With her fathers back and the house once again full of life in the evenings, Rachel wasn't as unwilling to get home as she was when she was home alone.

Still, as Glee finished up and she made her way to her locker, humming under her breath, she couldn't help but think back to last night, when Santana had come over, and they… they kissed. They had danced as well. But it was less dancing and more like… well, Rachel would describe it as making out without lips. If that made any sense.

She hadn't been able to sleep very well, either. Largely because she kept being woken up by… certain dreams. Dreams that she hadn't really experienced that vividly in ever.

It was all sorts of nerve-wracking, and what made the day harder was that Santana had been watching her whenever they were in the same vicinity.

Not in an obvious way, of course.

But Rachel Berry was used to people staring at her, for one reason or another, so when it happened, she knew it. And she knew Santana was burning holes into her back.

She had fully expected to be cornered some time during the day, but in hindsight she wasn't too surprised, really. Either Santana didn't want to risk saying anything in public, or she was simply going to ignore everything that had happened between them. Possibly even order some kind of slushie assault on her?

Though hadn't Santana mentioned stopping the slushies?

She couldn't recall, to be honest.

The number had dropped back down to one a day, at least. So that was a relief.

Rachel sighed, shaking herself out of her thoughts and continuing to grab her books. She had been in her head far too often since the whole thing with Santana started. It probably wasn't healthy.

88

Rachel Berry was driving Santana insane.

Not in the usual way, where Santana was annoyed just by her existing, flitting around talking in her overly loud and excited voice and going overboard sucking up to teachers and announcing all her grand ideas of everything she was just sure everyone else should follow along with. No, what was getting to her now was not anything in particular Rachel was doing, but rather what had already been done.

Every time she caught sight of Rachel, she remembered what it was like to press her body against her, to let her fingers glide over the softness of Rachel's skin. Every time she heard Rachel's voice she remembered her lips against her ear as she sang to Santana, grinding into her. And even when Rachel wasn't there at all, she remembered and frequently flashed back to the weight of her breast in her hand, the taste of her lips against her own.

If someone had told her 24 hours ago she would be unable to stop sexually thinking of Rachel Berry, she would have probably first punched them out, then laughed in their bleeding face. But…that was exactly what was happening.

Santana thought at first she was just so sexually frustrated she really needed to get some, to the extent that anyone would do. But private time in the shower had lead to more thoughts of Rachel, and when she started to try to get somewhere with one of the most eager of the football players in the locker room closet during lunch, she became so frustrated by his clumsy hands that she pushed him off her and told him not to bother. Clearly, that wasn't it.

Then if it really was Rachel…she must have lost her mind.

The only thing to do was just pretend it never happened. Surely then everything she was thinking and feeling would go away. It would have to.

But as the day wore on, Santana continued to think of Rachel. Not just of her body or their touching, their kisses, but…just of Rachel. Of how nice the girl had been to her when she didn't have to be at all, how she hadn't pushed her or made her feel stupid. Of how strangely sweet it was, how much the girl wanted and how little she seemed to know about how things worked, at least in Santana's world. Of how she actually seemed to like Santana beyond her weird little crush…how she seemed to have hope for her that no one else had.

None of that should matter, because it was just Rachel…but somehow, that was exactly why it did matter.

Last night had been the first night in weeks that Santana hadn't cried herself to sleep, the only day she could remember in quite some time where she hadn't vomited at least once. And it was, she was certain, because of this thing with Rachel.

It hadn't meant anything, but somehow it had brought something about all the same. And maybe she wasn't ready to let it go yet. Maybe she shouldnt'.

By the time she finally made up her mind, she wasted no time in finding Rachel after school and marching her with little warning or explanation down the hallway, pulling her into the very same closet she had earlier attempted to use for copulation that day. In the confined space with her, she gripped one shoulder, talking fast and fierce, not letting Rachel interrupt.

"All right, so yesterday was pretty hot, I admit it, and you're not as bad as you were or maybe you're just wearing me down because I can actually tolerate you most of the time, and actually, you've been sort of cool to me. So maybe we can try this shit again and see what happens and just leave it at that. But if we do that…there is no way, NO WAY you can tell ANYONE or I will shred your vocal cords like a particularly cranky Siamese. Okay?"

Squeaking in surprise and being dragged somewhere by Santana Lopez was starting to become an incredibly frequent scenario, thought Rachel as it played out once again.

One moment she had been at her locker, the next moment she was in a dark janitors closet with a small, dim light bulb above her head and Santana was talking, quickly, and fierce enough to make Rachel snap her mouth shut and lean back a little, arms crossed over her chest and eyes wide with surprise.

It a took a moment for the girl's words to really register, but when they did, Rachel was confused.

Again.

Because that was another thing that had been happening a lot (see: all the time) around the Cheerio. "Um… Try… what again…?" she asked warily.

Santana couldn't mean… No. There was no way. There was absolutely no way that Santana was suggesting…

What was she suggesting?

Why did she have to spell everything out to this girl? Wasn't she supposed to be Rachel Berry the know it all?

"I thought you were some kind of genius, you really need me to draw you a map?" Santana rolled her eyes, leaning back against the side of the closet away from her slightly, giving Rachel a little more space than she had before. Still, they are close enough that their legs keep touching, and since Santana is in her cheerleading skirt, her legs bare, the sensation sends a jolt up her thigh and still higher.

"IT, Rachel. Dancing, tongue-fighting, boob-groping, whatever strikes our fantasy. And something tells me you got plenty of those."

Rachel's mouth went dry, eyes widening in understanding as her cheeks began to heat up. "Ex-excuse me?" she managed, then blushed deeper, realizing how stupid she sounded right now.

Her brain felt it had short circuited, and she was pretty sure she was doing a fantastic impression of a fish swallowing water, but she couldn't help it. Was Santana… Was she… propositioning her?

"You want to-" She shook her head, trying to clear the haze that had settled over her the moment the word "fantasy" had left the Latina's lips. Straightening up, trying to regain some of her composure, Rachel took a calming breath, hands at her sides as she gathered herself. When she felt like maybe she could make words without sounding like a total idiot, she spoke again.

"You want a repeat of yesterday. You- you want to kiss me? Again?"

She knew she shouldn't push, but she was Rachel Berry, and for all the things that she wasn't going to push Santana with (at least not until she knew how to navigate the landmines), this was definitely something she needed more explanation on. "At the risk of having you get angry and take back your… um… offer, I'm going to ask why."

This girl really was slow on the uptake, wasn't she? The way she kept just staring at Santana, blinking and opening and closing her mouth like one of those creepy puppet dolls…she actually looked afraid. Intimidated was one thing, but was she still actually scared of her? What, did she think she was screwing with her, going to shove her half dressed out of the closet and throw things at her or something?

Santana knew she couldn't blame her if that was the case, given her history, but even so she was slightly hurt by the thought that Rachel still might think that. She hadn't done anything really mean to her in forever. Well…like, a few days, anyway. Maybe a week. But in high school that was practically a life time.

And yet here Rachel was, standing there staring at her like she was the crazy one. Maybe like she didn't want to kiss her. Maybe she didn't. Maybe she had decided it was too weird or too wrong or in hindsight she didn't like it, maybe she had decided Santana really wasn't as good as she remembered, or maybe she had felt the fat on her hip or leg or something and had second thoughts. Maybe her breath had smelled and Rachel never said. Maybe she just wasn't pretty enough to compensate for not being guy…this from the girl who had a thing for FINN.

A stir of both hurt and surprising jealousy twisted in her chest as Santana pulled back as far from her as she could manage in the small space, reaching for the closet door as she snapped back at her.

"Because I thought maybe you'd want to, Berry, why the hell else? But obviously you don't, obviously you'd rather mack off of Frankenteen Hudson or Skunkhead Puckerman, fine then, enjoy having eel tongues finish you off in two minutes. Did I say two minutes, with them and you it's probably more like twenty seconds.

"Santana wait!" exclaimed the smaller girl, reaching to grab the Latina's wrist, stepping up to her, mouth moving quickly as she tried to explain herself. "Of course I want to- I mean, hasn't that been terribly obvious that I'm attracted to you? It's just, you aren't allowed to be upset at me for being confused. That's not fair. 24 hours ago you never would have been offering this. Not in a million years. And you'll forgive me if I'm a little nervous, or even suspicious. But it has nothing to do with not wanting to- to kiss you."

By the time she was done she was flushed, though her breathing was fine. Years of singing and practice once again had come in handy.

When she was sure that Santana wasn't going to run out on her, she stepped back, allowing the girl some space to move again, and spoke again, this time a little slower. "You know that I'm attracted to you, Santana. And I'm pretty sure I called you incredible last night, after the kiss." She let a shaky breath at the memory, eyes flitting to Santana's lips for a second. "This has nothing to do with me wanting to you kiss you. It's entirely a matter of why you would possibly want to be with me like that."

Because Rachel was the freak with the big nose and bigger mouth. The girl who couldn't dress, and had unrealistic dreams ranging from her first time having sex to being a star in New York. She was a social pariah, and even though she knew that she'd get out— that she would most definitely be a star some day, for now, she was still in high school, and still "Manhands" Berry.

Why on earth would Santana want her?

Santana started to jerk away from her, instinctively pulling her hand back in preparation to hit as Rachel grabbed her, but as she caught herself, realizing what she is about to do, she stops, taking in a breath and releasing it as Rachel starts babbling full speed. She doesn't catch everything she says at first, but she gets the gist of it. But if Rachel is really attracted to her and wants to kiss her…well then what is the problem? Isn't this what she wants, then?

It had never occurred to her that Rachel might also have reservations. She had assumed that of course the girl would jump at the offer, that Santana was the only one who might have something to lose, and it stung what pride she did have in herself to think that maybe this wasn't the case after all.

But as Rachel continues to explain, reassuring her that she's attracted to her, that this has nothing to do with whether or not she wants her, Santana shifts her weight to one foot, her hand loosening on the doorknob as Rachel asks her, with the sincerity that only Rachel Berry could manage, why she would want to be with her. Like "that," as she put it.

As Santana considered the question, for the thousandth time since it had come to her own thoughts, she looked at the door rather than at Rachel, as though seeking answers there rather than from within herself. But when she speaks she turns her head to look at Rachel, taking time to be honest.

"I don't know. Because…because it was a good kiss. Because it was hot, and fun, and…and nice," she admitted, her voice dropping, cheeks coloring with embarrassment as she pushed through with some difficulty. "Because you look good, when you're fixed right, and you've got the raw material to be a complete knock out. And you're not as annoying as you used to be lately, and you haven't been pushing me about things and sticking your nose in my business as much as you could be, and it's…it's sort of…I sort of like being around you, and…I don't know, Rachel, because, okay? Just…because."

Encouraged by the look in Santana's eyes and the honesty she heard in her voice, Rachel stepped forward, right up to Santana, her hands moving to play with the edges of the girl's Cheerios top. She couldn't quite look up at Santana, though. And kept her eyes on her hands. "O-okay. I can accept," she replied, voice a little quiet. "But then, if we do this, I need you to respect my boundaries, Santana."

She finally looked up at the girl, voice quiet, but firm. "You think it's stupid, but there's a lot I'm not ready for. 'Second base' being part of that. So… I mean…" She cleared her throat. "Above the belt and below the chest," she finally managed to say. "I mean, for touching."

Did she want to feel Santana's hands on her again? Yes. But was she… was she ready for it? Her body was, but Rachel knew that mentally, and emotionally, that wasn't the case.

"Just. Try to be patient with me, about those things. Please?" Rachel felt utterly ridiculous, asking like this. So very much exposed and vulnerable. But she needed to say it now, so that if Santana wanted to back out, she could.

As Rachel's hands brush Santana's stomach, Santana goes very still, a ticklish but far from unpleasant sensation coming over her skin. She looks down at Rachel, listening to her serious tone, and almost scoffs at her request. Above the belt and below the chest are the only safe touch zones?! That basically means her back and stomach, that's leaving out ALL the good parts!

But Rachel is asking with sincerity, that same soft look in her eyes that Santana is getting all too used to seeing, that look that affects her now more than she ever would have thought possible…so after a slow sigh, she nods.

"I'm telling you though, Berry, that's leaving out all the good stuff, you're gonna be sorry for that."

She hesitated, then reached out, slowly putting a hand to Rachel's waist and sliding it around to her lower back, her fingers gently teasing beneath her shirt, following the lowest bumps of her spine. "You sure this is all you want?" she murmured, deliberately dropping her voice.

With a gasp Rachel arched into Santana, eyes fluttering shut as a shiver ran up her spine. Her hold on Santana's shirt tightened, forehead falling to rest against the Cheerio's shoulder.

"I just need time," she managed to breath out against Santana's neck, despite it feeling like the Latina's fingers were leaving a trail of fire along her spine.

Then, gaining some assurance from the other girl's forwardness, Rachel pressed herself flush against her, one hand going up to hold onto Santana's shoulder, the other scratching lightly into the back of her neck, and she began to kiss along Santana's neck tentatively, not completely sure if she'd be okay with it, but willing to take the chance all the same.