Title: Another Reason Why Santana Hates Lima, Ohio
Author: slacker_d
Pairing/Characters: Rachel/Santana, brief appearance by Mr. Berry
Rating: light R for Santana's cursing
Summary: See title.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: ~2,300
Spoilers: None.
A/N: According to my Snapple cap, "In Youngstown, Ohio, it is against the law to run out of gas" Snapple "Real Fact" #797. So let's just pretend this law is also true in Lima. Also, I know nothing of police procedure in Ohio, so excuse me if I got anything wrong.

Rachel sits in the bleachers watching Cheerio practice. Normally, she'd be in the auditorium or even the choir room practicing, but the band needed the choir room this afternoon and Principal Figgins booked the auditorium, so instead she finds herself doing her homework and waiting for her girlfriend.

Santana's car broke down two days ago and is in the Hummel shop. It needs a new motor and that takes a while to install. Apparently. At least that's what Kurt haughtily informed them the day before when Santana confronted him about her car.

Rachel mostly ignores practice since it seems to consist of Coach Sylvester yelling at them as the Cheerios perform incredible physical feats. She's so engrossed in her English assignment that she doesn't notice that practice has ended. A shadow blocking her natural light draws her attention upwards.

"Ready to go?" Santana asks.

"Of course," Rachel replies. "Just give me a moment to gather my things."

Santana nods and sits, knowing a moment to Rachel Berry is much longer to the rest of the world.

Five minutes later the pair is walking to Rachel's car.

"Where's Brittany?" Rachel asks as they're getting into the car. She knows that Santana usually gives her a ride and so by extension that means Rachel will be giving Brittany a ride.

"Her dad picked her up," Santana tells her.

Santana snatches up Rachel's iPod and finds some non Broadway related music.

They're nearly to the Berry house when the car sputters and stops. Turning the ignition does nothing and so Rachel checks the dash.

Her gas tank is empty. She'd forgotten that the red light had come on this morning on her way to school.

"Well?" Santana asks.

"It's out of gas."

"How can it be out of gas?"

"Well, believe it or not, Santana," Rachel says. "Gasoline isn't just put into cars for show. It actually serves a function, i.e. assisting the car to propel forward. However if one doesn't-"

"I meant," Santana interrupts. "Didn't the gas light beep to tell you it was almost empty?"

"It did," Rachel agrees. "This morning, if you remember correctly. But someonewas running late this morning and so I didn't have time to stop before school. And then I simply forgot as the day progressed."

"You forgot?"

"Despite whatever you may believe about my memory, Santana, things do occasionally slip my mind," Rachel says. "Besides, we talked about it. Why didn't youremember?"

"Just because we're dating, doesn't mean it's my job to keep track of that shit," Santana snaps.

"Must you swear?" Rachel demands. "It makes you sound so uncouth."

"Whatever," Santana replies. "Your language gets pretty filthy when we're in bed."

"Santana," Rachel squeaks. "That's completely different. My behavior in the bedroom is completely separate from my behavior otherwise."

"Too bad," Santana smirks. "There's nothing hotter than you telling me to fuck you harder."

"Shhh, Santana. What if someone heard that?" Rachel asks, looking around.

Santana shakes her head. "Who could have heard us? We're in your car with the windows up."

"You never know who might be lurking about."

"You need to stop watching so many horror movies."

"You'rethe one who makes me watch them."

"Whatever. Just call your dads and ask them to bring us some gas."

"I can't," Rachel replies. "Remember daddy is out of town at that convention and dad works late on Thursdays. Can't you call your mom?"

Santana sighs. "I could. But she probably won't want to. She'd have to bring the twins and that's an adventure she probably doesn't want to deal with."

"Oooh, I know," Rachel exclaims after a moment of contemplation. "My dads got me an AAA membership this year."

"Good. Then call the damn thing."

Rachel ignores her and digs the card out. The call is succinct and efficient. Santana may mock her girlfriend for her formality and meticulousness, but it does help in situations like this.

"They said it'll probably be an hour," Rachel says, hanging up her phone. "Maybe we could call Noah or Finn to bring us some gas."

"I wouldn't trust those morons to bring me a bottle of water."

"Well, I'm not going to sit here for an hour when there are other methods at our disposal-"

Rachel's rant is cut off by a tap on the passenger window. The brunette yelps in surprise, but Santana just ignores her and rolls down her window.

"Evening, ladies," a police officer says, leaning in. "Having a bit of car trouble, are we?"

"Indeed we are, officer," Rachel replies. "It seems my car is out of gas."

"Is it now? That's a shame," he replies. "I was hoping for your sakes', you'd just pulled over to argue."

"Why is that?" Santana asks, cautiously. She's seen horror movies start this way.

"It is against the law to run out of gas," he tells them. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to arrest you ladies and impound this car."

"What?" Rachel screeches as Santana covers her ears. "That is absurd!"

"I don't disagree, young lady," he replies. "But the law is the law. So I have to ask you to step out of the vehicle."

"I will do no such thing," Rachel says.

"Don't be an idiot, Rachel," Santana hisses.

"That is certainly your choice, Rachel, was it," the officer says. "But then I will add resisting arrest to your charges."

"Fine," Rachel huffs. "But I demand my phone call as soon as humanly possible."

"Of course, you do."

Both girls exit the car and are handcuffed, though thankfully, he does so in front as opposed to behind their backs. Santana is grateful for the small favor. Rachel doesn't realize the gesture and simply mumbles angrily under her breath.

…

Santana's been in trouble before, but contrary to the rumors floating around McKinley, she's never been booked and processed. Being arrested for some stupid juvenile prank is one thing. She'd simply been handcuffed and sat on a bench, forced to wait for a parent to pick her up.

But now she is being finger printed and her photo taken because her girlfriend's car ran out of gas. She decides her life is strange. The only good thing is that the finger printing process is on computer now, so she's not left with ink smeared fingers. Though it also takes a bit to get the perfect print. Her left thumb is scanned four times.

She's been separated from Rachel, for reasons she doesn't understand. But she'll occasionally hear the diva demanded something or protesting and it makes her smile. Santana had always wondered how Rachel would react in this sort of situation; her usual strong willed bulldozer style or would she become meek and compliant under the threat of the law. Santana really should have known better; Rachel Berry doesn't comply unless she wants to.

Thankfully, they don't take her clothes. They just throw her in a holding area, give her a bologna sandwich and an apple, and slam the door shut behind her.

Santana is grateful that she changed out of her Cheerio uniform before leaving. It's a little difficult to look badass dressed like that. It might inspire fear in the halls of McKinley, but Santana's under no illusion that her power would hold up in the real world.

She eats the apple and ignores the sandwich. Santana's fairly sure that bologna was invented to torture people. She then leans against the wall and waits. She's tempted to sleep, but there's no way in hell she's closing her eyes in this place. Yes, it's only Lima, so it's not like they have a large criminal element, but the day's been so weird, Santana decides not to chance it.

There are only two other women in the cell. One woman in an orange jumpsuit looks like someone Santana doesn't want to cross. Columbus Women's Prison is etched on her chest, so the Latina has a feeling she's a transfer. Her eyes are closed, but Santana's pretty sure no one's going to approach her. The other woman looks to be in her twenties and is still wearing her street clothes.

"What are you in for?" she asks.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Santana replies.

"I'm here for unpaid speeding tickets," she offers.

"Jesus, really?"

"Yeah, well, try like fifteen. Apparently, after the fifteenth one you become a flight risk," the woman huffs.

Santana snorts. "That's fucking bullshit."

"I know, right? So?"

"Apparently it's against the law to run out of gas."

There's a moment of silence and then the woman bursts out laughing.

"Are you kidding me?"

"That's what they told me," Santana replies.

"God, the cops in this town must be bored if they're arrest high school kids for running out of gas."

"And it wasn't even my car," Santana adds. "I was just the passenger."

Santana then hears the approach of the reprimanding voice of Rachel Berry. She wonders what took her girlfriend so long to be processed and if she's now going to subjected to an extensive tirade.

"…not to mention, my father is a lawyer, so I…"

"I take it, that's the driver," the woman says, smirking.

"How did you guess?"

The door swings open and Rachel is literally shoved in.

"Sorry, ladies," the officer says. "But she's your problem now."

Santana laughs, before she can stop herself.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing, Santana," Rachel huffs.

"Did you get your phone call?"

"Of course, I did. But nothing can be done now. It seems we're stuck here for the night."

"What?" Santana asks. "There's no way in hell that I'm spending the night in jail because youran out of gas!"

"Then you go get us out of here," Rachel replies. "Because I've exhausted my resources and the soonest we can leave is tomorrow morning." Rachel then looks around at their surroundings. "Oh, hello."

The woman smiles. "Hey."

"Why did the two of you get to keep your clothes?" Rachel asks.

"No idea."

Santana wonders if it's wrong that she kind of finds her girlfriend hot in the orange jumpsuit. It makes the diva almost seem badass.

"Life is so unfair," Rachel huffs, sitting down next to Santana.

"You can say that again," the woman says.

"Well, at least we're together," Rachel grouses.

"Yeah, this is exactly how I was planning on spending the only night this week that your house is completely deserted."

"And I had such plans for you," Rachel whispers.

Santana just groans. Rachel's been promising something for the past week and tonight is supposed to be the night she finds out what. She really hates Lima.

…

The next morning they're woken early. Well, Santana assumes it's early. Her body is telling her she should already be up and at Cheerios' practice. She wonders if being in jail is a good enough reason to skip for Coach Sylvester.

Rachel had fallen asleep with her head on Santana's shoulder. Since they're not completely out, mostly just in glee, they didn't curl up together like Rachel wanted. However, they both agree that would be immensely stupid. That didn't stop Santana from wrapping her arm around her girlfriend. It's what she'd do for B, so she figures it won't be looked at as odd.

Besides, knowing Rachel as well as she does now, Santana knows all her girlfriend's bluster and anger is meant to hide the apprehension she has about spending the night in jail. And even though she definitely doesn't want to be there, Santana's glad Rachel isn't there alone.

The door slams open. "Berry. Lopez. You're free to go."

They both jump up and follow the officer out of the cell. They're separated again as Santana's given back her possessions. She's done first and sits next to Mr. Berry in the waiting area. She simply thanks him for bailing them out and they wait for Rachel.

She appears a bit later looking well put together for someone who spent the night in jail. Santana is impressed because she feels like shit. Rachel hugs her dad and takes Santana's hand as they walk out.

"The good news is they only towed your car to our house," Mr. Berry says. "You'll have to let me know how you accomplished that, honey."

"I can be very persuasive when I want to be," Rachel replies, primly. "Do you mind stopping by the gas station for some gas?"

"Of course not."

They stop and Rachel fills a gas can with a few gallons. They also spring for some coffee. Mr. Berry offers doughnuts, but they both refuse.

"It's up to you if you want to go to school today, honey," Mr. Berry says. "I talked to your mother, Santana and she said the same thing."

"Really?" Santana asks. Mr. Berry must have sweet talked her a bit because her mother never let her cut school unless she's really, really sick.

"Special circumstances."

"She's probably just glad it wasn't my fault this time," Santana mutters.

Mr. Berry has a mischievous grin on his face. "Could be."

"We're going to school, dad," Rachel says. "A bit of adversity is no reason to deprive one's self of education."

Santana just groans.

…

They both agree not to mention the incident to anyone. They both have reputations to protect and getting arrested for running out of gas would result in huge mockery for both of them. Instead, they just let everyone assume they were too busy screwing around to answer their cells.

Rachel speaks with Coach Sylvester on Santana's behalf. Neither party will say what was discussed, but Santana doesn't have to run the usual ten extra laps after practice, so she's not complaining. Besides, take charge Rachel is definitely hot.

After that, Rachel never lets her gas tank fall below the halfway mark.