Part B… as promised… Surprise! There's a part C coming lol See, I keep planning to finish this fic, but it just keeps going.
I've become rather fond of cliff hangers lately.
For clarification, the Lines on the body idea? The one and only Brittana Fan… go say thank you to her. The Shorts idea? Nayafan. Say thank you to her.
For BB, Nena, and Jenny. I hope you all enjoy it. Sexytimes a comin in the next part!
Santana sat in the passenger seat of Quinn's car, arms tightly pressed across her chest, looking out the window. She wore a tight tshirt and jean shorts down to the middle of her thighs... She was pissed. She was practically covered from her neck to her upper thighs in magic marker. Probably the worst part was, she'd have to stay inside or in the shade, or she'd end up with some hideous farmer's tan.
Rachel and Brittany sat in the backseat giggling and poking one another cutely, while Quinn drove, singing to herself.
A few minutes later, the girls pulled up at the Hummel residence and got out of the car, Brittany and Rachel running into the backyard immediately, while Santana hung back.
"Come on, San. Let's go." Quinn sighed, making a sweeping motion toward the backyard.
"No... I'm not ready to go, yet. You go." Santana whined uncharacteristically.
"Now." Quinn ordered succinctly, narrowing her eyes at the Latina. If she left San there, there was a good chance she'd book her ass back home.
"No." Santana hissed back, mirroring the blonde's hard glare.
Quinn grabbed Santana's wrist and gave her a tug, but Santana jerked free, "Get the fuck off me, Quinn!" she growled, immediately looking as surprised as Quinn was at the animosity in her voice.
Quinn ignored her immediate impulse to tell Santana to go fuck herself and leave her there... Instead, she took another step toward the Latina, "The whole point of this is put you in a position to make a difficult choice, so maybe the NEXT time you feel a little unwanted, you don't go off and make out with someone ELSE... So you get your pretty little ass in there, or I will beat it for you." she finished quietly.
Santana was oddly intimidated by the stoicism in the blonde's voice, but couldn't help herself... After all, she was Santana.
"You could brand me, and-"
"Can it, Santana." the blonde interrupted warningly, "Laconic wit won't be your friend today." She swept her arm toward the backyard again. This time, Santana followed, annoyed.
She was so used to being in charge and having the final say, it was always a bit of a shocker when Quinn had the upper hand. There were times the Latina didn't know what to say or how to react... In this case, she opted to do as she was told and sulked past Quinn into the backyard, where Rachel and Brittany were already in the pool, playing chicken with Mike and Tina.
They were greeted by Kurt and Blaine, "Ah, the queen of hearts." Blaine called, smiling wildly and taking Quinn's hand. She giggled and looked at her girlfriend who stood, fists clenched at her sides, a firm scowl on her pretty face.
In keeping up with Blaine as hostess with the mostest, Kurt made an overdramatic sweeping gesture with his left hand as if he were showing her to his chocolate factory... She snorted derisively and he soured, "Overdressed, aren't we, Oh,Queen of Har-pys?"
He smiled at his clever little line and Santana just wanted to bitch slap him like a pimp, "Oh, nice one, honey pot... You look a little underdressed, yourself, without your boyfriend all up-" she was silenced as Quinn threw an arm around her neck and covered her mouth.
"Thanks, guys... We're just gonna go... Over here somewhere." Quinn stuttered, dragging Santana along in a headlock, "Where's the alcohol?" she called to them.
Kurt pointed to a rolling bar by the deck and turned away to greet Artie and Puck.
Quinn sat Santana down in a lounge chair, "Don't move… I'll be back… Corona?"
"Whatever." The latina sighed, pulling at the legs of her shorts, afraid that they would ride up and show the writing.
"Hey Girl!" Mercedes called, "Why aren't you struttin your stuff? We know you got a fly ass bikini on under there!"
Santana gave the diva a sneer and ignored her question. She was in no fucking mood. She seethed at the fact that her girlfriends had decided to pull this shit, knowing she'd been looking forward to tanning, poolside, with a drink in both hands.
She got up and dragged her chair under a large deck umbrella, hoping that if she hid in the shade, no one would notice her. Once Quinn got into the pool, she'd wait a bit, then walk home. There was no way in hell she was going to sit and watch everyone else have fun.
Her bitter thoughts were interrupted when the blonde returned with her beer, "Thanks." she muttered, taking it and promptly chugging it.
She rolled her eyes when Quinn pulled up a chair, "San," the blonde began softly, determined to give her another chance, " If you can just manage to behave for a bit-"
"Jesus, Quinn… What the hell is wrong with you three? Seriously… Why the fuck would you do this rather than the usual thing?"
"Wow…" Quinn started, raising a hand to stop Santana, "You haven't learned anything, yet, obviously… You're little escapade yesterday didn't just affect you, you know…"
"It would have never happened if YOU would have just asked how I was, or gave any sort of shit at all!"
"Knock it off!" Quinn hissed, "You're reallllllly starting to piss me off, Santana." She warned levelly.
Santana laughed bitterly, "Right, because I'm not pissed at all…Fucking hell, Quinn. You're on one today, huh?"
The Latina shook her head and gave Quinn a you-are-just-the-biggest-retard look, "A high horse." She answered slowly, as if the blonde might not understand otherwise.
A slow smile made its way over Quinn's lips and she left her seat to kneel in front of Santana, "You are pushing it today, aren't you?" She slapped Santana's hands away, and continued what she was doing, which was rolling up the very bottom of Santana's shorts…about an inch. "Leave them there, or you will be very, very sorry."
She glanced up at the shock on Santana's face, "And the next time you get an attitude, they're going up again, got it?"
Santana nodded quietly, still panicking inwardly. If she continued to advertise her displeasure, everyone would see what she was trying to hide for the moment, anyway.
"Good…Well, I'm gonna go get in the pool…you could join us, but I doubt you will." Quinn said icily. She turned to leave the Latina alone, then turned back, "Santana… If, at any point, you decide you've learned your lesson…I'll help you clean up, and you can enjoy this with us."
The Latina sat quietly, opting not to answer. There was just no fucking way she was going to admit anything now.
She chose to ignore everyone… Quinn watched her girlfriend coldly ignore every single member of the Glee club that approached her. She watched Santana ignored Rachel, who waved it off as nothing, and went about her business, spraying Brittany with a plastic water gun the dancer had found.
Quinn left her be, until she watched as Brittany approached the Latina and was turned away with a very dejected look on her adorable face… She caught the Dancer on her way back, "What happened, Britt?"
"Santana doesn't want to talk to me… she told me I'm a traitor and not to talk to her right now."
The shorter Blonde let Brittany go and stormed her way around the pool to confront Santana, "Really? You're being mean to Brittany now?"
"I'm being mean to everyone, Quinn… That's what I fucking do… Are their rules against ignoring people? Because you definitely didn't say that…You always say, 'If you don't have anything nice to say, don't s-"
"Alright, shut the fuck up… Just shut. the. fuck. up… I'm fucking sick of this… Give me your shirt,"
Santana crossed her arms over her chest, horrified, "No! Don't do that Quinn… I thought you were just gonna, you know, roll my shorts up…" She pleaded, hating herself for begging, and for even letting it all get to that point.
"Give. me, the. shirt." the blonde demanded, holding her hand out, shaking with anger and impatience.
"No, Quinn, please… I'm fucking begging you… Please. I'll do anything else…"
"Okay." Quinn sighed in annoyance, "Give me your shirt, now… Because if I have to say it again, I will rip it off of your ass."
Santana, looking as defeated as she could manage, slipped the shirt off over her head, noticing the immediate attention it drew, and handed it to Quinn without making any eye contact.
The whole party went silent upon seeing the latina's torso… Upon which was written, in several different colors, a myriad of possessive sentences.
"I'm BLUE!" Brittany cackled from the pool…totally on purpose.
Santana imagined dying of embarrassment.A/N: I've tried to fix the spacing on this a bajillion times. I hope you all can read it, if not...complain to FF because this is driving me insane.