A/N: I don't own Glee nor the characters within. So, this is a DD, immediate sequel to Scraps #70, where the first sentence was provided by my sequel seeking anon. Posting it seperately due to it being too long to stick into Scraps. Thanks!

Right when the last person left through the door at the end of glee, Rachel turned to face Santana and confront her note-passing boundary-crossing ways when Santana decided to take matters into her own hands. "Wantin' to get in on my offer?" Santana asked bluntly.

An adamant denial on the tip of her tongue, Rachel felt absolutely mortified when she realized she couldn't, one hundred percent, say she wasn't. Though she hadn't been affected while reading the notes themselves, unaware of who the writer was, the time when she'd been aware and waiting for the class to end had allowed her mind to wander. Faceless come ons were one thing. Come ons she knew were coming from Santana's hands was entirely something else.

But still. She couldn't allow this conversation to get derailed even before it started. "That is none of your business, Santana."

"Really." Sitting back in her chair, legs crossed with her hands comfortably resting on her thighs, Santana assuredly ran her gaze up and down Rachel's body. "I'd say it was nothing but my business."

"No." The word sharp and cutting, Rachel glared at her from her seat. "Santana, you and I are not in any sort of relationship where this conduct and language would be appropriate, no less anything but sexual harassment."

That actually made Santana falter. "Sexual harassment," she sat up, tan skin paling. "Now, listen here, Berry, you're out of your head if you think that – "

"Was anything but sexual harassment." Making sure her voice came out firm and purposeful, Rachel stared Santana down.

"No, no," Santana shook her head, "You're wrong. You're just being overly sensitive – "

A barking laugh cut Santana off. "Santana, are you even listening to yourself?" Sitting forward, barely perched on her chair, Rachel moved her hand in a sweeping motion, encompassing the whole room. "I was the recipient of your… Prose. I read what you wrote. Do you honestly think that just because you're a female you can get away with being vulgar and sexually explicit when I did not," she paused, making sure Santana was looking at her, "Did not ask nor encourage it?"

Santana's mouth opened, the creases between her eyebrows and around her mouth deepening. "No," she tried to protest, her voice not as strong as it had been. Her body jerked as her brain worked behind her eyes, "I'm not; Rachel, you know I'm not like… That."

Rachel stood up. Pulling her backpack handle up, she gave Santana one more direct look. "Well, from where I am sitting, you're sure seeming like that."

The last thing she saw before she exited the choir room was a wide-eyed, stricken expression crossing Santana's face as her body slumped.

Against her better judgment, Rachel found herself waiting at Santana's car. Five minutes after she left the other girl behind her, she caught sight of the girl walking towards her. Halting as she noticed Rachel loitering near her car, Santana continued forward. "Why are you here?" she asked as soon as she was in range, keeping a good ways away from Rachel as she circled her to reach the passenger side behind the driver's seat.

Without letting Santana off the hook, Rachel shrugged one shoulder up, one side of her lips also lifting. "Maybe because I felt like our conversation wasn't finished."

"Great." Avoiding Rachel's gaze, Santana took her backpack off, dropping it into her car. Her face was tight and stressed, she paused before closing the door back up. "What? Wanting to see if I harass you again?" Her self-loathing was evident.

Blowing air out of her mouth, Rachel stood up from where she'd been leaning against the trunk. Approaching Santana, she sighed and moved forward again when Santana backed away from her. "Hey," she tried to get Santana to look at her, "It's obvious you took what I said to heart."

"And I wasn't supposed to?" Santana snapped, rearing back, eyes dark and pained, lips curled in a violent snarl, "Because you were fucking right, Rachel. You were right and I – Jesus, I can't believe this." Pulling back into herself, her hands curled around both sides of her head. "That's not who I am."

Rachel made her voice softer without taking the strength away from it, "Then why did you do it?" She surveyed Santana. "Why write those things?"

"God," Santana shook her head, sagging back against her car's roof, "I've never had to think about this. No one's – no one's ever – "

"Had more self respect than I do," Rachel offered unapologetically, hand coming up to press into the back of Santana's hand. "Hey, look, I'm not excusing what you did, because it was wrong…" When Santana nodded, hands still covering her face, Rachel dropped her hand, sighing, "But I can see you understand that now. It doesn't make it right, but you understand."

Santana nodded again. Her palms crushing against her eyes, she took in a shaky breath and tried to stand up straight, to gain back some confidence. "I… Do," she whispered in a half voice, obviously hard for her to say. She dropped her hands, eyes fleetingly meeting Rachel's, "God, Rachel, I'm a bitch, but I'm not – I'm not - - I'm just…" Her last barrier fell. "I'm sorry."

Rachel surprised herself as well as Santana when she pulled the girl into a hug. "Good," she wrapped her arms tightly around her chest, under her arms, Santana's body stiff, "That's a start. I appreciate your apology."

A thick breath made Santana's body jerk, but her hands hesitatingly, after a few endless seconds, cupped Rachel's back. "You're naively nice," she whispered.

Rachel smiled. "Regardless of your impression of me," she squeezed Santana tightly, her voice becoming shy and unsure, "You like me?"

"No, I just like to throw sexually harassing words at just anyone," Santana ground out, making to pull back, but Rachel tightened her grip, "Berry – "

"Hush." Shaking her head slightly, Rachel sat back on her heels, pulling back just enough to look into Santana's eyes, still keeping a hold on her, "I think I, as the focus of your attention referenced earlier today, get some leeway as to my questioning." She gave Santana her determined face. "All I ask is for you to answer honestly. Can you do that for me?"

Santana managed a snort. "At this point, I think I owe you that."

Rachel allowed a small smile. "So you like me?"

A large sigh left Santana's body. "I'm guessing you won't believe me if I say you're just tolerable?"

"Of course not!"

Santana dropped her head, forehead bouncing off of Rachel's shoulder. "Yes, okay?" she ground out, succeeding in pulling herself back, looking cross and angry and sad and disgusted, "But what's the point in this? Huh? I've completely ruined everything – "

Rachel's hand flew up to press against Santana's lips. "Stop that," she shook her head, swallowing at the dark look in Santana's eyes, "You're beginning to sound like me."

Her lips pursing under Rachel's fingers, Santana stared down at her. "Berry…?"

Dropping her hand, Rachel busied herself by straightening the collar of Santana's jacket. "Do you like me?" she repeated, keeping her voice light.

It sounded like Santana stopped another sarcastic response. Her hands curled more directly around Rachel's back. Finally, she sighed, voice lowering, "I do."

"Romantically?" Rachel glanced up, giving Santana a shy smile, "Because if it's just sexually, I'm sorry but – "

"Rachel." Santana's hands leaving Rachel's back to wrap around Rachel's as they got too involved in fussing with her jacket, Santana brought them down to Rachel's sides. She put most of her weight on her back foot, dipping her head to meet Rachel's gaze solidly, "Shut up a second, okay? I know I screwed up. Hell, I don't even know how you can be talking to me now. But you are. So listen up." She licked her lips, looking determined and apologetic and frustrated at the same time. "I want you. Sure, sex is my go-to," she winced, gritting her teeth before continuing, "But that's not all."

"It's not?"

"Will you scream if I kiss you?"

Staring into Santana's eyes, Rachel slowly relaxed. "No," she smiled, "I'm too curious."

A smirk curled Santana's lips up. "Good," she whispered, slowly leaning forward, obviously waiting for Rachel to meet her halfway. When she did, Santana's gently kissed her. "I'm sorry," she breathed into her lips, sincere, letting Rachel provide most of the pressure, "I really am."

Rachel nodded, pulling back, a high blush on her face. "As long as you know," she smiled back, "And as long as you take responsibility, which you are, we can, mmm, explore this?"

Santana leaned back again, staring at her. "This is real?" she narrowed her eyes.

"Yes."

"And I didn't fuck everything up entirely?"

"Not entirely, no."

A soft look crossed Santana's face, and she dipped her head. "Thank you," she whispered thickly, "And I am sorry."

Rachel made an affectionate face. "Okay, now you're really acting like me. Stop it!" Softly rapping Santana's shoulder, she grinned, then pushed up on her tiptoes to press a surprise kiss to Santana's lips. "Let's just start over, hmm?"

Wrapping her arms Rachel's shoulders, Santana smiled into her mouth. "Sure. Let me get my notebook out of my backpack. I'm sure I can write something incredibly non-sexual and nauseating, if you'd like…"

"Santana!"

"What? I could, if I wanted. But, if you're fine with this, I'd rather explore your mouth more…"

Unsurprisingly, Rachel was fine. Santana seemed to get it, and, well, Rachel wasn't adverse to exploring this in return.

Just as long as Santana continued getting it.