A/N: I don't own Glee nor the characters within. This story has been percolating in the back of my brain for a while. It wouldn't leave me alone. I know, realistically, it's out of character, but I don't care! I wanted to write it, so write it I did. Think of it as fun indulgence that I can hopefully draw together. Also, I almost uncomfortably feel like I've done Tina a disservice for her totally awesome run, but she'll get her glory later, I promise.
And yeah, do you really expect anything other than Pezberry from me? *grins*
Staring at herself in the mirror, Rachel would never have imagined she'd be where she was. It wasn't like she was Brittany, who had those long dancer legs that could run quick and fast. Or Lauren, who could tackle with the best of them. Not even Tina, who after that disastrous run down the field, gamely got up and finished the half.
No, Rachel was Rachel: below average height for American females, strong legs but proportional to her body, slight and originally unwilling to do anything but lie down on the ground.
Which made this all the more unbelievable.
Squinting, Rachel realized that the black marks under her eyes had smudged enough that she should probably reapply them if she wanted to go back on the field. But really, she tilted her head, was there a point if they were going to do their half-time show? She wondered if Finn had succeeded in getting The Unholy Trinity to come back. Honestly, she thought it highly hypocritical of him, but at least her ex-boyfriend was doing the right thing. Glee club needed the three cheerleaders, and since Santana was featured as one of the main vocals in the show, that was another reason for at least her presence.
As if answering her, the door to the green room swung open, three presumably ex-Cheerios striding in.
"What doing?" Santana paused, staring at Rachel through the mirror, "You still in uniform?"
Turning around, Rachel avoided looking over at Lauren and Tina and Mercedes getting ready off to the right. "Uhm… I haven't decided yet if I'm going to play the next half. It wouldn't make any sense for me to change then have to scramble to get back in." She looked down at her chest, frowning, "These shoulder pads are surprisingly hard to get into."
"Uhm, what?" Quinn blinked. Shedding her Cheerio jacket, she unzipped her top and skirt in short order, "You're making less sense than normal, Stubbles."
Looking up from where she'd already stripped down to her underwear, Brittany's eyes widened and she skipped over to Rachel. "You are so hot right now," she stated as fact, starting to run her hands up and down the broad shoulders of Rachel's uniform.
Rachel blushed. "Uhm, thank you Brittany, but I think you should be concentrating on becoming a zombie right now." Lifting her arms, she tried to push Brittany's hands away, but the blonde continued, unconcerned. "No," she shook her head, pausing at the area where she would have normally been groping Rachel, "Wouldn't it work better if Tina or Mercedes just bit me? Though, could they do it so I don't have to eat brains?"
"Ay dios," Santana muttered, walking forward to pull her best friend away, "I'll deal with her. But Man Hands." She leveled Rachel with a direct stare, "Get to 'splainin'."
Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do.
"Do I have to?" Rachel whispered. Her still gloved hands started pulling at her jersey. "Because if I do, it'll become real, and I'm not sure I want it to be real…"
"Okay, what the hell are you talking about?" Santana narrowed her eyes at her. Even half naked, only in a sports bra and spanx, the girl managed to look fierce.
Helpless, Rachel slid her gaze over to Tina and Mercedes, willing them to step in; Lauren looked too entertained watching Rachel's situation to even attempt to get her involved.
Finally, at her pleading look, Mercedes sighed. Putting the makeup sponge down, she turned a half made-up face towards the three ex-cheerleaders. "You three catch any of the game?"
Santana crossed her arms. "No. We were dealing with Sue and the cannon."
"Those baby canons…" Brittany whispered dejectedly, Quinn reaching over to squeeze her shoulder. "I'm sure they'll be alright," Quinn offered, and Brittany gave her a small smile.
"Well. My homegirl, here," Mercedes nodded at Rachel, "Turns out she's amazingly good at football."
Rachel averted her gaze away from the hot stares aimed in her direction.
"Excuse me?" Quinn laughed, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her head, "I must have heard you wrong."
"No," Mercedes shook her head, Tina and Lauren nodding in agreement behind her, "She's got some mad skills."
"Yeah, she scored two, uhm, two touchdowns," Tina offered, smiling almost proudly. Even if she hadn't succeeded in her run, she'd helped in one of Rachel's, so she was happy to take credit for that.
Quinn gave Mercedes a blank look. "You can't be serious."
"No, no, no," Santana shook her head, managing to draw Rachel's attention, "That tiny hobbit? You sure the football didn't hit her giant nose and bounce off into the end zone?"
Rachel flushed. She may be dealing with her football performance in her own disbelieving way, but it still hurt to hear doubt stated plainly in front of her. "Yes, I know, ladies, that it would be almost preposterous to think of me as athletically minded, but," she pushed away from the mirror, lifting a hand to self consciously smooth down one of her braids, "It turns out I'm small enough that teenage boys will ignore me until I get such a good lead on them that they can't catch up. As well as they overcompensate and roll over me when I duck under their tackles." Yes, she decided, she could feel smug about that.
Getting halfway to where the makeup waited, she was brought short by a shooting pain in her calf. Darn. She'd been hoping that slight twinge she'd felt during the last play would just go away. Luckily, she was a dancer, so she knew what to do. Problem was, she didn't have a lot of time, and pretty soon she'd need use her leg again.
Still, mustering a smile on her face, she walked as stately as she could to the free chair next to Lauren. Pulling another chair over so she could put her leg up, the makeup base she was going to stretch for was pushed into her range by a perfectly manicured hand. Looking up, she gave Santana a small, cautious smile.
Santana narrowed dark eyes at her. Perching on the edge of the counter, smoothly ignoring Lauren at her back, she dropped her chin and scanned Rachel's body. Thoughts flitted behind her eyes, and then she raised an eyebrow. "Roll over you, huh?"
A light blush rose on Rachel's cheeks. Clearing her throat, she nodded, flicking her gaze back and forth between Santana and the makeup and the mirror.
"And I imagine it's satisfying enough that you've made up your mind?"
Rachel focused on the sponge smoothing across her forehead, using a makeup wipe to get the black smudges off her cheeks. "I know I originally professed an unwillingness to get involved in such a savage pastime, but…" Santana made a 'get on with it' noise, and Rachel shot her a quick, embarrassed twitch of her lips, "I'm finding it… Fun." The last word made her smile at her reflection, and she rolled her shoulders and raised her chin proudly.
"Ohh my god!" Santana groaned, shaking her head, "RuPaul! What the hell are you smoking? You know the jocks have already agreed to come back onto the team. How in the hell do you think you'll be accepted, let alone get to play?"
It wasn't like Rachel hadn't thought about that. She swallowed. She also wasn't looking forward to that. Slightly shrugging, she offered loftily the only excuse that kept her from tearing off the football uniform and getting into her original costume, "Coach Beiste wants me there."
Santana scoffed. "Yeah, that'll do it."
Sighing, Rachel craned her head around to look Santana fully in the eye. "Santana. Not that I don't appreciate your surprising interest in my sudden status as honorary football player, but as you are the female lead in this show, maybe you should concentrate on that instead of me. Like…" she lowered her gaze, blinking when she realized Santana was still only in her underwear, a bare thigh awfully close to Rachel's shoulder, "Putting on clothes oh my goodness." She snapped her head around.
"You're such a prude," Quinn rolled her eyes as she walked by to snatch the base away from Rachel.
"Gee, thanks, Quinn," Rachel huffed, "Want to take my sponge and makeup brush as well?"
Pausing, Quinn cocked her head and then turned on her heel. "Don't mind if I do," she smirked, taking the aforementioned items and walking away again.
Limited as she was by resting her strained muscle, Rachel growled. "Seriously? Seriously?" she asked, turning her glare onto Santana, "Did she really just do that?"
Santana just smirked at her. "Well, you did offer, dwarf." Shaking her head, she reached back and unleashed her ponytail. Looking at Rachel out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly seemed to make up her mind about something and pushed herself off the counter. Just as Rachel was coming to terms with the fact that she was going to have to get up and find some makeup for herself, Santana reappeared with an already activated icepack. "Here you go," she gruffed, tossing the icepack at her.
Her mouth dropping open, Rachel stared up at Santana. "Thank you…?" she asked faintly, leaning forward to pull her pants leg up far as she could to slide the cooling wonderfulness under her calf.
"Whatever," Santana brushed her off, starting to apply her own makeup.
Watching her silently for a couple of seconds, Rachel bit her bottom lip. "Santana…"
Santana didn't answer, picking up a pencil to start tracing the lines of her lips.
Rachel tried again. "Santana?"
"What?" Santana ground out, still looking into the mirror. Squinting, she raised her pinky to swipe away an errant line and redrew it. Then, she traded that pencil for the eye liner.
Realizing she was staring at the other girl, Rachel blinked and looked down at her leg, her jersey, at the other girls crowded around the costume rack, before finally looking back up at Santana. "Do you think I should go ahead and apply my original design, or, as I shall still be wearing this uniform, change to the already jock appointed total zombie mask? I'm not sure how different I want to present myself than the others on the team, but again, as I am still a female, the issue is one I'm afraid I don't have a lot of time to puzzle over."
Santana glared at her through the mirror. "Jesus!" she spat, dropping the liner and turning her head to stare directly at Rachel, "I'm not sure I want you to be a zombie. To get at my brain, you'd probably talk so much – no, sorry, groan and moan at me so much – it would melt and dribble out my nose! No." She held up her hand. "Just sit there, clam up, and Britts and I will come up with something."
It took a couple of seconds for Rachel to digest what Santana had just said. When she did, a wide smile crossed her face. "Okay!" she said brightly, "But then please hurry up as we only have about twenty minutes left to get everything ready."
Santana stared at her, then closed her eyes and shook her head. "Duct tape," she muttered, "Ooh, or sewing her lips together. Voodoo zombie. Now that's a thought…"
Trying to ignore her, Rachel sat back in her chair. Straightening her jersey and pretending that her shoulder pads weren't digging into the back of her neck, she tried, again, to come up with a reason why what she was planning wasn't suicide.
Her list was awfully short.