A/N: I don't own Glee nor the characters within. This is a Scrap that grew.

"I want one of those old time cheesy couple portraits," Rachel announced, flouncing up to Santana's side.

"What now?" Closing her locker, Santana accepted the hug and kiss on her cheek Rachel gave her.

"One of those black and white photos. You know. Where I would be dressed up as a saloon dancer and you'd be my sharpshooter?" Her hands squeezing Santana's arm as they walked down the hall, Rachel's eyes were sparkling, and she was practically bouncing.

Santana frowned. "You want to be a whore?"

Pouting, Rachel lightly slapped her arm. "No. Not all saloon girls were girls of ill repute, you know."

"Heh. Sure." Smirking, Santana pushed the door to the quad open for them, "What if it was a gambling den you worked at instead? Going to tell me now you don't lay for pay?"

"No," Rachel repeated, shaking her head. Looking up at Santana, a full smile stretched across her face. "Because you, my dear," she paused them, stepping on her tiptoes to kiss Santana quickly, "Are there to make sure my virtue is safe."

Raising an eyebrow, Santana led the both of them over to where Quinn, Puck, Blaine, and Tina had already snatched a table, "So you're my bitch."

"Was that even in question?" Quinn asked, smiling at Rachel when she huffed and sat down heavily across from her, "Face it, Rachel, that's Santana's answer for everything."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Santana glared at her, raising a hand in question.

Puck grinned. "Yeah," he nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich and not bothering to finish chewing before continuing, "I've heard you call the soda machine your bitch at least once a week."

"And," Blaine cut in, pulling his apple down from his mouth, smiling, "Just this morning you did the same with your locker."

"That's because it holds whatever I give it to hold," Santana shrugged unconcernedly, taking the seat next to Rachel. "C'mon, you've got to try harder than that."

Pursing her lips, Tina sighed. "Well," she started, raising her shoulders, "Last period you called me your bitch." She smiled apologetically, "Sorry, Rachel."

Rachel's eyes widened before they narrowed. Slowly turning her head to directly look at Santana, she adopted a fake smile. "Tina's your, as you say, bitch now too?" When Santana shrugged, pulling her lunch bag from her backpack, Rachel sat back. "How many bitches do you have?"

"Let's see…" Smirking, Santana started counting off with her fingers, "You, Tina, Puck," she ignored Puck's hey! "Kurt, mmm… Mercedes… Mr. Schuester and his lady-doe, Finn, Mike, oh, and Karofsky, definitely Karofsky, Brittany…"

As the list went on, Rachel's glare turned exasperated, and with her chin on her palm as she watched Santana's listing, Quinn's eyebrows raised when her name was spoken. "Why me?" she asked, but Santana ignored her.

"…Principal Figgins, Claudia from grade school, B's younger sister, that boy at The Lima Bean that always gives me free extra shots, the entire staff of Breadstix, mi papí's head nurse…"

"What's going on?" Mike asked as he placed a tray of food from the cafeteria down next to Tina, sitting next to her.

Puck took another bite. "She's listing off her bitches," he explained, shrugging at Mike's look.

"Mmhm," Blaine nodded, putting his apple down and grabbing his milk, popping it open, "It's actually quite impressive."

"…Oh hey, Mike, yeah, you too, and Matt as well… I'd say the leprechaun and I'm working on Daddy's Girl, Trouty Mouth, Shelby…"

"My mother?" Rachel exclaimed, putting a hand up to stop her girlfriend, "No, no, that is not okay."

Swooping in, Santana easily kissed Rachel quiet. "Don't worry, babe, you're still my number one bitch."

"That's so sweet," Brittany suddenly squealed, dropping into the empty space next to Rachel. Not caring about Rachel's disgruntled look, she pulled her Scooby Doo lunchbox from her backpack, "You talk to her about the salon yet?"

Rachel blew air out of her mouth. Obviously not looking at Santana, she addressed Brittany directly, "Yes. She seems convinced that I'd make a perfect prostitute."

"Whoah!" Puck said loudly, grinning disbelievingly, Quinn snorting and Tina and Blaine making open-mouthed expressions of gleeful shock. "Wow," Mike poked his fork at his salad, shaking his head. Brittany clicked her lunch box open, keeping her eyes on Rachel.

"Okay, okay, no," Santana frowned, glaring at everyone, "You're the one who practically came out and said it. Saloon girl? Really? I mean, c'mon."

"Really, Santana," Rachel clipped, throwing her hair as she swiveled to meet Santana's gaze, "You couldn't look past the historical connotations to acknowledge the romanticism of what I had suggested? All I wanted to do was have a romantic couple's portrait – to ask you for one – and us to discuss it. That's it." Frowning deeply, she jerked her eyes away to glare at the table top. "We've been going out for a while now, and I thought it would be nice," her voice got shorter, more aggravated, and Santana was now staring at her with dawning dismay, "To do something to commemorate it."

In the wide eyed silence, Santana blinked and reached her hand out. "Hey," she touched Rachel's arm, "Babe, I'm sorry if I was… I don't know, inconsiderate or not getting what you wanted, but why are you so upset?"

Instead of answering, Rachel set her chin. The side of her mouth not facing Santana twitched up.

Quinn, Puck, and Brittany, who could see it, relaxed, while Tina, Blaine, Mike, and Santana stared at her, exchanging confused glances.

"Babe…" Frowning, and now looking uncomfortable, Santana moved her hand down, squeezing Rachel's thigh. "Jesus, are you actually mad at me?"

Rachel's lips twitched again, and Puck, Quinn, and Brittany leaned forward, eyes flicking back and forth from Rachel to Santana.

"I'd say so," Mike whispered to Tina, Blaine nodding before shifting over so his boyfriend could take the seat next to him, Kurt's eyebrows high on his forehead at the tension in the air. "Do I even want to know?" he asked, and everyone but Rachel and Santana shook their heads.

Santana's teeth ground in her jaw. Her shoulders rising as if to shield herself from everyone's gazes, she tried to move in, but Rachel moved her head out of the way. She sighed. "Rachel, you're being ridiculous." After a second, she made an annoyed noise, rolled her eyes and shook her head. Turning to her lunch bag, she completely missed Rachel's wide, exultant smile.

However, everyone else saw it, and a silent ohh rippled around the table, flying completely over Santana's head. When she raised her head again, everyone scrambled to push whatever food they had in their hands into their mouths, Tina squeaking when the straw from her juice box jabbed into her upper lip. Shooting the girl a disgusted look, Santana ripped open her bag of chips. "Well…" she started, glaring at Rachel still, to her, dramatically being stubborn and upset, "Anyone see the new vest Mr. Schue was sporting today?"

"Oh god, I know," Kurt burst out, paying no attention to the look of disapproval Blaine gave him, "Even if I enjoy rocking the sleek look of vests every once in a while, I cannot support his concerning obsession. And red and green? It's not even Christmas!"

Rachel snorted.

"Right, because I can't dare have a conversation with someone else while you're upset," Santana offered snidely, shoving a chip into her mouth when Rachel answered by primly removing her own refrigerated lunch box from her backpack, opening it and daintily setting out the contents. She hummed noncommittally.

Santana rolled her eyes violently. "Fine. B."

Looking up from her Capri-Sun, still sucking through the straw, Brittany nodded.

"Wanna head to the duck pond today?"

Rachel didn't bat an eye.

Casting her a sidelong glance, Brittany finally slowly nodded. "Sure," she mumbled around the straw. "Can I bring my new boyfriend?"

There was a sound of surprise around the table.

"You have a new boyfriend?" Puck asked. "Whatever happened to that Swedish exchange student? The hot blonde?"

"I traded her for another blond," Brittany answered, grinning. "'Sides, she's dating Artie now."

"Ar – " Puck looked like he had just swallowed his tongue, "What? No."

Brittany nodded. "Sorry Quinn," she gave the blonde an apologetic smile.

Shrugging her shoulders slightly, Quinn shook her head. "It's fine," she managed a smile back, eyes dropping to her bottle of water.

"…Okay," Tina spoke up after an awkward couple of seconds, "Brittany, who's your new boyfriend?"

"Me," a familiar voice supplied, Sam dropping into the seat next to Brittany with a big smile on his face. Answering his smile, Brittany wrapped her arms around him, kissing him hello.

"Hi Sam," Rachel broke her silence to nod at him, "Congratulations."

Leaning over Brittany, Sam gave Rachel a high five, "Thanks. Worked perfectly."

"Oh come on. You'll talk to him?" "Worked perfectly?" Santana and Brittany asked at the same time.

"Uh, yeah," Sam cleared his throat, filling in when it became obvious Rachel wasn't going to respond, "Rachel helped me set up for our first date." Smiling boyishly, he shrugged. "She knew more about cats than I did."

Looking at her boyfriend curiously, Brittany's face suddenly brightened. "You're the one who arranged for Lord Tubbington and Charity to get the massages while Sam and I went rock climbing?" she turned to Rachel, pulling her into hug, "Thank you!"

"You're welcome," Rachel smiled, squeezing her arm, "That place came highly recommended from my aunt. And it was the least I could do to let you be able to go out with Sam, here."

Kurt frowned. "Cat massage?" he mouthed to his boyfriend, who shrugged, mouthing back, "Normal petting?"

"Rock climbing?" Perking up, Mike leaned forward, "Where? Rock climbing sounds amazingly fun, right, Tina?"

Giving Mike a disgruntled expression, Tina sighed and shook her head. "Why not? Can't be any worse than football."

Santana shifted angrily. "Still waiting."

"It is fun," Sam answered, Brittany nodding next to him, "But Tina, if you need more convincing, ask Rachel. She's gone with me, too."

"What?" Her head snapping to stare at Rachel, Santana narrowed her eyes, "How come I didn't know that?"

Calmly turning to her girlfriend, Rachel arched an eyebrow. Pulling off the top of her container of salad, she picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of lettuce, placing it into her mouth and starting to chew slowly. Then, without saying anything, she turned back to Sam and Brittany.

"Oh hell no – not okay," Santana snapped, pushing herself up and hopping out of the table, "You are taking this way too far, Rachel. You want an old time portrait, huh?" She shook her head, laughing humorlessly, "Well, then you need two people to take one. And at this rate, you'll only have yourself." Snapping up her backpack without bothering with her lunch bag, she turned on her heel, barked out, "Catch you after school, B," and started striding off towards the direction of the parking lot.

After a second of stunned silence, Puck scratched his cheek, "That worked."

Rachel sighed, shaking her head. "If you excuse me," she stood up, managing a small smile to give to Brittany when she reached out and reciprocated her arm squeeze from earlier, "I have a girlfriend to catch up with."

Santana was waiting for her, lying down in the back seat of her car, one arm flung over her face. Trying the door and finding it unlocked, Rachel pushed Santana's legs out of the way, dropping her backpack onto the driver's side front seat before unceremoniously stretching herself over Santana. Nudging her arm up, she settled into her usual spot, ear pressed against Santana's heart. "You're mad at me," she said quietly.

"Mmhm. And what gave you that idea?" Shifting, Santana's free arm came to rest around her waist, half-heartedly pulling her into a better position on top of her.

Rachel sighed. "I didn't want you to get mad at me."

Her voice slightly muffled under her arm, Santana let out a deep breath of air. "What did you want? 'Cuz I gotta tell you, you were being a giant bitch." She pulled her arm back to give Rachel a severe look, "And I know about being a bitch."

"I know I took it too far." Rachel rubbed Santana's arm, biting her lower lip and staring at the back of the car seat, "But I just wanted…" She growled, shaking her head and turning so she could kiss Santana's neck, pushing up with her hand so she could stroke Santana's hair away from her face, admitting fiercely, "I just wanted you to admit that you're my bitch."

Santana stared at her… And started laughing. "You…" she gasped, squeezing Rachel tightly to her, "You wanted me to say that I'm your bitch? Rachel." Wrapping her hand around the back of Rachel's head, Santana drew her down, crashing their mouths together. Sliding her other arm up and down Rachel's back, she shifted and moved them, making it so more of her body was holding up her girlfriend's, "I'm a bitch, and I'm a keeper of bitches, but I'm no one's bitch."

"No," Rachel pressed, kissing her back, pushing her hips more securely into Santana's, grinning against her lips, "You're my bitch."

Sitting up, hands digging into Rachel's hips to notch her against her stomach, Santana's fingers slipped under Rachel's shirt. "No one's," she repeated, groaning when Rachel started rocking against her.

"Mine," Rachel's teeth nipped Santana's lower lip, her voice coming out in a growl, "And you can't deny it."

"Mmm… You're hot when you're like this."

"And you're hot when you're my bitch."

Santana laughed into Rachel's mouth, pulling back just enough to study the swollen lips and dark eyes of her girlfriend. She smirked. "Alright," she lowered her voice, leaning back in and stroking Rachel's sides, lips brushing along her jaw, "I'll never be anyone's bitch… But the closest I'll ever come to it is being yours."

Rachel squeezed Santana's shoulder, her other hand snaking down her side to wrap around her waist. "Thank you," she smiled, beaming, dropping her chin to kiss Santana, "Now about that photo…?"

Santana groaned, crashing their mouths together to cut her off. "Enough!" she moved her hands up, pushing under Rachel's bra and swallowing her moan, "You'll have your whore-picture." Rachel made to object, but Santana rolled her palms up, arching into the bucking of Rachel's hips, "Now shuts up. I wants my hot make-up-backseat sex. And I wants it now."