A/N- This is my first attempt at writing Pezberry, but once the idea entered my head I couldn't shift it. Turns out those two are really rather persistent.
I have to thank bh9 for all her help with this one-shot. She's an absolute star, a super twinkly one.
(You and Me) We Could Be Made For This
It seems I've always had the same problem, so really this situation shouldn't surprise me at all.
Because there she is, sorting out her leftovers from whatever weird vegan meal she just ate, and all I can think about is how much I want to fuck her.
My brain knows it's all kinds of wrong. I mean, Jesus fucking Christ, she's Rachel.
Damn. She's Rachel Berry.
Rachel.
Barbra (yes, I know her middle name. I also know her birthday. Whatever, shut your face.)
Berry.
We're talking about the girl I mocked at every available opportunity in high school.
How she doesn't completely hate me is beyond me, but here we are, living together in New York with Kurt, and somehow I've gone from using my sharp tongue on her by calling her insulting nicknames, to wanting to use my tongue on her in a completely different way.
Like I said, I've always had this problem. I seem to blur the lines of friendship and get myself all confused in the process. If you take a quick look through my history, it doesn't exactly take a genius to see it.
Case 1: Brittany S. Pierce
Status: Closed.
Sure, what Brittany and I had turned into something real, very real in fact. I loved her and I'm not ashamed to say it in the slightest. What we had became something special but it all started as two friends exploring sex together, exploring each other. For the longest time we were simply friends with benefits, until we got in too deep and it all changed.
Case 2: Lucy Quinn Fabray
Status: Closed.
After years of slapping each other senseless we finally got rid of all that unresolved sexual tension at Mr Schue's non-wedding. What should have been a two time thing turned into something more like a six time thing when I visited her at Yale a couple of weeks later, before we both decided enough was enough. Blurring the lines more than we already had didn't seem clever, and despite our incredible sexual chemistry, we both knew we weren't right for each other at that moment. I was still heartbroken over Brittany, and Quinn was still discovering who she really was. Our friendship was more important.
And now I can add one more name to that list.
Case 3: Rachel Barbra Berry.
Status: Open.
I never in a million years imagined I'd feel this way about Rachel. I could almost deal with just finding her so attractive that I want to rip her clothes off (which I absolutely do because the way she's leaning against the work surface in the kitchen right now should be fucking illegal. Plus she's biting her lip and all I can focus on is that mouth of hers), but this has become so much more than that.
It started out with the realisation that we actually got on a hell of a lot better than either of us thought. When I moved to New York, I never imagined that Kurt and Rachel would become my best friends but they did and I can't pretend I'm not glad.
I started to notice things; her legs, and her lips, and her eyes. At first I thought nothing of it. After all, I'm allowed to admire other women and think they're attractive without it meaning anything more than that. Plus, when Rachel got to New York she seemed to finally throw out all her animal sweaters, and replaced them with clothes that actually suit her figure. But more than that, she got all confident and more comfortable with herself. I'd be a fool not to notice how good she looks.
But then it became deeper and instead of just noticing those physical features I started to realise that I loved all these other things too: the way she laughed, and that the laughs that I caused were the best ones of all; the way she pouted adorably when she didn't get her way, or was trying to convince me to watch one of her terrible films; the way she leaned against me on the couch while we watched TV, her head fitting perfectly on my shoulder.
It was a couple of months ago now and we were sat watching Moulin Rouge for what felt like the 87th time, and I remember how she curled into my side like she always does when we watch movies together. As her long, dark hair billowed up with her movements, the unmistakable scent of her filled the air. My stomach flipped, lurching deliciously, and that was when I realised that whatever this thing was that I had for Rachel went way beyond appreciating the physical.
I wish it didn't, because it's starting to become ridiculously confusing, but it does.
So yeah, I'm looking at her right now and I can't help but want to do her right there against the counter, but I don't just want to fuck her, I want her. All of her.
It would be so much easier if I could just have feelings for someone other than her. This new girl, Dani, started at work yesterday, and she was pretty hot. It was beyond obvious that she was gay because the amount of smiles she sent in my direction was way more than just friendly. You know, there's nothing wrong with the girl. She's attractive, she seemed friendly, and I didn't instantly hate her on sight so I'm sure I could pick worse girls to try dating.
But she didn't make my knees turn to jelly, or my stomach do the freakin' conga, or any of that shit from the movies. You know who does do that though?
Yep, you guessed it.
Rachel.
Despite the fact that I seem destined to fall for all of my friends (why couldn't I just have a bunch of ugly friends? I mean, seriously, who has this many ridiculously attractive friends anyway? It's not normal) it's funny how my feelings for all three of them have been so different.
Brittany was my first love, and Quinn was all about sexual attraction, but Rachel… she makes me feel things I don't think I've felt before.
I'd much rather sit here and wax lyrical about how much I just want to screw her, but in reality I know the truth is I want more than that.
Santana Lopez: sap of the century.
I have a tendency to act all Lima Heights all the time, full of bravado and confidence. It's something I've always done. I'm a naturally confident person, and I'm sure being popular in high school contributed to that. I have no problems talking to people I don't know, I won't hesitate to put a complete stranger in their place, hell I moved to New York without any sort of real plan.
But there is another side to me too. It's one that I rarely show, except to those closest to me.
The side that's scared sometimes.
Brittany is probably the person who's seen this side of me the most. I remember when everything started between the two of us. It took time and it wasn't easy, I was so afraid to be myself but Brittany helped me see that who I really was was a person worth being. I didn't just fall with her, it was more like skydiving, and it was scary as hell. In the end I gave everything to her and I didn't care who knew it. She definitely changed me, but losing her also showed me how fragile things can be.
I guess that's why I've never told Rachel how I feel, because I'm scared of the consequences. I like to act all brave, but underneath it all I'm just as terrified as everyone else is in this world when it comes to relationships.
Right now I'm watching her bustling about in the kitchen. I can tell she's nervous from the way she's floundering around with her goddamn tupperware in her hand.
"Put down the tupperware and walk away," I demand, mostly because I can't stand watching her pacing around with that worried look on her face for much longer. She's biting her lip again because she's nervous and all I can think about is biting it for her instead.
Rachel looks me dead in the eyes, "But… I can't decide if it's cool enough to go in the fridge. My dads always said it should be completely cold because otherwise it will mess with the temperature of the refrigerator but if I leave it out then it's going to get warm but we have to go and-"
I stand up, "Be quiet. Look, Kurt will be back from work in an hour or so. We can leave him a note and he'll put it in the fridge for you when he gets home, alright? It'll totally be cool by then."
Rachel pauses for a moment, before setting the tupperware down on the kitchen counter. Her voice is soft and quiet, "That could work."
I walk from where I am to where she is within five strides, "Now we've sorted that out, can you stop freaking out?"
"I can't, Santana!"
Rachel's getting ready to go to some sort of NYADA competition thing right now. I'm going along with her, sitting right on the front row for moral support. Normally Kurt would go since there's usually only one guest ticket, but there was some sort of fashion emergency and his boss practically begged him to help out. That was when I offered to go instead, since I figured Rachel would want someone by her side.
Thinking about it, it was a terrible idea. For a start whenever Rachel sings I swear it does crazy things to my insides, and secondly, when she wins (which of course she will), and my heart swells with pride, it's going to be pretty hard to resist kissing her senseless.
"You're going to be great, Rachel. As someone who has to listen to you singing in the shower every morning, you're going to the blow them away."
She furrows her eyebrows, "But after winning the Winter Showcase everyone's going to be expecting me to be incredible and what if I'm not?"
I shake my head and laugh softly, "What happened to all that confidence you normally have?"
Rachel shrugs, but I know exactly why she's lost her confidence.
"Rach, you can't let it get to you. Those jackasses clearly couldn't see how amazing you are and it's their loss. Funny Girl will suck without you and it'll get shit reviews. You'll get a role in Wicked or something instead and we'll sit here and laugh about it all, while you prance around with green face paint on because you're 'getting into character', okay?"
"I would make an excellent Elphaba," she whispers, a slight grin tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Idina Menzel ain't got nothin' on you." I step forwards and put a hand on her arm, locking my eyes with hers, "You're going to be incredible. You've never been anything but incredible."
Rachel looks at me for a moment, and there's something hidden in her eyes that I can't quite place. I'm not sure what she's thinking but before I can over-analyse it all she's smiling at me, and it has to be one of the best things I've ever seen. It's not a big, wide, toothy grin, it's small and it's genuine, and I can see it reflected in her eyes, which are gazing into mine. I swear my heart almost skips a beat. Then she says, so quietly it's almost a whisper, "Thank you."
We're so close now that I can see the moisture in her eyes from the tears that were threatening to spill just moments ago. She raises her right hand and suddenly she's placing it gently on my cheek and she's leaning in towards me. If my heart didn't skip a beat earlier, it's dangerously close to doing so now because this is all too much.
I feel her lips softly brush against my cheek and I swear I'm going to combust because as she kisses me the corner of her lip just grazes mine.
As she slowly pulls away, her hand leaves my face and I can't help but notice how unnaturally cold my cheek seems now without it there. Her eyes flicker over mine and she smiles shyly, looking down at the floor.
I swallow hard, because my throat is suddenly ridiculously dry. When I eventually speak my voice is almost unrecognisable, overwhelmed by everything I'm feeling inside, "You're welcome."
Silence hangs between us for a few more seconds before she takes a small step backwards and glances at the clock that I know is on the wall behind me. Her voice is sort of shaky as she says, "We're going to be late."
Somehow I manage to nod, although I'm not sure how because right now it doesn't feel like my brain could possibly be functioning properly.
What the hell just happened? Am I going crazy or did I just have a 'moment' with Rachel?
I don't have too much time to think about it because I look at the clock too and I realise that she's right, we're definitely pushing it for time. She grabs our stuff and I scribble out a quick note to Kurt asking him to put Rachel's food in the fridge when he gets home, and in less than a minute we're out of the door.
We don't talk much on the way there. I know it's partly because Rachel is nervous as hell, but I can't help but wonder if it's because what just happened is running through her mind too, because it's racing through mine at 100mph and it won't stop.
The way she looked at me, the feeling of her hand on my cheek, the way her lips brushed my skin… It's all stuck on repeat in my head.
We get there and, because we're running late, she has to dash off to make sure everything's in order before she can come join me in the audience. I find the seats that Rachel had reserved for us, right on the front row, and I flick through the program that's lying on my seat. She's up last, which I know she'll be freaking out about.
After about 10 minutes she takes her place in the empty seat to my right, and she's just in time because the first student is about to take to the stage.
When it's finally her turn to perform I smile at her, and give her hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement. It's the first contact we've had since we were in the apartment and I can't lie, it sends shockwaves tingling through me.
She begins singing and the whole world seems to stand still. She always knew how to belt a tune in high school, but there's something different about the way she performs now, or maybe it's just that I didn't take the time to appreciate her properly before. Maybe it's both.
She always used to joke in high school about being a star. I remember mocking her on several occasions for those stupid gold stars she used to stick after her name. But now, watching her own that stage, she truly is a star, and she's the brightest one I've ever seen.
The applause that fills the room as her last note fades is almost deafening.
She has to stay up on the stage, and all the other performers join her, while they announce the winner of the showcase. My eyes are fixed on Rachel's, and as her gaze meets mine and our eyes are locked together, I barely even hear them announce her as the winner. I'm too distracted by the pounding in my chest and swirling in my stomach. She smiles widely at the news, but for a brief moment her eyes stay glued on mine. In those short seconds it's as though we're the only two people in the world. Suddenly her attention is diverted by the people around her offering their congratulations, and I just watch as everyone showers her with adoration.
We head back to the apartment, although I told her she should stay and enjoy herself with her NYADA friends. She, for some reason, insisted she just wanted us to go home. The journey is less awkward than before because one of Rachel's friends lives nearby and so spends the entire time talking about the showcase, and Broadway, and how amazing Rachel was.
As the door to our apartment slides open, I see a note on the table from Kurt saying he's gone round to Adam's and will be staying there tonight.
I turn around to face Rachel, "Your friend might talk way too much, but he was right about one thing. You really were amazing tonight."
It's the most either of us has said to each other for hours. Half of me said it to try and break whatever atmosphere is hanging between us, but the other half of me said it because it's true. She really was amazing, although that word doesn't seem nearly good enough.
"Thank you for coming."
"I'm glad Kurt couldn't go. He's going to have to fight me for your guest ticket in the future because there's no way I'm missing one of those again," I say honestly.
She slides the door shut and steps towards me, dropping her coat on the arm of the chair on her way. Suddenly she's standing right in front of me and all the air seems to have escaped from my lungs, stolen away as her eyes dart up, cautiously, to meet mine. It's only a fleeting glance because suddenly she's shaking her head slightly and exhaling as she looks at the floor.
She hasn't said a word, and I find myself desperately wishing I knew what the hell she was thinking because right now she's sort of freaking me out.
"Rach?"
She slowly tilts her head upwards at the sound of my voice, and she's biting that goddamn bottom lip again. Suddenly I can't hold back any longer; the distance between us is closed and my lips are on hers.
Fuck the consequences.
She gasps slightly into my mouth and I start to panic a little, questioning what I've just done, but before I know it that gasp has turned into a moan and her hands are in my hair and she's pulling me in to her, her lips moving against mine with ferocity. Our lips are crushed together, colliding in delicious rhythms that make my stomach swirl uncontrollably.
I move my hands to her sides, pulling her hips into mine so that all I can feel is every inch of her body pressed tightly against me. My tongue flicks across her bottom lip and her mouth opens slightly to allow me entry. She moans into my mouth and our lips and tongues begin moving against each other in perfect timing, as though we've been doing this dance forever.
I push her backwards and into the fridge behind us. I can hear the contents move and a thud tells me that at least one thing has fallen over. I half expect her to pull away and immediately fix whatever situation is currently going on in the fridge, but instead her teeth gently nip my bottom lip and she's kissing me with such desperation now that everything else slips away, it's just me and her and it's all I've wanted for so long.
I don't think about what could happen if Kurt were to suddenly come home.
I don't think about what it all means.
I don't think about anything at all except how right it feels.
"God, Santana," she moans as my hand begins to wander up her body, stopping as I reach her breast.
My lips leave hers and I attach them to her neck, my teeth grazing her earlobe before I trail kisses down to her collarbone, my fingers gently teasing her nipple through her bra. My other hand finds the hem of her dress and lifts it, my fingers slowly running up the length of her thigh. I brush one finger over her underwear, teasing her, and it elicites yet another delicious moan from her lips. I can feel the heat radiating from her center, although my finger barely touched her as it skimmed lightly over the thin material that's still covering her.
Suddenly her hand is under my chin and my mouth is pulled away from her neck. She's dragging me back up towards her mouth, and my hand slides back out from under her dress. She presses a kiss against my lips but it's far too fleeting, "Santana…"
I stop myself from picking up where I left off, though honestly I'm not sure where I find the self-control, "What?"
It's then that I start to wonder what I've just done. Did I seriously just have Rachel Berry pressed against the fridge with my hand between her legs?
Fuck.
Panic fills me because now that we've stopped, it's hanging between us and I'm not sure what I should even be saying. She kissed me back. Hell, she more than kissed me back, so I'm going to go ahead and assume she's definitely attracted to me, but where does this leave us now? What was this?
I assume she's going to tell me to stop, because really that's the most logical explanation right now. I'm almost positive that she's just realised what the hell we're doing and she's having some sort of internal freak out over it all.
Her breathing is unsteady and it takes her a moment before she eventually manages to say, "What if Kurt comes back?"
It actually takes a while for her words to register in my brain, but when they do I smile because she's not telling me to stop, "He's staying at Adam's."
My fear fades away, but the racing in my heart doesn't. Lust and fear combine inside me and it's a heady combination. As our foreheads lean together and our bodies press closer, I'm almost positive I can feel the same pounding in her chest. It's as though her heart is racing along to the rhythm of mine, matching it beat for beat.
I wrap my arms around her waist and take a moment to breathe it all in, to breathe her in. I let my hands slowly slide over the soft material of her dress until my fingers come into contact with the cool metal of her zip. As I slide it down I can hear her breath catch in her throat, before it shudders out unsteadily as each of my hands moves up to reach her shoulders.
I push the straps of her dress down her arms and watch as her dress falls quickly to the floor. She looks at me in surprise but she's not complaining at all.
I bring her back into me, kissing her as I undo her bra in one fluid movement.
"You're wearing far too many clothes," she says, as her eyes travel down my body.
"Easily fixed," I respond, removing my own dress and watching as it joins hers on the floor beneath us.
I take a moment to look at her properly before I push her back up against the fridge, and I find myself almost blown away by how utterly perfect she looks.
"Fuck, Rachel," I whisper, before my mouth meets hers again.
I kiss her more carefully this time, taking a moment to savour it all. I want her to know this isn't just a quick fuck for me, that it means something more. I want to be able to show her with every touch how she makes me feel. It might be an impossible task, but I'm certainly going to try my best.
It suddenly occurs to me that having my way with Rachel up against a fridge definitely isn't the most romantic venue, although right now stopping isn't something I want to do.
"Do you want to…" I flick my head in the direction of my section of the apartment, hoping she gets what I'm trying to suggest.
Her eyes open as I'm finishing my sentence and the first thing I notice is that her pupils are completely blown, "Don't stop."
She doesn't need to tell me twice.
My left hand has her wrist pinned to the fridge behind us, but my other hand finds her breast and I begin teasing her nipple as I pick up the pace with my lips. I can feel her body shudder slightly as my hand travels lower, skimming over her stomach, until I reach the top of her underwear.
I let the tip of my finger travel just underneath the top of the thin black lace that's covering her. They're the only piece of clothing left on her body, and I don't intend to leave them there for long. Suddenly though, Rachel is using her free hand to tug them down herself. They fall down her legs and with a quick flick of her toe they're on the other side of the room, landing unceremoniously on the couch.
I press my body against hers, and I can feel the heat radiating from her, now completely bare, skin. I bring my mouth to her ear and whisper slowly, "Someone's eager."
"Jesus, Santana," she groans, "I've been thinking about this all night. Please."
The truth is, I had every intention of taking this slowly. So far, I've barely touched her, but the way her body is writhing under me tells me she doesn't want this to be slow at all.
I consider ignoring her request, but to be honest I've been dying to hear her scream my name for far too long now. Plus, as soon as she said my name like that, her voice so full of desire, I started to lose whatever tiny scrap of control that I had left.
I run my fingernails down her body until they reach the inside of her thigh. I feel her shudder and suddenly I'm pressing my mouth to hers as I push two fingers inside her, without any sort of warning. She groans against my mouth and I slip into a slow and steady rhythm.
My other hand lets go of her wrist and begins to wander across her body. It's almost as though I'm trying I'm trying to memorise every contour of her, every inch of her perfection.
She throws her head back, and a small thud tells me her head just connected with the fridge door behind her but she doesn't seem to have even noticed, or she doesn't care. Suddenly I'm kissing her again as my fingers continue to slide in and out of her, my thumb joining in as I slowly tease her clit.
As our lips separate I hear her moan my name and she presses her forehead against mine, her eyes still closed. As my pace quickens so does her breathing, which is now heavy and uncontrolled.
I can feel how close she is, and I don't know what makes me say it but before I'm even aware of it the words have left my mouth. Although my voice is nothing more than a breathless whisper, the words seem to reverberate all around us, "Fuck you're beautiful, Rachel."
She opens her eyes and looks at me for a moment, more than just lust in her eyes, before she presses our lips together once more. I drink her in, quickening the rhythm of my thumb against her. She whimpers into my mouth and I can feel her muscles start to clench tightly around my fingers.
My head finds itself in the crook of her neck and I kiss it softly as her body shudders uncontrollably, her muscles quivering deliciously. I don't stop until I'm sure that every wave of her orgasm has rolled through her, and even then I find myself reluctant to remove my fingers. Part of me wants this moment to last forever, but I know it can't.
She opens her eyes when I move my fingers and looks at me for a split second, her eyes piercing through me, before she kisses me furiously and I'm left completely and utterly breathless.
As our lips part I unpeel my body from hers and I gently take her hand and guide her over to the couch. She doesn't say a word and simply follows me. Normally I'd be waiting for reciprocation right now (and obviously that would be pretty damn great) but I'm not sure what's she's thinking and I don't want to push her into anything. So instead I lie down on the couch before I pull her down into the gap I've left in front of me. She joins me so we're face to face, and I smile as I feel her body pressed against mine again.
My hand cups her chin and I kiss her softly before she curls into me, and my arms instinctively wrap themselves around her.
Her voice is barely audible as she says into my neck, "What happens now?"
It's the question that I've been wondering too. It's easy to get caught up in a moment, and with my hand between her legs I have no doubt that she wasn't exactly thinking too far into the future. Besides, she has no idea how I feel about any of this, just like I have no idea what this meant to her. For Rachel this might simply just be a night of mind blowing sex.
"Whatever you want to happen," I say simply, because it's the truth.
She pulls away from me just enough so that she can look directly at me, "You can tell me if this is just sex."
My tongue darts out to moisten my, now swollen, lips as I think about how to respond. Does she want this to be just sex? If I tell her that I don't then I run the risk of freaking her out, and that's not what I want to do. The problem is I know I can't possibly lie to her and so I find myself saying, "It isn't just sex."
She blushes at my words. It's sort of adorable considering I've now seen her naked and had my mouth and hands all over her, and yet this is the first time she's blushed all night.
"I think we have unfinished business and what I want to do is to take care of that," she says, as she trails a finger slowly up and down my arm.
"That can be arranged."
"I'm glad to hear it," she bites her lip before rolling away from me and standing up by the side of the couch. The dim light of the lamp glows on her skin, reflecting off the small beads of sweat that are still clinging to her body, and it only makes her look even more stunning. She pauses for a moment, clearly contemplating the next part of her sentence carefully, "but tomorrow you're taking me on a date."
I stand up next to her, an eyebrow raised in surprise, "Really?"
"Yes, really."
I shrug my shoulders casually, but I can feel the grin I've been trying to hide beginning to creep onto my face, "I guess I can deal with that."
Rachel begins to walk away towards her section of the apartment, and my eyes can't help but follow her. She pulls back the curtains that surround her bed and looks over her shoulder at me expectantly. I walk over to join her and when I reach her she takes my hand in hers.
"Good, because I'd quite like to do this again tomorrow. Now, come here," Rachel purrs, as she pulls me forwards until I'm on top of her on her bed.
"What the hell have I let myself in for?" I mutter, smirking down at her playfully.
Rachel kisses me and in one swift movement she's reversed our positions and has pinned me onto the bed. I don't have much time to feel shocked about the fact that Rachel Berry is trying to top me because she looks down at me, and now it's her turn to smirk as she says, "I guess you're about to find out."
And that's when I know.
Falling for Rachel Berry was never going to be simple, but it might just be the best thing that ever happened to me.