Tagging: Santana Lopez & Rachel Berry
Location: Rachel's Apartment one week after the meeting at The Red Thorn.
Author: This is a collab rp with FoxChaos and you'll find this x-posted to her account. I'm writing for Santana and she is writing for Rachel
Summary: Santana comes to a conclusion and invites herself over to talk to Rachel about it.
Warnings: D/s Theme, Mild Violence, and Santana's Mouth.
Disclaimer: We do not own Glee nor its characters. We're just borrowing them.
Rachel sat on her couch, staring at her phone curiously, trying to think of what Santana could possibly want at 10pm. She wasn't complaining, as it wasn't too unusual for the woman to swing by at odd hours of the evening, but usually she asked, or gave Rachel a longer heads-up. This was... out of character, sort of. At least in that Santana seemed sober.
With a sigh, she stood up, heading towards the kitchen to get her friend a bottle of beer. It was habit, mostly. Santana always wanted a beer when she came over. Which, well, Rachel wasn't going to judge, but it was definitely only in her fridge for the Latina's sake. The actress couldn't stand the stuff.
As she popped off the cap, setting the beer to the side to look for a snack for Santana to eat, she hummed to herself, continuing to try and work out what her friend could want.
Part of her wondered if it had anything to do with last week.
Did Santana have more questions for her? Domme suggestions? Tips?
There were so many possibilities, really. And, then, of course, the incredibly improbable and highly unlikely answer; Santana wanted to do a scene with her. The idea of Santana Lopez wanting to do anything even vaguely sexual, at all, with Rachel Berry made her laugh out loud, and she covered her mouth, shaking her head. Santana was a far cry from the heartless, bitchy cheerleader of high school, but she was still Santana; sex goddess in tanned, human form. Rachel knew she was desirable, hot even, but there was no way she was desirable, in that way, for the domineering Latina.
Just then, a knock on the door, and Rachel quickly set down the sandwich she had thrown together (really, Santana was incredibly predictable when it came to her eating habits), skipped over to the door, and opened it up to reveal said woman. With a bright smile, Rachel pulled her inside and hugged her tight.
"Good evening, gorgeous stranger!" she teased, closing the door behind Santana upon releasing her from the hug. "To what do I owe this honor, Miss Lopez?"
"Hey Rachel," Santana chuckled, shaking her head at the woman's dramatics as she shrugged off her jacket. "And like I said, I need to talk to you about something." Without giving it a second thought Santana handed off her jacket and made a beeline for the kitchen, intent on grabbing a beer and possibly a bite to eat. Because while she was not nervous in the least, a little food and alcohol in the body never hurt anyone.
As Rachel hung up the jacket, rolling her eyes at the routine occurrence, she called over her shoulder, "Your beer is on the counter next to a ham sandwich, Lopez. You can thank me by buying lunch tomorrow~" Once done with the jacket, she checked the lock on the door and followed Santana into the kitchen.
It was only when she entered the kitchen that the last few seconds replayed in her mind and Santana jerked to a sudden stop as a feeling of deja vu washed over her. This was much akin to the kneeling moment that had occurred a week ago today. This wasn't anything new, but at the same time it felt as if it was. This was part of their routine. Rachel always took Santana's jacket and hung it up...but now it seemed...different. It seemed bigger.
Shaking her head slightly, Santana stepped into the kitchen heading straight for the fridge, only to stop in place when she heard Rachel call out to her. Santana turned to look at the table and smiled happily at the sight of a cold beer sitting next to a very large sandwich. Again...it was routine but it felt different. Like Santana was seeing everything with new eyes now.
Quickly the Latina pulled up a chair and tucked into the sandwich and beer, her mind quickly wandering to all of their little "routines" as well as how exactly she was going to word what she wanted to say to Rachel. She knew that she did not want to beat around the bush, but at the same time this particular situation did call for some delicacy.
Grabbing a seat as well, scooting it so that she could sit next to Santana as opposed to across from her, Rachel smiled, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. "You know, you keep saying that, but so far you aren't actually giving me any information. Except that you apparently enjoy your sandwich, and, subconsciously, that I need to buy more beer soon if this becomes a regular, regular habit of yours." She raised her brow, leaning over to steal a piece of tomato that had fallen from Santana's sandwich.
"Also, you didn't even comment on my footie pajamas. So something pretty intense must be on your mind- Wait, did you score tickets to that Beyonce show? Because you know you promised myself AND Kurt that we could come with and if you're trying to cop out of that now I'm taking the sandwich back," 'threatened' the smaller woman, only partially serious.
Santana chuckled and rolled her eyes at the diva before licking a smudge of mustard off of her finger and downing the rest of her beer. "Rachel, I 'scored' those tickets three weeks ago," Santana said, adding the finger quotes. "Really it's not scoring tickets if the opening act is signed to my label," she teased before finishing the last of her sandwich in one large bite. "And besides that you should know by now I live to spoil you and Lady Hummel. It makes my life easier when you're both happy."
"Also, I have noted the footie pajamas and am waiting for the right moment to tease you over them. Really Rachel? The Yankees?" she asked, standing up to take her plate to the sink and throw away her empty bottle, her hand subconsciously reaching out and patting Rachel on the head as she walked by.
Pouting, sticking her tongue out, Rachel fixed her hair; not that it was messed up but it was the principle of the matter. "Yes, the Yankees. Better than your silly and absurd Red Sox. Also, your jealousy of my insanely comfortable and warm choice of sleep attire is duly noted. I'll keep that in mind come the next holiday," said Rachel, choosing to, for now, ignore the part about the Beyonce tickets. She'd have to get Santana cornered on Skype with Kurt. Double-teaming her was the best offensive maneuver.
Huffing a little, she followed the woman's movements, the pout remaining on her lips. "AND you have still not answered the actual question. Stop trying to be mysterious. You lost that ability with me sometime between the first and second year of living together in college. It's hard to find you very mysterious at all when I had to deal your morning grumping and walking around the loft practically nude half the time."
Santana smirked as she listened to Rachel's slight ramble. Smiling she walked over to the woman and leaned down until she was eye level with her. "Oh Rachel if you know me so well you would know footie pajamas would be a waste of your money. I sleep naked," she said winking impishly at the woman before walking out of the kitchen and heading into the living room. "Now come on and let's have that talk Rach," she called out over her shoulder as she headed for the couch.
"You are so infuriating…" grumbled Rachel as she got up, pushing in her and Santana's chair and following her into living room. Without thinking, she grabbed one of the over-sized pillows next to the couch and flopped down cross-legged on the floor, reaching again to grab another pillow and hug it to herself.
"Alright, now I feel like you're just being frustrating on purpose," she said, rolling her eyes as Santana took a seat on the couch. "You're buying lunch AND a cookie for me again. Just so we're clear here."
"Crystal clear," Santana laughed looking down at Rachel and smiling in amusement. The woman was a brat sometimes but damn if Santana wasn't fond of her. That was enough to push her forwards in what she wanted to say next...and what she wanted to ask. "Okay," she said nodding to herself and leaning forwards a bit so she could look into Rachel's eyes.
"I wanted to talk to you about something that has been on my mind all week Rachel. You know that I care about you a lot right?"Santana asked looking down at the diva expectantly.
Blinking, Rachel nodded, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Obviously. If I thought otherwise do you really think I'd keep your tasteless beer AND sandwich meat in my fridge?" Then, more seriously, "We're practically family, remember? I mean, not really…but you get the idea. Why? What's this about? Oh God do you have cancer? Are you dying? Or moving to Canada? Santana, while I know they have better health care and gay marriage there's no need to be so drastic! And-"
"Rachel stop." Santana commanded rather forcefully, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead at the sudden rush of words coming out of the brunette.
Jaw snapping shut, eyes widened, Rachel did exactly that, staring up at Santana expectantly, and clearing struggling to keep her lips shut tightly.
"Okay," Santana said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the shiver that had suddenly passed up her spine. "First I do not have cancer, nor will I be fleeing to Canada in the foreseeable future. And second...we are family. I meant it when I said it then and I still mean it. I trust you...more than I have ever trusted anyone else in my life. All week I have been thinking about this, and trying to decide the best way to say it. You know that I'm not great with words, but I wanted to be clear about my intentions. Nod your head if you're following me."
Still looking confused, Rachel nodded her head, physically biting down on her lip and hugging the pillow in her arms a little tighter to keep from squirming with her need to speak.
Santana took a deep breath in through her nose and blew out before sitting up straight on the couch and looking down at Rachel intently. "What I've been thinking about this week is this: I trust you Rachel, and I care about you, and I know you care about me, and I really hope that you trust me too. Both of us are looking for the same thing right now. Someone to explore the sides of us that brought us both to The Red Thorn in the first place. And I've decided that I want to do that with you...I want to take care of you, and be that person for you right now...and I want you to be that person for me...if you'll have me…"
"M-me?" squeaked Rachel, her eyes wide and shock apparent in her features, and lack of verboseness. Her brain was both working overtime and yet grinding to a halt, unable to fully comprehend that- that Santana would want, well, her.
Actually, she sort of felt faint, come to think of it, but quickly mentally shook that off. No, this was no time for dramatics, as interesting of a story as that would be later. She needed to focus.
Still staring at Santana somewhat dumbly, Rachel swallowed thickly, suddenly very aware of the flush on her cheeks. "I… Um- If I say yes can we work out the details tomorrow?" she said in a rush, completely the sentence in one gulp of air. "Because I really want to say yes but there's a lot to talk about and I mean I'm so, so very inexperienced and I'd hate to embarrass you or- or make you feel bad somehow because I've read about Domme drop and it sounds terrible and-"
"Rachel, stop," Santana said quickly, moving forwards far enough to put her hands on Rachel's shoulders whilst still remaining on the couch. "Take a deep breath," she said looking into Rachel's eyes and applying the slightest pressure with her fingers, aiming to redirect Rachel's attention and avoid having to find the woman's smelling salts which she no doubt owned.
Rachel inhaled deeply, sharply even, eyes locked on Santana's as she blew out the air again and repeated the process, a bit more calmly, a second time. She cleared her throat, cheeks hot, and attempted to redirect her eyes somewhere else, though found it difficult to do so. "S-sorry. I'm nervous. But not in a bad way! Just, um, caught off guard. Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize, Rach," Santana said in a soothing voice as she rubbed small circles on the woman's shoulders, hoping to keep her grounded. "I understand. Now to answer your first question. Yes, you. You shouldn't be that surprised Rachel. You're beautiful and endearingly sweet, even when you're in Diva mode. And to answer your second question, of course if you were to say yes we could iron out the details tomorrow. But before you say yes I want to be sure that you understand exactly what I'm suggesting. More importantly I want you to be sure that you want to do this with me because you want to and not because I'm your friend and-"
"Santana- Santana, pause, breathe. You're almost as bad as I am," interrupted Rachel, her hands going to the ones on her shoulders, taking them off and twining her fingers with the other woman's, squeezing gently. "Before you completely fall into worried-pittbull mode, I'm going to speak first. Please?"
Santana took a deep breath and nodded her head in permission, her eyes studying Rachel's hands in her own.
With a small smile, Rachel said, "Thank you… Now then…" She took a breath, squeezed Santana's hands again, then, "What you said… It's not really mutually exclusive here. Were I to say yes, it would certainly be because you're one of my very, very best friends. Were I to trust anyone in this way, well, it would really have to be you. And because I trust you, I'm saying yes, to you. We'll work out the details tomorrow, but I know you, even if I don't know all the little things that make Santana the Domme tick, I know Santana the over-protective pittbull. You'll take care of me, and I trust you know that I'll do the same for you. So, deep breaths, turn that frown upside down, and tell me how cute I am."
Santana smiled and shook her head as she released a breath she wasn't even aware she had been holding in. Rolling her eyes she looked away from their joined hands and looked mock seriously at Rachel. "You are very cute Rachel Berry. Very cute, and very bratty," she chuckled. Then, slowly, she untangled one of her hands from Rachel's and gently rested it on the woman's cheek, smiling at the familiar warmth the singer always seemed to emanate. "I will take care of you," she said, her voice low and serious. "I promise."
Nipping the palm of Santana's hand gently, Rachel shifted up to her knees, kissing Santana's cheek chastly. "I know you will. Though if I'm bratty it is 100% because you spoil me. You admitted to as much." Then, standing up, taking Santana's hands and pulling her up from the couch, Rachel jumped up, wrapping her legs around the woman's waist.
"Now, to bed! I'm taking advantage of being able to order you around for as long as I can," she said teasingly. "And, Santana? You're not sleeping naked in my bed with me. We're not quite those kinds of friends."
The only thing Santana could do, well besides question her judgment for a split second in regards to what she was getting herself into, was laugh when she suddenly found herself with an armful of Rachel Berry. Rolling her eyes she leaned her head forwards just enough to nip at Rachel's jawline, "You know, Rach, I'm not sure you understand this type of arrangement. I do believe I give the commands," she teased as she started walking towards Rachel's bedroom, trying her best to avoid any furniture or walls. "Oh, and for the record you're no fun. Lady Hummel always lets me sleep naked in his bed."
Rolling her eyes, Rachel mussed up Santana's hair for the nip, raising a skeptical brow. "Ahuh, and does he actually sleep in that bed at the same time? Because, last I recall, you kicked him out of his bed, citing your back couldn't handle his perfectly comfortable pull-out bed. You're lucky he likes you."
She wrapped her arms around Santana's neck then, playing with the hair at the nape of Santana's neck idly. "You can start giving me commands after lunch tomorrow. Or whenever we get everything ironed out completely. Until then, you get to carry me to bed, and cuddle with me, of course. But as if I'd let you get out of that. You're much to warm to let go of."
"Kurt's pull-out bed was made in the 70's and is comfortable by no means," Santana argued as she nudged open Rachel's door with her foot. "That's what he gets for buying all of his furniture from trendy little antique stores in Soho. And also woe is me for having to get my cuddle on with a human sized, soft, fuzzy kitten," the Latina chuckled rolling her neck to stop the very distracting fingers at the base of her neck from moving. They were sending very specific signals to her brain and that just wouldn't do at this moment.
With Rachel still comfortably in her arms Santana kicked the door shut and crossed over to the bed to deposit the singer. Quickly she grabbed the same clothing she always wore while sleeping at Rachel's and ducked into the ensuite to change and perform her own nightly bedtime rituals.
As Rachel got snuggled into her bed, choosing to ignore the (inaccurate) kitty comment and making sure to pull off the heaviest comforter and fold it over the end of the bed, as it was definitely never needed when Santana slept over, she curled herself up into the remaining blankets, closing her eyes and letting the sounds of Santana in the bathroom fade into background noise, her thoughts focused on how the night had turned out.
Santana had asked to be her Domme, and she had said yes. Really without much thought at all. Certainly less than she would have had anyone else asked her.
But Santana was… She was Santana. Grumpy, snarky, insanely protective and loyal Santana Lopez. Maybe a few years ago Rachel would have been looking for what her angle was, but she hadn't had a reason to truly doubt Santana's motives since… gosh, some time in college. Years ago, truly.
And the woman was such a natural dominant. Even before Rachel had known those specifics, there had always just been… something about the Latina. Something that commanded a certain kind of attention; be it boys falling at her feet or girls ducking their heads, or, later, also falling at her feet. Santana walked into a room and owned it, in a different way than Rachel did. After all, when Rachel was in 'I am a star' mode, she knew she owned a space, and the stage, flawlessly. That was her nature, to take the spotlight and make it hers.
But… Her friend did the same thing, just… differently. It was exhilarating to watch, and now… to have the opportunity to feel it, directly? She couldn't pass that up. She simply could not let such a chance go by, knowing that meeting someone like Santana Lopez, who knew Rachel as well as Santana did, all her quirks, had seen her at her very, very worst… It was incredibly unlikely. Maybe it wouldn't work out, maybe they wouldn't click. But Rachel was positive that, even if that happened, they'd still be friends.
It was worth it. Santana was worth it, simply put.
As those thoughts began to trail off she heard the light in the bathroom click off, and poked her head out from the covers, just enough to see the other woman approaching the bed in the overly short shorts and tightly fitted t-shirt (both belonging to Rachel, hence the 'bad' fit). "Done with your beauty routine, Miss Lopez?" she asked, scooting over just enough to let her friend in the bed, immediately moving back into the warm body behind her to be spooned properly, and closed her eyes contently.
"You know it, Berry," Santana chuckled, crawling into the bed and wrapping the shorter woman up in her arms as if it were her second nature to be holding Rachel Berry.
When the music exec had gotten comfortable she yawned and buried her face in Rachel's wavy hair. Suddenly she felt extremely tired, as if this entire week had been nothing but a set of hurdles. But she knew that it was a little early to be resting. Tomorrow they would be having a very long talk about everything and Santana was sure at least some parts of it were going to be emotionally taxing to say the least.
The Latina was silent as she held Rachel in her arms, one hand shifting to absentmindedly rub small circles on Rachel's stomach. Santana was never one for self doubt really, or at least she hadn't been since she had escaped Lima. She approached most things in life with a confidence some people might label as conceited. But this very big event had her just the slightest bit nervous as she thought about all the what ifs. What if she wasn't the person she thought she was? What if she couldn't be what Rachel needed?
A million thoughts and questions were running through her head, but she felt positive. Positive because, at that moment, the loudest thought on her mind was that Rachel Berry sounded unbelievably adorable when she snored. And the loudest question? That was if Rachel would prefer pancakes or fruit salad in the morning.
Yeah, thought Santana to herself as sleep started to take hold of her, this was going to be good. This was going to be fucking good.