Pezberry Week: Day 6 – Intoxication.
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White Knights & Drunken Damsels
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Another night serving drinks and cleaning down tables, and Santana was growing tired of the monotony. This was only meant to be a one night thing, covering Maisy's shift while she went to that concert. Santana was not meant to then take her job, lose her friendship, and give up four nights a week for this. She was not meant to get sucked into this place, but nope, she did. Of course she did.
Typical Santana, don't do this and that's exactly what she'd do. When would she ever learn?
Shaking her head, and losing herself from her thoughts, she finished making this guy's drink and placed it in front of him, accepting the money before getting him his change. Thankfully, the place had calmed down somewhat. It was still busy, especially for a week night, but students, when did their weekend ever stop?
Trust her to find work in a bar teeming with those that attended the very college she longed to study at. Why not surround herself with misery, make life easier?
It is what it is, and no amount of sighing and pouting would change it, she reminded herself, smiling politely as she handed the guy his change and moved onto the next. Three drinks later, Brad gave her the nod to take a break, which she was in desperate need of.
The night had been long, the heat had made her thirsty so now she was desperate for a piss, she smelt like beer and sweat, there was a stain on her pants from some asshole's greasy fingers, and the grime on her skin from a heavy night's work made her desperate for a shower. She felt so unattractive.
Santana quickly freshened herself up as best she could, so she could at least look presentable again. There was nothing quite like looking like a hobo on one's way home. Grabbing her phone to call her roommate, she loitered in Brad's office for privacy, waiting on Quinn to answer the phone. On those late nights, she always called to check in.
"You off work already?" Quinn asked, forgoing the normal greetings.
"No, not yet. Soon though. I was just calling to see if you needed me to pick anything up on my way home," Santana replied, inspecting her nails as she waited on a response.
"Actually, yeah. Can you stop and get milk? We're almost out and if Beth wakes up later, I want to be able to get her back to sleep. You know how she won't sleep without a cup of warm milk." Her roommate sounded haggard and Santana wondered how little sleep was getting if Beth was waking.
Together, the two of them lived in this shoebox two bedroom apartment, with Quinn's three year old daughter, Beth. It wasn't exactly the college years both were hoping for, but an unexpected pregnancy at sixteen left Quinn homeless, and Santana couldn't abandon her best friend like that. So they made it work, ensuring the other was okay, and looking after Beth. Santana certainly had a newfound respect for young single mothers with their arrival in her life.
"Sure, that all we need?" There was no point trying to talk to Quinn about her lack of sleep on the phone, the girl would just hang up on her.
"Yeah, thanks, San."
"Okay, I'll see you later. I'll try and be quiet when I come in." That last thing Santana wanted to do was wake them up.
"Please, we both know I'm going to be up when you get back," Quinn added, confirming Santana's suspicions. They'd need to talk about that tomorrow. "Oh, and can I make a request?"
"Yeah," Santana replied, unsure of what she was about to hear. The slight teasing tone set red flags off, and she pursed her lips, awaiting Quinn's request.
"Can you try not to pick up any strays on the way home? I know you're long overdue, but I need you to resist," she joked, causing Santana to roll her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I help a girl out one time and you never let me live it down. I did her a favour, I'll have you know. And shit, you just remember that I picked up your homeless ass all those years ago, too."
"Point taken, and don't think I'm not thankful," Quinn replied sweetly.
"I know, I know. But relax, I'm not bringing anyone home with me. By now the needy and the desperate have usually left and it's just the miserable and lonely hanging about," she said, opening the door to the bar to peek out. It was calming, and she'd need to head back out soon.
"Well, try not to let their lonely tales convince you to let them sleep on our couch. I know how much you love playing the white knight to drunken damsels in distress, but maybe take the night off," Quinn added, sounding far too pleased with herself.
"Santana Lopez, white knight to drunken damsels in distress, that's me alright," she drawled.
Seriously, she brings home one wasted girl who couldn't remember when she lived, allowing her to sleep on their couch, and suddenly she's got a reputation of looking after drunken strays.
"Go, before you get fired," Quinn pushed, done with her now.
"As if, Brad loves me." Sort of.
"You wish," she called, hanging up the phone.
Putting her phone away, Santana grabbed a pen and wrote 'buy milk' on the palm of her hand, before heading back out to finish up. The steady stream of patrons kept her busy, and time passed rather quickly since she wasn't standing about doing nothing.
Eventually, Brad gave her the nod for last orders, allowing her to ring the bell behind the bar. Together they worked the last drink fills, and then began clearing the place up. With the bell having gone, most people finished their drinks and made their way out, making cleaning up easier, so Santana started clearing empty glasses off the tables and placing them on the bar.
It was on her rounds through the bar that she first noticed her. This girl was face down on the table in one of the more private booths at the back of the bar. Santana could see her hair rumpled and tangled over the top of the seats, before she walked over to see the rest of her. Her right hand was gripping whatever it was she had been ordering, and her left was lost underneath her head somewhere.
The girl was obviously drunk, the seven or eight empty glasses surrounding her said as much, but for once, Santana didn't mind the fact that she'd have to help her out of there. In fact, she'd much rather help her get home than have her going home with some random. God only knows, if this had been a Friday night, the girl would have been picked up hours ago, before she hit the comatose stage.
Quinn's words rang through about her not picking up a stray, and she rolled her eyes. She was just going to be helping the girl home, that was all. Plus, the girl might not even want her help. That was a common occurrence, too.
Deciding it was better to clear the rest of the place up before helping the girl, Santana continued to do just that, making sure to keep an eye on her as well, just in case she wandered off with someone. That had also happened before, and it was not something Santana wanted on her conscience again.
Doing her best, Santana finished up everything that needed doing in record time. Brad was helping, of course, but he nipped into the back office when there was only a few people hanging about. They were regulars, and they'd go easy.
Thankfully, she wasn't going to be closing up tonight, as Brad had offered. She'd thank him for it later, for now she had one severely drunken girl to help out.
Leaving that booth for last, not even daring to touch the glasses and wipe the spills just in case she woke her up and she reacted badly to her presence, Santana headed on over. She wasn't an idiot to think she was going to get a nice and happy drunk. No, not at all. After so many weeks it became clear that by the time they were lying knocked out and in a stupor, their manners were out the window and their rage and anger had to be directed somewhere; mainly at her.
Thankfully, that's where Snix came in.
Approaching with a little more thump in her step, to warn the girl if she was awake that she was coming closer, Santana stood at the end of her booth, waiting for some movement. Nothing happened, and she then began clearing the glasses and putting them on the tray she'd brought over.
She still had a hold of one glass, and Santana knew the hardest part was going to be getting that from her without some kind of adverse reaction. Last glass she'd pried from a drunken hand was thrown behind the bar, shattering three bottles and breaking a further nine glasses. Drunks were a fucking nightmare.
Leaning over, she began to take the glass. It was a little tricky, but with the right pull, the girl released it and groaned, her head turning into the crook of her arm and elbow. Santana moved the tray you had back out of reach, and waited for further movement but it never came. She was still out.
Taking the tray to the bar and dealing with the last of the patrons who had been lagging, she locked the doors behind them and went in the back to grab her things. She stopped in with Brad to tell him about the girl, and he gave her that look he always did when she was playing saint. Whatever, she couldn't just leave her to fend for herself. That shit wasn't cool.
Heading back out into the bar, Santana saw that the girl was sitting up. Well, that certainly helped things along. She saw her come out around the bar and watched as she dumped her things on a table nearby, still advancing towards her. Only when Santana was within a few feet of her did she finally speak up.
"You took my drink," she mumbled, frowning at the empty table, and then looking round at the bar again. "Can I get another one?" Hmm, no, but nice try.
"I can get you some water," Santana said, watching as she crinkled her nose at the thought before shaking her head wildly.
"No, thank you." Raising her eyebrows at the unexpected manners, Santana tried her next trick to sober the girl up. All she needed to do was make sure she was coherent enough, call her a cab, and send her on her way.
"It's on the house," she commented, knowing that that usually piqued people's interest. It was amazing what people would accept if they were getting it for free.
"Really?" She looked to be taking the bait, and Santana nodded, fighting back a smile at her eagerness. "Bottled water, right? Because I don't drink tap water."
Without replying, Santana turned back around and walked behind the bar to get her a bottle from the fridges. The girl grinned brightly as she opened it for her and placed it on the table. Immediately, her hands were reaching for it, and Santana smiled in relief when she took a hefty drink.
"Thank you very much," the girl said, twisting the cap back on wrongly. "I feel very dehydrated." Santana hummed in reply, biting back her comment about how that was a given from the booze she'd had.
Sliding into the booth to sit opposite her, the girl watched her carefully, still trying to get the cap of the bottle on properly. She eyed Santana pensively, but didn't say anything, which meant Santana was going to have to get the ball rolling. Usually, they were quick to leave, but no, of course this girl would be different.
"I'm going to call you a cab, so where you headed to?" Santana said, cocking her head to the side.
"Oh, I don't need a cab. I can walk," the girl answered, smiling brightly as she nodded her head.
"Hmm, yeah. It's cold so you should probably get a cab." No way was she going to walk.
"It's alright, my roommate, he'll walk home with me." Santana side-eyed the bar, foolishly hoping that this girl's roommate would suddenly appear.
"Is he here?" she asked, and the girl opened her mouth to reply. Stopping shot, she looked round the bar quickly, spinning to search, and her face went from hopeful to confused.
"No one's here. This is the strangest bar I've ever been in. Are you only allowed one customer in at a time?" she pondered, and Santana tried to hide her smile.
"We're closed right now," she replied, hoping that would encourage the girl to accept the cab idea.
"Well then of course my roommate's not here, you're closed, silly!" she called out, waving her hand in the air as she spoke, and smiling while undoing the cap on her bottle of water. Santana chuckled and nodded, watching the water level drop with each sip and smiled. She'd sober sooner or later.
"Where abouts do you live?" she asked again.
"Ooh, you're not meant to tell strangers your address," the girl hummed, shaking her head, and waving her pointed finger at Santana. It brought another smile to her lips, and she decided to try another tactic.
"Okay, well I'm Santana, and you are?" The girl eyed her for a moment before breaking out in a grin, thrusting her hand across the table, almost taking down the water bottle in the process.
"Rachel, Rachel Berry, future Broadway star," she declared proudly.
"Is that so?" Santana remarked, amused, shaking her hand.
"Absolutely. You'll see. One day in the future you can say you gave Tony award winner, Miss Berry, free water when she visited your bar. Classy," Rachel replied.
"Alright, I'll be sure to tell people that."
"Make sure you do." Taking another drink of her water, Rachel patted her hand on the table to reaffirm her point, and allowed Santana time to try again to get her home safely.
"So Rachel, we're not strangers now? I know who you are and everything," she began, and Rachel's eyes widened as she spoke.
"No, gosh, we're not strangers, Santana, how could you think that? We're definitely not strangers, you gave me free water, that makes us friends," she said happily, reaching across the table to give Santana's arm a squeeze.
"Great, that's what I thought. So where do you live?" If she had to, she'd pay the cab fare to get her home safe. She was just the wrong type of drunk to send home alone, what with her friendly smile and trusting attitude.
Santana Lopez, white knight for drunken damsels in distress, picking up strays and playing saint.
Stupid Quinn.
Awaiting her response, and pushing all thoughts about how she really had an issue if she was caring about strangers, Santana turned to Rachel.
"I live in this adorable apartment. It looks like a drug den from the outside, but inside it is amazing. You should come see it!" Rachel beamed, sitting up quickly.
"I should?" That might actually be the answer, and please, Santana didn't feel threatened or at risk in any way with this girl, so it wasn't like she'd have any trouble getting out of there to head home herself. She just had to make sure the girl didn't actually take them to drug den, especially if her place looked like one from the outside. That was not an experience she was looking for.
"Yes, grab your coat, young lady, and I shall show you," Rachel replied, her smile still in place, and Santana fought another chuckle at how cheerful this girl was.
"Is it far?" she questioned, wondering if a cab ride would be easier.
"No, I walked here, and trust me, I wouldn't have put these heals on if I it was far," Rachel said, nodding proudly as she swivelled in the booth and threw her leg into the air.
Good lord, she looked flexible, and she must have had amazing core muscles because she didn't even seem fazed at keeping her leg straight like that.
Santana tried to ignore the flesh on show and dropped her eyes to the table. She heard a chuckle and then Rachel dropped her foot. A few more swigs of her water later, and Santana was still avoiding eye contact.
"Did you like what you saw?" Rachel enquired, curiosity in her voice.
"What?" Santana spluttered, not expecting that question at all.
"You did like it, right? I didn't get that wrong. My gaydar is usually so good, and you pinged it, there. I'm not wrong, am I?" Rachel looked moderately concerned at having been wrong, and Santana fumbled over everything she had just said.
"Wha-wha-eh no, you're not wrong," she murmured, feeling embarrassed at having been caught. She usually had much better game than that. What the hell was up with her?
"Great! I hate when I'm wrong about these things," Rachel replied, ploughing on like that had been nothing.
"Right, well, we should get you home," Santana said, pushing all thoughts from her mind and standing, needing to move on from this quickly. Rachel chuckled at her and nodded, a teasing smile on her lips as she rose from the booth.
"That's moving a little fast for my normal taste, but I'm not complaining tonight," she said, biting her bottom lip and looking at Santana in a way that was going to get them both in trouble.
"That's not…I didn't…I think…you're drunk and we need to get you home, safe and sound."
"Is that what we're calling it these days?" The way she husked that in Santana's ear as she moved past her towards the bar was almost criminal, and Santana swallowed anxiously.
Finally, her body caught up with her brain, and she followed Rachel's teetering and swaying body to the bar. There, she grabbed her things, put on her coat, and called out to Brad that she was going. He came out to lock the doors behind them, and with Rachel's body now leaning into Santana's, he shot her a smirk.
No, just no.
She was helping the girl out. She wasn't doing anything that deserved that kind of smirk.
Just no. No.
Once outside, Rachel had forgone boundaries and wrapped an arm around Santana's waist, placing her head on her shoulder, and began humming some kind of tune. Santana couldn't do anything but put her arm around the girl's body to stop her colliding with the many obstacles that were presenting a problem, like lampposts and people and that dog.
"So, Santana, do you sing?" Rachel asked, stopping half way through her rendition of 'Master of the House'.
"Nope." It wasn't a complete lie. Santana only sang to Beth.
"Pft. I don't believe that. Everyone sings!" Rachel cried, grinning happily while attempting to spin Santana's arms. It didn't work, and Santana had to grip her waist to keep her upright.
"Yeah, well, I don't." Rachel laughed at her near miss with the street sign and continued leading Santana down the street, rolling her eyes at Santana's reply.
"Nonsense. Let's sing something. On the count of three, we'll sing-" Eh, no.
"Rachel, I'm not going to sing," Santana said, steering her past more obstacles.
"Hmm, well, I can understand your reluctance. After all, it is not every day one is asked to duet with Broadway's next star." If the girl wasn't cute, and Santana didn't have a complex for trying to save pretty girls, she probably would have ditched her a block back due to that ego.
"Have you ever actually performed on Broadway?" she enquired.
"Blasphemy, Santana, blasphemy! I was extra number five in that off-off-Broadway show 'All At Once'." Santana had never heard of it, but then again, she doubted many had.
"Off-off-Broadway, huh?" Rachel nodded proudly in response.
"Broadway is at least mentioned, which means I'm a star," she cheered, and her smile had Santana grinning back.
Chuckling, Santana decided not to argue and let her lead them to her place. Rachel, determined to prove that she was indeed a star, started going through her show tunes repertoire, and hell, Santana realised that this girl could actually sing pretty damn well. Even if she didn't make it all the way to Broadway, she certainly was going to give the others a run for their money.
From then on, she also decided to inform Santana of all the things going on in her life, from her classes at NYADA to her veganism. Santana was content to listen, finding humour in the way the girl rambled on and on, and laughing at the dramatic attitude Rachel seemed to have on everything. It was actually quite a decent walk they were having, and all fatigue Santana had from her long day of work seemed to be dissipating.
Stopping at the end of the street, Rachel looked around, pursing her lips, while Santana started glancing round the street. They'd come off the more busier streets and seemed to be entering uncharted territory.
"Everything okay?" she asked cautiously.
"I think we're going this way," Rachel said, pointing left.
"You don't know?"
"It looked different in the light." Oh, well that was helpful.
"Are you sure it's not this way?" Santana asked, indicating right, only Rachel wasn't paying attention.
"Ooh, what's this say?" she asked, grabbing Santana's hand to read what was written on her palm. "Buy milk. You need to buy milk?" Her eyes were alight as she looked for an answer, and Santana realised that she had to stop and focus once more.
"Yeah, I need to get some on my way home."
"We can stop and get some then," Rachel said, spinning back around to head in the direction they'd just came. Santana was quick to tug her back, and keep her on her feet.
"No, no, I think it's best we just keep going. Is it far? Do you recognise anything from earlier?"
Rachel pursed her lips once more and then she grinned happily, practically skipping across the street and taking Santana with her. She recognised one of the doors, because the numbers were crooked, and her place was just round the corner.
When they arrived outside the main door, Santana couldn't help but think of Rachel's words earlier. Yes, it did look like a drug den from the outside. Santana really didn't want to head inside, but she knew it was probably best not to abandon the girl outside. They'd only met an hour or so ago and already she was being led into Rachel's place, so imagine the damage that could be done if she left her outside to make friends.
"Come on up," Rachel said, leaning her body back into Santana's, biting her lip once more, making Santana break eye contact.
"Only to your door," she replied, and Rachel seemed to consider that for a moment before agreeing.
Santana should have realised there was something up this girl's sleeve the second the door closed behind them. All they had to do was walk up the flight of stairs to her door, but no, Rachel had other ideas.
When the door shut behind them, Santana, whose hands had been steering Rachel, was suddenly pushed backwards, into the door. Rachel's lips were on her, her hands running through her hair, and Santana groaned at the contact.
She couldn't help but kiss her back, her hands wandering slightly, and gripping the girl tighter. This was so unfair. She could taste the liquor on Rachel's lips, on her tongue, on her breath as it intoxicated her, and it was a big enough reminder that nothing could happen.
The water might have sobered her up, but Santana wasn't taking any chances. She knew from first-hand experience that tipsy straight girls liked to experiment, and for whatever reason, she didn't want to be a mistake for Rachel come morning.
Breaking the kiss, Santana tried to explain that this couldn't happen, but Rachel was tugging her up the stairs, her lips on her neck as they fumbled and stumbled, making a hell of a ruckus. It didn't matter, Santana needed to focus all her brain power on controlling her libido as this girl was doing something with her tongue that she desperately wanted to feel elsewhere.
"Rachel-" Santana began, the two of them hitting a door, and she could only hope it was actually Rachel's apartment on the other side.
Ignoring Santana's calling, Rachel was determined, and pulled Santana's lips back to hers. She cupped the side of her face, her lips against Santana's before she could catch a breath, her tongue wet and licking at her lips, begging to taste her. Santana whimpered involuntarily, the feeling of Rachel's body up against hers, the way she was practically grinding her hips, and the feeling of her kisses, licks and nips at her lips. It was all too much.
"Please," Rachel moaned, attacking her neck once more, grazing her skin with her teeth. For being drunk, she was surprisingly not as sloppy at this as Santana thought she would be.
But she was drunk.
Shaking her head, Santana placed one hand on her hip, trying to get Rachel to stop grinding against her, and the other on her jaw, her fingers sliding into her hair. Rachel whined in protest when she realised Santana was stopping her, and she even heard a foot stomp.
"Please, I know you want me. I can see it in your eyes. You're so fucking sexy, please," Rachel panted, and Santana had to scream at herself in her head to put the brakes on this.
"Christ, you have no idea how much I want you, but you are drunk. I don't sleep with drunk girls." It was true. There had been one too many drunken mistakes that she didn't want to repeat.
"Huh, what? I'm not drunk!" That totally would have been convincing if Rachel hadn't been shaking her head wildly and having to hold onto Santana's waist tighter to keep her balance.
Leaning forward, Santana rested her forehead against Rachel's and looked her right in the eyes. She licked her lips in response, staring right back at her, and Santana was certain Rachel thought she had changed her mind.
"We can't, I want to, but we can't. I'm sorry. I only wanted to get you home safe and sound," she murmured, hoping this confession wouldn't turn Rachel's sweet drunken persona into a volatile persona.
Rachel whined at the back of her throat but looked to accept Santana's words, her fingers gripping Santana's top a little tighter, and her hips grinding one last time.
"So unfair," she moaned, dropping her had back against the door, leaving her neck exposed.
Santana tried not to think of all the way she could mark up that beautiful expanse of skin, and stepped back, giving the girl her space.
With that being the end of that, Rachel began rooting around in her bag for her keys. It didn't take her long to find them and unlock the door, and Santana was relieved to see it was the one they had just been pressed against.
Getting ready to say goodbye, Santana took another step back, only to have Rachel hold out her hand to stop her.
"Oh, wait here, before I forget!" she called, disappearing into the apartment, leaving Santana standing in her doorway, still a little out of breath, and confused.
It only took a few moments, with various sounds of bangs and thumps, but then Rachel was back. She held out an unopened half-gallon container of milk, and her little smile was nervous.
"I thought you were a vegan?" Santana questioned, frowning at the gesture. She had listened to the girl ramble on about it for a good ten minutes, so this was a surprise.
"I am, but my roommate, Kurt, isn't. I abhor him drinking the stuff around me, so here, you have it. It'll save you having to stop on your way home," she replied, shrugging her shoulders and thrusting the milk at Santana once more.
"You're giving me his milk?" Accepting the cold container, Santana glanced down to see if she could actually just take this home for Beth, which she could, before looking back up at Rachel.
"He ditched me tonight, he doesn't deserve it," she said, chewing her bottom lip. "Is it okay?"
"Yeah, it…it is. Thank you." This was actually ridiculously sweet, and Santana felt a tinge of fondness for the gesture.
"You're welcome," Rachel replied, smiling softly. "Now, are you going to be able to get home safely? I wouldn't want anything happening to you because of my foolishness, and your good morals."
"I'll be fine." And she would be, she saw at least three cabs passing outside. It wouldn't be hard for her to get home at all.
"You sure I can't convince you to come inside?" she tried one last time, and every cell in Santana's body was willing her to cave. She couldn't, though, she just couldn't.
"Maybe some other time," she answered, secretly hoping there would actually be another time.
Rachel pouted a bit, but Santana was right not to go inside, she were right not to fall into her bed. The reason she had got her out of the bar in the first place had been to stop Rachel falling into bed with God only knows who, so there was no way she was then going to take that place. Absolutely not.
"I'll hold you to that," Rachel said confidently, pointing at Santana as she backed away.
Shooting her a smile and nodding, convinced that by morning she'd have no memory of any of this, Santana continued on her way to the stairs, finally feeling the weight of the evening coming down on her, and in desperate need of sleep.
At least she didn't have to stop for milk on the way home.
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Once week later, Santana was frantically trying to keep track of drink orders and clean up as she was going along. Last orders had been called, and she was hoping to get out there a little earlier than usual. Brad was going to be locking up, which was a godsend, but that didn't mean there wasn't plenty for her to do until then.
By the time the last customers were heading out, Santana had cleared most of the tables and wiped them down. She still had the booths to do in the back, but they usually didn't take that long, and she was confident that within twenty minutes she could be calling Quinn to say she was coming home.
However, all those plans went out the window when Santana spotted a familiar face perched in the last booth in the line. There, with her head on her hands, a bottle of water sitting next to her, was Rachel.
Was Santana dreaming?
Finally seeing Santana staring at her, Rachel perked up, moving to sit up straight, and smiled at the flustered looking bartender.
"I hear you like to help drunken damsels in distress," she said, teasingly running her hands over the table. It caught Santana's attention, before her gaze went back to Rachel's eyes, not without doing a quick scan of her attire on the way, of course.
"Oh?" Santana mumbled, feeling the heat rise in the place.
"Yeah, your friend over there, Brad, filled me in on your antics," she replied, nodding to the man himself.
Santana turned, and Brad was standing behind the bar, smirking at her. He gave her a wink, and she curled her lip in annoyance. Fucking Brad. Now she was never going to get the girl. He probably made it sound like she slept with every legless college girl in there.
"So I was just wondering," Rachel began, pulling Santana's attention back to her, "Was it only drunken damsels, or do you help sober ones too? Because I'm not sure I can get home myself, and I just know you could help me."
"You're sober?" Santana asked, needing to make sure. She had rules, she couldn't break them just because the girl she'd been thinking about all week walked back into the bar looking as sinful as she did then.
"Relatively." Narrowing her eyes at that, Rachel shrugged her shoulder and explained. "I had one martini when I came in, and I've had water since then. I'm not even buzzed. So, what do you say?"
Santana didn't even need to think twice. She remembered those lips on hers, that skilful tongue on her neck, the feel of Rachel's hands on her body, the way her hips grinded into hers, and yeah, she'd be an idiot to turn this down again.
"Give me ten minutes?" Santana asked, and Rachel grinned.
"Take as long as you need."
Smirking, Santana turned back around to finish cleaning up, with a skip in her step. Normally, the drunken girls she helped bid her a confused goodbye in the morning, and didn't return to the bar. But no, trust Rachel to come back, sober, to pick up where they left off.
At that point in time, she couldn't be happier for her need to be the white knight and help drunken damsels in distress. Who knew being a good Samaritan would have such awesome benefits?
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