Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot to this story and my OCs. The rest all belongs to Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, Brad Falchuk, the various songwriters, and to the writers of any joke that may not be mine.
Santana Lopez was having a crap-tacular day. That's right, she was having such a crappy day that she had to resort to the geeky portmanteaus to describe the shit storm she had been through in the last 24 hours. First, she had been topped by a Cheerio whose name Coach Sylvester couldn't even remember the name, then her car stalled, worthless piece of shit it was, but still, it was her old reliable, and then, finally, she had been forced to work the most annoying person in all of glee (it was a list she had comprised when she joined the group. Rachel usually held the first place marker, but occasionally Finn would take her spot). Today, though, she had been paired up with Jack Harmon, the scourge of the Cheerios and anything in the school that even remotely gave a person status.
Out of all of his habits, and there were a lot to choose, Santana thought the most annoying thing he did was never remember her name. Everyone in the school knew her name and this pretentious assclown thought he could just call her names like "shore leave", "flophouse toy", "the peace pipe", well, the list could go on forever, the point being, he didn't remember her name. He was nothing before glee and she was always on top as the trio of Quinn, Santana, and Brittany. That was, of course, until Quinn went Juno on her ass and Brittany went, well, more Brittany than usual.
Without those two weighing her down, Santana saw this as her chance to move to the front of the line. Today was going to be that day. Enter Kurt Hummel. The little rat was recruited by Coach Sylvester, who couldn't remember his name to save her life, and sudden he was the top dog of the Cheerios. That was supposed to be her spot. Hers and no one else's!
Not that any of that stuff bothered her; she just hated the idea that someone was getting her spotlight. Spotlight she earned!
Enter Jack Harmon, the one guy that makes Rachel Freaking Berry look subtle and rational. He had spent half of their rehearsal calling her all the after mentioned names, acting like he was better than her because his shit didn't stink. At least she was getting some while he, no doubt, sat alone in his room at night making nice with himself to pictures of whoever he thought was hot.
'Eww,' Santana thought. 'Lovely mental picture, Lopez. Next you're gonna picture him naked.'
She jumped off of the curb, hacking dramatically. The day just couldn't get any worse.
"Hey there, Selma Hayek," she heard Jack shout from the bushes.
That was another nickname he had given her. Now, usually, she'd be flattered by the comparison, although she's a million times hotter than Selma, the fact that it was Jack Harmon calling her that made her believe he was a little bit racist.
"What was with the dramatics earlier?" Jack asked, that smugness in his movements evident from his well-trimmed, carefully done hair to his meticulously waxed tennis shoes. "You stormed out on me in the auditorium. We were getting to the best part of the song."
"Dramatics?" Santana questioned. "I wasn't being dramatic in there. I just tired your weak ass attempts at talking shit."
"So, you stormed of a room cause my insults were weak?" he asked, his tone indicating that he didn't believe. "Or maybe, you stormed out cause I was just the icing on the cake on a day that kicked your ass!"
She narrowed her eyes at the egotist.
"I have eyes all over the school," he answered. "I have eyes on the Cheerios, the parking lot, and, of course, in my head."
"So, you know that you're the last person who should be crossing my path?"
"Depends. How high up on the list am I?"
Santana simply growled, turning away from him.
"Lopez," the sudden acknowledgement of her last name got her attention.
She turned around to look at Jack, suddenly hearing music in the air. Santana looked around and spotted the jazz band. Only he would do something like this, he was that obsessed with musicals.
"Right now you are down and out and feeling really crappy," Jack began to sing.
Santana heaved out a loud sigh. He was not going to get her to sing.
"And when I see how sad you are," Jack moved closer to her, keeping a safe distance, of course, "it sort of makes me…" he paused a moment before shouting, "Happy!"
"You son of a-"
Jack pulled himself, singing to her arrogantly, "Sorry, Dry Dock, human nature-Nothing I can do! It's…Schadenfreude!"
Jack dodged her attempt at a punch.
"Making me feel glad that I'm not you!"
"You are an asshole, Harmon!" Santana exclaimed, walking into the parking lot before realizing she didn't have a car.
Jack reappeared on the roof of one of the cars still in the lot.
"I didn't say I wasn't an asshole," he countered, "but you do it too."
He jumped off of the roof, landing in front of her.
"Did you ever clap when a waitress falls and drops a tray of glasses?" he asked.
"Yeah..." Santana acknowledged.
"And ain't it fun to watch figure skaters falling on their asses?"
"Sure!" she said, trying not to smile.
Jack sensed this crack in the defenses and pounced, "And don'tcha feel all warm and cozy, watching people out in the rain!"
He had her!
"Schadenfreude!" they sang together.
"People taking pleasure in your pain!" Jack said, smiling wickedly.
"I don't want to ask this question," Santana argued. "I already know that the word is German for "happiness at the misfortune of others!""
Jack nodded. "And both agree that it's funny. You know like…" he thought for a moment. "Watching a vegetarian being told she just ate chicken."
"Or watching a frat boy realize just what he put his dick in!" Santana suggested.
"Being on the elevator when somebody shouts "Hold the door!"" Jack added.
"No!" Jack and Santana bellowed together. "Schadenfreude!"
"Fuck you, lady, that's what stairs are for!" Santana sneered venomously.
Jack smiled, "Ooh, how about...Straight-A students getting Bs?"
"Exes getting STDs!" Santana countered, thinking of the gift she wanted Puck to receive.
"Waking doormen from their naps!" Jack suggested.
Santana shook her head. "Watching tourists reading maps!"
"Football players getting tackled!" Jack shouted.
"CEOs getting shackled!" Santana trilled.
"Watching actors never reach…" Jack lilted, before he and Santana came up with a shared annoyance,"…the ending of their Oscar speech!" they moved across the lot, the band chasing after them, fighting to keep up. "Schadenfreude! Schadenfreude! Schadenfreude! Schadenfreude!"
Jack and Santana stopped, knowing the next step called for dancing. They were not going to do that today. Singing was fine, but they drew the line on physical contact.
"The world needs people like you and me," Santana sang, getting a strange look from Jack, "who've been knocked around by fate. 'Cause when people see us, they don't want to be us, and that makes them feel great."
"I suppose," Jack said, remembering the day after the Mawlid Procession. "We provide a vital service to society!"
"You and me! Schadenfreude! Making the world a better place…Making the world a better place…Making the world a better place…To be!"
Jack dropped to the side, allowing Santana a moment of glory as she sang, "S-C-H-A-D-E-N-F-R-E-U-D-E!"
"See," Jack said, "we actually do have something in common, Dry Dock."
And they were back to the name calling.
"And that is, Jack-Ass?"
"You know, I've heard that one since I was a small child," Jack said. "It's not insulting. To me anyways. It's more insulting of your wit. If such a wit exists, I mean."
"Now, I'm back to wanting to hurt you."
"Just as I wanted," he said. "However, before we go back to wanting to rip out each others' reproductive organs, I expect a thank you."
"A thank you?" she asked. "You're part of the reason my day sucked."
"But, I got you to smile, so I'll expect a card or a charitable donation to the Elect Jack Harmon for King of the World Fund."
With that Jack turned and began to walk toward his car. Santana Lopez knew he was right, but she also knew she would never give him that sort of satisfaction. Don't give him the satisfaction. That was the diamond in the crap heap that was her day. She'd never have to thank him for it. Not thanks, asshole!
A/N: Another one-shot completed. I'm starting to think that after I do the Finn-Jack one-shot this series is going to end and I'm going to head in to my ensemble piece. It will take some time to write the first chapter, but I've got a good feeling about it.
As always, your thoughts, critiques, and opinions are always helpful.