A/U: Sorry for the lateness. I'm in the middle of moving house and starting a new job. I will get to all reviews from the last part soon. And a HUGE thank you to everyone that has read and reviews and clicked the story alert button. :) Nikki
3/? – I Don't Swim in Your Toilet…
12:12pm Saturday
Rachel wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she was tired of waiting around and she really wanted back the use of her right hand. Rachel wasn't too keen on waking Santana or Quinn either, but her buttocks was numb and her carpet scratchy. Biting her bottom lip, Rachel tried to slide her left hand between her thigh and Santana's head in the hopes of sliding out from underneath the girl.
Santana seemed to have sensed Rachel's motives, because just as Rachel's fingers caressed the back of the sleeping girl's neck, Santana moaned and arched her back before rolling over until she was facing away from the brunette. Rachel froze, unable to avert her eyes as they roamed down Santana's spine to the dip at the small of her back and over Santana's backside. She swallowed past the lump in her throat when she realized Santana Lopez had no tan lines. Involuntarily, her thighs began to rub together in attempt to relieve the slowly building ache.
A fist punched her in the thigh and Rachel yelped as she flinched, causing a chain reaction. Santana suddenly sat upright, her arms swinging left and right to ward off any danger. Her knuckles connected with Rachel's shoulder causing the small brunette to cry out in pain and attempt to curl in on herself for protection. On her right, Quinn moaned into Rachel's breast and rocked her hips as Rachel attempted to remove her hand again. Quinn might not be a Cheerio anymore, but her thighs were still as strong as ever.
There was a beat of silence and all three occupants suddenly stilled. Santana was the first to break the silence, realizing there was no immediate threat, and brought her fingers to her temples, rubbing circles into her tender skin. Rachel took the presented opportunity and tried to make her escape. Lurching forward, Rachel scrambled on her hands and knees toward her closet doors, only partially aware of her naked butt swaying behind her with every forward crawl. She pushed her way through the double doors, squeezing her fingers through the slats to help pull herself up off the ground. She brushed her hair out of her face and glanced around her room. Her fingers stilled between the long strands of her hair and she let out a squeal. She hurriedly ran back into her closet, slamming the doors behind her.
Breathing heavily, Rachel leant back against the closed doors. She glanced over her shoulder, trying to see between two of the slats in the door, but the angle wasn't right. Dropping her head back against the closet doors, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping the intake of oxygen would help to clear her mind and return it to its regular functional use.
There was some shuffling below, close to Rachel's feet and she curled her toes in the carpet, temporarily forgetting her state of undress. This really wasn't how she'd planned to spend her parent-free Saturday.
"What the fuck happened last night?" A groggy, tired voice asked from the floor on Rachel's right where Santana sat, rubbing at her eyes and sliding her fingers through her ruffled hair.
"Not again," Quinn suddenly whined from the left. Rachel finally looked down and blushed as she watched Quinn try and manoeuvre herself into a seated position against the back wall. Her knees were bent as she planted her feet into the floor and rested her head in her hands. Rachel couldn't stop her curiosity as her eyes travelled below Quinn's chin and to the shadowed area between Quinn's legs. "Someone please tell me wine coolers weren't involved," the blonde added as she tilted her head back and covered her face with her hands.
Rachel cleared her throat, her gaze shifting to neutral territory – her hanging clothes. She ignored both of their questions to ask one of her own. "Would anyone like to clue me in as to the identity of the person currently residing in my bed?"
10:12pm Friday – 14 Hours Earlier
A red solo cup filled almost to the brim with a nameless alcoholic concoction was forced into Rachel's hand. "It's your party. You're required to drink," Quinn had said, her right eyebrow slowly rising in a challenge. With a grimace, Rachel stared down into the cup, thankful that it wasn't purple and after a quick sniff, was equally grateful it didn't smell like cough syrup. There was no need to revisit the Tik Tok fiasco of last year. She took a quick sip under the blonde's watchful stare and nodded her head in acceptance of the fruity flavor.
When Quinn looked away, Rachel took the opportunity to bring the cup back up to her lips and slowly let the mouthful she had taken, dribble back into the cup, all the while hoping it looked as though she were taking a second sip. Rachel Berry had no intention of getting drunk this evening.
"Drink up, bitches!" Santana called out as she tapped her cup against Rachel's causing the alcohol to swish over the side and onto her living room carpet. "Oops!" Santana called out with an unapologetic grin before tapping her cup against Quinn's, the pair sharing a smirk before Santana sashayed past a group of chattering teens and into Rachel's kitchen.
Rachel slightly shuffled her feet every few minutes, hoping that Quinn wouldn't notice she was moving to hide behind the blonde. The clothes Quinn and Santana had chosen for her were rather revealing, and although she wasn't exactly a stranger to short skirts or transparent tops, tonight she wasn't feeling all that comfortable in the scrap of material wrapped around her waist or the black lace bra under her sheer sleeveless top. She didn't even know she owned these clothes. Santana had tried to bully her into ridding herself of her bra, but she'd vehemently refused, and Rachel had no idea what Quinn had whispered into Santana's ear, but it had saved her from partial nudity, so she wasn't going to complain.
"Beer bongs in the kitchen!" Some guy Rachel had never seen before called out as he ran through the house. Both hands were raised above his head, one fist punching the air, while the other cradled a funnel with plastic tubing attached to it. There were a few cheers and the boy was slapped on the back as he led a path into the kitchen, a dozen partiers following close behind.
"My parents are going to kill me!" Rachel began to fret. She watched as the group filed out into her backyard on the deck and began lining up on their knees in front of the beer bong. "I'm going to be grounded until I'm thirty. I won't be allowed to go to college. I'll never be scouted or snapped up while singing karaoke in a hole-in-the-wall, yet classy, bar in New York late one night and land myself a leading role on Broadway. I'll be stuck here forever!"
Quinn snorted as she listened to Rachel's rant. "You could take Mr. Schue's job," she offered before taking a sip of her drink, her eyes keeping close watch on those party goers still inside.
Rachel's jaw dropped. "I'm going to be a lonely old spinster wearing sweater vests and pining away for the guidance counsellor," she concluded, a sob ready to pour out of her. Suddenly, she gripped Quinn's arm, her nails digging into the fair skin. She yanked on Quinn's arm, forcing the blonde to lean down, Rachel's lips brushing against her ear. "I'm going to have to get a perm!" she whined before letting her forehead rest against the blonde's shoulder in despair.
Quinn reached across with her free left hand and pet Rachel's cheek twice. "There, there," she consoled dryly.
"POOL PARTY!" Rick Nelson called out. He began beating his chest and shaking his head as he began to roar, his ginger mullet growing wilder with every shake of his head. He whipped off his hockey jersey and led a charge of people through to the back of the house, a few of them tripping over the line of people waiting for their turn to wrap their lips around the end of the beer bong.
"No! Not the pool!" Rachel yelled out, shoving her drink into Quinn's hand. Her fingers on both hands gripped the short edges of her skirt as tried to pull it down, all the while scurrying through the house and toward her backyard. "My fathers have the chlorine to water ratio perfectly - " her words were cut off as three hockey players bombed their way into the pool, water spraying party goers on the other side of the fence. "Balanced," Rachel finished saying in a whisper. She took a few deep breaths as her eyes took in the scene around her. There was someone urinating against her daddy's rose bush, a couple were dry humping against the pool fence and a clearly rather intoxicated Finn was trying to ride her barbecue like a bull. Rachel hadn't even noticed when her ex-boyfriend arrived.
Turning around slowly to face the back of her house, Rachel hoped the scene would include less vandalism by bodily fluids and perhaps even less people. She was sorely, yet not surprisingly, mistaken. Anita "the penis eater" was currently using the recently cleaned kitchen island to lay topless on, while a few of the football players attempted to consume body shots from between her breasts. To the left of that spectacle, and an image Rachel was sure she wouldn't be rid of any time soon, was the basketball team using her dining table for a game of strip beer pong. Just beyond them, Rachel could make out the figures of Tina and Mercedes haphazardly pulling Artie out of his wheelchair and dumping him on the couch to fight over who got to have the first turn on his wheels.
Rachel feared she was going deaf when the noise of the party started to fade away and all that was left was her labored breathing. There was nothing she could do. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She could call the police, but then her parents would be contacted. She could attempt to end the party herself, but just from the sheer number of attendees, she wasn't sure stamping her foot and crossing her arms would do much to get them off her property. Her only saving grace was that her parents weren't due to return until Sunday afternoon.
Catching movement from her right, she watched as Quinn carefully tracked a path between people, heading in Rachel's direction. As her hearing gradually returned, she felt a body press into her back. With a glance over her shoulder, she recognized a smirking Santana. Turning back, she waited for Quinn to reach them. "I don't want to be coherent for this," she said, grabbing her cup from Quinn's outstretched hand and bringing it to her lips.