A/N: Dedicated to fatallyobsessed because her genius of C&D is what sparked this lil tidbit. AU Futurefic: Finn & Rachel, Samchel and Pezberry friendships. Rated M, because I honestly can't control their ooc potty mouths and I'm predicting several sexytimes. If you've ever woken up from the best carnal dream ever, only to realize it's really real but don't remember exactly what happened, or who with, here ya go.

Disclaimer: Glee, not mine.

(first)

Sunlight sears fire at her eyes. So automatically, she reaches her hand up to shield her face.

Except, she can't, because something is pressing her hands to her side. Groggily, she opens first one eye, ducking her head against the bright glare before trying again. She's not sure where the pounding is coming from but it needs to stop. Right now. She blinks and her eyes land on a sky-blue football banner with a lion and the letter C. She lifts her head slowly and looks around, her eyes widening at the unfamiliarity surrounding her.

And then someone moves behind her. She bites her lips against a squeak and turns her head. A broad expanse of pale skin greets her, a tribal tattoo on a muscular back from the left shoulder disappearing under the sheets and messy brown hair. The man, yea, she's pretty sure it's a man, with muscles like those, is fast asleep, his breathing deep and relaxed and she tries to free a hand to touch him, but her hands are still under the sheets.

Then, she realizes she's naked.

And so is he.

Again, she clamps down on her cry as she shoots up in bed, his bed. She sees her dress, or what approximates as a dress that Santana shoved her in, her underwear, her purse, shoes and jesus fuck! condoms (empty wrappers mostly) scattered carelessly around the floor.

Her head spins a little and she tries to remember anything from the night or even day before. Nothing. She spies a bottle of Appleton VX and inwardly curses herself – that drink will be the death of her one day.

She tries to move from the bed, her body is pleasantly sore – she tamps down on that thought, preferring to dissect its origins when she's safely ensconced in her own apartment, alone without sexy naked men to distract her – and promptly falls onto the floor.

Her companion grunts but doesn't do much more than nestle deeper into his sheets, his face still turned away, buried in his pillow. One hand stretches out and grabs the pillow she was using. And he's quiet again.

She debates trying to get a peek at his face, but shakes her head, the dull ache increasing, her fingers reaching out to snatch her clothes and dresses herself quickly. Her dress, or lack thereof doesn't seem quite appropriate for display to the outside world at whatever time of day it is since it's practically ripped in places, so she grabs the first thing she finds in the nearest drawer, a grey t-shirt with the words McKinley Titans in maroon across the chest.

She dashes quickly to the bathroom, cringing at the sight of her face in mirror. She washes the make-up from her face, brushes her teeth quickly with her finger and toothpaste and drags her fingers through her hair, dropping the curls around her face as a curtain.

She peeks back into the bedroom, mystery man is still asleep so she hurries to the bedroom door and sticks her head out. It's a suite, with five other doors leading off from the main room and they're all closed. She sees a hallway to what looks like a kitchen and the main door, making a beeline for it. Right as she pulls it open, one of the other doors open and a svelte man, as pale as the man in the other room, steps out and pauses, his face towards her. She sees this from behind her hair and dashes through the door, closing it quickly behind her and cutting off soft laughter.

"Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. What on earth did you do last night?" she berates herself. She's safe in the taxi on her way home and she's pretty sure today will go down in the history of Walk of Shames. She's ready to like, castrate Santana Lopez, because she is pretty sure Santana has cohones and is to blame for this, with some brilliant idea; why else would she be here, right now, in this minute?

Santana isn't home when she gets to their apartment. Nor is Sam. Her phone has one incoming text from Sam that he's hitting the library on campus early to get one of his reports done. Santana would call if she was dead or dying. So she heads to her room, peeling her clothes off and stalking to the shower. The water is hot, scalding her skin; the heat is supposed to help trigger events from last night.

She remembers Santana giddy over her acceptance to NYU Law. Hence the party. Hence the dress. Mike, Sam, Mercedes, Rory, Blaine, Joe and Brittany. They'd gone to the bar where Brittany and Joe worked, a night of drinking, dancing and celebrating.

It gets fuzzy afterwards.

Music, hands brushing in the darkness, kisses all over, a deep throaty laugh, husky sighs, big, firm, strong hands. She switches the water to cold, pressing her forehead onto the tile.

Mystery man. There was a mark on her hip, a matching one on the tattoo inked on her right shoulder, marks of fingers pressed into her thigh, she traces them with her own, her middle finger barely the length of the size of the pinkie finger. The ache between her legs feels good; her entire body feels good, like running a lengthy marathon and then getting a full-body massage afterwards. Even her lips, still slightly swollen, remind her little of last night.

She curses and steps out of the shower, wrapping her body in a huge towel and goes back to her bedroom, eyeing the stolen t-shirt still on her floor. It smells… comfortable. Fabric softener, cinnamon, musk and man. It's a good smell. A seductive smell. So she slips it on.

She just wishes she had a name for him. She slips into sleep, dreaming of his fingers on her thighs, her fingers buried in thick brown hair and a skilled tongue between her legs.

Sam's grin is wide when she sees him at breakfast the next morning. She was up for her usual routine, running at 6am and then yoga, shower then coffee from her favourite café near school. She has a weekend dance class at 11am, so she'd run errands until 10, then usually meet one of her roommates before somewhere, and try and get some studying in.

Today, Santana is still buried under her covers, so she bites back she lecture she's been planning on unleashing on the Latina, and now she sits across from her blond friend, whose smile is broad and mischievous.

"So."

She doesn't bother looking up from her notebook.

"Someone didn't come home on Friday."

She snorts and underlines a line of text. He's fishing for information, she knows it. They've been friends too long for her not to know him by now.

"And someone else is still hungover."

"Someone needs to mind his own business." She mutters. He chuckles.

"Well, since someone drunk texted me, assuring me that she's fine and about to have the best safe sex of the century, I think I warrant some information."

Her face turns beet red as she looks up, his green eyes sparkling. She swallows before speaking. "What are you talking about?"

He pulls out his phone and shows her the text, her name and number at the top of the message, the ever prominent star beside her name. She groans, dropping her head onto the books in front of her.

"Well?"

Her answer is muffled by the books. Sam prompts again.

"I don't know." She scowls, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms as she glares at him.

"What do you mean 'you don't know'?"

"I mean, I cannot remember a thing that happened on Friday night. Aside from the fact that we all went out for drinks with some of our friends because San got her letter for NYU Law. After that, everything's a blur."

"Yea, we hung out at Joe's bar. I left with Mercedes around 2am and you and San insisted you were good, Joe said he'd send you guys home in a taxi. Next morning I get home, neither of you are there and I got your text. Santana growled when I called her, so I assume she's still alive."

"So you left before us?"

He nodded.

"So you would have no clue how I ended up in a room for a Columbia Lions football fan, then? Or having to dash out his room in his clothes?"

Sam's eyes are wide as he listens to her. Then he frowns. She answers before he can speak, her face turning even more red.

"Yes, we used protection. There were several wrappers all over the bedroom floor." her voice is quiet as she looks around to make sure no one heard her, but then Sam is laughing again and she's tempted to throw cold coffee at him.

"I hate you."

"Serves you right. You know drinking with Santana gets you in trouble. Need I remind you of high school? Prom night? All of our collective birthdays? Graduation night? I have a list if you need one." He grins and she thinks the jelly on his donut would go smashing with his white button-up.

"Shut up."

"Was it good?"

She blushes from her ears down to her fingertips and has to bury her face under her jacket as her friend guffaws – loudly – in the café.

She finally corners Santana at dinner two nights later. Her best friend is grinning like a maniac, wagging her eyebrows as she sits at the counter.

"Hola chica!"

"I'm mad at you." She crosses her arms and glares at her friend. Santana barks in laughter.

"Why? Because you finally gave up the convent lifestyle and finally got some dick! And according you, it was a really impressive dick that you couldn't wait to have your lips around."

Her mouth falls open as she stares. Santana brings her phone out and yep, telltale star beside her name and a very dirty text. (She's slightly proud of herself for using proper grammar and spelling even though she was obviously inebriated.)

"I sent this?"

"Yep. You were practically hanging over some giant of a man for the rest of the night. I tried to take you home but you insisted otherwise and well, Brit's hand was down my pants." At least she had the grace to look properly embarrassed.

Rachel's eyes glint dangerously again. "You made me go off with some stranger because your girlfriend had her fingers inside you? Santana! He could've killed me!"

"Chill, Berry. Damn. We were with Blaine's friends from Columbia. They came in not long after Sam split. Besides, you didn't seem too offended then when you were sticking your tongue down his throat."

"I was drunk."

"Blame it on the alcohol." Her friend deadpans.

"Santana." She warns. Santana giggles and nods.

"You didn't seem so wasted when you were singing. And then you were straddling whats-his-face and laughing, you looked happy for once. And dude was all over you, but strangely polite."

She frowns. "What do you mean?"

"He kept his hands on your waist. Berry, if I had your tits in my face and you on my lap, I'd had have you in the bathroom before you even knew what was going on."

She blushes and shakes her head, wagging her finger at the woman in front of her. "Stop that. I've already told you I don't like women. I love you, but I'll never sleep with you, Santana."

Santana grins evilly and eats more cereal. "But you did kiss me."

She's going to stop drinking. No more. Especially Appleton.

It's not that the thought of her and Santana has never crossed her mind, it has; the woman's beautiful. But that curiosity is just that, curiosity. And she never wants it to go further. They've been friends since they were 11 and Santana knows most of not all the little secrets she has. Besides Sam, and her dads, they are the most important people to her and she never wants to do anything that would jeopardize their friendship. And Santana knows that, so she may flirt, but it's all harmless. No telling what alcohol would have made her do though, harmless or not.

Before she can respond, Santana waves it away. "It was a dare. And a peck. I have proof. Relax, Rachel. Besties til we kill each other, remember?"

Rachel smiles and puts her hand over Santana's. Then drops onto the seat beside her at the counter.

"So, who was with us on Friday? I woke up in someone's dorm room but I left before I saw him."

"What?"

She blushes and turns away. "I woke up on Saturday in some guy's room. He was sleeping beside me but I left before he woke up. I don't even remember his name, or even what he looked like."

Santana laughs. "You little slut!" She laughs off the slaps Rachel's small hand makes as she glares at her then pushes her away, patting her shoulder affectionately.

"As long as it was good."

Rachel can't help her blush any more than she can't not breathe. So Santana is laughing again and she just glares.

"We were with Blaine, and his boyfriend. There were three other guys and three girls, but I honestly don't remember anyone's names. They were celebrating Blaine's letter to Law school too. And something about a Lancelot at MIT?" She shakes her head. "I was wasted. And well, Brit."

Rachel drops her head onto the counter and sighs. Then she lifts her head up and rests her elbow in the counter.

"They were all from Columbia?"

Santana shrugs.

"Well, chances are I'll never have to see them again, well, unless we're hanging out with Blaine."

"He's a classmate, not necessarily a friend."

"But you may see him. You are going to school with him."

"Yes, Rachel. But just because we're both gay doesn't mean we're besties."

She huffs and tries to reason with Santana. Being gay has nothing to do with it. If Blaine and Santana are classmates, chances are their paths would cross. And if their paths cross while Rachel is with them, she may run into mystery man. Although all she has to go on is brown hair, broad shoulders and a tattoo. And large hands.

It wouldn't be so bad if that happened, right?

It was the middle of the summer when she went back to New Jersey with Santana and Sam for a weekend from work. This would be her and Sam's final year at school, Santana had faced graduation earlier and was readying for law school in the fall. Sam still worked at the comic book shop in town and she was still auditioning for plays for Broadway, off-Broadway and off-off-Broadway while she worked at a music shop; her last year at Tisch would be a killer, but she was so close to Broadway she could taste it.

They were in Sam's backyard, by the pool lounging, trying to cool down. Mike, another friend from high school was visiting from LA, with a new girlfriend in tow.

"Yo, my man! Welcome back!" Sam and Mike did some fancy handshake and Santana just rolled her eyes, winking at Rachel and both of them kick the men into the bool.

She laughs at them and settles back onto her chair, waving happily at the pretty Asian girl Mike has hung on to.

"Don't mind us. They're used to it. Rachel." She greets, holding her hand out.

The girl blinks at her, shakes her head a little and nods, her own hand reaching out to clasp Rachel's.

"Hi. Tina." She gives a small secretive smile then turns to Santana to greet her as well. Mike hauls himself out of the water and falls on top of Santana, soaking her with water then jumps over to Rachel and does the same. Sam greets Tina, hands her a beer and they all claim pool chairs, laughing loudly and trading stories of living in New York and LA.

"I actually lived in New York for a bit. I just graduated Columbia, I studied photography."

"That's pretty cool!" Rachel grins. She loves art, in all shapes and forms.

"I sing and perform. Big hopes of making it to Broadway. My name in lights and my picture on billboards." She puts her hand against her forehead and sighs dramatically.

"Yea, Rach's our resident drama queen. San's the lawyer who you'll need on your side and Sam's an architect." Mike points to the house behind them, a split-level two story. "He designed his parents' house in middle school. They completed it just before graduation."

Tina's eyes widen at that piece of information and she nods approvingly as she stares at the house behind her. "I'll need to keep in touch with you, clearly." She smiles. Rachel watches the way Mike looks at Tina and grins over at Sam and Santana.

"I think Mike is trying to build a rolodex of classmates in every profession. So one day he can say he knows regular people. We know we're losing him to the high life in LA. You couldn't have gone to med school before you decided to go pursue dancing, Mike? Geez." Santana quips and Mike flicks her off.

Sam's mother comes out with fried chicken and tofu burgers, more beer and sodas and they all lounge around the pool.

"I feel like I know you from somewhere." Tina says suddenly. She's staring at Rachel with an intense look, tapping at her jaw.

She frowns. She's sure she doesn't know Tina. "Have you ever posed for any photography?"

She'd laugh at the ridiculousness of the suggestion but she doesn't want to offend her friend's girlfriend. She shakes her head.

"Charcoal or oil paint drawings?"

"No." she shakes her head again. "Never. Ugly duckling you know."

Santana glares at that.

"I could've sworn I've seen your face somewhere before." Tina trails off, lost in thought then shrugs, dismissing the idea and smiles. "So, Broadway? Mike tells me you're an amazing singer."

Conversation flows easily throughout the night even though Tina kept staring at Rachel all evening, and she could see that Santana and Sam noticed it too; should she be worried?

It's chilly outside when Mercedes invites her to lunch one weekend when she visits again, once she pries herself away from her boyfriend. They're catching up since Mercedes graduates from Howard this year too and is thinking of moving to Hollywood to intern at a TV station. There may or might not be a dream of a record contract, and then, there's Sam. She'd be leaving him behind; she's not too happy about that.

"Rach, it's a great opportunity! I'll have a job waiting for me when I graduate, and even though it's so far away, I really want to try. I don't know if Sam wants to move to LA. I don't even know if he wants us to be together after university. But I don't want to lose him."

Rachel wants to slap the forlorn and heartbroken look Mercedes has on her face. "Cedes, you've managed college apart, why should work be any different?"

"It's the other side of the country, Rachel. It's not a four hour bus ride anymore." Mercedes gripes.

She's been through this with Sam before, her and Santana. It's like a story stuck on repeat. She's about to launch into a lecture when someone calls out to Mercedes. And someone else calls out to her.

Mercedes' eyes widen as she looks over Rachel's shoulder and when she turns around, Mike's girlfriend is grinning at her. The man she's walking with runs over to hug Mercedes tightly and she hugs Tina quickly, her eyebrow raised at the giddiness of Mercedes and the man.

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at school." He squeals.

"I'm here for a weekend visit, I live here Kurt, you know this." Mercedes smiles.

"You could've called! We could've caught up some. I missed you my chocolate diva." He sighs again and hugs Mercedes, wrapping his slender arms around her.

Mercedes laughs and turns to Rachel. "Rach, this is a friend of mine, Kurt Hummel. We met on a fashion workshop my university put on in DC. I swear, he has more fashion in his pinkie finger that I have in my whole body! Kurt, this is Rachel Berry, I've known her too long, probably since diaper days."

She shakes hand with Kurt. He's impeccably dressed, and not a hair out of place with sparkling glasz eyes that now seem to be peering intently at her.

She introduces Tina to Mercedes. "She's dating Mike." She winks at her friend, laughing lightly at Tina's blush.

"Mike? As in Mike Chang?"

Tina nods. Mercedes sighs. "I swear that boy was born with arms of steel. I loved watching football practice."

Kurt echoes her sigh. "I know. Tina's very lucky. "

Tina laughs, and then Rachel does. Mercedes joins in at the blush creeping over Kurt's face as he mock glares at them.

"Are you in LA too Kurt?" Rachel asks.

"Not yet. I'm in my final year at FIT. Tina's helping me photograph my final portfolio and after that, anywhere is possible. I'll be a hit at every fashion show, worldwide." He winks at her and rubs his hands together. "How about you?"

"Rachel's a senior at Tisch." Tina smiles knowingly at Kurt.

He tilts his head to the side. "You sing?"

She nods.

He blinks and furrows his brows thoughtfully.

"My girl's a future Broadway performer." Mercedes pats her hand affectionately. "One day her name'll be in lights and her shelves will be overflowing with Tony awards."

Rachel laughs, they've had similar dreams since they were kids.

"Are you guys in a hurry, we don't want to keep you?" Mercedes asks.

"We just had lunch. We're going to a showing my brother is having, it's just two blocks over. Are you two free? I'd love it if you could come." Kurt says eagerly. His eyes are sparkling at them both and he looks like he's about to pull her out of her seat.

Rachel frowns. "Actually, I have a rehearsal in half hour."

"Oh. Rain check? I'm a fan of Broadway myself, I'd love to pick your brain sometime." Kurt smiles.

She grins. "Sure. Mercedes can give you my number. We can all go out to dinner."

"That'd be lovely."

She nods and grabs her books, waves and walks quickly away from the table, pretty sure that Tina and Kurt were still staring after her.

At Christmas, the three of them head home to New Jersey for Rachel's fathers' Christmas/Hanukah dinner. Sam has Mercedes glued to his side the entire night and with one look at the nervous hand he has stuck in his jacket pocket, she and Santana pull him away into the den. He fidgets for a bit, running his hand through his hair before dropping to the couch, his face in his hands.

"You don't think I'm rushing into doing this, are you?"

She looks at Sam, his green eyes nervous. Santana looks at her and they both sit beside him on the couch.

"Do you love Mercedes?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to marry her?"

"Yes."

"So why are you scared?"

"What if she says no?"

"Why would she say no?"

He can't answer that one. She knows they love each other. Has since high school, but both were too stubborn to admit it. Mercedes going off to Howard had been the catalyst in them admitting their feelings and they'd made it work all this time. Mercedes getting that job in LA? Sam was devastated.

"Sam?"

He looks up at her, his eyes sad.

"Are you proposing because you don't want her to move to LA?"

"Yes. No. I mean, I don't care where she goes. I just want to be with her. If I have to follow her, I will."

He's completely serious.

"Then, OK. There's your answer." Santana says. "If you love the woman enough to do anything for her, nothing borderline illegal of course, why do you think she'll say no?"

"But what if?"

"Sam?" Rachel tries again. "Mercedes loves you. And she's really looking forward to the job in LA. But she's afraid she'll lose you. I'm not saying pack up and follow her because you still have a life here. But if you love her as much as you say you do, why can't you make it work until it's perfect for you both?"

He runs his hand over his hair again and sighs.

"You're not proposing to keep her here with you. You're proposing because you want to build a life with her. Anywhere it takes you. Remember that."

He nods, reaching his hand out to clasp both of theirs. "You two are totally going to be in the wedding. San, I'm making you the best man. Well, woman."

"If she says yes." Santana smirks.

"When she says yes." Sam corrects.

Santana grins. "Fine. But I'm not wearing a tux."

Someone knocks on the door and Mercedes pokes her head in. "You guys are missing the party. Or are you having one without me?" She smiles.

They both squeeze his hand and get up, pushing Mercedes in the room behind them and locking the door.

Tina and Mike invite them to a New Year's masquerade party, masks and dress gowns. And since Kurt is helping her plan this party and because he's a fashion mastermind, her and Mercedes agree to go shopping with him. They drag Santana and Sam along.

Three hours in, Rachel is ready to cry uncle and go soak her feet hot water. Kurt is a tyrant. Mercedes laughs and Sam has to drag Santana away as she comes up behind Kurt at a rack of dresses with her hands ready to wrap around his neck. She glares daggers at them the entire time until finally he dresses her in a one-shoulder blood-red dress, a slit up one leg. Santana emerges from the dressing room and twirls, satisfied when their personal shopper nods in approval.

"Go with God, Satan – um, Santana." Kurt waves her away, grinning at his slip. She glares at him and then disappears behind the curtain again. Rachel falls against Mercedes as she laughs and even Sam chuckles.

They find Sam a tux and have to drag Mercedes away from him.

Kurt finally dresses her in a silver dress, with no back, a low V cut at the bosom and a slit at the front, on the other side where Santana's is.

"I have the perfect mask for you. Silver feathers. You'll look like a dream." He nods. Sam and Santana wolf-whistle, Mercedes hollers and a woman in the store glares at her as she has to drag her husband away. Rachel blushes before she ducks back into the dressing room to change.

They find matching shoes and Kurt buys her a very revealing swim-suit despite her protests, after Santana and Mercedes each persuade her to try it on. "You'll thank me when you wear it love." He winks.

The party is packed really, but she doesn't feel like a third wheel even though Santana brought Brittany with her, she's technically the only one there without a date. She poses for pictures with everyone, eats finger food (Mike was kind enough to have vegan options) and mingles with the crowd. Everyone's wearing masks of course and she can only recognize her friends, Tina and Kurt and Santana's friend and Kurt's boyfriend, Blaine because he lifted his mask up before he hugged her.

"Nice meeting you again superstar." He winks.

She's a bit embarrassed because of course, they met at Santana's celebration party That Night. She should remember Kurt too, and she'll gladly blame that on the alcohol. Kurt waves her apologies away and tops up her drink.

"Let bygones be bygones."

She's on her fifth glass of champagne by the time the countdown begins. Santana and Sam promise to kiss her a minute after midnight and she laughs at them, sitting at chair near the balcony as she watches people mingling about.

The countdown reaches three when someone swoops her up into his arms. He's tall enough that she's pressed into his chest and has to bend her head back so he can reach her lips. His fingers are warm on the skin of her back, his lips soft and gentle against hers. It's a chaste kiss that lasts just long enough until the countdown is over and more champagne is popped when he lets her go. Still surprised, she opens her eyes to see him disappear into the crowd and then her friends are slipping their arms around her, pressing kisses to each cheek.

She's caught up in the loud singing and by the time it occurs to her, the taste of cinnamon and the familiarity of the kiss, the crowd is pressing against her and no one is really paying attention to her, standing by the balcony, trying to search the packed room, her fingers pressed against her lips.

(tbc)

A/N: I'm not sure about you, but tequila turns me into a fool when I drink it. Hence, this. Part one of 3 because it got stretched out so long. Reviews?