Just something I wrote in the spur of the moment caused by a friend's comment of "What if Santana walks in on Rachel in the shower?" while discussing Lea's twitpics/tweets and such about filming with Naya and Chris while she's in the shower.
And this came to be. Trying my hand at Pezberry.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Rachel had routines and she followed them. New York wasn't at all she expected it to be. It was amazing, breathtaking, and magical but it threw her some curve balls. It made her change her routines.
NYADA wasn't at all she expected it to be; it was hard work, more so than she had imagined. Teachers were more critical than her peers back home. Quinn and Santana's scathing remarks had hardened her some but it still hurt to be torn down every day for things she spent her life learning and preparing for.
Kurt coming to New York was a blessing. Their apartment was a little rundown but Kurt liked to call it rustic and at least she could get a full night's sleep without listening to her roommate sleeping with the entire school.
She didn't expect to be rooming with Kurt, she didn't expect to change so much but a new place calls for some changes. Kurt helped her with a new look; she looks older, more mature. Luckily she managed to convince Kurt to let her keep some of her skirts and sweaters, 'for nostalgic purposes' she says but he doesn't need to know that she wears them out on the days he's working at Vogue.
She's not completely daft, though. She knows her new wardrobe garners much attention from people. Santana had said she was glad that Rachel didn't look like a toddler anymore and didn't fear that someone may kidnap her mistaking her for a child anymore; 'Besides, Porcelain and I can't pay for the rent on our own if you got sold to some child sweat shop in China, I haven't found mes a job yet.'
Speaking of curve balls, that was her latest one: Santana Lopez. Imagine the shock on Rachel's face seeing Santana at their door one day, waltzing like she already lived there only to announce that she was, indeed, going to be living there. They couldn't say no, even if she hadn't so much as asked them to live there. Rachel was plagued by images of Santana being mugged on her way to an even more rundown apartment in a shady neighbourhood and quickly dismissed those thoughts and showed Santana where she could keep her belongings.
She had expected living with Santana to be well, hell, for lack of better words. But it was surprisingly the opposite. She had come home more than a handful of times to dinner cooked by Santana herself. 'I can't have you two losers kicking me out on my fine ass, figured my amazing cooking would keep me safe.' she said. It was surprisingly vegan as well. Many nights, she had found herself on the couch, with Santana as company while she watched her musicals. She had expected Santana to make jibes at her and her love of her musicals the first few nights but more often than not Santana would plop down beside her, throwing her feet up on the coffee table with the comment of 'what is this shit?' thrown her way and followed by comfortable silence.
Santana was an enigma; she was a curve ball that shook up Rachel's life and her routines.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
But still, some routines she insists on keeping because she needs routines to keep her sane; like the process of her shower- lather her hair with shampoo, rinse and repeat. Lather her body with body wash, wash it off and then condition her hai-
"Hey Berry, where do you keep your linen?" Santana's voice pierces through the fall of water and the fog of steam around her.
"Santana!" Rachel shrieks, "I'm in the shower!" she yells as she tries to cover her intimate bits.
Santana scoffs, "Relax, it's not like I can see through your floral shower curtains."
"Still!" Rachel yells, "It's common courtesy to not walk into the bathroom when one is engaging in their nightly body cleansing routine! What if my shower curtain had been open?"
"Oh please, it's not like you have anything I want to see anyway," comes the reply and Rachel can practically see the eye roll in her voice, "You have a body of a child, it would make me feel like a paedophile and that's just all kinds of wrong."
Flushing with anger and embarrassment, Rachel rips the shower curtain back. She had grown to love her body over the recent years. She knows for sure others have an appreciation as well if the boys in her dating history any indication. In fact she was sure even Miss July had a glint of appreciation in her eyes during their All That Jazz dance off. Not to mention she had caught Santana's lingering stare on more than one occasion on the nights that she wore her sleep shorts around the place.
So yes, she knows she has a great body and she knows Santana is just trying to rile her up on purpose. But it doesn't make her any less mad.
Coming out of her mental angry rant, she registers Santana's wide eyes on her, not at her face but on her and she realises that in her angry rush to berate Santana for making fun of her again she had unwillingly exposed her naked body.
Rather than cowering away in obvious embarrassment, Rachel gathers what courage she has and straightens up, "Do you mind?" she says, her voice and body just screaming with fake confidence, "You're leering."
Rachel's voice snaps Santana out of her obvious admiring eyes that was on her body and draws her eyes up to Rachel's, a glint playing in the corner of her eyes, "Well," she drawls, "Who knew you had all that going on under your clothes," she smirks.
The glint, Rachel recognises, is playful so she decides to play. "Well, I'm sure you do now, if your leering just now had any indication."
"Hey," Santana shrugs and crosses her arms, "Who knew under all that you had such a... Berry delicious looking body," Santana says, eyes roaming appreciatively up and down her body.
If that line hadn't been delivered by Santana and with such suaveness, Rachel would have laughed. Hard.
But this was Santana Lopez. Sex Goddess of Mckinley High and something about her obvious attraction and appreciation of her body just does something to Rachel. She figures she'll make fun of her later but for now; she grows bold and puts a hand on her hip, "How about you come and have a closer look," Rachel says lowly, "I'm sure it looks better up front."
Santana looks into her eyes, flicking back and forth between them as if to check for any chance that this is a joke before stepping right up to Rachel and being sprayed on the side by the water.
"You have no idea what you have just gotten yourself into," she husks, "I can finally find out if you actually taste like berries," and pulls her into a bruising kiss that almost knocks Rachel off her balance.
/
Later, while in bed, she'll ask Santana what she meant by "finally finding out if she tastes like berries" and make fun for her "berry delicious looking body" comment only to be silenced by a kiss and round two.
It messed up her shower routine but Rachel figures that like rules, routines were made to be broken as well.
And she doesn't mind at all as long as the one helping her break them is Santana.
I'm trying to get back into writing, I've been in a lull for the past few months trying to write something so sorry to keep anyone waiting.