A/N: I don't own Glee nor the characters (nor the real life people mentioned) within. This is based off a prompt from guyanarose; Rachel orders a date from an escort company in NY & is surprised to find that her date for the weekend is Santana. Currently marked as complete. Thanks!

"You need a date, Rachel," Kurt told her as soon as she'd stepped into her apartment, ignoring her glare, "I'm not going to stop telling you."

Groaning, Rachel's hand flew up to rub her forehead. "Why?" she asked with her teeth gritted, head shaking as she detoured to hang her coat up onto the coat hanger. "And don't say it's because of my image."

"But it is because of your image," Kurt stared at her, arms crossed. "Rachel, if we – and yes, I'm including the company and your PR agent in this – all tell you this, tell you how you can change your Barbra Streisand unapproachable image, believe us."

Rachel had to bite back her instant retort that it was never a bad thing to be compared with her hero, instead settling for a dark glare in her best friend's direction before walking into her kitchen. "I still don't know how I got that reputation," she muttered.

Snorting, Kurt trailed after her. "Oh, really? Little Miss 'Can't Wait to Attack the Paparazzi' in high school?" A smile curling his lips up, he waited for her to finish pouring herself a glass of cold iced tea from her refrigerator before lowering his voice, making sure she was looking at him, "Honey, ever since your very public breakup with Taylor Lautner, you need to remind everyone that you're not an ice queen. Honestly, your movie's almost hanging on this."

"Really?"

Kurt nodded. "I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true."

Leaning back against the kitchen counter, Rachel let out a giant sigh, fingertips pressed lightly against her cheek. "I just don't know if I'm ready," she admitted quietly, blinking with suddenly damp eyes as she tilted her chin towards him, "I loved him."

"And he loved you, and both you and I and everyone else who matters knows that." Stepping forward to enfold her in his arms, Kurt squeezed her. "Look," he whispered in her ear, "I've already got it all planned out. In your latest interviews, much has been made about not only your character's bisexuality, but your own 'open' view on relationships."

"Yeah, so?" Rachel mumbled into his chest.

"I'm getting to that." Pulling back, Kurt arched his eyebrow, smiling softly, "Now, don't hate me, but I figured that would go a long way in smoothing over your 'scorned woman' image if you show up to the party with a woman."

Pushing back, frowning, Rachel shook her head. "And perpetuate the idea that he turned me off men?" she stated scornfully, disengaging fully and picking up her glass of iced tea again.

Kurt sighed. "Okay, I'm not going to lie that a couple of people – " at her pointed look, he inclined his head, " – media outlets, better?" When she nodded, he rolled his eyes, "Media outlets are going to bring that up. But most will, no doubt, applaud you for being daring and open, and, happily, drum up more enthusiasm for Starside Heavens."

"No, no," Rachel started, walking back into the hallway before turning off into her bedroom, completely confident Kurt would follow her, "That seems so cheap." Setting her glass down onto her makeup bureau, she opened the door to her closet, pulling out her already selected and dry cleaned dress. Laying it carefully onto her bed, she started stripping.

Already used to seeing his old friend in half-dress and less, Kurt sighed loudly. "Rachel, maybe you're not hearing me: you really have to do this."

"Maybe you're not hearing me." Slipping out of her dress, unhooking her bra and pausing to look at him over her shoulder, Rachel made a face of pure stubbornness at him, "And besides! Where would I find a woman willing to pretend with me? Not that I'm agreeing to this, mind you."

"Of course not." Rolling his eyes up again, Kurt walked into the bathroom behind her, settling himself comfortably against the counter and looking at his reflection in the mirror, fingers slipping up to play with the artful coif in his hair. He cleared his throat. "What about Cassandra?"

"July?" Her voice rising from behind the shower curtain as she paused before turning on the water, Rachel tugged the curtain back open to stare at him, "We haven't – we haven't been in contact in forever and – no. Too awkward." She disappeared back behind it. "Who says she'd even agree?"

Kurt patted his vest down over his stomach, muttering under his breath, "Oh, maybe the lady boner she's had for you ever since you strutted into her class and how she still invites you to her class even if you haven't been by in years?" However, that lost in the sputtering of her shower, he tried a different tact, "Then what about Quinn?"

"Quinn?" Rachel's tone rose again, "Don't you think she's tired of playing my lesbian beard already?" A light scoff followed her words.

Kurt rolled his eyes again. "Taylor?"

"Taylor?"

"Female."

"Yeah, like Taylor Swift wants to play lesbian with me."

Smirking, Kurt couldn't help, "What, afraid to be the latest subject of her songs?"

The sound of Rachel running water through her hair didn't cover up her amused, "Not at all. In fact, I think I would be honored." She sighed, humming. "Wouldn't mind doing a duet, at least. We are friends. Which. Speaking of. You think I should see if we can set that up?"

Kurt raised his hands, shrugging. "I'll make a note of it. Can't find anything negative about that idea. Actually, no, it'll be great. Why hasn't it happened yet?"

"Probably because we've both been busy with our respective careers." Sighing, it sounded like Rachel picked up something that clunked, probably made of metal or heavy plastic. Kurt hoped it was a razor or something; after the last time he'd discovered something he really wished he hadn't in her shower, he'd chosen not to use it anymore. So who knew what was in there now?

As moisture and damp heat started fully taking over the bathroom, silence lapsed between them. Finally, after Kurt had already finished picking up and reading every bottle and product around the sink and about to fish in the cupboard below it, Rachel made a low sound. "Yeah?"

Rachel made another low sound. "You really think this is the best thing to do?"

Kurt smiled at the ground. "Yes," he gentled his voice but keeping it loud enough she could hear it, "Or else I wouldn't be here, standing in your bathroom with you naked a couple of feet away, telling you so."

The shower curtain rippled, Rachel's light laughter immediately telling him she was on the verge of giving in. Then, shower curtain rings screeching along the bar, Rachel stared at him fiercely. "Fine. You get me a date. We'll see."

"Finally, Babs!" Smirking at her, Kurt nodded and left the bathroom, already pulling his cell phone from his pocket. He'd gotten the number for a very upscale, discrete escort service that Adam had sworn to him wouldn't disappoint. Beautiful, able to think on her feet, and able to play or actually be lesbian without any hesitance to treat Rachel as a girlfriend… That's all he needed. And, fortunately, he thought, dialing in the number and taking out the bottle of hard liquor he knew Rachel hid under her kitchen since, pouring himself two fingers, this service would provide or come high water.

Now it was all on Rachel's side to come through, he mused as he waited for the potential woman's image to arrive in his phone before he gave the go ahead, tapping his finger on the counter. Throwing back the rest of his drink, he shook his head before swallowing; he needed someone Rachel would have no trouble keeping her side of the arrangement up with. But, almost spitting out his drink, he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Yes," he smirked into the phone after a couple of seconds of having to find his voice again, "Perfect. Absolutely perfect. And for the weekend just in case. Yes. That's right. Perfect."

"Hmm?" Rachel asked as she walked in, in a bathrobe and toweling her hair. Her eyebrows rose as she realized he'd dipped into her stash.

"Yes, in an hour and a half. No, wait," he surveyed Rachel, eyes narrowing before he nodded, "Yes, two hours. The front desk should just send her up. Have I said perfect yet? Because it is. Perfect. Thank you. No, no, thank you very much." Unable to keep his canary smile off his face, Kurt only shook his head, clapping his hand on Rachel's shoulder as he walked past her, ending the call. "You have two hours to get ready for your big outing, Ms. Berry."

"Why don't I like that tone in your voice?" she asked.

Turning around, a finger to the side of his nose, Kurt just smiled at her. "C'mon, Rachel Barbra Berry, let's get you even more gorgeous. A tough task, sure, but I'm sure we'll be able to manage it." He enjoyed her laughter, taking her hand to lead her back into her bedroom. "Have I told you I'm honored that you're leaving yourself in my hands and not just for my fashion design yet?" he asked as his smile broadened, pushing her into the chair in front of the makeup bureau.

Rachel grinned at him through the mirror. "Oh, maybe once or twice. But, now, Kurt," she clapped her hands, bouncing in her seat, "I'm excited! Show me what you have planned for me!"

"Patience! And don't move so much! This takes pure concentration."

Pouting, Rachel rapped his thigh. "Right, right," she took in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and freezing, "Do your worst."

"Best, and don't you forget it!"

"Like I could?"

"Hush!"

"Shush!"

"I swear, Rachel Berry, if you do not shut up, I'll stick this mascara brush right into your eye!"

"Fine, fine…" If she had, indeed called him a spoilsport under her breath a second later, they both wisely ignored it.

Having just finished making sure that her dress wasn't wrinkled and was as perfectly tailored to her body as Kurt could make it, being the designer and personal manufacturer of the dress as he was, Rachel took a couple of seconds of breathing deeply and slowly in the mirror before making her way to the door of her apartment to let her date for the party in. This was new to her. She'd had dates before, many of them certainly of the female persuasion, but this was a woman whom she had never met who would fill in the shoes of her (apparent) erstwhile female lover – and for one of the greatest social events of her life. Not only was it for her first major movie, her first major non-Broadway role, but it was her first major outing after her three year, highly public love affair with Taylor Lautner had ended quite spectacularly. Words had been said, words that had been recorded and played out in tabloid after tabloid and entertainment channel after entertainment channel. Even if the ending of the relationship had been her fault (though Rachel still couldn't understand how Taylor wanting to date one of his costars was her fault), she didn't think it was very fair how skewed the coverage had been.

Lips parting, eyelashes fluttering, Rachel stood up straight, raising her chin. No, she repeated in her head, you are a desirable woman and you have a woman on the other side of the door who will most likely think so too.

Even if she didn't understand exactly who Kurt had called. Despite her best efforts, she hadn't been able to grab his phone to see his history, and he'd been annoyingly tight lipped. Still, she was somewhat buoyed by his almost strident insistence things would work out, and that she would be comfortable.

The doorbell sounded again.

Taking one last look in the mirror, smiling artfully prepared lips, Rachel walked over to her door. Only taking a cursory look out of the peep-hole to make sure it wasn't some random creep, she pulled the door open. "Good evening," she greeted, barely looking up before looking down at the ground, pulling the door farther open and stepping back, eyes taking in very nice and fit legs in a short-hemmed but still classy for the occasion sultry dark red dress that hugged the woman's tanned skin and appealing body like a second skin, leading up to a lush cleavage and classy gold necklace with wild but perfectly styled black hair curling around her shoulders, "Would you like to come in and have a drink?"

The woman didn't move, didn't say anything, almost in stunned silence, and thinking it had to do with who Rachel was – she had a second of smug stardom – Rachel closed her eyes in an easy smile, straightening, "Yes, I guess I can understand some time to get used to who I am."

"Wow," a husky voice almost hummed, something so familiar and shocking it lanced right through Rachel, coiling uncomfortably in her stomach and making her eyes snap open, "You're still so egotistical, huh?

"Though I guess I shouldn't have assumed differently." Walking forward, expensive and stylish high heels clacking into the hallway of Rachel's apartment, past her, Santana "Diabla" Lopez in all of her sexy, smoldering glory, met her eyes with her hands on her hips, an exceedingly practiced smirk flowing over her face, "Well, long time no see.

"Long time no…" she then turned, taking in the opulence and flair of Rachel's tastes, "…Experience."

Rachel's tongue worked in her mouth. Hand slack on the doorknob, she finally remembered it was there and took it back, hitting the door closed with her heel, only to furtively make sure she hadn't scuffed the designer high heel Kurt had special ordered for her. "S-Santana?"

Liquid dark eyes above the sexiest color of red lipstick on lips Rachel knew almost as well as her own focused back on her. Her face perfectly framed and accented by the sexy curls of her hair and looking like she'd effortlessly prepared for the exact kind of night Rachel – needed? – her for, the woman shrugged lightly. "Rachel Berry, I say," she affected her voice, placing her hand on her hip, tilting her chin and making her delicious hair tumble along her neck, "You look as if you've seen a ghost.

"Which I don't blame you for, honestly." Shrugging again, lips curving up, Santana suddenly looked like the teenager Rachel used to live with, grinning at her, "It's been quite a while!"

Finding her voice, Rachel nodded. Her hands close to her waist so she didn't reach forward, she cleared her throat; in the back of her mind, she hoped she looked as effortlessly enticing as Santana did. "You're my escort?"

Santana tapped her finger against her cheek, looking up before an exaggerated expression of discovery took over her face. "You think?" Her eyes meeting Rachel's again, her smile softened even as her gaze didn't, "You mentioned a drink?"

Yes. Rachel had. She dropped her eyes. "This way," she said dumbly, making sure she gave enough of a berth so she wouldn't touch Santana, still struck scrambled as she was, hand waving in the air to motion Santana forward, deeper in her apartment. "Please," she added vaguely a second later.

Santana Lopez.

Santana Lopez?

Said woman followed her into the kitchen. She was either sucking in all of the air in the apartment, or that was just what Rachel was feeling in her lungs. Coughing slightly, she turned, hands resting on the counter not as relaxed as she'd like to pretend they were on either side of her. "What would you like? I have water, iced tea, some soda, wine, both red and white, and, well, harder."

"Harder?" Looking intrigued even as her head still turned to take in where Rachel lived, Santana's lips told her all she needed to know what she wanted.

Rachel wasn't staring at her lips, like she wasn't staring at her body, like she wasn't staring at her chest or waist or legs. Swear. Busying herself, Rachel turned and bent down, loving that Kurt's dress allowed her the luxury to do so. "I have vodka and some leftover whiskey," she murmured, pulling both bottles up. At this point, she wished she'd had some when Kurt had gone for it.

Walking around the island and setting her purse down on the nearest counter, looking way too comfortable for the situation, Santana smiled at her. "Whatever you're having."

Instead of asking how Santana knew she needed something sharp and burning to distract her, Rachel busied herself with grabbing two glasses from above the sink, pulling a tray of ice cubes from the freezer a second later. Still, "I didn't know you were an escort," she heard herself say. Her eyes flew up to meet Santana's.

But Santana didn't look ashamed. "Step up from a stripper," she smirked, perfectly manicured fingernails leading her hand forward to take the half-glass Rachel held out to her; they trailed absent-mindedly along Rachel's hand, and Rachel hoped her gasp wasn't audible. "No," Santana continued, taking a sip of her whiskey on the rocks, "I'm teasing."

Rachel supposed the woman had seen her guilty eyes and started apology on her lips.

"Really." Leaning back, letting her hair fall back, shimmering and so beautiful along her neck before she pushed it behind her shoulder, Santana's finger traced the lip of the glass, "I don't have to sleep with anyone, skeezy old men included, and I still get paid good money. It makes up for my student loans." Straightening, she raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at Rachel, "What about you? Hiring one?"

Rachel's cheeks went red, her throat feeling hot. "I didn't!" she protested, "I mean, Kurt did. I, well, it's a delicate situation… I guess…" She fell into a slight whisper, "I guess I need to be seen as accessible." She resisted the urge to make the bunny ears motion.

"And being a lesbian makes you so?"

Head snapping up, Rachel realized that, although Santana had moved closer, she didn't seem to mean anything unkindly. So, it was Rachel's turn to play with the lip of her glass, her finger stroking along the rim. "I don't know how much you pay attention to tabloids and gossip, but I think it would have been common knowledge that I am not only single but also, for all intents and purposes, bisexual."

"All intents and purposes?"

Rachel's lips slashed into a sick smile. "Being demisexual and open to both sexes kinds of makes it hard to be identified as anything but bisexual." Her shoulders shrugged, "At least in this society. Add in my latest movie role, and…"

A low hum left Santana's mouth. "Glad to see," she leaned against the counter next to Rachel, angled sideways to her, "That you're paying more attention to your lady loins."

Rachel laughed. "Santana."

Santana laughed as well. "Well?"

Shaking her head, Rachel watched Santana finish up her drink, following her with two more twists of her wrist. "So," she said over a low cough, feeling the burn, "Student loans?"

"You caught that." Placing the glass in the sink, Santana looked at Rachel out of the corner of her eye. "We have time before the event?"

Rachel glanced at the delicate, feminine watch on her wrist. "Yes."

"Alright, great." Shrugging, Santana watched Rachel place her own glass in the sink, next to Santana's own and Kurt's from before. "Well, you see," she drawled, catching Rachel's elbow before she could walk past her, making her stop in front of her, "I'm a lawyer by day…"

"…Escort by night." Blinking, Rachel smiled broadly at her, "You did it!"

Nodding, Santana smiled proudly. Still keeping ahold of Rachel, she practically preened. "Told you NYADA was only a detour."

Rachel's fingers caught at her waist, practically plucking at the fabric of her dress even as she stepped forward, making them flush against each other before she threw her arms around her. "I'm so proud of you," she sighed, letting herself forget exactly what was going on as she embraced her ex-roommate.

"You think?" Laughing again, Santana pushed her back, "Well, what about you? New movie coming out and all? Shows on Broadway? Rachel Barbra Berry, I'd say you're completely living your dream!

"But then again you always knew you were going to." Smiling, Santana's eyes swept up and down Rachel, one eyebrow rising, "You tramp."

Rachel poked her side, eliciting a laugh and making Santana drop a hand away enough so Rachel could sidle away. "Me, tramp? Who's the one who had the revolving bevy of hump-buddies, hmm?"

Wagging her finger at Santana, she was gratified when Santana smiled devilishly. "Not denying anything," she crossed her arms, looking down at Rachel, "But what about you…?"

Letting out an amused noise, Rachel threw her hand up, wiggling her fingers as she headed towards her bedroom, looking to pick up the wrap Kurt had approved for her outfit. "You about ready?" she called out.

Santana snorted. "Really," she waited until Rachel was facing her again, in the doorway of her bedroom, hip jutted out and fixing Rachel with the sultriest, widest amused come hither look she'd ever seen, "And I thought I was the one waiting on you."

Feeling like rolling her eyes and laughing all at the same time, Rachel made do with pointing at Santana and preceding her out of her apartment after snagging her purse, surprising both of them by taking Santana's arm before they got into the elevator. "What?" she asked, shallowly holding her breath, "We're supposed to be a couple, right?"

Santana stared down at her. "Right…" she smiled, disengaging her arm to slide it around Rachel's waist after changing her own purse into her other hand, pulling Rachel into her, hips bumping together, "Shouldn't be too hard to handle."

A couple of floors ticked away, Rachel still holding her breath before she asked expectantly, "You won't mind the attention going to be directed your way?"

"Why not?" Santana smirked, rolling her eyes and looking down at her, "I'm a totes hot bitch. You're a totes hot bitch. It'll only be in our best fake history that we've known each other before this. Jeez." Lifting her hand, chucking lightly under Rachel's chin, Santana studied her face, eyes darkening even more than before, "You'd think we'd had no history before this."

Rachel licked her lips. "No," she smiled faintly, turning to give the doors of the elevator a determined look as if it was the press and everyone else in the world concerned with her life, "Like I can forget what happened between us."

Santana's warm arm seemed to grow heavier around her. "Yeah," she looked down at Rachel again before looking at the doors as well, shoulders shrugging, smile sharp on her lips but not, Rachel noticed, fake, "What almost happened."

Her response dying in her throat as they reached street level where she knew her car service would be waiting for them, Rachel silently led Santana out. Smiling at the few cameras and reporters hanging out around the front of the apartment building, she wondered what Kurt must have been planning, because goodness knows he didn't know everything that had almost happened between Santana and her.

Reaching the limo, Rachel hoped the other woman couldn't see her pleased blush as she chivalrously waited for her to slip in first. That was nice. Very nice.

Too nice?

No, Rachel shook her head, chastising herself. Even if Kurt may have been planning some kind of shocked familiarity with giving her Santana, it was pretty obvious he didn't remember their full history. Which meant, presumably, even if he had been capable of doing so, he wouldn't have been able to coach Santana in any particular way of acting. Realizing that, practically unconsciously, Rachel felt some of her still present misgivings relax.

Smiling shyly at Santana as she joined her in the back of the limo only for the other woman to quickly pull out a handheld mirror to check her makeup and hair, Rachel allowed her fingers to knit into the extra fabric over her knees, breathing in deeply before occupying herself with the lights and sights of an evening in New York passing outside of the window. Even if Kurt didn't remember, even if he had tried his best to find out what had happened between them, it didn't matter because this had nothing to do with him.

A soft exhalation made Rachel turn and catch Santana's gaze long enough to watch the reflected lights from outside shine in her eyes.

No, she flushed, breath catching and looking down, away with a self conscious smile, this was now purely between the two of them and the years since they'd seen each other last.

Santana slid closer. "Did I tell you you look spectacular?" she breathed into Rachel's ear.

Looking up, Rachel caught her smile. "No," she teased, tilting her head and studying Santana back, "But so do you."

Santana's lips curved up. "I mean it," she nodded, "You do. Beautiful, even."

Rachel's heart gave a slow, hard beat. Pushing her hand out, sliding her fingers along the back of Santana's hand, Rachel squeezed it tightly. "So do I."

"Well, good. Otherwise I'd have to bust out my razor blades." Smirking, Santana sat back, sighing, tapping her fingers against Rachel's.

Following the motion, for the first time really taking in the no shoulders and visible cleavage of Santana's dress, Rachel frowned. "Will you be warm enough?"

Shrugging, Santana lolled her head around, meeting Rachel's eyes. "That's the fun, huh? I figure, at least, that you won't have any trouble sharing your wrap with me, hmm?"

"It won't go with your outfit," Rachel answered, knowing Santana was trying to get a rise out of her.

"Yeah, but," the woman leaned forward, nose almost brushing against Rachel's, perfect lips smiling widely, "I'll fit with you."

In lieu of a verbal response, Rachel could feel her cheeks become warmer, and she looked away, slipping her hand from Santana's to nimbly open and pull her own compact out of her purse.

"Well?"

Swiping her pinky over her eyebrow, not even bothering to pretend Kurt hadn't done a perfect job, Rachel glanced at Santana. "You know as well as I do," she snapped the mirror shut, a real smile sliding naked across her face, "If I wanted to get you warm, I wouldn't resort to just sharing a wrap."

A low, sultry laugh left Santana's mouth. "My my," she sat back, crossing her legs, the hem of her dress pulling up alluringly on her thigh, resting her hand on her knee, "Ready to write a check your ass'll be willing to pay?"

Rachel winked. "I guess, Santana, that's something you'll have to find out." And suddenly, coming so quickly and violently it was like a sock to her stomach, she realized she had missed this. She had missed the easy flirtation she and Santana had fallen into after they had settled into the reality of being friends. Flirtation that had contained just enough edge and context that it hadn't been too easily brushed off, and, if taken just a little bit further, would have gotten them into trouble.

And honestly… Flirtation that she hadn't let herself think about for years.

Her mind lost in bubbling memories, Rachel still took notice of how sharp Santana's eyes were behind the glare of passing street lights.

"You're right," Santana finally smiled; moving in close again to press a quick, soft kiss to Rachel's cheek, she brushed off the faint sheen of lipstick with her thumb a second later. "I guess I'll just have to make sure I do," she whispered, meeting Rachel's fluttering gaze before drifting down to glance at Rachel's lips and back up again. "Got it?"

Rachel nodded. "I got it," she breathed, slowly pulling back to sink into the plush leather near Santana's shoulder. To be truthful, she thought, clasping her hands in her lap again, she wasn't completely comfortable. But, she allowed a second later, relaxing with a distracted smile moving across her lips, she didn't know if that was because it was Santana, or because she was still hurt over her recent breakup, or even a strange combination of the two.

Pausing, adding to the feeling of something crackling in the small space between them, Santana finally let out a sigh as she settled in next to her. She was warm and solid, and Rachel's heart thudded unbidden against her breastbone again.

"Good," Santana filled the quiet air of the limo with her voice again as she turned to look out of the window, lips barely quirked up, "We there yet?"

"No," Rachel laughed, "Not quite."

Santana smirked. "You live too far away," she complained lightheartedly, eyes flashing, "Hurry the driver the hell up!"