It was a day destined to go down in the annals of McKinley High history. Like most days of significance, it began like countless others. Jock's terrorizing the less popular, cheerleaders unleashing their more psychological torture upon the rest of the student body and Sue Sylvester tormenting…everyone.

Flash forward to an hour later:

Will Schuster, Sue Sylvester and Shannon Beiste stood around the edges of Principal Figgins's office, each displaying a different emotion. Rubbing his hand over his face, Will sighed, disappointed and surprised. Sue was somewhat non-verbal, spitting enraged syllables at any and all present. Bieste looked annoyed but actually a little curious as to exactly what happened.

From behind his desk, Figgins turned to the three students seated in the room and said, "Explain yourselves! Now!"

Quick looks were exchanged as Santana Lopez folded her arms across the front of her Cheerio's uniform. "We didn't start it," she said bluntly, nodding her head to indicate her partners in crime. "But we sure as hell finished it!"

Noah Puckerman nodded and raised his chin defiantly while Rachel Berry tried not to hyperventilate.

Flash back one hour:

The sun was shining, birds were chirping and all was right in Brittany S. Pierce's world. True, she'd forgotten where she'd parked her car the night before, but that was okay. Santana would help her find it later, she always did, and, since it was such a nice day, she was happy to walk to school.

Stepping onto the grounds of McKinley High, she saw a pack of snickering hockey jocks walking away from the dumpsters. She wondered what was funny and jumped when she heard a thump from inside the metal box.

She looked at the dumpster and announced, "This is not Sesame Street. Go away."

"What?" an annoyed, familiar voice asked from inside the bin.

"Kurt?" Brittany set down her books and rose onto her tiptoes to peer into the dumpster. She liked Kurt. He had soft hands and always smelled nice. "Thank goodness it's you! I thought you were Oscar the Grouch. He's grouchy."

Kurt peered up at her and let out a breath. "Yes, the grouchiness id implied in his name." He held a hand out to Brittany. "Help?"

She grabbed his hand, helping lever him up and out of the bin. Something icky got on her hands, but she wasn't worried. That's what sinks were for.

More of the icky stuff was on Kurt, who sighed and said, "I'd better change before class."

"Yeah," she agreed, picking some gunk off of his shoulder. It looked like smushed banana. "You don't smell too good right now."

"That would be last weeks meatloaf," he commented as they started towards the school.

Having lots of experience with dumpster and slushee necessitated wardrobe changes, Kurt was showered and in a totally fresh set of clothes in short order. Brittany was impressed and said as much as they left the Cheerios locker room and made their way down the hall.

Kurt smiled. "Well, normally my regimen requires a bit more time and effort, but the plebian attendance Hun does not understand that and if I'm late for home room again, there will be hell to pay."

She understood enough of what he said to figure out what he meant, so Brittany giggle in amusement and hooked her arm though Kurt's.

A moment later, something cold, wet and sweet hit her in the face. Syrupy, blue raspberry flavor filled her mouth as she gasped. Beside her, Kurt exclaimed, "What the hell, Karofsky?"

The hockey player just snickered and continued down the hall, high fiving his team mates as he went. "See, being a loser is contagious!" the jock shouted, to the delight of his friends.

It took a minute for the reality of what had happened to sink in.

She'd been Slushied.

It sucked and it hurt.

As Kurt hustled her back to the locker room, she hoped no one could tell that some of the moisture on her face wasn't from the Slushee.

Twenty Minutes Later:

When he got Kurt's text: 911 choir room STAT!, Puck assumed it was nothing out of the ordinary. Probably just Sylvester plotting their deaths, Rachel doing something completely batshit to maintain her stranglehold on any and all solos or a giant sale at the mall.

Not that he gave a damn about the mall, but that had been the reason for Kurt's last round of 911 texts.

He and Finn were the last to arrive at the choir room. What they found was definitely not their club mates elated over discount designer wear.

A tearful, damp haired Brittany was being consoled by Mercedes, Quinn and Tina while Rachel, Mike and Artie hovered nearby, listening to Kurt recount the story of Karofsky tossing a slushee in Britt's face. Santana was there as well, growing more visibly pissed off with each syllable out of Kurt's mouth.

"Dude, that sucks," Finn breathed, gingerly approaching the huddle. Rachel stepped away from him. They'd been on the outs since the latest break up in their on/off relationship.

As Brittany let out a particularly loud sniffle, Santana turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, clearly a woman on a mission.

Really, what kind of an asshole would slushee Brittany? That would be like kicking a puppy. A special puppy.

Puck was right behind her. Maybe they weren't hooking up anymore, but Santana was still a badass. She was, like, one of his boys, just in the body of a hot chick that liked sex and collected knives. Who wouldn't want to be friends with her?

Whatever. The point was, he had her back.

Crowds of students parted before them as Santana prowled the halls, sending anyone who dared cross her path looks of such loathing that Puck was pretty sure Jewfro pissed his pants. Either that or he had some serious sweat issues that Puck really didn't want to think about.

Turning down a side corridor, Santana sighted her prey, a cluster of hockey assholes gathered in front of their lockers. "Karofsky!" she shouted and Puck nearly winced. Anyone with half a brain would have heard her tone and run for his or her life.

Clearly, Karofsky didn't even have half a functioning brain, as he turned towards her with a smirk on his face. "Hey, Lopez, ready to ditch those losers and… GRARGH!"

His words trailed off in an inarticulate, pained grunt as Santana marched right into his personal space and, without preamble, grabbed the hockey players nuts and twisted, sharp nails digging into tender flesh through denim.

That had to hurt.

The large player tried to hunch over to protect himself, but Santana only tightened her grip and his eyes watered as he practically gagged in pain. One of his team mates moved to interfere, but Puck stepped in, slamming the other boy into a locker so that Santana was free to do her thing.

"Listen up, puta," she hissed, menace dripping off of her tongue. "I'm going to say this once, and only once. You ever slushee my girl Brittany again and I will rip 'em off," she gave a twist to emphasize what she was referring to, "and feed them to you. We clear?"

Obviously cowed by the menace coming off of the pony tailed cheerleader, only one of Karofsky's minions had the stones to try to intervene, so Puck caught the little shit in a head lock, annoyed. It was fun watching Santana do her thing and he didn't like the distraction.

Karofsky, whose face was turning a really interesting shade of red, barely managed to gasp and nod. Santana sneered at him. "And you're going to apologize."

He nodded again and she released him, stepping back to allow him to cover his balls with his hands. Still gasping and slightly teary, he looked up and attempted to glare. "You…."

Whatever he might have said was cut off as a rush of ice, food color and corn syrup hit him directly in the face.

Everyone in the hall gasped and turned to see Rachel Berry clutching two large, empty slushee cups. Even she looked a little surprised as she said, clearly high on nerves, "How do you like it?"

"Fuckin' A, Rachel!" Puck said with a grin, dropping the moron he'd been tussling with. Rachel, she of the tiny skirts and knee sock fetish, was hotter in that moment than he'd ever seen her. And he'd had her lying on top of him on her bed while they made out. "Badass."

Santana actually tossed an arm around Rachel's shoulders in a show of solidarity and no one made any move to antagonize them.

In fact, everyone was just a little too still an quiet.

Fuck nuts. Puck knew this silence.

"What is the meaning of this?" Yep, Figgins was behind them. Crap.

Dripping and hunched, Karofsky managed to point at the three of them before kind of slumping over.

Clearly unhappy, Figgins pointed and say, "You three. My office. Now!"

Present:

"So, you see, I was just defending Britt, Puck was keeping those steroid ridden hockey monkeys from jumping me and Rachel clearly had a little moment of crazy brought on by years of slushees to the face," Santana concluded, staring down Figgins.

"One of my Cheerios was assaulted!" Sue interrupted. "I demand someone's head to mount on a stake in front of my office as a warning to any who would dare repeat such an offense!"

Will tossed a momentarily startled look at Sue before saying, "I know you three were just defending Brittany, but why didn't you tell a teacher?"

Puck snorted. "Yeah, might as well toss yourself in a dumpster."

Coach Bieste was still looking confused. "What the hell is going on at this school? Kids tossing other kids into dumpsters and slushee facials? This place is crazier than The Panther thought."

"Now," Figgins said, trying to get things back on track, "As for punishments…."

"Don't worry," Santana interrupted. "I won't be calling the ACLU…yet."

This brought Figgins's train of thought to a rapid halt. "ACLU?" he asked, clearly uneasy with that thought. "What's this about the ACLU?"

Santana cocked her head to the side. Manipulating Figgins was almost too easy. "My mother's a lawyer and I'm sure one of her friends would be take on a case where a public school system penalized three minority students for refusing to accept an attack on another student. I'm sure they'd find a way to work in the whole hate crime aspect of Karofsy's initial attack, you know, considering Britt's open mindedness about sexuality."

As Figgin's sputtered, Sue actually cast a proud look at Santana, who smirked. She totally knew how to work a room. Mr. Shue looked both concerned and amused while Coach Bieste asked, "Why am I here?"

"You can go," Figgins said, waving a hand slightly. "All of you. Out. Go to class."

No one needed to tell Santana, Puck or Rachel that, as the three of them were out of the room in a flash, knowing they got off easy due to Santana's ACLU threat. Well, at least Santana and Puck recognized the get out of jail free card and between the two of them, they hauled Rachel out. There were still a few minutes before the bell and the others would probably still be huddled in the choir room.

There were still a few random students milling around in the halls, but they flattened themselves against their lockers to make way. Clearly, word of Karofsky's testicular trauma had already made the rounds.

Pony tail swishing proudly, Santana took the lead, leaving Puck to tow Rachel along. She glanced over her shoulder to see that Berry was still a bit pale and had a hand fisted in the fabric of Puck's shirt, while Puck had shifted his hand to her back.

Smirking, she shook her head. She wondered when the two of them were going to get a clue.

Present:

How had they not been punished? Principal Figgins had definitely seen what they had done to Karofsky (even if he deserved it). She had been certain her daddy's were going to be called and they had always told her that violence was never the appropriate response. They were going to be so upset….

All those thoughts ran through Rachel's head as she sat frozen in Principal Figgins's office…then Noah was leading her down the hall.

"Noah?" she said, hands finding purchase in the soft, worn fabric of his shirt. "What just happened?"

"We got lucky," Puck told her with a grin. He leaned towards her and said, "I have to tell you, the fact that you slusheed Karofsky…so hot."

"Really, Noah," she huffed as though affronted, flushing a little. She couldn't help it. He was very close and smelled really nice. It was pleasantly distracting. "We could have gotten into so much trouble…."

"But we didn't," he reasoned, smirking down at her. "You have to admit, taking a chance and getting away with something…kinda fun, huh?"

She faltered slightly, all too aware of the heat of his hand through the back of her shirt. "Maybe a little," she admitted, casting a quick glance up at him.

"Feeling daring, Rachel?" he asked her, something of a sexy leer in his voice.

"Noah!" she exclaimed, unable to keep the laugh out of her voice. "We have to get to class."

He chuckled. "Maybe later then?"

She couldn't help but reply, "Maybe."

'Cause, really, who could blame her.

And the rest is up to

Your active imaginations!