storypaint (
storypaint) wrote2012-01-20 01:55 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Entry tags:
[Glee] fall madly in bed with you (Mercedes/Santana)
Title: fall madly in bed with you
Fandom: Glee
Length: 967 words
Prompt: Christmas card fic!
Pairing: Mercedes/Santana; mentioned Santana/Brittany, Mercedes/Sam, Mercedes/Shane
Other: Set during S3, Troubletones era, and already Jossed.
Excerpt: "Sit down and chill, Weezy. I sent the minions on an errand, they'll be back later. We need to talk, one bitching awesome voice to another," Santana says, lazily leaning back against her chair and taking another breadstick from the pile on the table.
Mercedes is running out the door when the strap of her shoe breaks and she spends fifteen minutes fishing through her closet looking for a suitable replacement. She doesn't want to be late to the Troubletones meeting at Breadstix, but sometimes sacrifices must be made for fashion.
The thing is, though, when she shows up and looks around for everyone, the only person she recognizes in the restaurant is Santana. She furrows her brow and makes her way to the table.
"Where is everybody? Did I miss Daylight Savings or something?" She can't think of any reason why there wouldn't be anyone else here by now. Santana isn't particularly known for her punctuality.
"Sit down and chill, Weezy. I sent the minions on an errand, they'll be back later. We need to talk, one bitching awesome voice to another," Santana says, lazily leaning back against her chair and taking another breadstick from the pile on the table.
"I keep telling them you can't call them minions, Santana. They're as much of a part of the choir as we are," Mercedes answers, frowning, but she takes a seat.
"Yadda yadda whatever. They're at the mall looking for outfits for Sectionals. It's even TT-related, see? They have instructions to picture-message me anything not entirely ugly so we can make the final decision."
"So what are we doing here? You know Ms. Corcoran is making the final decisions on our setlist. I didn't block off half my Sunday to sit here and eat breadsticks with you, Santana," Mercedes says. She's learned something about working with Santana, and that's the fact that Santana is like the Devil: give her an inch and she'll be your ruler. Mercedes is beginning to like the verbal battles that have ensued when she decided not to lay down and take it. She wonders sometimes that if she'd started out like this with Rachel she might have gotten the recognition she deserved earlier. It just cements her determination to never go back to New Directions.
"What, friends can't hang out and talk?" Santana says innocently, and when Mercedes moves to get up, Santana grabs Mercedes's arm. "Seriously, chill. This is important, I promise."
Mercedes sits back down and takes a breadstick. Santana looks annoyed for a moment, probably bothered that she has one less object to binge on, but she lets it go.
"So what's the deal with you and Sam? Because, I mean, any boy who becomes a stripper to impress his girl..." Santana waggles her eyebrows.
Mercedes gapes. Finally she summons words. "That's none of your business!"
The fact is, Mercedes isn't sure how she feels about Sam coming back, especially in this context. (Besides, she's sure that's not why he was doing it. Right?) She and Shane aren't meant to last, and she has been totally okay with this. She doesn't need a fairytale romance yet: just someone who appreciates her. But now Sam is back and she broke up with Shane yesterday, irritated with all the little things that don't seem to matter when you're really in love.
Santana rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. Word on the street is you're single now. I was just wondering if you were... open to some experimentation." She leans forward across the table, and her smile is a shark's. Mercedes's eyes dart toward Santana's cleavage, amply displayed in a winter sweater that doesn't seem very warm due to its lack of coverage. Santana totally notices.
"What about Brittany?" Mercedes sputters, looking away hurriedly. However she feels about girls, she isn't sure she's ready to share it yet. And she knows being gay is okay and her family would still love her for it, but she's heard what Kurt has to say about bisexuals. She's not saying anything until she's sure.
"We have an arrangement. I just have to share," Santana says. She teases a finger down her neck past her collarbone, still grinning. Mercedes swallows. Her face is hot.
"Would you like something to drink, ma'am?"
The waiter's sudden appearance makes Mercedes feel like they've just come back from the moon. She just stares at him for several awkward seconds before she processes his question.
"Yes! Yes, um, a glass of water please."
"Right away," the waiter says. When he leaves, there's a moment's awkward silence.
"We wouldn't have to tell anyone," Santana says. She smirks.
"That's not how I live my life, Santana," Mercedes says, finally. "I'm done with being second and being quiet. That's not me anymore."
Santana lifts an eyebrow. She studies her nails. "I can respect that, I guess."
"You'd better!" Mercedes answers, and just like that the tension breaks. She takes another one of Santana's breadsticks. "Have the girls found any good dresses yet?"
"Like I'd let them pick without us! I sent them to the outlet mall. They'll come back here in utter defeat in oh, twenty minutes or so," Santana says
"I'm going to laugh if they want us to wear neon green plaid or something," Mercedes says.
"Yeah, you try to present that to Ms. Corcoran," Santana says, laughing.
"Not on my life," Mercedes answers firmly, and they talk about their possible setlist until the rest of the girls show up, because even if they don't get final choice, they get some input, and Mercedes intends to submit her recommendations.
That's her philosophy on life now: sing with all she's got, because she has a voice. And maybe she doesn't always agree with Santana, but she knows that the other girl feels the same way, and she respects her for it.
Not bad for a group borne out of trouble.
Fandom: Glee
Length: 967 words
Prompt: Christmas card fic!
Pairing: Mercedes/Santana; mentioned Santana/Brittany, Mercedes/Sam, Mercedes/Shane
Other: Set during S3, Troubletones era, and already Jossed.
Excerpt: "Sit down and chill, Weezy. I sent the minions on an errand, they'll be back later. We need to talk, one bitching awesome voice to another," Santana says, lazily leaning back against her chair and taking another breadstick from the pile on the table.
Mercedes is running out the door when the strap of her shoe breaks and she spends fifteen minutes fishing through her closet looking for a suitable replacement. She doesn't want to be late to the Troubletones meeting at Breadstix, but sometimes sacrifices must be made for fashion.
The thing is, though, when she shows up and looks around for everyone, the only person she recognizes in the restaurant is Santana. She furrows her brow and makes her way to the table.
"Where is everybody? Did I miss Daylight Savings or something?" She can't think of any reason why there wouldn't be anyone else here by now. Santana isn't particularly known for her punctuality.
"Sit down and chill, Weezy. I sent the minions on an errand, they'll be back later. We need to talk, one bitching awesome voice to another," Santana says, lazily leaning back against her chair and taking another breadstick from the pile on the table.
"I keep telling them you can't call them minions, Santana. They're as much of a part of the choir as we are," Mercedes answers, frowning, but she takes a seat.
"Yadda yadda whatever. They're at the mall looking for outfits for Sectionals. It's even TT-related, see? They have instructions to picture-message me anything not entirely ugly so we can make the final decision."
"So what are we doing here? You know Ms. Corcoran is making the final decisions on our setlist. I didn't block off half my Sunday to sit here and eat breadsticks with you, Santana," Mercedes says. She's learned something about working with Santana, and that's the fact that Santana is like the Devil: give her an inch and she'll be your ruler. Mercedes is beginning to like the verbal battles that have ensued when she decided not to lay down and take it. She wonders sometimes that if she'd started out like this with Rachel she might have gotten the recognition she deserved earlier. It just cements her determination to never go back to New Directions.
"What, friends can't hang out and talk?" Santana says innocently, and when Mercedes moves to get up, Santana grabs Mercedes's arm. "Seriously, chill. This is important, I promise."
Mercedes sits back down and takes a breadstick. Santana looks annoyed for a moment, probably bothered that she has one less object to binge on, but she lets it go.
"So what's the deal with you and Sam? Because, I mean, any boy who becomes a stripper to impress his girl..." Santana waggles her eyebrows.
Mercedes gapes. Finally she summons words. "That's none of your business!"
The fact is, Mercedes isn't sure how she feels about Sam coming back, especially in this context. (Besides, she's sure that's not why he was doing it. Right?) She and Shane aren't meant to last, and she has been totally okay with this. She doesn't need a fairytale romance yet: just someone who appreciates her. But now Sam is back and she broke up with Shane yesterday, irritated with all the little things that don't seem to matter when you're really in love.
Santana rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. Word on the street is you're single now. I was just wondering if you were... open to some experimentation." She leans forward across the table, and her smile is a shark's. Mercedes's eyes dart toward Santana's cleavage, amply displayed in a winter sweater that doesn't seem very warm due to its lack of coverage. Santana totally notices.
"What about Brittany?" Mercedes sputters, looking away hurriedly. However she feels about girls, she isn't sure she's ready to share it yet. And she knows being gay is okay and her family would still love her for it, but she's heard what Kurt has to say about bisexuals. She's not saying anything until she's sure.
"We have an arrangement. I just have to share," Santana says. She teases a finger down her neck past her collarbone, still grinning. Mercedes swallows. Her face is hot.
"Would you like something to drink, ma'am?"
The waiter's sudden appearance makes Mercedes feel like they've just come back from the moon. She just stares at him for several awkward seconds before she processes his question.
"Yes! Yes, um, a glass of water please."
"Right away," the waiter says. When he leaves, there's a moment's awkward silence.
"We wouldn't have to tell anyone," Santana says. She smirks.
"That's not how I live my life, Santana," Mercedes says, finally. "I'm done with being second and being quiet. That's not me anymore."
Santana lifts an eyebrow. She studies her nails. "I can respect that, I guess."
"You'd better!" Mercedes answers, and just like that the tension breaks. She takes another one of Santana's breadsticks. "Have the girls found any good dresses yet?"
"Like I'd let them pick without us! I sent them to the outlet mall. They'll come back here in utter defeat in oh, twenty minutes or so," Santana says
"I'm going to laugh if they want us to wear neon green plaid or something," Mercedes says.
"Yeah, you try to present that to Ms. Corcoran," Santana says, laughing.
"Not on my life," Mercedes answers firmly, and they talk about their possible setlist until the rest of the girls show up, because even if they don't get final choice, they get some input, and Mercedes intends to submit her recommendations.
That's her philosophy on life now: sing with all she's got, because she has a voice. And maybe she doesn't always agree with Santana, but she knows that the other girl feels the same way, and she respects her for it.
Not bad for a group borne out of trouble.