The one where I rewrite "I Kissed a Girl." Goddamnit Glee.

Title: The Last Beautiful Girl

Summary: I have a lot of issues with the writing on Glee. I love a lot of the songs and a lot of the characters (and even more of the actors). And the writers are always setting up fantastic stories… and then abandoning them or turning them into something awful. During "I Kissed a Girl" I was actually yelling at my TV.

I should perhaps take the show a bit less seriously.

Anyway, I'm picking up where ep 3.06 ended, dropping the storylines I don't care about from 3.07, and hopefully setting things up to more or less work for canon in 3.08 (I don't know why, it's not like the writers care about continuity).

Warnings: Some of this will be in Santana's POV, and perhaps you're aware: she's mean and can use some bad words. I don't think it's anything worse than we've seen on the show. Other assorted warnings for other POV characters as they pop up.

Spoilers for season three through 3.07.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. If I did, it wouldn't have as many funny songs or darkly comic moments. But man, the continuity would be better.

Also, I'm taking some dialogue directly from the episodes, especially at the beginning as I pick up the story from 3.06 (Mash-Off).

The roar and the drum and the energy of the Adele mash-up turned quiet in its closing notes. As it ended, Finn turned to whisper something in Rachel's ear, and Santana noticed. She leapt off the stage as everyone else clapped, pointing an accusing finger at Finn and Rachel and demanding, "What did you just say to her?"

Finn stammered, "I said I thought you were great."

"No," Santana breathed, "you're lying."

Rachel looked confused, but protested, "No, he literally just said that!"

Santana whirled towards Finn. "You tell her too?"

Mr. Schue warned, "Santana," and started to stand.

Santana pointed at Finn. "Everyone's going to know now, because of you." She looked like she was on the verge of tears.

Finn blinked. "The whole school already knows, and you know what? They don't care."

Santana started talked over his last few words. "Not just the school, you idiot. Everyone!

Finn started to reply, but his, "What are you talking a-" was cut off by a resounding slap.

For a few seconds, the room was absolutely still, the kind of shocked silence that pools around words and gets them stuck in the throat. Then the two teachers seemed to remember themselves, and started talking over each other in unison.

Mr. Schue's, "Santana, that was out of line!" mingled with Ms. Corcoran's, "What on earth is going on?"

"You know what's going on," Santana snarled at Finn, or Mr. Schue, or the room in general. She looked ready to hit him again, and Brittany grabbed at her hand. Santana shrugged her off.

"Be that as it may," said Mr. Schue carefully, "that doesn't give you the right to hit anyone. Go to the principal's office. Tell them your parents will need to be called. I'll be along in a minute."

"So will I," Ms. Corcoran promised. "Finn, you should probably come too."

"I didn't hit anyone," Santana sneered. "I just hit Finn. In the head. So, nowhere important." She stalked out of the room, all dark curls and cutting eyes. Mr. Schue waited for a dazed-looking Finn to get up and asked if he thought he needed an ice pack as they headed out.

Ms. Corcoran offered, "It was a great job, all of you. I'm sorry it didn't end on a better note." Not noticing her inadvertent pun, she turned on her heel and left, absently dismissing the clubs on her way out.

Of course, no one left. They clustered around each other to whisper questions and speculation about what was going on. No one seemed to have seen Santana since lunch, and she'd showed up for their mash-off just in time. She hadn't talked to anyone before the music started, not even Brittany.

Three things happened that night.

1. Santana came out to her parents.

She waited outside Principal Figgins's office for over twenty minutes, eyes narrowed as she watched the teachers talk to him through the glass. Mr. Schue had sent Finn to the nurse's office. She was glad. If he'd been there in front of her, if she'd had to see his entitled white straight male face for even a second of those 23 minutes, she would have slapped him again. She would have enjoyed it. She hoped his cheek bruised and turned colors. She wondered when the ad would start airing. When she wouldn't be able to pretend anymore.

Her father couldn't make it, of course, he was busy at the hospital. Graciela Lopez, when she arrived, spoke softly, haltingly. Although her English was flawless, she was accustomed to Jorge speaking for her (a fact that usually enraged Santana, but which now put off the inevitable just a little longer).

Figgins said she'd be suspended for two weeks because she'd struck another student and that William McKinley High School had a strict no-bullying policy. Mr. Schue said the attack had been unprovoked. She bit back her laughter, and it felt bitter against her teeth. Queer little Hummel spent half his freshman year in the trash. Jewfro had a neck brace for a week after a particularly enthusiastic swirly led to a pulled muscle. Coach Sylvester pushed people down the stairs and ran practices that most police departments would qualify as assault.

Then Finn said it was a stage slap. He didn't have a reason, and everyone knew it was a lie, but Figgins was happy to smoothen over the little incident. It probably would help him avoid a report. Finn had his big dumb "I Fixed That Because I'm The Leader" grin.

Santana wanted to hit him again. She would have wondered what his game was if she thought he had some game afoot. But he probably thought he could save her and he could fix everything. He probably expected some kind of apology.

Santana managed to not punch him in the nose as the adults all apologized to each other for wasting each other's time, managed to unclench her fists before anyone saw. Her mother said in Spanish, "Get your homework. I'll drive you home," and Santana managed to avoid Finn and everyone else as she went to her locker. The school day had finished some time earlier, after all, and the hallways were empty.

Her mother made dinner, saying only that they would talk when her father got home. Santana waited in her room. She deleted all the texts and voicemails on her phone without reading or listening to them. Except Brittany's—she could never just delete something from Brittany—but even those she couldn't listen to yet.

She wasn't ready. She wasn't ready to be that lesbo, that dyke, to be looked at like something defective. She stared at herself in her bedroom mirror. She looked normal. Better than normal: the hot girl every guy wanted.

She cried.

She reapplied her makeup when she saw Daddy's silver Porsche turning into the driveway. She dressed in layers and slipped some cash and her phone and her credit cards in her pocket in case she was thrown out with the clothes on her back. She didn't think that would happen but she knew that it could. She tucked the mace she took to college parties in another pocket. Just in case.

When she got downstairs, her mom had clearly already told her daddy what little she knew. They sat together in the sitting room, the three of them, her daddy working off his tie and turning his intelligent gaze on her, her mother making sure the coffee table books were evenly spaced.

"Mom. Daddy. I've…." How could she begin? She could imagine Brit's answer to that. Begin at the beginning, silly. Her voice grew stronger. "I've fallen in love."

Her daddy's brow furrowed, surely wondering what that had to do with her hitting someone. "With… that boy Finn?"

Her mom was already shaking her head when Santana answered. "No." She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. "With… Brittany."

"Oh," said her mom. "Oh, sweetie." She put her hand on Santana's.

Her father hadn't said anything yet. Santana couldn't even look at him. She stared at her mom's hand, resting on her own, and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"We don't choose who we fall in love with," Daddy pronounced after a pause that seemed to last a hundred years. Santana looked up at him then, in time to see his fond look towards his wife. How many times had she heard the story of their courtship, how he was engaged when they met and how Graciella fought for him, how none of Santana's grandparents had approved at first?

He looked back at her, and Santana saw the same pride and affection as always. It was so… anticlimactic. But then, she still had more to tell them.

"There's… more," she said haltingly. Her mother gripped her hand. This time, she forced herself to maintain eye contact as she confessed, "One of Coach Sylvester's opponents somehow found out. The pizza guy. He's running an ad saying she must be a lesbian since she… since she appointed me head cheerleader. And there's a picture of me, and it'll be on TV, Daddy."

She gasped when her mom grasped her hand tightly then, and her daddy abruptly stood, but then he wrapped his arms around her and she was crying again, sobbing into his shoulder. "We'll sue the hell out of him," he murmured against her ear. "He can't do that you're a minor and a private citizen. We'll bankrupt him and use the money to buy you something expensive." That coaxed a smile out of her, through the tears.

The timer on the stove went off and her mom hurried to get it. Dinner was entirely surreal, her parents asking polite questions about whether she and Brit were girlfriends and Santana didn't know how to answer that question at all. Maybe they thought it was a phase or just didn't believe her but god they were acting the way they needed them to, and when she explained about Finn and his big flapping lips shouting across the hallway, they approved of her response. "He's lucky you just hit him once," murmured her mother, usually the pacifist.

"If you'd been suspended I'd have taken you to Chicago for a few weeks," her daddy said. "We can go this weekend, if you want."

She couldn't believe it, she just couldn't. And for some reason she just kept wanting to cry. She wouldn't call Brit back tonight, she'd help her daddy wash the dishes and let them rope her into playing cards with them. She'd thank them, awkwardly, and make plans to tell her abuela, not noticing her parents' concerned glances.

She loved her parents. But she hated Finn Hudson, and she'd never, ever forgive him.

2. That night, Kurt yelled at Finn.

They didn't go home together. They rarely did. Anyway, Finn stayed after, going to see Figgins in all. He saw how Santana tensed when Figgins suspended her, and he felt, like, really bad about outing her although really everyone had known already. So he stepped in and pretended it had been a pretend slap even though it totally wasn't and his face really hurt. And afterwards he worked out a while even though there wasn't practice that day. So overall he was really wiped and looking forward to eating one of Kurt's awesome dinners and crashing, and OK maybe playing some video games after because it had been an awful day all around, and then he got home and Kurt was waiting for him looking all pissy.

And Blaine, who was always around and it was really unfair that he was over more than Rachel, was there to hear it all too, which Finn just didn't need.

"Finn," Kurt bit out, "Did you out Santana today?"

"What?" Honestly, he hadn't even gotten his shoes off yet. "No!"

Kurt raised an eyebrow in that "are you being dumb on purpose?" way, even though he'd sworn to Finn he didn't have an expression for that. ("Well, not just for that," he'd amended, and it had been a joke but not really mean, because they were brothers. He wasn't smiling now though.)

"What happened, then?" Kurt asked. "Because she was really mad today."

"Santana's always mad these days," Finn grumbled. "She's just so mean, all the time, and I was trying to get the glee clubs to just get along. Because you know, we're supposed to be friends. And, uh, I know how much you miss Mercedes." Kurt tilted his head as if in acknowledgement. "I don't know. She was saying all this mean stuff about how I'm fat and she just wouldn't stop and—and I'm just tired of it. Of how she's so mean because she's in love with Brittany and won't admit it. She's kind of a coward really. Not like you guys. You're like, really brave."

Kurt's expression was neutral now, and he seemed paler. "And you told her this?"

"Yeah."

"And where exactly were you when you told her this?"

"At school?"

Kurt rubbed his forehead. He must be getting a headache for some reason because usually he was all against touching his face. He'd just given Finn a lecture the other day about how that made the face oily and made you get more pimples. "Well yeah, at school. Just in the hallway."

Kurt and Blaine exchanged one of their Significant Looks, and Kurt said, "That's a public place, Finn, and while it may seem like everyone at school knows about Santana and Brittany, she's not actually out. Or she wasn't. Do you understand that? You don't ever, ever out someone, Finn."

He hadn't raised his voice at all, but Finn got the impression that Kurt was actually really, really upset and was yelling at him, in a Kurt-like kind of way. "I didn't mean to out her."

Kurt sighed. "Maybe not, but you did, Finn. I stopped by the garage after school and Dad told me Reggie Salazar found out somehow, he has a niece at McKinley or something. And it's going to be featured in a new ad he's running against Sue. Everyone in the 4th Congressional District will know."

That was awful, but, "That's not because of me!"

"It wouldn't be possible without you, though. Finn… I don't think you can understand how bad this is. I know Santana's been awful lately, but no one deserves to be forced out of the closet against their will, no matter who they are or what they've done."

Blaine hummed and said easily, "Unless they're physically threatening you."

Kurt's mouth thinned even more, which Finn wouldn't have believed was possible. "Not even then."

They exchanged another Look, and OK it bothered Finn a lot that Blaine seemed to think he knew Kurt best when Finn had known Kurt longer and also they were brothers and all. "Um, Santana didn't threaten me. Unless you count her hitting me, but that was after I said that thing."

And then Kurt stopped looking at Blaine and looked at Finn again, and he looked really disappointed and kind of angry, "This really isn't OK, Finn. People still get thrown out of their homes for being gay. People still get killed for being gay. Or have you somehow spent the past year unaware of the anonymous phone calls we still get?"

Finn gaped at him, and Kurt softened a little. "I know Santana's been awful to you lately, and I know it probably seemed like you were just giving her a taste of her own medicine. But you don't throw around someone's sexuality like that. I expected more from you."

He paused, and Finn offered, a little desperate, "I'll fix this. I'll make it up to her." He hadn't seen this particular mix of emotions on Kurt's face very often. When he'd called Kurt's things faggy. When Kurt announced he was leaving McKinley. When he sat next to Finn on the couch after prom, stirring his warm milk and telling Finn about the election results.

Blaine answered for Kurt. "This isn't something easily fixed, Finn. We appreciate that you're an ally, but straight people just don't understand what it means to come out."

Finn bristled a little at Blaine's tone—the guy was annoying, OK?—and Kurt noticed. "Finn, there's a lot Blaine and I, and Santana, can't control about being gay. We can't know how our friends and family will react. The only thing we can control is the time and place and way we come out, and you took that away from Santana."

Finn promised again, "I'll fix this."

Kurt did look ready to yell then, but Blaine took his hand and kind of stroked it, and the anger drained away and Kurt just looked tired. "Fine, then. See that you do." And he swept away upstairs with Blaine trailing after.

When Finn knocked on his door an hour later, Kurt snipped at him that Burt was eating at the garage, and Finn's mom was on nights this week, remember? And he and Blaine were going out to Breadstix, and Finn could feed himself, he wasn't a child. And his mom wanted to remind him to stay away from the George Foreman.

There was some leftover pizza in the fridge so Finn ate that, and also made some sandwiches, and he found some leftover Halloween candy in the freezer and snuck some of it. He finally went out to the nearest gas station and got a ton of snacks, but even after finishing the last Twizzler he felt unsettled and strangely empty.

3. Around 4 in the morning, Finn came up with a plan.

This would totally work! The glee clubs would be able to show Santana their support, and it'd be a great way for Finn to apologize, and singing a bunch of cool lady songs would definitely make her feel better. She wouldn't go for it at first, but he could just remind her that he saved her from being suspended for two weeks and missing sectionals.

Once Santana forgave him Kurt wouldn't give him disappointed looks and maybe he could even stop the lectures and disappointment from spreading to Rachel.

Man, he always came up with the best ideas after eating Cheetos and Ranch dip.

a/n: God, I have 20 papers to grade by tomorrow and I wrote this instead. It'd be nice, though unrealistic, for the whole thing to be up before the next episode. We'll see. Oh and ps-are there any lj communities where this might fit? I have an lj that I've literally never used.