A/N: I don't own Glee nor the characters within. This is a silly little story that is going to be made up of short drabbles. And that's pretty much all of an author's note I can think of writing, except that, at this point, I don't know how tenuously canon this'll stay. *grins*
Rachel wasn't exactly sure how she had gotten to where she was, but as the line of people stretched further and further down the hallway from the booth, her shock turned into excitement. "They all want to kiss me," she breathed, immediately straightening her posture and fluttering her hands around her hair, taking her compact from her backpack to check her makeup.
While the logical part of her mind insisted that this was hygienically unclean and she could be exposed to god knows how many germs, the other, more selfish, popularity-starving, attention-seeking part of her pushed the first part away. 'But… Mouthwash, at least!' the first part begged, struggling to pull itself up from the cliff it had been tossed over. Figuring that was probably a pretty good idea, the second part shrugged and, three minutes later, Miss Pillsbury showed up with three cases of Extra-Strength Clinical mouthwash and twenty five packages of paper cups.
Rachel gaped. "Where did these come from?"
It wasn't like she wasn't grateful, though.
Anyway. Shaking her head, Rachel quickly opened the first case. Pulling out a bottle of mouthwash and taking a package of paper cups, she sent it down the line. "A full sixty seconds!" she called out, ignoring the grumbles and sighs she got in response.
Miss Pillsbury blushed, nervously playing with her hands. "When you're married to a dentist, you get… Certain, oral – oral hygiene, that is – privileges." She paused. "I think I'll make sure they rinse responsibly." A second later, Rachel could hear her admonishing someone to rinse twice, and she blanched. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…
But, no! They wanted her.
"Okay," she took a deep breath, flipping the sign from Closed to Open, "I am open for business!"
