Say it.

Does Barry Manilow know that you raid his wardrobe?


PT 2
naomi
lopo271



If it makes you less sad
I'll move out of the state
You can keep to yourself
I'll keep out of your way

They had made plans to move out to LA together after school- Santana would study, Britt would dance, they’d live together and life would be as it should be.

Now though, as she looks down at the UCLA acceptance letter, she knows she’ll be going alone.


And if it makes you less sad
I'll take your pictures all down
Every picture you paint
I will paint myself out

She packs her things quietly, by herself. It’s midnight, the day before she leaves. She shouldn’t have left it this late, she knows, but somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to do so earlier.

She’d always imagined leaving for college to be a mad, noisy affair- she and Brittany packing together, blasting music and squealing like little girls over everything and anything.

Instead, she silently puts the last of her things into a box and seals it shut. All that’s left now is a few rag-tag, unwanted items scattered in her closet and under her bed, and the picture she’s had pinned to her headboard since before she could remember- her and Brittany on the first day of school, grinning like idiots. She gingerly takes it down and stares, willing herself to take in every aspect of the small, faded image.

She’s wearing white shorts and a pink singlet, her hair in a large, messy side plait. Her arm is linked through Brittany’s, who is sporting a white-blonde bob and a blue dress. There’s a gap in Santana’s front teeth and Brittany is holding a large, purple bear.

Santana gives the photo a tired smile, before ripping it slowly in two- she and her teeth on one side, Brittany and the bear on the other. She bends down and roots around under the bed before her hand grasps what it is looking for. There he is, Joey the bear. She’d stolen in from Brittany the day the picture was taken, and for years Brittany had joked about stealing it back.

Santana sighs and gets to her feet, grabbing a nearby loose pen as she does so. She’s ready.


It's as cold as a tomb
And it's dark in your room
When I sneak to your bed
To pour salt in your wounds

The window is open, just as Santana knew it would be. It’s been more than a year since she’s snuck in, but she knew the blonde wouldn’t have closed it- how else would the fairies get in to protect her family while she slept if her window was locked?

She shivers against the cold as she quickly climbs the tree outside the blonde’s window. Reaching forward, she makes sure her cargo is properly secured in her backpack before she quickly swings herself into the room.

Looking around, she lets her eyes adjust to the light as they swing around the room, taking in what has changed and what hasn’t. Her eyes float to the bed, expecting to see the familiar shape underneath the old powerpuff girls duvet.

Only Brittany isn’t there.

Bile rises to Santana’s throat when she realises- Artie is leaving for college tomorrow as well. Brittany must have been staying with him.

She stumbles over to the bed and sits, unable to move or even function for a good ten minutes. Eventually, she shakes her head. It’s been too long for her to still care about this. She pulls out the pen, bear, and half the picture from her backpack. Setting the bear on Brittany’s pillow, she quickly scrawls on the back of the picture- B, I know it’s been a while, but hopefully you remember Joey. I figured you’d want him back. See you round. S.

Once finished, she props the picture up against the bear, and takes on last look- The little blonde girl, grinning so happily, one arm holding Joey, the other clutching something that’s no longer there.



If it makes you less sad
naomi
lopo271



If it makes you less sad
I'll move out of the state
You can keep to yourself
I'll keep out of your way

They had made plans to move out to LA together after school- Santana would study, Britt would dance, they’d live together and life would be as it should be.

Now though, as she looks down at the UCLA acceptance letter, she knows she’ll be going alone.


And if it makes you less sad
I'll take your pictures all down
Every picture you paint
I will paint myself out

She packs her things quietly, by herself. It’s midnight, the day before she leaves. She shouldn’t have left it this late, she knows, but somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to do so earlier.

She’d always imagined leaving for college to be a mad, noisy affair- she and Brittany packing together, blasting music and squealing like little girls over everything and anything.

Instead, she silently puts the last of her things into a box and seals it shut. All that’s left now is a few rag-tag, unwanted items scattered in her closet and under her bed, and the picture she’s had pinned to her headboard since before she could remember- her and Brittany on the first day of school, grinning like idiots. She gingerly takes it down and stares, willing herself to take in every aspect of the small, faded image.

She’s wearing white shorts and a pink singlet, her hair in a large, messy side plait. Her arm is linked through Brittany’s, who is sporting a white-blonde bob and a blue dress. There’s a gap in Santana’s front teeth and Brittany is holding a large, purple bear.

Santana gives the photo a tired smile, before ripping it slowly in two- she and her teeth on one side, Brittany and the bear on the other. She bends down and roots around under the bed before her hand grasps what it is looking for. There he is, Joey the bear. She’d stolen in from Brittany the day the picture was taken, and for years Brittany had joked about stealing it back.

Santana sighs and gets to her feet, grabbing a nearby loose pen as she does so. She’s ready.


It's as cold as a tomb
And it's dark in your room
When I sneak to your bed
To pour salt in your wounds

The window is open, just as Santana knew it would be. It’s been more than a year since she’s snuck in, but she knew the blonde wouldn’t have closed it- how else would the fairies get in to protect her family while she slept if her window was locked?

She shivers against the cold as she quickly climbs the tree outside the blonde’s window. Reaching forward, she makes sure her cargo is properly secured in her backpack before she quickly swings herself into the room.

Looking around, she lets her eyes adjust to the light as they swing around the room, taking in what has changed and what hasn’t. Her eyes float to the bed, expecting to see the familiar shape underneath the old powerpuff girls duvet.

Only Brittany isn’t there.

Bile rises to Santana’s throat when she realises- Artie is leaving for college tomorrow as well. Brittany must have been staying with him.

She stumbles over to the bed and sits, unable to move or even function for a good ten minutes. Eventually, she shakes her head. It’s been too long for her to still care about this. She pulls out the pen, bear, and half the picture from her backpack. Setting the bear on Brittany’s pillow, she quickly scrawls on the back of the picture- B, I know it’s been a while, but hopefully you remember Joey. I figured you’d want him back. See you round. S.

Once finished, she props the picture up against the bear, and takes on last look- The little blonde girl, grinning so happily, one arm holding Joey, the other clutching something that’s no longer there.



Later.
naomi
lopo271


You used to believe in love. You used to see it, everywhere you went. In that  couple, down the road, who would walk past your house everyday holding hands. He's handsome and She's beautiful and they're so, so in love. You'd see it in your sister and her boyfriend, both so much older and wiser than you, keeping the family together in ways that your parents could not. You saw it in Quinn and Finn, because that right there was the most beautiful high school romance you'd ever seen. You would see it in the movies you watched, where couples sang and kissed and swooned and never ever lost each other, and in the books you'd read, where brave heroes saved the day over and over, and married the damsel in distress. It was love and it was good and it was everywhere, and it was all you wanted.

                                                                                                     But things changed, faster than you could say. 
                                                                                                                      ------------------------------------

When you think about her now, all you can see are chapped lips and that self concious smile she wore around everyone but you. You got the real thing. You can see her slender wrists and that necklace of yours that she had stolen, and refused to give back. You didn't mind. It looked prettier on her, anyway.

                                                                                                                               Everything did. 

                                                                                                                      ------------------------------------

It turns out that the man down the road has been cheating on his wife for years. He leaves her for some other woman. You're only young, but your heart shatters, just a little.

                                                                                                     What happened to holding hands and smiling?
                                                                                                                      ------------------------------------

It's raining, the day you meet her. She's pretty, that's the first thing you notice. Actually, she's gorgeous, radiant, but you don't know those words yet. She's also nice and she laughs and she listens, and the cracks in your heart fix themselves, until they're nearly gone. She's everywhere and she's all you can think about; but you don't  notice. You're just glad you finally have a best friend. 

                                                                                   You don't even realise you're in love.  You're only twelve, after all.

                                                                                                                     ------------------------------------

You get a call from your sister, still so much older and wiser; she and her fiancee have broken up. She sobs and you try not to. Ten years of the kind of love that should last forever, gone. Ten years of memories obliterated, photo albums torn apart. All you've known, all you've modelled yourself on, destroyed.

                                                                           This time, your heart breaks, and you aren't sure anything can fix it. 
                                                                                                                      ------------------------------------

So you call her in tears. It's been a long time since you've called her. She admitted she liked you, once, ages ago, and you were so scared of what it meant that you ran away. You've never quite been as close, after that. She forgave you, sure, but your call, your neediness is a shock from her, you can hear it in her voice. Still, she listens and she cares and she helps, and your heart feels a little better when you think about her. It's good again, like it used to be.  Except that now, you're 15  and you've blown your chance.

                                                                              How can you be in love when you don't even believe in it?

                                                                                                                      ------------------------------------

Now, you're 17 and you scoff at the movies where lovers sing and kiss and swoon. You know they'll break up the moment the movie's over. Or he'll leave her when she gains pregnany weight. Or she'll fuck that hot waiter who flirts with all the women in town. You gave up on reading books a long time ago; one day, the dragons going to be just that little bit too big and then who will come home to the damsel in distress?

Instead, you study, because you have too, but studying ends up staring at the cover of Romeo and Juliet for about an hour and not writing a word of your essay. Then, you pretend to like your sister's new boyfriend because, at least for a while, he's making her happy. Then you call her, because you're bored.

She speaks and your heart flutters, but you ignore it. It's just a crush, one that will never last. Never mind that its been five years.

She talks to you about how she thinks she still wants Puck, how he called her when you were all at the park yesterday, and told her he missed her, and you try not to vomit at the thought of him and his stupid mohawk.

Then, suddenly, she goes very quiet. And she says, very quietly and sounding scared:

"But I wanted to kiss you. So I hung up on him."

You go very quiet. A small gasp of 'Oh' escapes from your mouth and she clearly takes it as a bad sign, because she apologises and hangs up.  You want to call her back and tell her that 'Oh' actually means 'So why the fuck didn't you?", but as usual, you're scared.

You get an F for the essay. Probably because you started it with 'Romeo and Juliet were a couple of horny, love struck kids who were stupid enough to think they'd actually last forever. Thats what Shakespeare was trying to say.'

In all honesty, you don't care too much about your marks, because she's sitting right next to you in class and all you can see is her. Just like in all your other classes. 

                                                                                                             It's probably why you're failing everything.
                                                                                                                     ------------------------------------

The first time you kiss, you're both very drunk. She catches you mid sentence, cuts you off with her lips, and its the most amazing thing you ever experienced. Some guys nearby cheer, but one clearly recognises that this is more than some cheap hook-up for attention, because he shushes the others.

You're sitting close, knees touching, chairs pulled tightly together. You want to move, to go and sit on her so you can reach her more easily, but you don't want to be too foward. Instead, you sit, foreheads touching, panting slightly. You look into your eyes, they're gleaming slightly. Suddenly, you're being pulled into her lap and her voice, hot in your ear, is saying "I've wanted this for too long", before her lips are again on yours. The boys cheer again and she gives them the finger, before quickly re-entangling her hand in your hair, where it belongs.
 
                                                                                           Something in your head tells you this is too good to last. 
                                                                                                                      ------------------------------------

Like everything, it was too good to last. It always is. There was a fleeting moment there, when she kissed you the next morning and said she felt the same, where you thought that maybe, just maybe, love is real. And that you might possibly last, and your sister's boyfriend wasn't a huge ass and that romeo and juliet would have stayed together if they weren't dead.

But then, she avoids you for a week and when you next log on to facebook, she's back with her ex.

And you remember that love is a mean joke devised to punch people in the face.

                                                                                                    One day, you dream. One day, she'll be ready.
                                                                                                                     ------------------------------------

Being gay doesn't scare you at all. It's just a thing that happens to some people and not to others, and it's no problem. And you know it doesn't scare her either, because she's been openly bisexual since tenth grade, when someone saw her kissing Quinn in the locker rooms. She's too damn badass to care, and the homophobes of the school are too scared to slushie her for it. So you know that she's lying when she finally talks to you.

"It's just that, being with a girl scares me. So much. And it's easier like this, anyway. We'd never work. Please.. can we just pretend like we've been doing for the last five years?"

You look at her, searching for those chapped lips that you fell in love with so long ago, those slender wrists, so soft and tanned, and your necklace.

The necklace is gone, replaced by some ugly thing he'd gotten her.

The wrists are covered by her cheerios uniform, and suddenly her lips aren't nearly as appealing as they once were, not now you know they're his.

So you take a step back and shake your head. 

                                                                                                    "The thing is, Santana, I'm not so sure we can."
                                                                                                                     ------------------------------------

So when you saw her today, talking past you, one hand on her pregnant belly, the other holding a shopping bag filled with food, you look at her for the longest time.

Her lips are covered with red lipstick, a shade you know she's always hated.
Her wrists are swollen from the pregnancy, and you still find them strangely enchanting and beautiful, even though you can tell that Puck doesn't, because he didn't with Quinn when they were 16 and he sure as fuck won't now.

You look at her and she looks at you. She stops and you don't. You just keep walking, not even throwing her a small smile.

                                                                 It's not until you get home that you realise she was wearing your necklace.

 



Girl: Chapter 3- Reduce, Seduce, Dispose
naomi
lopo271

pairings: Rachel/Quinn, Santana/Brittany
Rating: pg for now
Disclaimer: not mine, never will be

Rachel's 3 step plan was easy enough:

Reduce- Reduce targets friendship group so they have no one. Then, step in, and become friends.

Seduce- Seduce Target.

Dispose- dispose of target, be it by public shaming, cheating or just avoiding for prolonged lengths of time.

The Reduce, Seduce, Dispose was a hybrid of Cady’s plan to destroy Ragina in Mean Girls, and Mercedes’ personal favourite seduction technique- Suck (face), Kill (ego, so he needs someone to make him feel big again), destroy (self explanatory)- This was generally used on studly jocks who thought they would never fall in love (Such as Noah Puckerman, who now followed her around like a lost puppy.)

                                               ---------------------------------------------

Reduce-                               

The reduce part would be simple enough- Quinn, while she ruled the school and was seemingly swimming in friends, really only hung out with two people: Santana and Brittany. Now, anyone with eyes could see that the glances and touches between the girls were anything but platonic, and all Rachel had to do was get the two together. Once together, they’d be in their ‘honeymoon period’ for at least two weeks- long enough, Rachel hoped, to get Quinn’s trust.

So, while walking to class, Rachel ‘accidentally’ bumped into Santana.

“Watch it” The girl angrily growled, glaring at Rachel. Rachel, however, just shrugged.

“Sorry, I’m in kind of a hurry. Mike was going to ask Brittany out today, and I wanted to find him to see how it went.” In less than a second, Rachel found herself pushed up against the wall, Santana’s fists scarily close to her face.

“What did you just say, man hands? Mike is doing what?”

Rachel just shrugged, and pushed Santana off her. “You heard me, Lopez. He’s asking Brittany out. Why? You gonna stop him?”

Santana didn’t bother to respond. She just glared at Rachel for a second, before storming off down the corridor. From around the corner, there was a suspiciously Mike sounding shriek and a crash as something hit the lockers, and what sounded like Brittany protesting before she was suddenly cut off, by, Rachel assumed, a pair of lips against her own. Five minutes later, Santana rounded the corridor again, this time with the tall blonde in tow. She nodded curtly at Rachel, before leading Brittany into the nearest bathrooms and locking the door.

Now, the hard part: Befriending Quinn.

                                     ---------------------------------------------------------                                                              

Two days later, it hit her. She looked down at the Spanish test they were currently doing, then up at Quinn. Sighing, she stared blankly at her tests for a few minutes before filling every answer with the words tortilla, Bermuda and sombrero. When her teacher, Mr. Shuester, came around and collected the tests, he looked at Quinn’s and smiled broadly.

“Well done Quinn! You’ve aced another test....are you planning to run off to mexico or something?” He asked, laughing. Quinn just smiled her fake cheerios smile at him, then turned to Finn, who was sitting next to her.  When Shuester looked at Rachel's test she got  the  complete opposite reaction. He shook his head, sadly, then looked at her.

“Rachel, this....this is not good. If your grades continue like this I’m going to have to fail you. I’m sorry.”

Rachel tried to look as sad as she could. “Is there anything I could do sir? A tutor, perhaps?”

He looked around the room, chewing his lip, before his gaze settled on quinn. His face lit up and he turned to Rachel. “Rachel, thats a brilliant idea. Quinn, can you come here please? I have to ask you something.”

Quinn looked at Shuester, then at Rachel, and rolled her eyes. She walked over and stood in front of rachels desk, almost completely blocking the brunette's view of her teacher. Rachel sighed and moved to her right, so that Mr. Shuester could see her too.

“Quinn, Rachel here has been having some problems with her Spanish.” At this, Quinn turned to look at Rachel, her eyebrow raised, and smirked. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to tutor her?”

Quinn’s smirk turned quickly to a look of disgrace and disgust. “You want me to tutor her?” she asked, as though he’d asked her to make out with Jacob Ben Israel, or something equally disgusting. Mr. Shue missed this lack of enthusiasm.

“Yes, yes I do. I think you should probably make a start this lunchtime, if thats all right with you girls.” With that, he smiled another smile and walked off. Quinn growled angrily as she turned to Rachel. “You so much as touch me, or say a word to me that isn’t about what you’re learning, and I swear to god you will end up with so many slushie facials you’ll become the new dispenser for them, manhands. “ With that, she turned, and, throwing her brightest smile at Mr. Shue, flounced back to her seat with Finn.

Rachel smiled. She’d expected more of a fight than that. This was going better than expected.

                                                 ------------------------------------------

“Quinn” the old man said, looking straight at his listener “Was not naturally a cruel girl. She was angry- at her non caring parents, at her bully of a coach, of the constantly judgemental cheerios, and she took this out on Rachel for one reason only: She knew Rachel would take any and all abuse, and bounce back from it, even stronger than before. And this infuriated Quinn, to the point that making Rachel’s life hell was almost an obsession. That is, until the day she started tutoring.....”

Rachel entered the cafeteria, and joined the line. Karofski, as part of his detention, was required to help serve in the cafeteria at least once a week, and today was his day. When Rachel got to him, he surreptuously nodded, and bought from under the counter a small plastic container of salad, the only one that was to be served that day. This was because everyone knew that Quinn only ate the salad when she ate from the cafeteria, and, if it was unavailable, she went without a meal all together. People found it weird, but Quinn was top dog so everyone was just too scared to comment. Rachel smiled at Karofski as she took the container. She put it in her bag, before heading to the library.

When she got there, she frowned. Quinn was nowhere to be seen. Had Rachel Berry, the Rachel Berry, been stood up? Maybe she’d underestimated Quinn after all. But no, there the blonde was, tucked away in one of the darker corners at the back. Rachel figured it was because that way, no one had to see Quinn sitting with Rachel, which was just ridiculous, because no one came into the library anyway. Well, not unless you were Brittany or Santana, who came here every Thursday during fourth period to make out. Other than that,the place was generally deserted. Which Rachel was fine with. She approached the table, and nodded when Quinn glanced up at her. She sat opposite the girl, and slowly removed the salad, making sure that Quinn could clearly see what it was. As she opened it, she casually glanced at Quinn and asked “No lunch?”

Quinn looked at her and shook her head.

“Not today, no.” She said, coldly.

“Why not? You aren’t like, anorexic, are you?” Rachel pulled a concerned face, and Quinn grimaced.

“Of course not. Like you’d care, anyway. I’m just not eating today. What did I say about talking if it didn’t have anything to do with Spanish, treasure trail?” She said, sneering.

Rachel shook her head. “No really, why aren’t you eating? Whats up?”

Quinn, for her part, looked slightly bashful. “Don’t worry. It’s...embarrasing.” Even in the bad light, Rachel could see her blush. She suppressed a grin. Too easy. She thought.

“Tell me.” Rachel looked right at Quinn, and quinn met her gaze quickly before looking away.

“It’s just, I don’t eat anything at this school besides the salad. Its one of mother’s stupid diet things, she says everything else is too fatty.” Quinn glanced at Rachel, then looked down at her Spanish books. Rachel pulled out the concerned face again.

“Quinn, that’s horrible! Why don’t you just eat something else? Like she’d know.”

Quinn shook her head. “No, she would. I swear to god, she has spies on the Cheerio’s or something. I once had a slice of cake because it was Finn’s birthday, and almost got grounded. It’s ridiculous, I know. I don’t even like lettuce!” Quinn looked so upset and frustrated that for a second, Rachel pitied her, before realising that this was in fact the girl who spent her spare time throwing ice cold drinks on her. She gave a small smile. 

“So, I guess this is a bad time to offer you one of my dad’s cookies?” She said, pulling out a small container of them. She leaned toward Quinn, conspiratorially. “Come on. There’s no one else but me in here, and I’m hardly going to tell your mother, am i?” She opened the box, and pushed them towards Quinn, who stared at them like Christmas had come early. She hesitated, and looked around, before looking at Rachel.

“I hate you, you know that right?” She said, but the smile in her voice told Rachel that for once, she was kidding. She reached out and grabbed a cookie, taking a small bite. She grinned.

“They’re good.” Rachel just nodded. Damn straight they’re good, I bought them from the subway across the street last period. “Yeah.” Rachel said, smiling. “My dad makes wonderful cookies.”

After that, studying was a breeze. Quinn had defrosted a little, and Rachel could see why people liked her so much. When the bell rang for the end of lunch, Quinn stood up and stretched, before looking down at Rachel.

“Same time tomorrow?” She asked, grabbing the last cookie and breaking it in half, offering some to reachel before popping the other half in her mouth. Rachel smiled as she took the cookie, and nodded.

“Definately. And i’ll bring you something from home that doesn’t involve tomato or lettuce.” Quinn grinned, and nodded.

“Thanks.” She said. Rachel just smiled, then reached up and tenderly brushed a small crumb of cookie from the corner of Quinn’s mouth before she turned and walked out. If she’d turned, she would have seen Quinn staring at her in shock, her hand brushing over the place Rachel’s thumb had just been. But Rachel didn’t need to turn, because she knew exactly what she’d done.



Girl: part 2 (It Begins)
naomi
lopo271

Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Disclaimer: Not mine. I freaking wish it was.
A/N: I'm posting chapter 2, just in case someone likes it. Also, I'm not entirely sure how true the 'Ach' and 'Achot' thing is. My friend is jewish but she stopped learning hebrew in prep so if i got them wrong, let me know :)



Rachel stared at him, her mouth open in shock as the others laughed around her.

“You’re kidding, right? You want me to get with Quinn, queen of the bitches? I don’t even like being near her, I don’t want to fucking fuck her!” She said, trying not to raise her voice. Tina smirked, and said, almost leering

“Whats wrong Berry? You haven’t lost your touch, have you?” Mercedes laughed meanly, staring at her. Rachel bristled. She resented being mocked, and she sure as hell had not lost her touch.

“Quite the contrary, actually. I’ll do it, easily. Give me a month, less even, and it’s done. I’m just worried about you guys...I don’t want to have to take your money.”

Mercedes mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry, what? Who mentioned money?”

Rachel smirked. “I did. For this, I’ll need a fee. Of $50. Each. You in?” She said, offering her hand.

Tina smirked. She had no problems with money. “I’m in.” She said, flicking her fair back. Kurt was next, placing a manicured hand in Rachel’s. “Fine. But honey, if you fail? Your ass is grass.”

Mercedes laughed at that, and nodded. “Yeah I’m in. But I want $50 from you if...no, when, you fail. Done?”

Rachel nodded, and looked at Artie. Unlike the others, Artie actually had a heart, and he cared about her. They’d been friends since forever, and even had nicknames for each other- She called him Ach,  or brother, and he called her achot, or sister. He considered the deal thoughtfully, looking at Rachel. He had faith in her, sure, but he didn’t want her hurt, and Quinn- well, Quinn could be brutal, to say the least. Still, she was staring at him, almost daring him to accept, so he shrugged.

“Whatever. I’m in.”

Kurt, Tina and Mercedes cheered loudly, downing their drinks, and none of them saw Artie mouth the words But be careful . Rachel just smiled, and turned to look at Quinn.

                                                   ---------------------------------------------------          

“Rachel, you must understand, took things very seriously. If teachers gave her an assignment she’d complete it that night, along with an instruction booklet so the assignment could be properly used to its full potential, and a CD with a soundtrack, voiced entirely by her, to listen to while they marked her work.”  

Two days later, Rachel stared at Quinn in their shared Spanish class. She had spent all her time since the bet had been made finding out everything she could possibly find about the girl. She’d used minions, spies, and people that were scared of her to tell her all they knew. Last night, Rachel had collated all the things she knew about Quinn in a powerpoint, and an inspiration spread sheet. Rachel Berry was nothing if not thorough.

The most important things she felt she needed to know about Quinn were:

1.       She was the queen bee. She ruled the school from her roost atop the cheerios pyramid. She had the teachers, principle and entire student body eating out of the palm of her hand

2.       She was dating Finn Hudson, star quarterback. Finn was the type of guy you’d read about in a Mills & Boon- Talk, Dark, Handsome, sensitive but manly. He blinked and girls fell in love with him. And Quinn had him. So had Rachel, as Finn had been one of her challenges. She’d passed in the space of five minutes about a month ago, then had disposed of him by saying he was better off with Quinn. He agreed, but still followed Rachel around with love filled eyes.

3.       Quinn had noticed said eyes, and now hated Rachel with a passion.

4.       She was really, really good at Spanish. Rachel wasn't.

These things, Rachel decided, were going to be monumentally useful in bagging the girl. She planned to do this bagging in a three step program: Reduce, Seduce, Dispose.

Easy.


Girl Part 1
naomi
lopo271
Disclaimer: I own nothing
A/N: Comments welcome. Oh, and I need a beta. Pretty please?

An old man sits on the sidewalk, his guitar in his lap. With his eyes closed, he strums the guitar and softly sings; “Is there anybody going to listen to my story, all about the girl who came to stay? She’s the type of girl you want so much it makes you sorry, still I don’t regret a single day”
A movement beside him makes him open his eyes. There, a young man in a suit is standing, a briefcase in his hand. He looks around, then nods.
“I will.” 

                                                                                               ------------------------------------------------
There are four things to know about Rachel Berry.

One, she was described as many things. Some, like Mr. Shuester and her fathers, called her the next big thing. Others, like Ms. Pillsbury, just smiled and called her a heartbreaker. Sue Sylvester called her a menace to society, though no one ever really knew why. Her friends, and the male species in general, said she was super hot. Everyone else just called her a whore.

Two, She had a slight reputation. A slight reputation in that she’d allegedly gotten with every boy at McKinley high (and Lima, Ohio) worth getting with. And some that really weren’t.

Three, she got bored very easily, so her friends devised ‘challenges’, for her to complete. Generally, this either meant getting the unobtainable, or making those with a heart of stone fall in love with her. Out of 43.5 challenges (Jacob Ben Israel’s was so easy to complete it only counted as a half), She’d never failed a single one.

Four, contrary to popular belief, she was a virgin. She’d only ever gotten to first base. The reason people thought otherwise was because Rachel let them. When Rumour got around that Rachel had had sex with Noah Puckerman, she became one of the coolest girls in school. So, she let the rumour continue. Now, no boy that she’d been with wanted to be the one to say he hadn’t had sex with Rachel Berry. So, she was the school whore, more so than Santana Lopez. Even her friends thought she’d gone all the way, and Rachel was fine with that. It just made challenges easier. 
                                                                                             ---------------------------------------------------

The man looked at his young listener. “When she looked back at her life, in later years, she’d always say that she would always say that it truly began on the 25th march, 2009, 3 days after her 16th birthday...."

She and her friends- Kurt Hummel, who was so gay it sometimes hurt him to even touch girls, Mercedes Jones, who was like Aretha Franklin if Aretha Franklin was slightly homicidal, Artie Abrams, who could manipulate basically any computer to obey his every need, and Tina Cohen-Chang, whose parents owned half of Lima- were at Mike Chang’s Party. Mike was one of Rachel’s most recent conquests. He’d been a challenge because his mother, the loud and scary Mrs. Chang, didn’t allow him to date. Or even know girls. Still, it had only taken Rachel four days to end up making out with him on his bed.

It had taken even less time to disentangle herself with him, by simply making out with his best friend Matt Rutherford a day later and then telling them both that she cared about them too much to mess up their friendship. As a result, she’d managed to bag two challenges (Mercedes was convinced Matt was gay, but Kurt’s gaydar disagreed) in the space of two days, and kept two more willing minions (She called them minions because thats what they were. Not friends, just guys willing to do her bidding because they were either in love with her or wanted to get in her pants. She had a lot of them, and Artie often said she was building up an army. Or at least, a football squad.) in the process.

They sat in a corner of the party, and Rachel, as usual, was bored. She hadn’t been given a challenge in a while and really, there was nothing in this town worth doing if not stealing kisses and stealing hearts. Hell, she’d made out with that oaf Karofski last week, just because she could. Now, he was all over her like a rash and it was gross. She turned to Kurt, the evil mastermind behind most of her challenges. Like Rachel, Kurt didn’t have a heart. He simply had a brain made solely for the purpose of bringing down the boys in this school, using Rachel as a tool. He enjoyed this for two reasons: he enjoyed getting revenge on the boys who, until he befriended Rachel, used to chuck him in the dumpster every day, and he enjoyed getting revenge on the girls who laughed at his clothes and his barbie for years, and watching their faces fall when they realised the boy they liked had been stolen by Rachel Berry was revenge enough for him.
When Rachel turned to him he stopped looking at Finn Hudson’s (so very nice) ass and turned to her, an evil glint in his eye.

“So, do you have a challenge for me or not? This vodka is piss weak and I’m bored, Hummel.” Rachel said, downing another shot.
Kurt just smiled wickedly at her, and gestured for the others to gather around. “I do have another challenge, sweetie. Your hardest yet.” While Kurt had been staring at Finn’s butt, he’d also been staring at the person attached to his ( so very manly) bicep. “Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to bed Quinn.” 
                                                                                       ---------------------------------------------------
“It was that moment,” He says, “Many years later, that changed Rachel’s life forever. This,” The man says, giving a small smile, “this was the beginning of the end for the old Rachel Berry.”



Wisdom
naomi
lopo271
Pairing: Brittany/Santana, (tiny bit of Rachel/Quinn)
Rating: PG
Summary: Mike Chang knew two things completely, absolutely certainly: That he loved Brittany more than life in itself, and so did everyone else.
Spoilers: None, I don’t think. Unless you Didn’t know that Brittany had a bird in her locker.


The first thing Mike Chang’s grandfather said, when he saw his grandson for the first time in years at his 16th birthday was; “That boy is the wisest child I have ever seen.” This struck many people as odd, because when someone uses the word wise, they don’t normally picture a gangly, sixteen year old boy. Because generally, gangly 6 year old boys aren’t very wise. In fact, at the age of 16, gangly teenaged boys don’t know very much at all. And what they know, they’re generally only 60% sure of, anyway. Which is why, at the ripe old age of 16, at the beginning of his sophomore year of school, Mike Chang was extremely proud of himself, because he knew two things completely, absolutely certainly:
1. That he loved Brittany more than life in itself.
2. So did everone else.
He was so very certain about this first fact because he, while he’d never admit it, was a closet romantic. His favourite movies were The notebook and Romeo and Juliet. Instead of girlie magazines under his bed, like most boys his age, he had piles and piles of Mills and boon novels. He’d read twilight at least 50 times (he knew it was shockingly written and unoriginal, but boy, did they love each other.), and in his mind, love stories were the only kind of story. Hell, he’d once gotten teary because he saw an old couple kissing. He knew love, and that was exactly how he felt about Brittany. It had started the first time he’d ever seen her: the frist day of elementary school, when Puck had pushed him over for ‘having weird eyes’. She had run over to him, hugged him tight, and said ‘your eyes are pretty. Are mine?’ He’d simply nodded, and she smiled that grand, Brittany smile, where the world stops and all that’s left is sunshine and her. From that moment on, he was taken.
He was so very certain about the second fact because he noticed things. He watched people, saw how they interacted, how they felt, how they tried not to feel. And, over the years, while he watched Brittany, he watched others as well, and he saw how, even if they didn’t realise it, they all loved Brittany in their own little way.
He saw it in Kurt in the way he stood in front of Brittany to protect her from Karofski, who was approaching with a slushee, even though everyone knew that she’d never get slusheed anyway.
He saw it in Karofski, (and the rest of the jocks, for taht matter) in the way she never got slusheed, no matter what she did.
He saw it in Becky, in the way she always let her cheat off her tests, for no exchange but the occasional smile in the corridor.
He saw it in Mr. Shue , in the way he let her pass Spanish, despite the fact not even her Sombreros were drawn properly.
He saw it in Matt, in the way he stopped bouncing his basketball so loudly in the choir room when she asked, because no one had ever gotten Matt to stop bouncing before, not even his own mother.
He saw it in Puck, in the way he threatened any guy who ever touched Brittany, and how he’d once gone so far as to absentmindedly refer to her as ‘his other sister’ one night after practise.
He saw it in Mercedes in the way she let her sing the Beyonce solo, even though the song was made for her and Brittany didn’t sound nearly as good, and He saw it in the way Artie and Tina spent the next month convincing her that she did sound just as good.
He saw it in the way Coach Sylvester once kicked three girls off the squad for calling her stupid, and in the way Coach Tanaka only seemed to be able to remember her name, but not a single other female student’s.
He saw it in Ms. Pillsbury, in the way she didn’t tell Brittany’s parents about the bird in her locker.
He saw it in the way Principle Figgins let her keep the bird in her locker.
He saw it in Rachel, in the way that she smiled at Brittany , a smile that was generally reserved for Quinn only, a smile filled with such pure adoration it almost made Ms. Sylvester cry (though she always claimed that it was the acids from Mr. Shue’s rubber hair, burning her retinas), and he saw it in Quinn in the way that she didn’t get jealous and ignore them both for a week, but instead grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and smiled at the blonde as well.
And when he saw all of this, he knew that while they loved her, more than life in itself, he was in love with her, and that way different.
He knew he was in love with her in the way that all he could think of was her. He knew was in love with her in the way that he’d memorised the shape of her smile, the feel of her body against his when they hugged, the sound of her laugh, the colour of her eyes. He was in love with her in the way her name sounded in his mouth, Brittany, and in the way that when he thought about any of the great love stories he’d ever read, or about any of the great loves that he’d ever heard of, he’d picture them, together.
And there was the problem.
He was completely, ridiculously, stupidly in love with her, and she didn’t love him back.
This he knew, not by watching her, but by watching Santana Lopez. She was in love with Brittany, just like he was. He saw it in the way that she smiled when Brittany entered the room. He saw it in the way no one could touch Santana during one of her angry days except Brittany. He saw it in the way she was never mean to the blonde, never impatient, never snappy or catty or anything but smiles, despite her reputation as queen bitch. He saw it in the way she’d automatically lean towards the girl when she spoke. He saw it in the way she would link their hands together so easily in the hallway, slide an arm around Brittany’s waist and pull her close. He saw it in the way she’d kiss the girl’s temple fondly when she laughed, and in the way she’d kiss her harder (though no less fondly) against the lockers in the hall when they thought no one was looking.
He saw all this and he knew Santana loved Brittany, just like he did. He saw all this and he knew Brittany didn’t love him like she loved Santana, and that she never would love him or anyone else like that. He knew, because when he saw Santana do those things, he saw Brittany do them right back.
When someone uses the word wise, they don’t normally picture a gangly, sixteen year old boy. Because generally, gangly 16 year old boys aren’t very wise. In fact, at the age of 16, gangly boys don’t know very much at all. And what they know, they’re generally only 60% sure of, anyway. Which is why, at the ripe old age of 16 and three quarters, at the end of his sophomore year of school, Mike Chang felt more wise, and less happy, than he ever had in his entire life, because he knew four things completely, absolutely certainly:
1. That he loved Brittany more than life in itself.
2. So did everyone else.
3. Santana Lopez loved her even more than any of them, put together.
4. Brittany loved her, too.

(no subject)
naomi
lopo271
glee mae me cry...when will and terri broke up i bawled for like an hour.

AND BRITTANY WAS MEAN AGAIN. she'll do anything for santana, wont she?

the nice cheerio was mean!
naomi
lopo271
BRITTANY WAS MEAN IN THE MASH UP EPISODE AND IN NO WAY AM I OK WITH THAT.

so...this posts totally pointless, i just thought i'd mention it. the nicest person in the world made a catty comment and it made the angels cry.

for those who are wondering what she said, rachel walked into the room and was like 'where's quinn?'

and brittany, in a flash of harshness quipped 'probably down at the mall looking for elastic waist pants', before grinning evilly and santana. NOT COOL.

and yeah, that is all.

hairography
naomi
lopo271
um, hairography was awesome, just to put it out there. imagine made me cry, just a little.

and now ive made a fun list of thoughts, coz i can.

1. santana looked gorgeous in imagine. i can totally see why brittany has a crush on her
2. brittany is my life.
3. not enough rachel, quinn, again
4. has anyone else noticed the huge amount of artie/mercedes appreciation recently? i feel like they sing every single song ever. they're amazing, but SANTANA, BRITTANY, MATT AND MIKE NEED SOME SOLO LOVE.
5. i forgot five but im sure it was awesome.

wooooooo!

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