A/N: Prompt from an anon; "So... Who's better at what?" Dantanchel prompt, someone asking either Santana or Rachel who between the other two is better at doing certain stuff like cuddling, intimate/sensual/whatever kisses, oral or whatever stuff they do as couples. Well, hah hah, I tried. XD Thanks!

Kurt grimaced again. The alcohol obviously too fiery for his throat, Santana couldn't help but laugh. "You alright there, Porcelain?"

Gagging, shaking his head, Kurt glared at her. "No. No!" He straightened up, pointing at her even as his finger wavered in the air, "You're not... Not gonna get out of this question." He slammed the shot glass onto the floor. "Got it? Spill."

Laughing again, still smirking, Santana leaned back on her hands. "Hmm? What was the question again?" she egged the boy on, straightening only to take a deep sip of her whiskey and ice.

"You heard me." His finger, forgotten in the air, bobbed. "Who, out of Ra-Rachel or Daaaani..." He swayed. "Cuddling?"

Santana's teeth clacked together. An ice cube crunched between her teeth. A little surprised, as she hadn't thought she'd let one slip in her mouth, she sucked on it anyway. "Cuddling, huh?"

"Yesh!"

Taking in his earnest, if cross-eyed interest, Santana laughed again. "Like I can pick," she raised her glass, draining the last of it before slamming it onto the floor like Kurt had just done recently, "Could you pick?"

Kurt's head swung back and forth, his styled coif having fallen over his forehead earlier in the evening, creating messy bangs Santana couldn't help but find funny. "Tell me," he burbled, ignoring her, "Rachel or Dani? Who's better?"

Honestly, Santana was surprised he was able to keep his attention on that question. "For cuddling?" she lead, still, voice drawing out suggestively. For some reason, Kurt's eager bobbling made her laugh again, and she finally answered, pouring herself another glass of wonderful liquor, "Dani."

Kurt stared at her, his next shot of vodka frozen just before his lips. "Really?" he demanded.

"Really," Santana repeated. "She's... There's more of her." Her eyes unfocused. "Though Rachel's wonderful," she licks her lips, smirking, "Dani just... She's so warm and there. More. More so." She grinned. "But they're both good," she hastened to add.

Nodding, Kurt stared into space. "Maaaaybe I see that? Hmm." He shook his head again. "Kay. That out of the way, kissing?"

Waiting until he'd thrown back his shot, but before he'd swallowed, Santana poked his throat, guffawing loudly when he had to spit the liquid out. "Damn, Hummel. Warbler satisfied with you or what? Doubt it."

Glaring at her, his hand over his lips before gasping at the darkening on his designer shirt, Kurt's gaze darkened even more. "You," he gruffed out, dabbing at his shirt with his handkerchief before giving up and instead pouring himself another shot and quickly swallowing it, "You promised! Tell me!"

Knowing the boy was right that she had promised, damn him!, Santana busied herself with another swill of her whiskey. "Fuck you," she grumbled, raising her glass and clinking it against Kurt's empty shot glass because she knew he'd put up another hissy fit if she waited until he filled it again, "Fuck. Fine." Her lips pursed on the the rim of her glass. "Rachel."

Kurt's eyebrows raised.

Santana read his question even before he asked it. "No lie," she smirked, "You ever seen those lips? Damn are they talented.

"I mean," she continued, taking a sip of her new drink, still smirking and growing some of her ego back, "My girls have mad skills, and fuck can they both get me off, but... Mmmm..." She trailed off, closing her eyes, "I'd get my mack on with Rachel any time."

Kurt sat up. "Hey! Hey!" He raised his hand again. Quickly throwing back his new shot, far away from Santana, his grey-blue eyes centered on her as well as he could even as drunk as he was becoming, a last crooked smirk crossed his face. "One last... I swear..." He wavered in his seat, "...Question?"

But Santana had been already nodding. "Whatever," she cut him off, taking a giant glug of her drink, "Spit it out already!"

Kurt's fogged eyes met hers. "Oral?" he whispered loudly, his hand behind his lips.

He looked like such the stereotypical gay in that second that Santana couldn't take him seriously. It was only after he repeated the word, straightening and leaning in towards her, breath almost playing along her lips, that she realized he was serious. She laughed again, pushing him back with her fingers against his mouth. "Both," she husked, voice thick, continuing to push him back until he was pressed against the couch, "Both. Totes both." And because Kurt stared at her, suspicious, she repeated it again.

It was, after all, the truth. So, so, she threw back her drink, smirking wildly and ignoring his scowl, so the truth.