It was Friday. Sweet, sweet Friday, and only ten minutes until the beginning of Rachel Berry's weekend. She hardly ever got excited about the weekends, mostly because she never really had anything to do. But this weekend, she had something big planned.
Since her first house party had been a success with the rest of the glee club, as well as herself, Rachel was going to have another. Her fathers were out once again, this time they were in New York for the week to be in the audience of the Wendy William's Show. So once again, she had the entire estate all to herself, and the liquor cabinet in the basement stocked full of booze. Needless to say, she was ready.
She just had to invite everyone.
Rachel had heard about parties where the host only invites a few friends, but ends up having to deal with over one hundred guests. She didn't think she was ready for that. So once again, she was only going to invite the glee club, hoping that this time, they'd be able to keep the alcohol and insobriety away from the school.
Rachel toned out the sound of her pre-calculus teacher and pulled her phone from the pocket of her plaid skirt. Carefully, she typed out a message.
Fellow glee clubbers. I will be hosting another engagement at my home this weekend. Alcohol will be provided, but I hope that everyone will contribute to the party and bring some more (i.e. beer, wine coolers, scotch, etc.) Let's keep it from interfering with school this time please. I also suggest that no one leave until Sunday. Be at my house tonight at 7 pm sharp. Respond to this message for my address.
She scrolled through her list of contacts and selected the members of the glee club before hitting send. It wasn't long until her phone was vibrating in response.
Sorry, can't. Blaine's taking me to see Jersey Boys in Cleveland. Have fun! –Kurt
Wrestling tournament. –Lauren
..long txt is long. but will come. bringing the juice for the mixers. –brittany s pierce
coming. but only to get my drink on. –santana
ps. is artie coming? –santana
Rachel rolled her eyes and typed back a response.
Undetermined.
Her phone buzzed back quickly.
well dont invite him. he cant get into ur basement away. –santana
Already texted him the invite. It is up to him if he wants to come or not.
jesus christ berry. guess i'll have to threaten him again. –santana
Rachel sat with a blank reply text message, but found nothing to say to Santana. She closed the message.
By the time the bell rang, most of the glee club had texted back with whether they were coming or not. And so far, everyone was coming except for Lauren and Kurt. And Blaine, but Rachel didn't directly invite him. Since Kurt wasn't coming, neither was Blaine. And that was fine by her.
Rachel arrived at home and instantly began setting up for the party. She had learned from last time what and what not to do; putting up streamers was a not, having drink tickets was a not, having the radio blasted was a yes, having the radio blasted with show tunes was a not. She was sure this party would be sufficiently better than the first.
Setting up for the party had been easy. But after she stepped out of the shower and was peering into her closet, all of her hope suddenly crumbled. She had nothing to wear. Well, she had plenty of clothes, just nothing that she could throw a party in. That mint green, almost night gown-ish looking dress she had worn last time would not be acceptable again. She had to wear something short. Something short and tight. Something Santana would wear. But her closet was full of plaid skirts and ruffled button-ups and knee-high socks, not slutty clothes.
In a panic, Rachel dashed to her phone and quickly typed out a text message.
Help me! I have nothing to wear, and I have to find something soon.
She hit send. Five minutes later, while she was ripping skirts off of their hangers, her phone buzzed.
and how am i supposed to help u? –santana
Rachel quickly replied with, Because your clothes are short and tight and extremely fitting and well; pardon me for saying but…skimpy.
A new message showed up in her inbox not much later.
…true. so what, u wanna wear my clothes? is this like, one of ur sexual fantasies? –santana
Rachel groaned and rolled her eyes at the cheerleader's comment.
No, this is not a sexual fantasy. This is a fashion emergency.
k whatever. –santana
So will you help me?
only if u promise to stop making ur txts so long from now on. –santana
Fine! Whatever! Just please, hurry. It's almost 6:30 and people will begin arriving at 7.
kk. i'll bring some stuff. but if anyone asks, i didn't help u on my own will. u forced me. k? –santana
Fine. Thank you.
haha u owe me…big time. –santana
Rachel threw her phone down on her bed, sort of worried about how she will have to make it up to Santana. But she put that out of her mind as she continued to prepare herself for the party.
Ten minutes later, Rachel heard the front door opening and shutting. She poked her head out of her bathroom, toothbrush still in her mouth, and listened.
"Berry!" She heard come from downstairs, and she instantly knew who was there. She spit her toothpaste into the sink and made her way to the first floor.
Santana was already making herself comfortable, sitting on the Berry's couch. She looked up at Rachel when she heard her enter the room and nodded at her.
"I'm here," she said simply. Rachel nodded.
"I see that."
Santana sighed and pushed herself up from the stylish yet cozy couch and picked up a few bags.
"I brought some stuff. I don't really know what you were looking for, so I just brought a few different things." She began emptying out the few bags before she looked up at Rachel and stopped.
"How come you're not wearing clothes?" She said with the raise of an eyebrow. Rachel looked down at her body, where only a towel was covering her from just over the tops of her breasts down to about mid-thigh. If she bent over for any reason, Santana was sure to get a nice view of what Rachel had going on.
She shrugged. "I just got out of the shower."
"And you couldn't have put on clothes?"
"I mean…I guess I could've…but that would be kind of silly to put something on only to then take it off when you got here."
Santana bit her lip before waving it off. "Whatever. Here, try this on." She handed over to Rachel a small pile of clothes which seemed to be matched into an outfit already. She took them gladly and shuffled off to the bathroom just around the corner. Santana sighed.
"By the way, Santana, how did you get in here? The doors are all locked," Rachel called out from the bathroom. Santana stopped filing her nails.
"I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent. You learn to pick locks when you're five," she replied simply, shrugging it off, turning her attention back to her perfectly shaped nails. She looked up once more when Rachel came out of the bathroom and cleared her throat. Her jaw dropped.
Rachel was wearing a dark purple, extremely tight skirt that stopped perfectly on her upper thigh. Her top was black and made of sheer lace, and Santana couldn't for the life of her find where Rachel's bra was. –Was she even wearing one? She didn't want to keep staring, so she decided that her goal for the night was to decipher the difference between shirt, skin and bra. The shirt was also deep cut, so a little bit of Rachel's breasts were spilling out into the v-neck. Santana nodded.
"That's it," she said quietly, taking in how nice Rachel's body was, since it was usually covered up with ugly sweaters and high socks.
"Santana, are you sure? It feels kinda…revealing," Rachel said as she fidgeted with the hem of the skirt.
"Yeah. It's perfect. Just needs a few little things." Santana slipped off her black cropped leather jacket and handed it over to Rachel.
"Put that on," she demanded, not being able to take her eyes away from the small diva's body. Rachel obeyed and pulled the jacket over her shoulders. Santana nodded again.
"Good. Now…" she turned away from Rachel briefly to dig through one of her bags. She turned back, furrowed her brow before quickly reaching her hands behind her neck and unclasping her necklace.
"Turn around."
Rachel did as the Latina told her and turned her back. She felt Santana's hands come over her head before drawing back and lightly brush up against the skin on the back of her neck. Santana moved Rachel's hair out of the way and it cascaded down one shoulder. Santana turned Rachel back to face her.
"Alright. What size shoe do you wear?" Santana asked, and Rachel shrugged.
"Umm, like a six," she mumbled, and Santana quickly shoved a black pair of high heels into her hands.
"Put those on," she said, and Rachel nodded as she bent over and slipped a shoe onto each foot. "Do they fit?"
Rachel squirmed in them for a second before nodding. "Yeah."
"Great." She stepped back and looked Rachel up and down. She couldn't help but allow a small smile wash onto her face.
"Am I done?" Rachel asked, standing still, her arms stiffly down by her sides.
"Mhmm," she grunted, giving the girl another once over. Santana felt herself get giddy whenever she looked at Rachel's legs that seemed to go on forever. Rachel had legs like Brittany. Rachel wasn't as tall as Brittany was, obviously, but they both had legs that seemed endless. And Santana totally dug that.
"You look great," Santana said eventually, snapping herself out of her small trance. "You just need to do your makeup."
"How?" Rachel asked, watching Santana as she slipped on another leather jacket she had brought.
"Smoky eye, definitely," the Latina replied. "But keep the rest of your face simple."
"Ummm, okay," Rachel said slowly. Santana sighed.
"Do you need my help?" Rachel nodded at her, and Santana grabbed her bag of makeup from one of the bags. "Fine. Sit down."
Rachel moved to the couch and sat down, crossing her legs conservatively, and Santana began pulling things out. She hovered over Rachel, her lip in between her teeth.
"The lighting here isn't very good," she said. "I need to get closer to you." Wow, Santana thought. Never thought I'd be saying that to ManHands. Never thought I'd ever check her out like I just did, either.
"Do you need to sit next to me or something?" Rachel asked as she began moving. "Because I can move over, or get up, or whatever-"
"Just sit still," Santana demanded, and Rachel sat back against the couch. Santana thought for a moment before she sat down gently on the small girl's lap. Rachel seemed shocked, and Santana was pretty surprised too. But it's not like she was coming onto Rachel or anything. No. She was just trying to get a better view of her face so she could do her makeup. That was it.
"Santana, what are you-"
"Rachel, stop making that face. Or else I'm gonna fuck up your makeup." Rachel listened and relaxed her face, her body still tense underneath the Cheerio. "And stop being so tense. I'm not, like, coming onto you or anything. I'm just trying to help you because I didn't bring any beer and you needed to get a new look." Rachel nodded in agreement.
"Stop," Santana said, and Rachel stopped. "Now close your eyes."
Rachel tensed up for a second before swallowing. She fluttered her eyes closed, not really sure if she should trust Santana, but like she had said herself. She wasn't trying to get with Rachel. She was just helping her.
Rachel sucked in a breath when she felt Santana's soft hand resting gently on her cheek.
"You okay?" The Cheerio asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Rachel began to nod, but remembered that Santana had told her not to.
"I'm fine," She said simply, and Santana shrugged. Slowly, she began to work the makeup onto the diva's face. She began with eye liner, then switched to eye shadow, then did the girl's eyelashes with mascara, then swept a light blush onto her cheeks. Finally it was time for her to do Rachel's lips. Her plump, totally kissable lips.
Santana pulled a tube of gloss from her makeup bag and resettled herself on Rachel's lap.
"Go like this," Santana told her, pulling her lips in, and Rachel opened her eyes to see. She copied Santana's mouth and Santana nodded. She swiped the small brush over the area of her lips a couple times before putting the tube back. Santana made a soft popping noise with her lips and Rachel did the same.
"You're all done," she said and removed herself from Rachel's lap. Rachel stood up as well and turned herself to the mirror in the Latina's hands. Rachel caught a glance of her own reflection and broke out into a smile.
"Santana, I look amazing!" She said happily, looking at herself from all angles in the mirror.
"Yeah, no big deal."
Rachel looked away from herself and flicked her eyes to Santana as she stood with her arms crossed, lightly smiling as well.
"Thanks," she said softly, and Santana felt her stomach flip. Wait, was she actually attracted to Rachel right now? But who wouldn't be? Her skirt showing the miles of tanned leg she possessed, the shirt stopping at just the right point to leave one wanting to guess what all was under it, her brown curls softly spiraling over her shoulders and framing her face perfectly, and her glossy lips, just begging to be kissed. Who wouldn't be attracted to that?
Santana shook her head from her thoughts of what she could to do Rachel Berry right now and simply nodded at her.
"Right. So…I'm gonna be downstairs, breaking out the booze," she said, quickly shoving her bags onto the floor beside the couch.
Rachel nodded happily at her. "Go ahead. I'll be down once people begin to arrive."
"Uhh, right." Santana sashayed away from Rachel and began searching for the entrance to the basement.
"It's the door on the left," Rachel called, causing Santana to begin picturing them together again. She pinched herself.
"Yeah, I know," she yelled back. But she didn't catch herself in time. "I mean, I figured it out. I don't know 'cause I don't, like, remember from last time or anything. Or care." She mentally face palmed herself at her stupidity and opened the door to the basement.
"Jesus Christ, Santana. Get your shit together," she said to herself on her way down the stairs. "You don't like Rachel Berry. You don't. Just because she can, you know, wear your clothes really well or whatever doesn't mean you like her. You just like people wearing your clothes. That's a fact. But you don't like her." She immediately went over to the stock of alcohol and grabbed the bottle of bourbon. She brought it straight to her lips and took a huge gulp. "Just because her legs are never ending and tanned and toned and probably super strong, and her boobs are like, the perfect size for her body, and her lips look super soft…you don't like her. You like Brittany. Quinn is even a little okay. But Rachel? She's…she's loud and needy and annoying and bossy and oh, my God, she could totally dominate you in bed." Santana stopped herself too late as the words dribbled out of her mouth like saliva. She took another sip from the bottle. "…You totally like Rachel Berry. You totally like Rachel Berry. You totally like Rachel Berry. You totally like Rachel Berry. You totally like Rachel Berry."