Summary: Rachel does not get a solo and decides that Mr. Schue did not give it to her because he is discriminating against her because she is Jewish. Santana, fed up with Rachel has an outburst of her own with unexpected results.

Word Count:1,360

Author: EmoEccentrica

A/N: Hello Fanfiction! Wow I've been away for a long time… this is my first fic in about six months. Wow. Anyway this was just an idea that went through my head and I decided to write it. I'm not exactly sure when this would've taken place in Glee…. Let's just say sometime during season 2 but before Bartie began.

Warnings: Slightly OOC Rachel. I've never written her and while I won't be character bashing, I don't like her very much. Santana's potty mouth is also part of the T rating. Mentions of femslash and racism. Also first time writing Santana or Britney so… yea…

Spoilers: Parts of Season Two…

Enjoy~

It was a normal day for Santana for the most part. She woke up, yelled at her siblings some, got dressed and went to school where she spread fear and intimidation. After that she had pulled Britt into the janitor's closet and they got their mack on. It wasn't until later that she realized the irony of her hiding in a closet and waiting for the blond to pass by.

Now she was in Glee which she enjoyed for the most part, except for when Rachel was squawking about how unfair it was that she, who got almost every solo, didn't get the lead on some track from Broadway or Journey. Like right now.

"But Mr. Schue, it's not fair to hold auditions when it's clear that I could do more justice to 'Out Tonight' than anyone else in this room."

Rachel was in the middle of the room, hands clenched in indignation. Santana rolled her eyes at her choice of words. She really needed to stop hanging out with Kurt. Soon she would be using fourteen letter words to describe Rachel herself, when she only needed one: mamona*.

Santana rolled her eyes as Rachel went on about "Out Tonight" being one of her go to shower songs and a song she deeply related to. Santana resisted the urge to snort. She had watched RENT, both the filmed Broadway version and the movie-a result of attending one of Kurt's "Girl's Nights"- and if anyone could understand what Mimi was talking about, it would be her. She wanted to say as much but something in her wouldn't let her.

"… I think you don't want to give me the solo because I'm Jewish and I not only find that racist-"
And that was where Santana drew the line; no one in this club except her, Tina or Mike had any reason to complain about blatant racism.

"Oh hells no! You did not just pull the racist card Hobbit."
Everyone turned to focus on her and she moved to the center of the room. She let out a little scoff at the shocked look on Rachel's face. Was she really that surprised that someone had the balls to stand up to her? If she was, then Santana wasn't doing her job right and that just wouldn't do. No, Rachel was going to learn what discrimination was.

Rachel's expression turned from shock to a glare. She crossed her arms and stared straight at Santana.

"Santana I don't think this really concerns you. This is between Mr. Schue and me."

Santana let out a full laugh at that one.

"Doesn't concern me? You just called Mr. Schue racist, and while half the time I don't care about anything that comes out of that oversized, overused hole on your face, and that I can't ignore."

Rachel looked like she wanted to rebut, but Santana just held up a well manicured hand.

"You don't know what racism is. You're Jewish, so what? Most people got over that prejudice years ago. What about Tina and Mike face every day? We call them Asian Fusion for crap's sake! They might be proud of being Asian but if I was them I would have clawed out everybody's eyes ages ago."

Rachel stared at her some more and then took a step closer to her.

"I don't see why you're down here championing them, if Tina or Mike had a problem with it, I'm sure they would've said something a long time ago. I think you're the one who doesn't understand what racism is Santana! I mean, what discrimination do you face?"

Santana clenched her fists and glared at the short girl, who had a smirk on her face.

"What discrimination do I face? Dios mio! Are you blind Rachel or are you just that self-absorbed?"

When Rachel opened her mouth to respond, Santana just held up her hand again.

"That was a rhetorical question Yentl. Since you are too thick headed to understand let me explain how I face discrimination. One: I'm Latina, in a mostly white town. Do you know how many times I've been called "spic" or "beaner"? Do you know how many times people address me in Spanish first? Do you realize I can't even talk in Spanish around others because they immediately think I'm talking shit about them?"

Rachel continued to stare on and the room was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Santana breathed deeply to try to calm herself; as much as she wanted to rip into Rachel's ugly mug, that wouldn't help her case at all. She took a step closer and held up two fingers.

"Two: I live on the wrong side of town. People see me and automatically think I'm a delinquent and a slut. While the second might be true, the first isn't. I don't do random acts of destruction, drugs or gangs; they're just not worth my time or effort. How could you understand that, when you come from your oh-so-understanding family and respectable neighborhood? Furthermore, I think it's stupid to claim to relate to Mimi, a stripper and druggie, when you didn't want to drink and probably haven't gotten past second base with your non-virgin boyfriend."

Santana felt a smirk come to her face at the expression on Berry's face. It was a mix of indignation, disgust and betrayal. Santana merely gave the girl her patented "Been there, tapped that" expression when she looked from her to Finn, who was diligently scrutinizing the floor. Oh yeah, she went there. When Rachel looked back at her, she held up a third finger and moved another step closer to the Jewish girl.

"Three: I'm a woman; I'm not even going to go into that one. You should understand that one."

Finally she held up a fourth finger and without thinking said:

"Fourth: I'm gay; for all that you go on about how having two gay dads has made you a more accepting person, you sure don't show it."

Santana's eyes widened as she realized what she had just said. Instead of freaking out though, she strutted out of the room, her face betraying no emotion. It was a storm out that put Rachel Berry's to shame.

Once outside though, she wasn't sure what exactly to do with herself. She couldn't go back to Glee because she didn't want to deal with the fallout of her confession. However she couldn't go home because her parents were working late and she didn't have the keys. And no way in hell was she going to the babysitter's house. Just no.

She slumped down to the floor, mulling over what she said. She hadn't meant for it to come out, hadn't meant to come out. She wasn't ready to face what Kurt faced, and she didn't care if that made her a coward. She. Was. Not. Ready.

"I think what you did in there was really great."

Santana looked up, hoping that Britt wouldn't notice the tears that had started to well up at the thought of being shunned because she was hopelessly in love with a girl. It wasn't something that she could control…. It wasn't her fault that she didn't like cock as much as she should…. Wasn't her fault that Britt's lips were so damn soft and inviting…

Britt dropped to her knees, a soft hand coming up to wipe a tear that had managed to escape. Then she was enveloped in the girl's arms. She buried her face into Britney's neck, taking comfort in the blonde's embrace. Britney was the only one whom she allowed to see her like this. Anyone else would've been maimed by her sharp tongue.

"Shh… it's okay Sanny. Nothing is going to happen to you. Not while I'm around."

Santana looked up from the crook of Britney's neck. Never had she ever wanted to kiss the girl more. And Santana got what Santana wanted.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the blondes, feeling a burst of warmth shoot through her. She didn't care what happened tomorrow; for the moment she would enjoy the feeling of Britney pressed against her.

Note:

Mamona- Spanish slang for someone who is delicate to absurdity and/or self absorbed. Also can mean crybaby

And that's the end of it! Not entirely sure I'm happy with how it came out, but hey it's my first Santana-fic :) Review?