fic: thistle & weeds (2/?)
title: thistle & weeds (2/?)
pairing: Brittany/Santana
rating: PG-13 (possible R)
summary: Santana struggles to keep a grip on her life.
spoilers: Post-2x04
disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or any of these characters, no offense intended.
The first thing she sees when she rounds the corner at school is Rachel Berry’s mug. “I would appreciate it if you would please stop jeopardizing Glee club.”
Santana shoves her out of the way. “I’d appreciate my foot in your ass.”
“There’s no need to be hostile, I just thought that I could appeal to you on the level of a strong, independent woman, so - ”
“Oh my god, would you shut up?”
Rachel, thankfully, doesn't follow. Unfortunately, what she does do is raise her voice above the crowded hallway: “You have a lot of anger issues, Santana Lopez.”
Stapler straightened out, perpendicular to Miss Pillsbury’s planner. “How’s your day been going so far, Santana?”
“Clearly okay - no queerdos punched and it’s almost lunch.” Golf clap. “Yay, me.”
“Don’t you...?” Emma looks at a loss for words, but finally manages. “Do you have anyone to talk to? At home?”
“Yeah, we have an in-house psychiatrist who’s got a more legit degree than you do, so please, can we just go back to that wonderful awkward silence we had before? Thanks.”
“I talked to Kevin. He’s still pretty shaken up - ” A big eye roll from Santana. The sight of it clearly dejects Emma, but she pushes forward anyways. “He told me what he said to you...before you hit him.”
Santana doesn’t hesitate to clarify: “It was just another thing in an endless series of things that were pissing me off that day. I hate to break it to the kid, but there’s nothing special about his nose - he was just having an unlucky day.”
Emma’s starting to look like Bambi a little, and it’s freaking Santana out. “Brittany’s your best friend, I get why you’d want to come to her defense. But punching him? Wasn’t the answer.”
“Shut him up, didn’t it?”
“He told me he’d made the same comments about you, but you just walked away.”
“It’s lies, and I don’t like people telling lies about...” Santana sighs. Fine, let’s get this over with. “I can handle lies being told about me, I’m used to it. It just... doesn’t sit right with me when people treat Brittany like that.”
“Boys, unfortunately, will be boys sometimes. To them, all cheerleaders do is undress in front of each other and have pillowfights - ”
Santana sits forward. “Exactly! It’s complete crap. We’re friends, that’s it. We’re on Cheerios and we’re in Glee club and we’re friends. People - stupid people - are making it into something...something bigger than it really is. They don’t even know.”
Emma’s mouth hangs open, speechless, and it’s at this point that Santana realizes how defensive she just came off. Shit. “I’m sorry, Kevin made it seem like he said something about each of you separately, not in the...”
Praise all that is good and right in the world, the school bell rings right at that exact moment. Santana - as calmly as she can - gets up, grabs her bag and walks out of the room. “See ya, Miss P.”
Everybody stops talking when she walks into rehearsals.
Great.
Brittany makes room as she approaches. When Santana sits, she can feel her hand wrap around hers between their seats, but doesn’t look. She smiles all the same.
“Watch out, it’s the angry dyke and her little girlfriend.” A lettermans jacket, blank stare and tongue pushed between index and middle fingers is all she sees. Brittany grabs her arm before she can even think of going at it. “Hey, Brittany, you like Santana’s taco? I bet that hot sauce - ”
Santana turns around and launches at the jock, but is held back (surprisingly) by both Kurt and Mercedes, who drag her kicking and screaming into the girls bathroom. “This is none of your damn business, I’m gonna - !”
Kurt cuts her off swiftly: “You’re gonna get yourself suspended. Or worse, kicked out of glee club.”
“Did you hear how that douchebag was talking to me?”
Mercedes rolls her eyes. “Girl, if a day goes by where I don’t get slushie thrown on me? That’s a great day.”
“Ever get thrown in a dumpster wearing the new Marc Jacobs?” Kurt waits a moment, very clearly counting the time on his watch before nodding triumphantly. “Exactly. Now keep your temper under control or I’m gonna have to slap you.”
“Go ahead, sweetie, I’ll slap a girl right back.”
There’s a knock at the door before her and Kurt can get toe to toe. Brittany’s voice muffled behind it. “Is there a secret password or can I come in?”
“Come in, B.” Santana pushes past Kurt and makes sure to close the door immediately after Brittany steps inside. “Elton and Whitney here are trying to give me an intervention, and it’s as pathetic as it sounds.”
Brittany looked at Kurt and Mercedes, disappointed. “It didn’t work?”
“What - ?” Santana crosses her arms and fixes them all with a dirty look. “You dirty little sluts.”
Kurt holds a hand to his heart as Mercedes gasps and Brittany simply nods.
“I won’t be back until Monday, but your dad said he should be in before midnight.” Overpriced pantsuit, a purse too big and earrings too shiny, Santana’s mom is rushing to the door where the driver is waiting to take her to the airport. “I trust you understand the terms of your grounding?”
“No going out with friends, no having fun, no having a life. Yeah, I get it.”
Her mom shoots her a look. “No lip, hija, you know better.”
“I learned from the best,” Santana mutters under her breath.
“What is with you lately?” The swift motion of her mother exiting comes to a halt, as she looks at her daughter, confused and frustrated. “I knew that little girl of a counselor wouldn’t be helping you. I’m gonna make an appointment with Dr. Foster.”
“Him?” The whine is clear as crystal, even to her own ears. “Again? The guy’s a creeper and I’m pretty sure he hides dead bodies in his closet.”
“Well, you clearly need someone to talk to, and that school isn’t doing it for you.” Her mom squeezes Santana’s cheeks together, eliciting a groan and a slap at her hands. “I tell you, I wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours.”
It’s called asking. “Have a good flight, mami.”
A kiss on the cheek, then she turns to the housekeeper, Rose: “Could you make sure that appointment with Dr. Foster is set?”
to be continued...
pairing: Brittany/Santana
rating: PG-13 (possible R)
summary: Santana struggles to keep a grip on her life.
spoilers: Post-2x04
disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or any of these characters, no offense intended.
The first thing she sees when she rounds the corner at school is Rachel Berry’s mug. “I would appreciate it if you would please stop jeopardizing Glee club.”
Santana shoves her out of the way. “I’d appreciate my foot in your ass.”
“There’s no need to be hostile, I just thought that I could appeal to you on the level of a strong, independent woman, so - ”
“Oh my god, would you shut up?”
Rachel, thankfully, doesn't follow. Unfortunately, what she does do is raise her voice above the crowded hallway: “You have a lot of anger issues, Santana Lopez.”
Stapler straightened out, perpendicular to Miss Pillsbury’s planner. “How’s your day been going so far, Santana?”
“Clearly okay - no queerdos punched and it’s almost lunch.” Golf clap. “Yay, me.”
“Don’t you...?” Emma looks at a loss for words, but finally manages. “Do you have anyone to talk to? At home?”
“Yeah, we have an in-house psychiatrist who’s got a more legit degree than you do, so please, can we just go back to that wonderful awkward silence we had before? Thanks.”
“I talked to Kevin. He’s still pretty shaken up - ” A big eye roll from Santana. The sight of it clearly dejects Emma, but she pushes forward anyways. “He told me what he said to you...before you hit him.”
Santana doesn’t hesitate to clarify: “It was just another thing in an endless series of things that were pissing me off that day. I hate to break it to the kid, but there’s nothing special about his nose - he was just having an unlucky day.”
Emma’s starting to look like Bambi a little, and it’s freaking Santana out. “Brittany’s your best friend, I get why you’d want to come to her defense. But punching him? Wasn’t the answer.”
“Shut him up, didn’t it?”
“He told me he’d made the same comments about you, but you just walked away.”
“It’s lies, and I don’t like people telling lies about...” Santana sighs. Fine, let’s get this over with. “I can handle lies being told about me, I’m used to it. It just... doesn’t sit right with me when people treat Brittany like that.”
“Boys, unfortunately, will be boys sometimes. To them, all cheerleaders do is undress in front of each other and have pillowfights - ”
Santana sits forward. “Exactly! It’s complete crap. We’re friends, that’s it. We’re on Cheerios and we’re in Glee club and we’re friends. People - stupid people - are making it into something...something bigger than it really is. They don’t even know.”
Emma’s mouth hangs open, speechless, and it’s at this point that Santana realizes how defensive she just came off. Shit. “I’m sorry, Kevin made it seem like he said something about each of you separately, not in the...”
Praise all that is good and right in the world, the school bell rings right at that exact moment. Santana - as calmly as she can - gets up, grabs her bag and walks out of the room. “See ya, Miss P.”
Everybody stops talking when she walks into rehearsals.
Great.
Brittany makes room as she approaches. When Santana sits, she can feel her hand wrap around hers between their seats, but doesn’t look. She smiles all the same.
“Watch out, it’s the angry dyke and her little girlfriend.” A lettermans jacket, blank stare and tongue pushed between index and middle fingers is all she sees. Brittany grabs her arm before she can even think of going at it. “Hey, Brittany, you like Santana’s taco? I bet that hot sauce - ”
Santana turns around and launches at the jock, but is held back (surprisingly) by both Kurt and Mercedes, who drag her kicking and screaming into the girls bathroom. “This is none of your damn business, I’m gonna - !”
Kurt cuts her off swiftly: “You’re gonna get yourself suspended. Or worse, kicked out of glee club.”
“Did you hear how that douchebag was talking to me?”
Mercedes rolls her eyes. “Girl, if a day goes by where I don’t get slushie thrown on me? That’s a great day.”
“Ever get thrown in a dumpster wearing the new Marc Jacobs?” Kurt waits a moment, very clearly counting the time on his watch before nodding triumphantly. “Exactly. Now keep your temper under control or I’m gonna have to slap you.”
“Go ahead, sweetie, I’ll slap a girl right back.”
There’s a knock at the door before her and Kurt can get toe to toe. Brittany’s voice muffled behind it. “Is there a secret password or can I come in?”
“Come in, B.” Santana pushes past Kurt and makes sure to close the door immediately after Brittany steps inside. “Elton and Whitney here are trying to give me an intervention, and it’s as pathetic as it sounds.”
Brittany looked at Kurt and Mercedes, disappointed. “It didn’t work?”
“What - ?” Santana crosses her arms and fixes them all with a dirty look. “You dirty little sluts.”
Kurt holds a hand to his heart as Mercedes gasps and Brittany simply nods.
“I won’t be back until Monday, but your dad said he should be in before midnight.” Overpriced pantsuit, a purse too big and earrings too shiny, Santana’s mom is rushing to the door where the driver is waiting to take her to the airport. “I trust you understand the terms of your grounding?”
“No going out with friends, no having fun, no having a life. Yeah, I get it.”
Her mom shoots her a look. “No lip, hija, you know better.”
“I learned from the best,” Santana mutters under her breath.
“What is with you lately?” The swift motion of her mother exiting comes to a halt, as she looks at her daughter, confused and frustrated. “I knew that little girl of a counselor wouldn’t be helping you. I’m gonna make an appointment with Dr. Foster.”
“Him?” The whine is clear as crystal, even to her own ears. “Again? The guy’s a creeper and I’m pretty sure he hides dead bodies in his closet.”
“Well, you clearly need someone to talk to, and that school isn’t doing it for you.” Her mom squeezes Santana’s cheeks together, eliciting a groan and a slap at her hands. “I tell you, I wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours.”
It’s called asking. “Have a good flight, mami.”
A kiss on the cheek, then she turns to the housekeeper, Rose: “Could you make sure that appointment with Dr. Foster is set?”
to be continued...