
"The fact that Mr. Schue would turn you guys in really gets to me," Rachel admits. "It's one thing for him to be like that with me. I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't stand for it," Santana tells her.
"What would you like me to do?"
"I don't know? Do another slushie pool prank and push him in? He deserves it," Santana growls.
"Easy tiger," Rachel replies. "I'm willing to admit it would be gratifying to witness, but I just don’t think I can. Every time I do something similar to Mr. Schue, I always feel guilty afterwards."
Santana looks confused. "How many times have you pranked Schue?"
"Um, a few times."
"Huh," Santana replies. "I'm starting to think you don't share enough."
…
Santana's still stewing over Mr. Schue's brush off when she gets home that night. Someone needs to teach him a lesson. Santana had hoped that maybe Rachel would take up that mantle, but apparently not. So being the doting girlfriend she is, it seems that it's up to Santana.
Knowing Rachel is right, though she'd never tell her, Santana begins planning. Feeling some vengeful gleefulness, she starts a list in her Spanish notebook.
The first thing Santana knows for sure is that she's slushieing Mr. Schue to see how he likes it. And it's going to happen every day for at least a week, if not more, so he can understand how it feels.
Santana knows she has no idea how it feels either, but she's managed to pry the information out of Rachel. It took some doing; her girlfriend initially wasn't willing to share. Apparently, the key to her forgiving nature lay partly in letting the past stay in the past, making her less willing to talk about slushies.
Looking over the basic plans she's made, Santana realizes she'll need help. She'll have to ask Britt to help. Maybe Quinn will too. She seemed pretty annoyed with Mr. Schue as they were walking to the parking lot.
Tomorrow she'll talk to her best friends and start gathering the necessary provisions. Santana grins to herself; this is going to be fun.
…
Wednesday morning, Santana practically bounces into McKinley, though she'd never admit it out loud. While getting ready earlier, Santana remembered that Rachel actually had a slushie cannon she used to torture Stacey Hudson. Borrowing it is step one of getting the materials she needs. She'd texted Rachel who agreed to bring it and surprisingly didn't question why Santana wanted it.
She finds Quinn first, who is predictably at her locker.
"Hey Q."
"Santana."
"I need help with a little project this week. Wanna help?"
"What's wrong with asking Berry?"
"I don't think she'd approve."
Now Quinn's intrigued. "Explain."
Santana looks around, but everyone's staying as far away as possible.
"I wanna show Schuester that slushies are a big deal," Santana says, lowering her voice. "I'm gonna slushie him for like a week at least."
"What? Why?"
"You heard him yesterday," Santana replies. "I want him to know it is a big deal."
"Like you would know," Quinn scoffs.
"Well, not exactly, but I know what it did to Rach," Santana says. "And I hate how flippant he was about her being slushied."
"But you're keeping it from Berry," Quinn ventures.
"Yeah," Santana admits. "She'll think it's hilarious, but then she'll feel guilty--"
"Why?"
"She's too nice for her own good."
"That's for sure."
"And I don't want that, so I'm just going to not mention it to her," Santana says.
"Won't she notice Mr. Schue is getting slushied?" Quinn asks.
"Maybe," Santana admits. "But she won't ask me about it."
"Why?"
"We don’t ask questions we don’t want the answer to."
"That's… healthy."
Santana shrugs. "It works for now."
…
Finn doesn't understand what's happening. He thought for sure Puck would tell Rachel or at the very least, Santana about his role in Rachel being slushied. He was certainly pissed off enough. A triple swirlee seems pretty harsh to him. But when he sees Rachel in the hall Wednesday morning, she just smiles. Later when he passes Santana on his way to lunch, she just ignores him; which isn't unusual.
He's pretty sure Puck didn't tell Rachel because they both know how she'll react. Finn's grateful because Rachel's disappointed face is one that he really hates to cause.
It occurs to Finn that maybe Santana does know and is just bidding her time. He wouldn't put it past her. She's devious like that. He prays it's just Puck sparing the girls' feelings because otherwise, he's screwed.
…
Santana doesn't really see Brittany until lunch.
"Where have you been hiding?"
"I've been keeping Rachy company," Brittany answers. "Trying to distract her from everyone's reaction to her."
"What are they doing?"
"They're treating her like a leaper," Brittany says. "I think it's weirding her out."
"Oh. Maybe I should go be the comforting girlfriend," Santana replies, looking around the lunchroom.
"You can't," Brittany tells her. "She's tutoring Melissa."
"Marisa," Santana corrects. "Again?"
Brittany nods.
"That freshman just better keep her hands to herself," Santana mutters.
"She wouldn't dare," Brittany replies.
Catching something in the blonde's tone, Santana stares at Brittany for a moment. "Good to know."
"You were looking for me?
"Yeah," Santana says. "I wanna do a week long slushie marathon on Mr. Schue."
"For Rachel?"
Santana nods.
"But you're not doing it with Rach cause she'll feel guilty?"
Santana nods again, smirking. She should have known Britt would understand.
"Sounds like fun."
…
After Cheerios' practice, they all head to Santana's house. Quinn doesn't want to deal with her mom and Santana doesn't want to deal with Britt's little sister, so her house is the only logical choice.
They stop in the kitchen to get something to drink.
"Hi Mrs. Lopez."
"Quinn. It's been a while. It's lovely to see you again."
"You too, Mrs. Lopez."
"No Rachel?"
Quinn looks at her in surprise. Santana just rolls her eyes.
"Not today mom. She has a voice lesson."
"Well she's still coming to dinner Sunday isn't she?" Mrs. Lopez asks.
"Yes, mom, she is," Santana replies, exasperated.
"All right. Nice to see you again, Quinn. Brittany."
They head upstairs to Santana's room
"Your mom really likes Rachy," Brittany says, plopping down on Santana's bed.
"Yeah, I know," Santana replies. "Better than me, I think."
"Duh," Brittany says, smirking.
This earns her a pillow to the face.
Quinn sits at Santana's desk and watches the pillow fight. "It's nice to see you two are still just as ridiculous."
"Whatever Fabray," Santana says. "You're too fucking uptight anyway."
Brittany gets in a good wallop causing Santana to lose her balance and bounce onto the bed.
"I win!" Brittany crows.
…
Once Brittany and Santana have settled down, they try to focus at the task at hand.
“I took a page from Rachel’s book,” Santana says. “And drew up a plan.”
“Rachel’s book?” Quinn asks.
“Cause she always plans things out before she takes on a big project,” Brittany explains.
“Right,” Quinn says. “Of course.”
“Anyway, I think the first couple should be in his office,” Santana continues. “I figure even after the first one or two, he won’t think another is coming. Especially if the timing is different each time.”
“And how are you going to pull that off?”
“Set a timer,” Santana answers.
“How are we going to set all this up?” Quinn asks.
“We’ll break in after hours, silly,” Brittany answers. “I know how to pick locks.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.”
“Anyway, I also have a small cannon we can set up that shoots slushies,” Santana continues.
“Why do you have something like that?” Quinn asks.
“Because I just do,” Santana answers.
“Okay. Don’t get snippy.”
“Well, if you would stop interrupting me,” Santana says.
“Yeah, well, I have questions. You don’t explain things very well,” Quinn tells her.
“Maybe you’re not paying the proper attention.”
“I’m listening just fine, thank you very much,” Quinn snarks back.
“How many days are you gonna slushie him, S?” Brittany interrupts.
“I was hoping to start tomorrow and go through at least next Friday.”
“Seriously, S?” Quinn asks. “That seems like a lot.”
“It has to be if he’s going to learn his lesson,” Santana tells her.
“I can’t believe we’re really doing this,”
“Hey, no one’s making you,” Santana points out.
“I know,” Quinn replies. “I want to. It’s been a while since we’ve schemed together.”
“True.”
“You do a lot of scheming with Rachel?”
“Um, she does it enough on her own,” Santana answers. “Occasionally, though.”
“Figures,” Quinn mutters.
"What?" Santana snaps.
"Nothing," Quinn replies sullenly.
"Stop with the martyr routine."
"Leave her alone, San," Brittany says. "She's just feeling sad because Rachel is even more awesome than she thought."
"Oh."
"Brittany."
"So where are other good places to slushie him that we know he'll be there at a certain time and place?"
"When he's teaching," Quinn says. "But are you really going to slushie him in front of a class? That seems particularly harsh."
Santana seems to mull this over a moment. "I suppose you're right. Maybe at the end if we think he still hasn't learned his lesson."
"You're kind of taking this rather seriously," Quinn comments.
"Hey. No one messes with my girl," Santana replies. "Especially not curly haired teachers who have never been on her side."
"And he should be," Brittany adds. "Rachel's super."
Quinn sighs. "I know."
"Sorry, Q," Brittany says. She jumps up and engulfs Quinn in a hug. "Don't worry. We'll find you someone who's perfect for you like Santana is for Rachy."
"Thanks Britt."
…
As Mike changes after practice, he watches Finn stay clear of Puck. The quarterback isn't that subtle. He's been avoiding Puck all day, going so far in practice to not even throw him the ball. Mike thought Coach was going to actually shake him.
Though watching Puck right now, Mike wonders if maybe Finn is smarter than they give him credit for. The wink Puck just threw Mike isn't reassuring. Assuming Puck wasn't hitting on him, then he's up to something really not good for Finn. Mike watches as Puck speaks quietly to their teammates. Once he's done and moving on to someone else, the jock looks pissed off and begins searching the locker room. The anger in their eyes makes Mike glad that Finn dressed quickly and fled.
Mike knows he should probably do something, but he tries to stay out of these things. He prefers to witness and learn than actually get involved in the ridiculous drama. Some weeks it's better than TV.
Besides, he's kind of pissed at Finn as well. Mike know he doesn't have all the information about what went down between Finn and Rachel and Santana, but he doesn't think Rachel deserves to be slushied by a friend. Well, he doesn't think anyone deserves to be slushied, but those that were terrorized by it before? Definitely should never have to experience it again.
Feeling rather grim, Mike gathers his stuff and heads home, ignoring the rumbling growls that follow him out of the locker room.
…
Santana already knows the joy of pranking and breaking the rules. However, it’s been quite a while since she’s done anything major. The times with Rachel don’t count. She kind of misses it. Maybe she should try to join Rachel more often. Or maybe start doing her own stuff. The school could be under the thumb of two pranksters. They’d be quaking in their boots or whatever.
As she sets the stuff up to spring on Mr. Schue, Santana wonders if there’s a more efficient way to do this. Her brain screams to ask Rachel, but Santana knows that won’t work. Her girlfriend would most likely just scold her and not offer too much help.
And besides, she’s Santana fucking Lopez. She doesn’t need anyone’s help to be a badass. She’s gotten lax because she’s had other things to distract her. But she’s definitely been losing badassery points lately. She’ll have to work on that.
She stops at Britt's house and texts her. A moment later, a blonde head is sticking out Brittany's bedroom window and the blonde is climbing onto a tree by her window. She shimmies down the tree like a monkey and lands on the ground with a flourish. If they weren't trying to be sneaky, Santana might have more patience and would clap.
"Britt," Santana hisses.
Brittany nods and scurries to the car, slipping quietly inside.
"Hi Santana," Brittany whispers loudly as Santana backs out of her driveway.
"Hey, B."
…
As Santana stands back to admire her work, she can't help but wonder if there's any aspect of her life that Rachel hasn't affected. The intricate detail needed to pull this off is more than she's ever attempted with anything. This whole thing is simple in idea, but complex in execution.
"Not to mention, you're doing it for Rachel," Brittany adds.
Santana looks over at the blonde in confusion.
"You were thinking out loud," Brittany clarifies.
"Oh."
"Don't be sad, San," Brittany continues. "You've changed her plenty. I mean, did you ever think Rachel Berry would pull pranks on a regular basis? Or blatantly threaten Mr. Schue? Or somehow get on the rare good side of Coach Sylvester?"
"I guess not."
"Maybe you guys bring out the best in each other."
"I'm not sure best is the right word. We bring out something in each other that's for sure."
"Best is the right word," Brittany answers. "You guys just aren't using it right at the moment. You'll see later."
Santana smiles. "I hope you're right Britt."
"Of course I'm right, silly."
…
Thursday morning starts out typical for Will. He gets up, gets ready and has some coffee before heading to McKinley. Sitting at his desk, humming Keep Holding On to himself, Will begins to look over his lesson plan for the day.
When suddenly he feels a rush of cold and wet.
Will finds himself covered with grape slushie.
Looking up, he sees a large plastic up hanging from the ceiling. He wipes the sugary ice from his face and heads to the bathroom to clean up.
Once he's wiped off as much as he can, he heads back to his office. Warily, he sits. Looking up at the still tilted cup. Trying to ignore the massive amount of stickiness he feels, Will attempts to work again.
Only to be shocked by a frontal blast of grape slushie.
Wiping the slush from his eyes, Will sees a hose at the other end of his desk. Standing, he walks around his desk to investigate. The hose is attached to a pole that taped to his desk. He follows it to the floor where he finds another empty slushie cup.
He kicks the empty cup in frustration.
After cleaning up in the bathroom, again. Will seeks out Sue.
…
“Sue!”
Sue looks up as her door is thrown open, hitting the wall with a lot of force. There in her doorway, stands Will fuming and apparently covered in something.
“You wanted something, William?” Sue drawls. “Your manners are less than impeccable today.”
“You know exactly what this is about,” Will fumes. He gestures to his clothing. “You slushied me.”
Sue smirks. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” she replies. “Trust me. I would remember and relish that moment.”
“Who else would it be?” Will asks. “Who else would set up a slushie cup to fall on me?”
“I can think of a couple people, actually,” Sue replies. “Maybe the prankster?”
“Why would the prankster go after me?”
“Maybe he’s going after all the incompetent teachers. You’d definitely fit the bill there.”
“I do just fine, thank you very much,” Will replies.
“Please,” Sue scoffs. “The kids here can’t even order properly at Taco Bell™, must less any place that actually speaks Spanish. They definitely don’t habla español.”
“My kids do just fine, Sue.”
“Yes, well good luck with the slushies,” Sue says, waving him out. “Nasty, sticky business, I hear.”
“This isn’t over, Sue.”
“I expect nothing less, William.”
…
Will actually considers cancelling glee. He's not sure how to face the kids looking like he does. Thankfully, he has another shirt on underneath his shirt. If anyone asks, he'll just say he split coffee on it.
When he enters the room, the noise dies immediately. Will feels embarrassed even if he's done nothing wrong. Logically he knows the kids were most likely not discussing him, just something they don't want him to know about. Though that list isn't particularly comforting either.
Still after the discussion that happened on Tuesday, the room feels different. Will doesn't want to say things have changed, but maybe they have.
…
Watching Santana, Brittany and Quinn huddled together during glee makes Kurt and Mercedes even more curious than usual. They have no idea what to think about that development.
"Maybe they're just comparing notes on being Rachel's Berry's girlfriend," Kurt suggests.
"And Brittany?"
Kurt shrugs. "She's probably dating Rach too. I wouldn't be surprised."
"Wouldn't she have said something?"
"It's Brittany."
Mercedes nods in agreement while wondering how that's even a legitimate argument.
…
Friday, Will enters his office feeling apprehensive. It’s logical that Sue would continue her attack with more slushies. He checks his surroundings before he sits down. He checks his ceiling, his chair and his desk, but can see no evidence of any sort of slushie throwing device.
Maybe it was just a one day thing. The double dose was to really surprise him and Will can admit whoever did it, succeeded.
This becomes more evident when the first bell rings and he hasn’t been slushied. He lets himself relax a bit as she exits his office.
Only to have another grape slushie fall on him as he exits his office. He groans, thankful he at least closed his eyes this time. The burn of sugar is rather painful.
Eyes still closed, he feels some chuckles, but ignores them as he wipes his eyes clear. Thankfully only a handful of people witnessed it. Sighing, he heads towards the bathroom to clean up again.
…
Santana is pleased how her little project is going. When she catches a glimpse of Mr. Schue throughout the day, she can make out fade slushie stains. It's part of the reason she chose grape, it's definitely visible. Though Santana knows blue raspberry would have been for that, but Santana didn't want to advertise what she was doing. Not yet, anyway. Besides, grape is Rachel's favorite and she's doing this for Rachel, Santana thinks it's only right.
…
Finn is shoved into a locker for the tenth time today. He glares at Karofsky but the hockey player just laughs and pushes him again as he and Azimio strut away.
He's starting to get paranoid. For a moment he wonders if he got a girl pregnant again, but even he knows that's impossible since he's no way even close to having sex with anyone. Still, he can't figure out why all the jocks are suddenly going after him.
He thinks maybe Puck's behind it, but he can't figure out how. It's not like the hockey players care if Rachel is slushied. Maybe they're pushing the whole gay thing again since he and Kurt have been hanging out around school. Though now that they're brothers, he doesn't see why that would matter.
He's glad when it's finally the end of the day, so he can have a bit of a break from all the harassment. Maybe this weekend, he can figure out what the hell's going on.
…
“You up for a prank tonight?” Rachel asks Puck.
“Always.”
“Excellent, Rachel replies. “I feel like it’s been ages.”
Puck doesn’t reply, just smirks.
“What?”
“You’re totally addicted to it,”
“What? Why would you say such a thing?” Rachel asks indignant.
“Because it’s true,” he replies. “You can’t go too long without pulling something, even if it’s small.”
“This one is definitely not small,” Rachel retorts.
“Still,” Puck continues, grinning. “I totally got you addicted to being a badass. I have managed to corrupt the great Rachel Berry.”
“Have you been drinking already?” Rachel asks. “And it wasn’t just you. Santana helped.”
Puck is now dancing around the room in celebration.
Rachel watches, an amused expression beginning, before she tries to scowl again.
“Come on, Berry,” Puck says. “Dance with me.”
Puck grabs Rachel’s left hand with his right and begins twirling her around before leading her around the room. Counting off the steps, Rachel finds it’s something between a waltz and a fox trot. It shouldn’t work so smoothly, but it does.
“Ballroom dancing,” Puck tells her before she can ask. “Jewish Community Center. Remember? We were ten?”
“Of course I remember,” Rachel replies. “I’m just surprised that you do.”
“Just cause the Puckasauraus is a badass, doesn’t mean he forgets. Besides, in a few years, this will totally impress the chicks. You know that whole bad boy with a heart of gold or whatever.”
“Couldn’t you just be a good guy?”
“Nah,” Puck replies. “What fun is that?” He manages to surprise her with a small dip and she giggles as he smiles charmingly. “See,” Puck says. “My charm is chick getting gold.”
…
Once Rachel deems it late enough, they head to McKinley. They unload the supplies from the truck and put it in the Radio Flyer™ wagon Rachel brought along. She quickly picks the lock on the side door and they slip inside.
“Do I even want to know how you figured this out?” Puck asks, pulling the wagon behind him.
“I don’t know,” Rachel replies, quietly. “How much do you care about my planning process?”
“Depends,” Puck says. “Does the answer involve a long Berry rant?”
“I don’t know. Ask me and we’ll see where I end up.”
“That’s okay,” Puck replies. “Maybe later.”
They work in silence. It takes longer than Puck thought and shorter than Rachel anticipated. She knows all this work will most likely go over people’s heads because it all seems so simple. However, she believes in a job well done.
Puck just wonders how Rachel's mind works. Or at least how she thinks of these things.
…
Sunday evening once again find Rachel knocking on the Lopez front door. She's empty handed this time, but was told not to bring a thing.
"Except your sparkling personality," Santana had grumbled before she left that morning.
"Don't sound too complimentary," Rachel had replied.
"An exact quote from my mom. She threatened grounding if I didn't rely the info exactly like that."
"Oh."
So despite feeling like she should have brought something, she didn't.
This time the door is answered by Santana. She's pulled inside before she can utter a greeting. Once the door is firmly clicked shut, Rachel finds herself pressed against it being thoroughly kissed. She tries to fight it because getting caught making out is definitely not on the agenda for the evening. However, the way Santana's tongue is curling around hers is very distracting; she decides to try and enjoy the sweetness of the moment because despite the fact that Santana's parents could walk in on them at any moment, there's so much intensity and love in the kiss that Rachel actually feels overwhelmed.
"Hi," Rachel breathes when they finally break apart for air.
"Hey babe."
"Missed me, did you?"
Santana actually blushes. "Maybe."
"It's nice to see you too."
"If you two are done molesting each other in the entryway, do you think we could sit down to dinner?"
Santana's arms are still wrapped around her and apparently her girlfriend has no intention of letting go, so Rachel turns the best she can while still encircled by Santana.
"Sorry, Tomás," Rachel says. "But I couldn't turn down a greeting like that."
Luckily he just smirks. "Come on, you can hold hands under the table and play footise."
"Papa," Santana whines. "Footise. Really?"
Tomás winks at Rachel as he offers her his arm. She links arms and walks with him to the table. Fingers still laced with Santana's, she drags her girlfriend along behind them.
"…own father hitting on my girlfriend." Rachel hears Santana mumble behind them, causing her to giggle.
Still they hands never separate as they sit at the table and Clara joins them. They stay joined throughout the whole meal. Thankfully Rachel is just ambidextrous enough to be able to eat with her left hand.
…
Santana knows she threw Rachel off a bit with her greeting. She couldn't help it. She hadn't realized until today what hiding her relationship with Rachel from her family was doing to her. But now that the burden seems to be lifted and there weren't any of the negative consequences she was expecting didn't happen, she can almost relax.
She blames it on her father. He had pulled her aside earlier that afternoon for a serious father daughter talk.
"We haven't had a chance to really discuss your relationship with Rachel," he had told her.
Santana had felt the apprehension churning in her stomach. This is exactly what she was afraid of.
"We can start," he continued. "By you telling me about your reluctance to tell us."
Santana shrugs, trying to be nonchalant.
"Santana."
"I don't know why you're surprised," she had replied. "I don't talk about a lot of things with you guys."
"Perhaps. But this was to such an extreme point."
"What does it matter?"
This was met with a silent stare.
"I don't know. Maybe because I never felt like this before? Maybe I was scared. Maybe I was worried about what you'd think. I mean, me and Britt was never really anything serious. And I thought maybe that's why you guys were so cool about it. But me and Rach? It's serious."
"I'm sure it is," he had told her. "But you two are in high school. There's a big wide world out there."
"Don't care. We're it for each other."
"You're seventeen."
"I know. Doesn't matter."
"I'm not trying to discourage you, Santana," he had said. "I simply have concerns."
"I'm good to her. I swear," Santana had told him. "I look out for her. I don't let people say shit to or about her. She knows I have her back."
"And what about her? Does she look out for you?"
"I don't need anyone to look out for me," she had almost sneered.
Another silent stare.
"She does. Sometimes I can't believe it because she's so low on the social totem pole, but she still manages to protect me. But the best thing is that she just seems to get me. Because of that, it sometimes it feels like she does more for me than I do for her."
"I'm sure you both do just fine."
"I mean she even does stuff she doesn't want to. Because I want to."
"Such as?"
"Uh…" The first thing that had come to mind had been the tattoo, but Santana was pretty sure that's a conversation that needs to happen years from now, if never. "I don't know. Little stuff, I guess. Like what movie we watch when we hang out?"
She should have known her father would see through that.
"Santana. What aren't you telling me?"
"Papa, come on, it's no big deal."
"Santana."
Santana took a deep breath, but still couldn't make the words come out.
"Santana Lopez, tell me. Now."
"Wehaveeachother'snamestattooedonus."
This time the silence is extremely uncomfortable and long.
"Please tell me you did it properly, so there were no concerns for infection," he said finally.
Santana supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised that her father the doctor would respond like that.
"We did. We were very safe. Rachel wouldn't have it any other way."
"No, I suppose she wouldn't."
The silence that falls this time is less tense, but Santana knows her father is still waiting for something.
"Well," he said finally. "Let me see it."
"What?"
"I want to see it."
"Papa."
"I know it's not someplace inappropriate. That doesn't seem like Rachel's style," her father told her. "Nor is it X rated. So you're going to show me."
"Why?"
"To ease my state of mind at the moment."
Reluctantly, Santana stood and pushed her jeans down and pulled her shirt up.
Her father had looked at it and his eyes widened almost comically. And then he let out a loud, full belly laugh.
Feeling highly embarrassed, Santana fixed her clothes and sat.
When her father finally calmed down, he asked, "What does hers say?"
"Property of Santana Lopez."
Santana could only call his grin, shit eating. "Well good. I'm glad they're both equally possessive and mildly offensive."
"Rachel's idea," Santana muttered.
"I assumed as much."
"Are you going to tell mom?" Santana asked.
"Eventually," he admited. "But for the moment, we'll keep it between ourselves. All right?"
"Felix can never know," Santana told him. "Never."
Her father had chuckled at that. "I won't tell him."
"Thanks, Papa. Does this mean you're okay with me and Rach?"
"More than okay."
He then stood and pulled her into a hug.
"Maybe you'll actually start to believe your mother and I when we tell you we're on your side."
"Yeah, okay."
She'd spent the rest of the afternoon, feeling slightly anxious to see Rachel. It felt like something major had changed. So when she opened the door for Rachel a couple hours later, Santana couldn't help herself. She wanted to kiss her girlfriend, so she did. For once she didn't have to worry about what her parents would think if they saw them.
…
Monday, Will is extremely wary. He checks the ceiling, his chair and his desk, as well as the doorway, but can see no evidence of slushies. He sighs and sits at his desk. When it’s time for the students to arrive, he stand and carefully approaches his doorway. He walks through, but nothing happens. Perhaps last week was just an isolated incident.
He is proven wrong when he sits down to lunch in his office. It’s safer to eat alone; no confrontations or odd looks in here.
Except once again, he receives a slushie to the face. Feeling confident about it being an isolated incident, Will hadn’t checked his desk before he sat. If he had, he might’ve noticed the hose on the other side of his desk. When Will approaches it, it sprays out more grape slushie directly in his face. Sputtering, he rips it off his desk and whips it into the garbage can.
This subterfuge is more than he expected from Sue. Even if she did prank him for an entire week, he didn’t expect to be slushied daily. He could confront her again, but he knows it won’t stop the attacks. He’ll have to brainstorm counter attacks.
Part Two