Santana was pretty fucking sure Rachel had, if not taken care of herself 100%, at least done something about how wet dry humping with Santana had made her. She snorted. Dry humping. It had been everything but. Santana had washed off the evidence not ten minutes ago.
Now, she grinned to herself, tugging on the waistband of her short shorts and tying her wet hair up into a ponytail to keep it off her neck and shoulders before exiting her room to make her way downstairs, she was going to start her low-key plan of making Rachel at least some level of excited all night long.
Pausing in front of the bathroom Rachel had scurried to, she rapped on the door.
A loud, cut-off squeak and cleared throat filtered through to her. "Ah, yes?"
"Seein' as my brothers're off with mi abuela for the week, we're definitely going to have the house to ourselves. Which means," Santana smirked, imagining the look on the smaller girl's face, "I'mma 'bout to scout the booze situation."
"It's a weeknight!" Rachel's scandalized response didn't surprise Santana in the least. A second later, the bathroom door jerked open.
Santana's eyebrows rose. It had been unlocked.
Well then.
Still wet, dark bangs hung over Rachel's eyes, the singer's head and shoulders with a hand clasping her towel close to her chest all Santana could see. God, the girl's steamed expression only made her hotter. Santana sucked her lower lip into her mouth, smirking at her.
Rachel's eyebrows drew together. "Didn't the Trainwreck Extravaganza teach you anything? I am not - we are not going to drink on a school night, Santana."
Santana lightly patted her cheek, thumb briefly brushing along her cheekbone. "So cute."
"Th-that's not an answer!"
"Sure it is."
As Santana turned on her heel, having accomplished what she'd set out to do, she winked at Rachel over her shoulder. "Lookin' good, Shortcake. Gonna be joining me like that? Definitely not complaining."
Grinning at the noises Rachel made, hurrying to get back inside the bathroom as she walked away, Santana loped down the stairs. It wasn't like she actually planned on breaking into the liquor. She just liked what it did to Rachel's face and expression when she talked about the possibility.
Of course, she wouldn't say no if Rachel actually seemed up to it. She just highly doubted it.
Going ahead and checking the liquor cabinet in the study that held all the top-shelf stuff, before heading for the kitchen where the more often used spirits were chilled, Santana first detoured to the living room. Something told her Rachel would feel more comfortable after how heated things had gotten earlier with watching TV in a more open, "public" space, no matter if they were the only ones in the house. Grabbing the blanket off the divan and setting it strategically on the loveseat, she "casually" angled the bigger couch a couple of degrees off what would be comfortable to watch the TV from. To be fair, however, she left the La-Z-Boy as an option for the smaller girl because, honestly, the image of Rachel dwarfed in her papí's chair, was hilarious.
The next thing she did was make an executive decision to grab all the musicals, Disney movies included, from the DVD cabinet and stuff them under the couch. She loved musicals, and she could admit she more often than not loved Rachel's voice, but having to deal with the crazy-ass girl making a whole production out of it instead of gettin' her cuddles on with Santana… she was not down with.
She had just pulled out the takeout menus when Rachel walked into the kitchen. Straightening, Santana smiled widely at her. Her skin still glowing from the heat of the shower, hair darker and starting to curl at her shoulders, eyes shyly meeting Santana's as she stood a little self-consciously in flannel pajama pants that hung a little low on her hips and a tight fitting, faded Cheerio Bootcamp shirt, Rachel looked so beautiful it almost felt like Santana's heart skipped a beat.
But since Santana's heart didn't do things like that, she instead padded forward, meeting the other girl with menus in hand.
Rachel's eyes fell to look at the menus. "I'm… really not hungry yet," she smiled shyly.
"I know. But it doesn't mean we can't plan for later." Reaching out to gently brush a stray bang from Rachel's eye, Santana lingered, lightly tugging it. "I'm actually surprised you're not requesting some sort of bland, healthy, nasty-ass snack. Isn't that, like, your normal after school deal?"
Rachel smiled indulgently, pressing her cheek briefly into Santana's palm before she stepped away, Santana settling her hand on her own hip as it fell. "I must admit I'm a little peckish. But only for a, yes, if you must address it as such, though without the third descriptor, 'bland, healthy snack'."
God, it was criminal how plump Rachel's lips looked when she pouted or looked put upon.
Unknowingly mirroring Santana's thoughts, looking at Santana from below her eyelashes, Rachel fought the urge to pull the girl into a kiss, her gaze catching on the Cheerio's lips. She was still feeling a little awkward from before, after all. Add to that being for all intents and purposes naked under the towel when she'd talked to Santana not ten minutes before… it was amazing that the heat in her lower stomach had abated at all, now only simmering instead of roaring.
If she hadn't such iron clad bathroom rules - those for both her own house and others' - Rachel might have been able to do something about it. Trying to stop arousal, especially at such a high peak as it had been, not to mention how… wet and swollen she'd been, her fingers barely skittering across the evidence in the shower before she'd groaned and blushed and snatched her hand away, turning all of her attention and thought processes to expertly and impersonally cleaning herself… had been practically an insurmountable task.
The feel and sight and sound and smell of Santana, over and under her, not to mention the taste of her mouth and tongue and saliva, had frustratingly continued haunting her.
Santana was…
She was…
They really needed to have their talk.
In fact, they should have done so ages ago. Certainly before things had escalated to… whatever had just happened on Santana's bed.
I was making out with Santana on her bed, dry humping… If freshman Rachel could see me now…
The sound of snapping fingers brought her back to reality, and Rachel blinked, eyes focusing up to a smirking Santana.
"You with me, Rachy?" asked the Cheerio, raising a curious brow. "You looked like you were having some fascinating ideas."
Without thinking, the smaller girl moved into the living room to sit on the loveseat, clearing her throat. "Just… thoughts. About us."
Santana followed, immediately sitting down at the end and patting right next to her to invite Rachel closer. The singer did so, curling up against her side. "What about us?" asked Santana, tone remaining light despite her heart rate picking up. Mostly from anxiousness.
Rachel sighed, shrugging. "I suppose that's the question, isn't it? What are we doing? Where is this possibly going…?"
"Well, sex, according to you…" supplied Santana with a teasing smirk.
Rachel jabbed her in the side. "I won't disagree… But… what else?"
Santana shrugged, eager to change the subject. ...Well, maybe not eager… Just… this was not what she wanted this night to be about. She pulled Rachel in closer, kissing the top of her head. "How about, we agree right now that we're both into one another. Right?" She felt Rachel nod against her chest. "And that we don't have any interest in macking up on other people, right?"
Again, Rachel nodded, chest squeezing in delight at the Cheerio's admission. That was practically Santana saying they were exclusive.
"So we'll see where this goes. Don't overthink it. You'll freak yourself out and end up singing a billion angsty songs about confused feelings and pining a la Romeo and Juliet."
"That's- ...Not entirely inaccurate… You didn't have to say it, though."
"Just speaking the truth, Starbright."
With a roll of her eyes Rachel let it drop, feeling the need to change the subject to something a little safer. "So… movies?"
"I don't know how you managed to convince me this movie was a good idea."
"It's Scream. Literally the least scary of 'scary' movies to ever exist."
"Ohgod!"
"Ow! Don't pinch."
"I didn't pinch! I grabbed!"
Rachel's grip tightened on Santana's shirt, face against the girl's shoulder as Ghostface appeared from behind the main protagonist, knife poised. Santana had to hold back a laugh, dutifully holding Rachel, who had migrated to practically on her lap as the movie had gone on.
The girl got away again, and Rachel relaxed slightly, returning her eyes to the movie and settling back more fully against Santana's body again. "I hate you," she said flatly, turning to glare at the cheerleader, who just grinned.
"You totes don't," was the easy reply, along with a poke of Rachel's nose. "But… I could always make it up to you…"
Red creeped up Rachel's neck, but tellingly, she didn't respond, instead tightening her grip around Santana's arm.
Santana chuckled, turning her hand over. Sliding it back to settle under Rachel's, she wrapped her fingers around hers, holding them lightly. "There're time for fingernails, and time for not scratching up Auntie 'Tana's skin, sweetie, thank you."
Hmmphing, Rachel laid her head back against Santana's shoulder. A couple of minutes passed, long enough for Santana to assume things were back to normal, Rachel tensing and squeaking at every single opportunity, it seemed like… when, at a lull in the movie, the smaller girl twisted, grabbed the back of Santana's neck, swallowed her, "Wha - " with a crushing, smirking kiss, and dug her fingernails into the sensitive skin at the base of Santana's head, catching and pulling her hair.
Santana let out a guttural growl, her libido instantly flaring and revving, her core clenching at Rachel's abrupt, teasing initiative. Snatching her hand away from Rachel's, she grabbed her leg, and, helped by the girl's surprised pliability, Santana soon had her straddling her.
"This wasn't… This wasn't what I intended," Rachel laughed breathily, hands buried in Santana's hair, having managed to pretty much take it out of its ponytail.
"Prolly should have thought a bit more afores you acted, then." Pulling back, lacing her hands on Rachel's lower back, Santana smirked at her. Her eyes drifted down to Rachel's chest, where Cheerio Bootcamp stretched across her breasts. Mmm… Fuck. Any question about Rachel wearing a bra or not was answered. She leaned in, brushing her lips across Rachel's. While sexy as fuck, her hard nipples also illustrated how comfortable Rachel was around her.
Her eyes slowly opening as Santana sat back, Rachel studied her. "...Santana?"
Smiling, Santana shook her head. Spying the still playing movie behind Rachel's shoulder, she smirked, rubbing her thumbs up and down the small of her back. "This is the second time you've been on top of me today. I'm liking it.
"Though," she continued, pausing right before her lips met Rachel's again, the singer having melted into her front in preparation, arms around her shoulders, "Somehow I'm feelin' this is your way of gettin' out of watching the flick."
Rachel sputtered, mouth agape and eyes wide, her blush reaching all the way to her ears - - which only confirmed Santana's suspicions as far as she was concerned.
"I would never!" the girl insisted.
"You totally would!" shot back Santana, grinning and using Rachel's same inflection. Rachel tried pulling away, but the Cheerio's grasp on her hips stayed firm. "Nuh uh. You tried getting out of the movie with that pretty mouth of yours. Now you have to suffer the consequences." Her smirk was absolutely evil, a glint in her eye causing Rachel to shiver.
"S-San- I- I know that I- I mean I didn't intend to- EEK!" Fingers were digging into her ribs suddenly, moving up and down her sides and under her arms as Rachel squirmed and squealed, trying to escape the tickle attack. Finally, she managed to practically fly off Santana's lap, scrambling across the floor to get away and catch her breath; the Latina let Rachel go, laughing loudly and fully, almost falling off the loveseat herself.
Regaining her composure, Rachel stood, glaring intensely. "Oh, you have no idea what you've started, Santana Lopez-"
Ding doong.
Both girls jumped as the doorbell rang, Rachel shrieking, a hand flying to her chest.
Standing, Santana pecked the shorter girl's cheek. "Dinner time," she chuckled, a hand gliding over Rachel's hip as she walked past, pausing the DVD on her way by. Rachel rolled her eyes, but headed to the door as Santana went to the kitchen to prepare their drinks - "No alcohol, Santana!" "Yeah, yeah, already went over this, Repeat-a-Berry." - and grab what they needed to eat in the living room.
Opening the door revealed a girl in a slightly over-sized delivery uniform holding up their Thai takeout. The girl looked a little younger, maybe, with short enough hair to not be visible under her uniform's hat, and multiple piercings in her ears and a couple on her eyebrows.
Rachel smiled perfunctorily. "I hope the trip wasn't too bad. $21.76, right?"
"Yeah…" The girl glanced at the receipt on the bag, trailing off when she focused on Rachel. "Oh. Oh! I mean," she straightened, "$21.76, yes. And don't worry. Perfectly normal, uhm, calm drive. Thank you." She paused for a millisecond. "Cheerios, huh? I caught your last performance. Nice."
About to ask if the credit card Santana had set aside on the table near the door was okay, Rachel stopped. "What?"
"Your shirt? The bootcamp. That must have been exhausting. I've heard your coach is a grade-A hardass. I have an e - uhm, friend who tried out last year."
The girl thought she was a cheerleader?
"Wha- Oh, n-no. I mean I'm not. A cheerleader. I'm very flattered, though," Rachel rambled, giggling a little and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
The girl blinked, then cleared her throat. "O-oh. So you aren't- I'm totally sorry. I mean the shirt, and you totally look like you would be. I mean, really in shape and good looking," she stumbled out.
Rachel laughed again, giving the girl a bright, sincere smile. "You're so sweet! Again, I'm very flattered. I do maintain a very strict diet and exercise routine."
"Totally shows. Do you go to any of the gyms around here or…"
"No, no. I work out at home. Sometimes I go for runs, when the weather is good."
Nodding, taking back the receipt Rachel had just signed and fiddling with the brim of her hat, the delivery girl cleared her throat, "That's cool. I jog too, at the park sometimes. Maybe-"
"Rachel, what the hell is taking so long?" Santana came up from behind the singer, looking over her shoulder and raising a brow, giving the younger girl a very obvious once over. "And you are…?"
Rachel glared. "Santana! Don't be rude. She's delivering our food you know."
Eyes widening, the girl stared, face going bright red. "O-oh my God. You're Santana Lopez!"
Santana stepped up to stand next to Rachel, just slightly in front of her, arms crossed over her chest. "And this is my house, and that's my food. Anything else you'd like to point out to the gallery?" A slap to her shoulder, and she rolled her eyes.
The other girl shook her head frantically. "N-no. I'm sorry. I didn't know that- I mean I know you- not know you- but you're sorta a lesbian legend and- I- I gotta go. Thanks for the tip! Have a great evening!" She scampered off before either of the older girls could get a word in, getting into her car and speeding out of the driveway in record time.
Rachel pouted. "I didn't even get her name… She was really nice." A wide, beaming smile. "She thought I looked good enough to be a Cheerio," she preened.
Santana glared in the direction that the car had driven off, then huffed, guiding Rachel back inside, closing and locking the door behind them. "Coach would actively try murdering you," was her reply.
Furrowing her brow, slowing down, Rachel cocked her head. "You don't think I look good enough to be a Cheerio?"
Santana turned to look at her. "I didn't say that." She set aside the food bag.
"You basically said it by omission."
"What?"
"What I said. I say someone thinks I look good enough to be a cheerleader, and you completely ignore that."
Santana stared at Rachel. Was… She's fucking serious? "Okay, no. I can't even…" She shook her head, crossing her arms as she surveyed Rachel steadily, flatly. "If you think about it, what I said? 'Coach would actively try murdering you'? That's like acknowledging you're already on the team."
"That is not what that means!" Rachel didn't give. "I know I may not have the… What is commonly thought of as being the stereotypical attractive body, and though I may not be self-conscious… Most of the time… It would be nice to be - -" She searched for a word, finally settling on, "Appreciated."
"Appreci - what the hell, Rachel? There are so many things wrong with what you're saying I don't even know where to start!" Groaning loudly, Santana lowered her head, barely stopping herself from rubbing her hands over her face; instead, once she collected her thoughts, she looked back up, taking a determined step forward. She lifted her hand, poking Rachel's chest. Ignoring the girl's protest via dramatic exhalation, she lowered her voice, "Okay. Fine. You really want me to do this? Then listen.
"You're hot, Rachel. Attractive. Beautiful. Whatever you want to hear, it ain't a lie. Think I'd be all up on you if I weren't attracted to you? I thought we'd already been over this.
"And you know what? I've had Cheerios. Yeah, plural. I'm the farthest from a saint you can find, but that's not the point. No, you know what is? I like the fact you're not a Cheerio. Sure, you could be on the team. You're small and athletic enough to be a jumper, and I know for a fact Sue had thought about recruiting you before you turned out to be, her words, 'an insufferable Barbra diva with illusions of grandeur better spent far, far away, no matter the talent we're losing'. That's right. Sue had to recruit at least two other girls to make up for not having you."
Santana's words echoed in the room, and Rachel blinked, having to swallow before she could whisper out, brows furrowed as if she couldn't believe what was coming out of her mouth, "You like that I'm not a Cheerio?"
"Oh for - of fucking course you focus on that!"
"I'm just… Forgive me, Santana, if I'm having trouble rationalizing this. I'm just trying to understand. You don-"
Santana cut her off. "I do. You're stupidly hot and attractive and different than the sniveling unoriginal underlings I have to put up with every time I enter the Cheerios locker room. Okay? Okay? Have we made this clear?"
Silence reverberated around them, long enough for Santana to start wondering if it was always going to turn out this way. However, just as she was going to call the whole night a bust and figure out some way to salvage any of it - with or without Rachel – the girl nodded, moving forward to brush her lips across her cheek. "Thank you, Santana," she smiled, softly squeezing her hand, "But next time, please remember you don't need to be so patronizing." Then, with another squeeze and light kiss to her cheek, Rachel moved past her.
At that moment, Santana could have hit something - probably her head to the nearest wall. Sure, Rachel seemed satisfied, smiling and skipping her way to the living room, but that just left the Cheerio alone to mentally strangle the girl in frustration.
God dammit if Rachel still didn't infuriate her sometimes! Hell, what made it even worse, Santana wasn't even sure if Rachel had realized the delivery girl had been flirting with her - or even checking her out, at the very least. "S'all that fucking baby dyke's fault… Jesus fuck…" Taking several deep breaths, the cheerleader returned to the living room as well, setting the food on the coffee table before untying it, wordlessly beginning to divvy it up.
There was a somewhat stilted silence between them as they began eating their respective meals. Rachel wondered if she had gone too far while Santana plotted the various ways to get the singer's mind completely off what had happened and back to recognizing how fucking awesome she was and how perfect their lips were when they were getting their sweet lady kisses on – because that was much, much better to think about.
Finally, internally groaning, Santana realized she'd have to pull out the big guns. "So… I may have, like, Mary Poppins, or something. Wanna switch over to watching that?"
Rachel's attention, bright eyes and brighter smile, were immediately back on the Cheerio, much to her enjoyment. "Oh my gosh yes! I love that movie. It's a classic. And Julie Andrews is a legend in her own right, of course. I mean, she's not Babra Streisand, but really, is there anyone other than Barbra Streisand who could even hope to match Barbra's - "
"Rachel. Breathe."
Obediently, Rachel snapped her mouth shut and breathed in through her nose, exhaling slowly.
"Good. Now gets your eats on so wes can cuddle and watch Mary Poppins fly away on her umbrella into the sunset."
"That is an extremely trivialized description of the plot, Santana."
"Eat."
With another huff, Rachel once again obeyed, and, feeling pretty smug, Santana felt much more confident about how the night would go.
Rachel was laid out on the loveseat, snuggled into Santana's side with her legs and waist under a blanket and Santana's hand resting on her waist, warm and happy and comfortable, when she realized, in the middle of Bedknobs and Broomsticks ("Why, Santana! You're a closet classic Disney fan!" "Shut it. I am no such thing. Younger Angela Lansbury was mighty fine for an older woman."), what had most likely triggered the older girl's earlier attitude. Then, if that wasn't bad enough, with a groan as she settled more weight onto Santana, she remembered her oblivious reaction.
"Fallin' asleep?"
"What time is it?" Rachel asked instead, her phone resting on the coffee table too far away to grab.
Santana sighed but obliged finding out, pausing the movie before reaching above her head to retrieve her own phone on the arm of the couch. With a swipe of her thumb, she nodded and placed it onto the coffee table. "Mmm… If I tell you, you're gonna make us get up and go to bed."
"We'd have to get up regardless. I am not falling asleep anywhere without brushing my teeth. Besides, you know my insistence about my bed regimen." Rachel poked the cheerleader's abs, then glanced down, laying her palm flat. ...Santana had amazing abs. She had to stop herself from splaying her fingers out, trailing along her stomach.
Stroking up Rachel's side, bringing her attention back to the conversation, Santana grinned down at her. "But you're so comfortable… And hey, whaddya know. My tits are perfect pillows. You should want to use them. Everyone does. This is your chance."
Rachel curled her hand safely into a fist, shaking her head. "Honestly, Santana. You can't tell me you'd be comfortable sleeping on this... what did you call it last time? 'Ratty couch'."
Santana smirked, nodding in the direction of the slightly skewed couch. "That's what I was referencing. This is more doable."
"Fine. I can see there's no use talking about this now. But I still want to know what time it is."
"You're actually willing to cut a movie - not to mention musical, short? Isn't that, like, unheard of, a mortal sin, in Berry Land? And you," Santana grinned, poking the tip of Rachel's nose, making her make a face and huff, "Are also letting a conversation go? Who are you, and what have you done with Rachel Berry?"
Wrinkling her nose, Rachel ducked her head, pressing her cheek into Santana's upper arm. "One could say that about much of what we've been up to." When she looked up, seeing Santana's raised eyebrow, she sighed, rolling her eyes, "What I've been up to." She allowed some vulnerability to enter her voice, a small, shy smile turning her lips up. "You're much more than… With you, I don't feel like the Rachel Berry I'm used to."
"And you like it…?" Santana prompted, smile still teasing but somewhat softened.
Rachel was glad she seemed to realize what it was she had meant with her, as she thought of it, clumsy words. She nodded. "Paraphrasing you, I want to see where this goes. Mmm… Where I go, I guess, is more appropriate."
Resting her head back, humming as she gazed up at the ceiling, Santana's arm around her briefly tightened.
When she didn't say anything for as long as Rachel could stand, Rachel pushed herself up, looking down at her. Deep brown eyes met her own, and her heart calmed when it didn't look like Santana was suddenly regretting everything - even if she hadn't responded in kind, like Rachel would have preferred. She studied Santana's face, once again struck at… Her.
"When you're done ogling me like it's the first time you're noticing that I'm the hot shit I am, are you fixing to kiss me or steal a look at my phone?" Santana's amused voice startled her, making her gaze come back to meet hers.
Hot shi - must Santana always be so crass? "Why are you asking?"
Santana lazily shrugged. "'Cuz the way I sees it, one's an amazing, awesome idea. The other's one that would just illustrate how not fun you are."
Rachel glowered at her. "I am too, fun!"
Santana's smirk sharpened. "Funny, yes. Not always fun."
"I will have you know that I-" Rachel was cut off unceremoniously by Santana's lips on hers and two strong hands cradling her head, holding her in place. She did, for the sake of her dignity, try to ignore the kiss and keep her lips tightly closed, but Santana was patient, and ever so skilled, and within seconds the singer loosened her lips and let Santana's tongue enter her mouth, moaning into the kiss as it deepened. And it ended much too quickly too, Rachel decided as Santana pulled back a couple of inches. That insufferable smirk was back, but considerably softer, and Santana's eyes were… well… definitely darker.
"Mmmn… maybe a little fun," the Cheerio husked, her hands sliding down to the small of Rachel's back, quite close to her ass.
"So I'm only fun when I'm kissing you?" asked Rachel, her tone teasing and light, almost completely devoid of the earlier anxiousness.
Santana's smirk became a small smile, leaning in to kiss the girl's neck, hands moving down to the curve of Rachel's ass. "Extra fun when you're riding my thigh and whimpering my name."
Rachel snorted, pinching the Cheerio in the side, earning her a pinch to her ass. She squeaked, jerking, and Santana pulled her tighter to her body.
"Speaking of…"
"Bed," insisted Rachel.
"Oooh, wanna lay down for this, hm?"
"Oh for- sleeping, Santana Lopez," clarified Rachel, looking down at Santana with a firm gaze.
Santana relented, rolling her eyes. "Fine. But you're changing into shorts."
Rachel didn't look particularly impressed by the 'order', but she didn't argue. It wasn't as though she didn't enjoy as much skin-to-skin contact as possible with the girl. She craved it sometimes, actually. Besides, she had to allow, thinking logically as well, something told her that shorts would be more comfortable with sharing body heat during the night.
Twenty minutes later, newly dressed and sitting a little awkwardly on the side of the bed, tasting the leftover mint in her mouth from Santana's mouthwash, Rachel rested her hands on her knees. It didn't feel right not saying something about their earlier tiff before going to sleep. Even if the green numbers of Santana's digital clock flashed at her from across the room.
"You're not in bed yet," Santana commented, closing the ensuite bathroom door behind her. Jumping onto her bed, she crawled over, ending up sitting next to Rachel. "Why? Cold feet? Forgot what side of the bed you used last time? Which was neither, by the way. You took over the middle."
Rachel smiled at her somewhat darkened shape. While she had better than average eyesight, it didn't completely transfer over to seeing in the dark. "I've been told I do that." Shifting back, Santana following, she pulled the covers up and slid in, Santana sliding in after her.
"Spent much time in others' beds, huh?" Santana smirked, wrapping around her.
It didn't take long for their bodies to adjust, and, once settled in as little spoon, warm and comfortable and heart beating just a little faster than normal, Rachel lightly pinched Santana's arm. "No," she spoke over Santana's protest, having to smile as the cheerleader squeezed her in lieu of getting back at her another way, "I used to spend the nights I had nightmares with my fathers. I would end up draped all over them. I can't believe it must have been comfortable to them, especially when I went through my night terror phase, but they loved me enough to put up with it." Her voice softened, happiness easing her breathing. This time she was sober - they were sober - and spooning, wearing small shirts and shorts, limbs entwining… It was a lot more than cuddling on the couch.
What was probably worst was that Santana probably knew exactly what she was doing. Not to mention her bed smelled like her perfume and body lotion and that, even without the physical contact, was enough to make her body tingle.
It was probably a good thing that she'd never gotten this far with Finn. With this being her first experience sharing a bed with someone (after having agreed that there was a relationship of sorts with them)... it made it more special, she thought.
Santana hummed. "Props for the Daddy Bs."
"Did your parents ever do something like that for you?"
"Not really." Exhaling naturally, Santana settled in a little better than before. "I wasn't the nightmare type."
Rachel smirked. "Explains the horror movie collection."
"Explains the horror movie collection."
Deciding nothing more needed to be said about that subject, Rachel relaxed, closing her eyes. A couple of minutes passed in comfortable silence, Rachel drinking in the feeling of Santana breathing behind her, and suddenly she found herself breathing out, "...Comfortable."
Santana stroked a ticklish part of Rachel's stomach with her thumb, making her squirm, "Hmm?" Amusement colored her voice. Sleepy and relaxed, it was like Santana was a completely different girl than who Rachel had known for most of her life.
"I said," Rachel emphasized softly, wrapping her hand around Santana's, pulling it back up to her waist, "I can't believe this is as comfortable as it is. With our antagonistic past..."
"We've always had physical chemistry, Berry."
"Yes, but…"
Santana lifted her head, pressing a kiss to Rachel's ear. "You're overthinking again," she chided, "Stop it." Once Rachel shivered at the feel of her hot breath against her ear, she settled her head back.
Rachel knew she was right, but it didn't mean she wanted to completely let it go. She opened her eyes, gazing at the light glow coming in through the bedroom window. "What if I wanted to talk about it?"
"Easy. You don't."
"But what if I did?"
Exhaling dramatically, Santana tensed the arm she'd placed under her pillow, pulling it out so she could support herself on it; she half-sat up, peering down at Rachel. "You know what? It doesn't surprise me in the least that the girl who made us go to bed wants to spend half the night talking instead." She leaned down, brushing her lips on Rachel's forehead, below the line of her bangs. "Just can't stop that mouth of yours."
Rolling over slightly, Santana loosening her grip to help facilitate the movement, Rachel found herself looking up at the older girl, facing her for the first time since they'd gotten into bed. "I feel like," she started quietly, hesitant but mustering the courage to continue, "You're the one who, well, likes it when I… use my mouth."
"For macking, really." Rachel could hear her smirk, "I could give or take you talking."
"It's telling you didn't mention singing," Rachel pointed out. She blindly reached out towards the darker shape above her, both relieved and disappointed when it turned out to be Santana's arm. She traced up her forearm and bicep, the two slightly flexed to keep the girl up.
Santana let out a slight exhale, arm swaying a little closer to her hand. "Like anyone could ever stop you from singing. Even if someone gagged you, you'd still be able to put those powerhouse lungs of yours to work."
Bolstered by the ease of the banter, Rachel raised a brow, knowing Santana would maybe be able to somewhat see it, "As you say, 'wanky'." The laugh that erupted from the taller girl in response made her blushing worth it, the sound reverberating against her own body. Rachel realized in that moment, as corny as it sounded, that she'd probably do just about anything for that laugh to be with her, not against her.
"Wanky indeed," Santana finally said, calming down and lowering back down, pulling Rachel closer against her body, the girl's head resting just under her chin. "Could make it more wanky, though…"
There was a pause, and Rachel couldn't resist, "Am I really pretty enough and athletic enough to be a Cheerio?"
"W- Are- Oh my god seriously?"
Rachel shifted again, looking at Santana with a pout illuminated from light from the window. And Santana was sure that- well, she wasn't actually sure of anything right now except that Rachel's pout should have been illegal and that she really need to put this ridiculous conversation to rest for good. "Are you going to let this go if I answer straight up? And gets back to talking about how sexy my lips on yours are?"
"...Maybe. To both," was the eventual reply.
"You are totes smokin' and more than in shape enough to be on the Cheerios. Like I said like ten thousand times tonight. And my opinion means more than some random piss-ant delivery loser's."
She could definitely see a little, pleased grin from the singer, who turned back in her arms and snuggled back into her. "Excellent. Time to sleep."
Santana exhaled in annoyance, pinching Rachel's stomach in a show of revenge, but it went mostly ignored, and not five minutes later Santana could hear the girl's breaths even out and the smallest, lightest of snores coming from her slightly parted lips. "...Fucking ridiculous," she muttered, huffing.
Still, she curled up possessively around Rachel's body, pulling them completely flush and tangling their legs together before closing her own eyes, eventually drifting off as well.