The bell rang and Glee club scattered.
"Santana, can I speak with you?"
"Sorry, I don't speak dwarf. You can probably chat with Sam though, he's a dork."
"I assure you I'll be speaking English, I need to ask you something."
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, she didn't know what it was that irritated her so much about Rachel Berry, it probably had something to do with the sweaters…
"Okay Baby Gap, you got five minutes."
Rachel took a deep breath and she realized that five minutes was going to be far too much time.
"I know that we've made enemies of one another which is understandable with us being on opposite ends of the spectrum so to speak and while you've made your point to let me know you don't particularly like me I hold no ill-will against you."
Rachel kept looking down, as if she was visualizing her own long-windedness.
"I realize now that I had been blaming you for what happened with Finn and that wasn't fair of me, Finn is capable of making his own choices."
"Stop right there Berry, I don't need you to forgive me for something I didn't do wrong."
"That's exactly what I'm saying!" She looked up at her, "I understand that you're probably behind more than one of the petitions to have my wardrobe burnt under the Geneva convention and you'd rather use me as a rug then accept any kind of apology from me."
"Well, you're finally right about something so why don't you just-"
"I also know you're an amazing singer, you could be as good as me if you reigned it in a little and took a few lessons but regardless its powerful. I know that you hate the feeling of being excluded or ignored, I know that it sucks to be invisible."
"You wanna see how invisible I am Berry?"
"And I know you haven't felt loved."
Santana went silent.
"At least not since Brittany started dating Artie."
They were both quiet for a few seconds, Rachel was afraid to break the moment, aware that it was her only protection from the anger that had mounted in Santana; she held the silence like a shield.
"What's your point?"
Santana's eyes looked just as tired as they did angry.
"It's a proposition to let you show them what idiots they've been."
"I'm listening."
Rachel wet her lips, "It's something…it's something I need you to help me with."
"Spit it out Yentil."
She was looking at her feet again.
"What you did for Finn…"
The words sunk in, saturating the choir room with implication.
"I know, it sounds ridiculous but think about it. Finn's treated you…badly to say the least, and while we're not dating anymore he has an amazing capacity for jealousy. Not to mention I'm sure you could come up with something scathing regarding his lack of competence turning me towards women."
Rachel's eyebrows had gotten remarkably high on her forehead as she become progressively more breathless in her attempts to justify her scheme.
"I'll do it."
"What?"
"I'll do it, I'll pick you up at seven thirty-"
"I have ballet."
Santana quirked her eyebrow, and then shrugged, "Nine then."
"I won't be home till-"
"Don't make this hard Berry, I'm doing you a favor." She exhaled a long breath, hardly believing herself; "I'll get you from the studio, Stagedoor right?"
"How do you know that?"
"You were there once when I picked up Brittany."
"Oh."
With nothing more than that Santana turned and left, escaping before either one of them could lose their nerve.
Rachel had never seen Brittany at her studio before, but as she ran through her cool-down routine on the bar she found herself looking around, peeking through the long horizontal window into the adjacent studio. There was no blonde hair, no pale muscle, nothing familiar. The sense of alienation had settled in her, the disbelief with what it was she'd agreed to. At the same time a static excitement heated her, kept a blush on her cheeks alongside and inexplicable smile.
Santana was waiting outside.
Rachel came out toting a duffle bag, her hair pinned loosely to the back of her head. She'd put on a sweater but the night was still refreshingly cool on newly worked muscle. Santana had a leather jacket that seemed to meld with the hypnotizing dark of her hair; she was twirling her keychain on her finger.
"Hey."
"Hey."
Somewhere between the strangely removed and remarkably intimate, that's where they were meeting.
Santana drove a black car, low to the ground like some kind of animal. It was something that had once been expensive but suffered the wear and tear typical of cars given to teenagers. The backseat was filled with pom-poms and sweatshirts as well as a few piles of school papers and cheerleading magazines; Santana took her duffle bag from her and shoved it in the backseat in some sort of gentlemanly gesture.
"We're gonna go to my house, my dad's working late. Unless you'd rather pay for a motel room."
"Your house sounds great."
She had the radio hooked up to her iPod, the music played low and Rachel tried to break the tension by humming along, when she didn't get any dirty looks she tried for some words.
She was on the second chorus of a Janelle Monae song when Santana cut if off.
"So why're you doing this?"
"I admire Janelle Monae as a modern artist with a serious eye for concept and musical design."
"Try and keep up, I'm talking about…this."
"Oh." She cleared her throat.
"Short and sweet Berry, we're almost to my house."
"I wanted to lose it to Finn, but now, now I just want to lose it. I want to get rid of it. I decided that if it was like this it was my decision, I want it to be my choice not something someone can use against me."
"You had that prepared?"
"It was originally longer, but you decided on time restraints."
Her shadow of a car slinked into a driveway, it was a nice enough house, nicer than Rachel had expected with all of the 'wrong side of the tracks' talk Santana threw around, she only saw it for a moment before Santana cut the headlights. In the dark Rachel exhaled, relaxing into the seat.
Santana leaned over and kissed her, she pushed against her shoulder to hold her to the seat and forced her back. A close-mouthed introductory kiss, a remainder of their purpose and all Rachel could think was how good Santana's shampoo smelled. When they pulled away Santana slid her eyes open and peered at her, sexy and questioning, she looked down her nose at Rachel's lips.
"Chicken out now if you're gonna Berry, I won't stop if I start."
Rachel swallowed before she spoke.
"I don't want you too."
She followed Santana up a set of stairs to the first bedroom on the left, her bedroom, and though Santana didn't turn on the light she could see the walls were a color not white and there was a bureau piled with make up, there were pictures of her and Brittany.
As soon as the door closed Santana got her, ever bolder in the dark and Rachel, disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings, was thrown to the bed. When she set down on her, her jacket was gone, probably thrown to a far side of the room. Santana didn't kiss her again right away, she started at her neck, mouth soft with a practiced consideration. Rachel let her head throw itself back; she felt the hand against her thigh, accompanying her to touch. Santana kissed up to her ear, skin sensitive from lack of attention. Finn had been messy in comparison.
Her hands rediscovered their life, starting at Santana's shoulders and sliding down, first to her elbows before resettling on the easy curve above her waist. She could feel the strength of her ribs through the material of her tank top. When Santana kissed her she threaded fingers through her hair, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth a bit, Santana was exactly where she wanted to be, in control.
Rachel's leg spread open on her thigh and she set into a rhythm as her hands went to Rachel's breasts. There was a line there, a line Finn had gotten too but never fully crossed and when it was met again she arched into her and moaned.
Santana pulled away for a second, long enough to give her a sexy smirk before returning her mouth to the wonderfully pronounced bones of her clavicle. The sweater came off first, then the shirt beneath it and finally her bra until she was lying in Santana's bed topless, of all the places she thought she'd never be.
It had already been made clear that time wouldn't be wasted and Santana's tongue took up position at the top of her breast, trailing downwards to circle her nipple. Rachel had an impressive body when laid out like this; her skin tone invited the taste of coffee to the palate. The sensation was new, a mix between the pleasurable and the unexplainable, she grabbed onto the comforter. The one they hadn't bothered to pull down.
Santana slid her hand from Rachel's thigh up, underneath her skirt until her fingers tugged at cotton panties. There was quick breathing and an obedient arching upwards to remove them before fingers began to play along the crease of skin where her thigh met the rest of her, Rachel really did have great legs.
She played with it a moment longer, watching what areas made her eyes flutter, which ones had her biting her lip, she didn't ask for permission before she slid to fingers in and Rachel jolted from the bed to hold her tight around the shoulders, her mouth wide.
It hurt kind of hurt, the shock of it more than the act of it and as Santana began her motion of fucking her, the pain was forgotten for the pleasure. It took over, invaded her senses in the same manner Santana did. Immediate and unforgiving, unapologetic as she smirked at the way Rachel writhed and forced herself down onto her hand just to have more of it, a little bit more. Santana obliged, teasing her now and again with a slow easy pace only to speed up and listen to Rachel groan.
The sight of the self-proclaimed diva, head thrown back and yielding to her, it was actually pretty fucking hot. So hot in fact that when Rachel came, fingernails clutching down into Santana's shoulder blades she was almost disappointed.
Rachel collapsed almost immediately, Santana figured she probably had never even had an orgasm before and was wallowing in that fuzzy feeling. She sat near the end of the bed, clothes still on, speechless.
Rachel noticed, blurry as she was.
"Did I, do something wrong?"
"N-no."
She wiped her hand off on the bed.
"You sure?"
"I'm just…I'm not used to that."
"What?"
"Brittany always needed me to go down on her."
They looked at one another for a moment before Santana began to cry, quietly which wasn't her normal fashion of emotion. The tears rolled down beside her nose to the corners of her mouth and when she tasted them she looked surprised.
Rachel sat up straight and kissed her, it tasted like salt.
She took off Santana's shirt first, then helped her out of her pants. She wore red underwear. Standing, still in her state of undress and a little unbalanced from the sex she pulled back the comforter and the sheet and bade Santana to get under it.
She followed suit, curling up beside the girl.
She kissed her once more before shutting her eyes.
Santana stayed stunned, her tears still resilient in their efforts to make her look weak. She hated them, but Rachel didn't seem to mind. She laid an arm over the girl, "You're not gonna like, be in love with me now are you?"
"That depends on things."
"Yeah? What things?"
"You mostly."
"I can deal with that," Santana had stopped crying, "Hey Rachel?"
"Yeah?"
"Can we not tell Finn, or maybe anybody…for a little while?"
"Uh-huh, we can do that."