A/N: IT'S FRIDAY. FRIDAY. GOTTA GET DOWN ON FRIDAY. Friday's still 'earlier in the week' than Saturday, right? :3 Sorry for the wait. Oh, and:
THIS. IS. FLUFFYDOME. /end caps
Santana wakes to a chainsaw-like buzzing sound. She's on her back and drops her head to the side, lifting her eyelids slightly to investigate the source of the sound. She smiles and rolls her eyes as she catches sight of Rachel's sleeping form, the diva on her back as well―effectively trapping Santana's right arm under her body―snoring away without a care in the world.
I'm gonna have to record this one day for evidence... she muses, silently chuckling through a yawn before turning onto her side and shuffling closer to the diva. As she looks down, she notices a very obvious dark spot on the girl's neck that makes her smile wide―a massive hickey. She's mine, and now everyone's gonna know it. But as she ghosts a finger over the mark she suddenly winces, realizing that 'everyone' includes Kevin and, more terrifyingly, David, and that it's possible that she and the diva are gonna have some 'splainin' to do. She quickly shakes the thought, though, rather focusing on memories of last night, memories of how that mark got there in the first place. She finds herself smiling again as she leans down to kiss the small bruise. She'll get there.
The fact is, if Rachel's all virginal in the Mother Teresa sort of way―which, given the girl's obvious lack of prowess during their instances of fooling around and beyond, Santana's pretty convinced she is―last night she made absofuckinglutely ginormous strides towards actually getting it in. As much as Santana would never ask―nor does she even want to know, for that matter―she's relatively sure that the diva never went that far with Finn... or even Puck, however brief their little fling may have been. It's this fact that has her grinning like an absolute idiot as she continues staring down at the small girl.
She glances over to the nightstand to see the clock, the time just past 10am, and quickly decides that she could probably use some more sleep. She gently turns the diva onto her side, both to free her numb arm and to quell the girl's snoring, and settles in behind her. The feel of Rachel's bare skin against her own makes her sigh contentedly, and she throws an arm around the diva, placing a soft kiss on the girl's shoulder before letting her eyes drift shut once more. So soft... so warm... just so fucking perfect.
It's over an hour later when she wakes again, feeling Rachel begin to stir in her arms. "Hey," she breathes out groggily, sliding her eyes slowly open as she places a gentle kiss on the diva's shoulder blade.
Rachel slowly turns around in her arms so that they are face to face, their bare breasts brushing together once more―which would totally kick Santana into gear if she weren't so goddamn tired.
"Hi," the diva whispers, her eyes droopy and a shy smile across her features.
Santana raises a hand to the diva's cheek and runs it down to her chin before leaning forward to unite their lips. They exchange slow, chaste kisses for a few moments before she pulls back with a smile. "Good morning."
"It is," the diva smiles in return before sliding one of her own arms around the Latina and pulling her into a tight hug, burying her head in the ex-cheerio's shoulder. Santana runs her hand absently through the diva's long hair, and they stay like that for a few minutes before she speaks again. "Can we just stay in bed all day?"
Santana chuckles softly against the top of the diva's head. "If I get a vote, absolutely yes forever."
Rachel smiles wide and kisses the bare skin in front of her before letting her eyes drift shut again. "Mmm, good."
Santana's eyes drift shut as well and she just tightens her grip around the diva's slight body. They stay in their embrace for quite some time before her stomach grows pronouncedly, effectively (and annoyingly) cutting through the comfortable silence.
"You're hungry," Rachel murmurs out against her shoulder.
Santana lightly smirks and speaks a bit huskily. "Pretty much always."
The diva arches an eyebrow despite the fact the Latina can't see it. "I don't even know whether that's supposed to be a dirty comment or not."
"Probability says yes," Santana grins, and Rachel chuckles against her shoulder before pulling her head back.
"Should we have some sort of breakfast?" the girl asks plainly.
Santana sighs. "That kind of goes against our plans of staying in bed..."
Rachel furrows her brow in thought. "Call Quinn and ask her to pick us up something on her way back here."
Santana smirks heavily, thinking of how hilarious Quinn's reaction would be if she were to walk into the room right now. "Yeah, I'm not so sure she'd be down with this," she pulls a hand back to gesture between their bodies.
The diva's brow furrows for a moment. "So... is she actually homophobic or is she just entirely not fond of me?"
Santana shrugs a shoulder, wrapping her arm back around the girl. "Q is just Q. She doesn't make much sense."
Rachel chuckles lightly. "Ok then," she says simply, a soft smile crossing her features once more.
Santana's stomach lightly growls again (thankfully not loud enough for Rachel to hear) and though she really wants food at the moment, she really doesn't want to get out of bed right now. She furrows her brow as she tries to think through all their possible options, looking up hesitantly when an idea hits her. "I could get Puck to bring us food...? He'd be more than down with that."
Rachel arches a critical eyebrow. "That is probably the single worst idea I have ever heard. Noah already has delusions that he's going to get in bed with us... actually inviting him into a room in which we are in a bed would be entirely counterproductive."
Santana just laughs lightly before closing the small gap between them, letting her lips brush softly against the diva's. "Maybe you're right."
The diva scoffs playfully. "I'm always right."
Santana rolls her eyes with a bit of a laugh. "Oh, ok then."
When her laughter settles, silence passes over the room and the pair find themselves just staring at each other with soft smiles. Santana reaches a hand up to run it along the side of the diva's face, letting her thumb drift over the girl's full lips, lightly tugging on the lower one before leaning in once again. Their lips brush together softly before the Latina runs her tongue lazily along Rachel's lower lip, requesting entry. The diva sighs contentedly, letting Santana in, and they exchange soft, languid kisses for what seems like far too short a time before the Latina's stomach growls audibly once more.
Rachel pulls away with a disapproving eyebrow raised. "Ok, we really should get you something to eat."
Santana grins lecherously. "Well, there's always you," she gruffs out, raising her eyebrows suggestively, trailing a hand down to squeeze the diva's ass in emphasis.
Rachel lightly squeaks, and her eyes involuntarily darken. "I mean actual food," she objects softly, her body starting to pull her in a direction that her mind's not ready to go in once again.
"Well... I think you'd constitute a square meal, and I could totally eat you three times a day," the Latina winks, licking her lips in emphasis.
Rachel just rolls her eyes before arching an eyebrow. "Did you just call me a 'square'?" she slightly smirks.
Santana grins once more. "Well, I am all about getting in your box..." she trails off playfully, keeping her arm locked around the diva's waist but letting her other hand drift down to start tickling the girl's stomach.
Rachel starts giggling uncontrollably and squirming, trying to make a retreat along the bed but finding herself trapped in place by the Latina's strong arm. "Santana!" she wheezes out through laughter, the ex-cheerio's amused laughter nearly matching hers at this point. "I-I have to p-pee!" she protests as steadily as she can under the assault, her un-trapped hand unsuccessfully trying to slap the Latina's away.
Santana relents with a sigh and a wide smile, leaning in to capture the diva's lips once more before completely relinquishing her hold, rather sliding her hand to rest on the girl's hip. "I'd actually rather you not do that here. I'm not really into that," she shakes her head with a bit of a smirk.
Rachel rolls her eyes but makes no movement towards leaving, and Santana arches a curious eyebrow.
The diva just looks pointedly at her. "So, are you going to give me a shirt to wear or did you just want me to walk around half-naked?" The Latina grins with suddenly wide eyes, and Rachel immediately shakes her head firmly. "Forget I said that. May I please have a shirt to wear?"
Santana chuckles lightly before sliding out from under the covers and rising to her feet. "I suppose that'd be alright..." she sighs out in half playful, half genuine disappointment as she heads to the dresser to grab t-shirts for both the diva and herself. She turns and tosses the girl a shirt, making no attempt to cover herself up as she does so, and Rachel immediately looks down with a deep blush at the Latina's state of undress. Santana smiles wide at the girl's sudden bashfulness.
Rachel just pulls on the shirt, using the comforter to shield her lady bits as she does, before climbing out of the bed and heading off to the bathroom. Santana pulls on her own shirt and looks around the room, quickly surveying the aftermath of the previous night. She stalks across the room to retrieve their hastily discarded dresses from the floor, trying to smooth out the slightly wrinkled expanses of fabric as she walks back towards her desk. She's just draping them over the back of her computer chair when a shrill sound comes from the hallway.
"Santana!" Rachel's voice shrieks, and the Latina winces with a bit of a laugh, assuming the diva must have noticed the hickey in the mirror.
She steps out into the hallway and glances down the hall to the bathroom, where the diva is leaning over the sink towards the mirror with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, running her fingers along the marking.
"Yeah... sorry about that..." she draws out, shooting the girl a bit of an apologetic look as she starts to slowly approach the small room.
Rachel spits into the sink before looking over wide-eyed. "What the hell am I supposed to tell my dads?" she asks, slightly panicked.
"You burnt yourself on a curling iron?" the Latina offers softly with a shrug.
"On my throat?.!" the diva questions incredulously.
Santana just shrugs again with a soft smile as she reaches the doorway. "Maybe a hair straightener?" she suggests lamely.
Rachel rolls her eyes and resumes brushing her teeth, and Santana lightly chuckles as she takes a few steps into the room, leaning back against the counter as she takes a proper look at the bruise. "It's not that bad, you know. I could've done a lot worse," she shoots her eyes up to meet the diva's with a bit of a smirk. "Or a lot better, depending on how you look at it," she adds with a raise of her eyebrows. The diva groans and Santana smiles softly. "It'll be gone in a couple days, anyway," she assures her as she runs her fingers gently along the outline of the mark. Rachel just echoes the groan as she leans down to rinse her mouth out, and Santana chuckles lightly once more. "I'm sorry," she reiterates softly, watching the diva next to her as she stands back upright. "I guess I just got carried away."
Rachel looks over with a bit of a smile before turning her gaze towards the mirror again, raising her fingers up to examine the discoloured skin once more. "This is going to be impossible to cover up," she muses absently with a shake of her head.
Santana arches an eyebrow. "You know, there's this new thing they call 'make-up'..." she teases lightly. The diva rolls her eyes, and Santana just turns to face the girl fully, leaning her hip against the counter, reaching a hand up to brush some of the singer's hair behind her ear. "If I can make my eye look less destroyed, chances are you can cover up a little hickey."
Rachel turns towards her looking positively unimpressed and pointing out a chastising finger. "A) There is nothing 'little' about this hickey; and, B) never again," she says firmly.
Santana just smiles and wraps her arms around the diva's waist. "I make no promises," she says playfully, leaning in to meet the small girl's full lips.
Rachel leans back and reaches her hands up to the Latina's shoulders, stopping her short of her goal. "I'm serious!" she protests, perhaps a little less staunchly than she had hoped.
Santana just rolls her eyes, the smile still across her lips. "Then I'll try my best."
The diva sighs and nods in reluctant acceptance, and Santana smiles wider before tugging the diva in by her t-shirt for a kiss. She runs her tongue along the diva's lower lip, looking to deepen the embrace, but Rachel immediately pulls away with a furrowed brow.
"You need to brush your teeth."
Santana arches an eyebrow. "Thought you were ok with morning breath? After all, you were about ten minutes ago..." she leans in again, only to be met by the diva's hands on her shoulders, effectively stopping her once more.
Rachel shakes her head softly with a smile. "While I may be 'ok' with it, that doesn't mean I prefer it. And your toothbrush is literally sitting directly beside us, so..." she trails off, gesturing her head towards the toothbrush holder.
Santana just arches an eyebrow before leaning in again with her tongue sticking out, tugging on the t-shirt to bring the diva closer, and Rachel arches her back impossibly far back―something that makes the Latina quirk and eyebrow and mentally store the knowledge away for future reference―to escape, swatting her hands out in objection.
"Santana!" she squeals through laughter. "Stop it!"
The struggle continues for a few long moments, both girls laughing, before Santana gains the upper hand and leans in close. Rachel turns her head, and the Latina settles for a sloppy lick along the diva's jaw line before she pulls away with a satisfied smile. Rachel huffs and raises a hand to wipe at her face before looking at the Latina pointedly.
"I am never kissing you again."
Santana scoffs, running an adventurous finger along the waistband of the girl's panties. "Oh, please. Like you could even resist." She dips her finger slightly beneath the band, tugging lightly on the lace.
Rachel slightly shivers at the intimate contact, suddenly finding herself feeling quite flush again. "Maybe not, but that doesn't negate the point of the matter. You get no tongue until you brush yours clean," she says firmly.
Santana raises a playful eyebrow but just chuckles and shakes her head before leaning in to capture another chaste kiss. "Sure thing, princess," she sighs out before turning towards the sink and grabbing her damn toothbrush.
It's not long before the pair head downstairs to find some sort of breakfast, the diva being quite hungry herself. Unfortunately, the Lopez house isn't exactly known for being vegan-friendly, so Rachel ends up sitting at the table with a plate of slightly rotten fruit and a single slice of toast with peanut butter in front of her.
"You should really go grocery shopping..." she observes, as if it's not the most obvious statement in the world, while rolling a nearly brown (formerly green) grape around her plate with a knife.
Santana just arches an eyebrow as she takes another bite of her PB&J. She washes it down with a mouthful of orange juice before she speaks. "True, but I have to wait for Q. I have no fucking clue what she eats besides pizza and fruit."
Now Rachel arches an eyebrow. "You really are two of a kind, aren't you?"
The Latina shrugs. "I don't know, I think I like certain Berries more than she does," she smiles, earning a blush from the girl across her as she takes another bite.
A sound suddenly intrudes on their makeshift meal―the missed call tone from Rachel's phone, which is still in her jacket, which is still in a heap on the ground near the back door. The diva rolls her eyes and reluctantly rises from her seat, heading over to the door to grab the coat. As she does so, Santana figures it's probably a good idea to check her phone as well, which is in her own jacket, which is lying on the ground not too far away from Rachel's.
Rachel raises a stressed hand to her forehead as she looks down at her phone, her jacket draped over her arm. "Oh my god, I have eleven missed calls," she says softly, more to herself than to anyone else. "And they're all from my dads... shoot," she lets out under her breath. "I have to go call them," she announces as she looks up at the Latina.
Santana returns the stare with an apologetic smile and an understanding nod, and Rachel just takes off into the hallway to make her call.
Once the diva is gone, Santana reaches into the pocket of her own coat to grab her phone, the handset indicating seven new texts and one new voicemail. She arches a curious eyebrow before she clicks over to see who actually left a voice message. Her brow furrows as she looks at the unfamiliar number, but suddenly the area code registers and her eyes widen. It's him. She taps her thumb against the side of the handset, worrying a lip between her teeth as she drifts into thought.
Maybe it was him last night. Maybe he saw me. I mean, why else would he call? Especially now?
She quickly shakes her head, deciding to deal with it later, before she clicks over to the texts, all from the same blonde and growing in impatience.
'How was last night?'
'Hello?'
'Where are you?'
'You better not be having sex in My... well, Your bed :P'
'SANTANA'
'Fucking bitch, answer me.'
'I HATE YOU RIGHT NOW'
Santana chuckles at the messages before tapping out her own response. 'Calm your tits, Q.'
It's seconds later when a response comes in. 'Wtf! :P where have you been? B has shit to do today.' And it's quickly followed by another. 'Is the coast clear?'
She smirks. 'Cloudy with a chance of flurries, actually.'
'I fucking hate you.'
'You love me.'
'B's gonna drop me off soon.'
'Ok cool. Rach is still here... I don't really know what her plans are for today...'
'Whatever. No sex while I'm there.'
Santana arches an eyebrow. 'Um. I don't know if you realize this, but this is MY house. I make the fucking rules.'
'Do you have to be such a gigantic bitch?'
'Always, fatty ;P'
Santana can sense Quinn's (likely audible) groan even via text message. 'I AM COMING HOME NOW, HAVE CLOTHES ON.'
She smiles again. 'Ya ya tubs, see you soon.'
She keeps her phone in hand as she heads back towards the kitchen table with her jacket in her other hand. She tosses the coat onto an empty chair before sliding back into her seat and putting the phone down on the table. She takes to eating her sandwich again, and it's not long before the diva re-enters the room in a bit of a huff.
"Why didn't you tell me that it's already past noon?" she demands.
Santana smiles in amusement. "There are clocks all over this house," she spins her finger around in indication. "I'm not your personal timekeeper."
Rachel groans and rolls her eyes, gripping her phone tight in her palm, more frustrated with herself than anyone else for being so forgetful. "I'm supposed to have lunch with my fathers at the hospital and I am almost definitely going to be late now... daddy's already there..." she laments, her hand rising to her forehead again as she stares blankly ahead.
The Latina chews and swallows another bite, slightly sighing as she watches the small girl have yet another minor freak out. "Ok, put some clothes on and I'll drive you," she offers matter-of-factly with a shrug.
Rachel looks over in slight shock, but she doesn't bother to falsely protest against the proposal before she smiles a bit bashfully. "Thank you," she breathes out softly as she skips across the room, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the ex-cheerio's lips. "That would be wonderful."
The rest of the day passes by relatively uneventfully. By the time Santana got back home from dropping Rachel off, Quinn was already home. The pair got their shit together and went out to do some grocery shopping before doing what they always do―heading into the living room and hunkering down with some junk food and some quality horror.
"You would totally be that bitch," Santana observes absently, popping another gummy bear into her mouth.
Quinn looks over with a slightly offended eyebrow raised. "What bitch?"
The Latina points at the screen, not tearing her eyes away. "That dumb bitch who goes to see what the sound is and ends up getting absolutely slaughtered."
The blonde huffs a laugh. "And what makes you think that?"
Santana shrugs with a smirk. "You're a nosy bitch, Q."
She basks in Quinn's groaned response for a full five seconds before she feels the impact of a pretzel against the side of her head. "Hey!" she chides firmly, turning her head towards the blonde and pointing out a threatening finger. "Don't even try it, Fabray, I will fucking end you."
Quinn laughs outright at this, knowing it's just about the emptiest threat in the world. "S, I've known you pretty much forever, and if there's one thing I know for certain, it's that you throw like a fucking toddler."
The Latina's jaw drops in disbelief and she quickly launches a gummy bear in the general direction of the blonde on the other side of the couch. Quinn just laughs even harder and Santana groans at her own inability as the soft candy lands gently in the blonde's lap. I've really gotta practice this shit.
"Yup," Quinn smiles smugly as she retrieves the candy and pops it into her mouth. "Like a fucking child."
Santana's brow drops as she feels anger run through her veins, but instead of trying again and just embarrassing herself further, she settles for leaning over and punching the blonde's shoulder. Hard.
Quinn grimaces at the impact and raises a hand to her shoulder just as the doorbell rings. "Fuck, Santana," she growls out.
"You fucking wish, Fabray," the Latina smirks as she pops up from her seat and heads out into the front hallway.
She practically skips to the door in her surprisingly happy mood―possibly enhanced by the fact she just got to throw a damn solid punch without suffering any consequences―only feeling impossibly happier when she opens the door and sees who's on the other side. "Rach," she smiles with wide eyes, her tone bordering on excited.
"Hey," the diva breathes out with a soft smile.
Santana looks down and notices that the girl is holding a plain brown cardboard box, about a cubic foot in size, between her hands. The top flaps are dog-eared and haphazardly folded over each other, and it just really looks like it's been put through the ringer. She arches a questioning eyebrow.
"And what exactly is that?" she asks, pointing towards the box.
"You said you wanted to get into my box," the diva quips, and when Santana's brow just furrows in confusion, she rolls her eyes. "It's your Christmas gift."
The Latina smirks with a shake of her head and takes to leaning against the doorframe. "Wow. You really went all out with the gift wrapping, huh...' she observes playfully.
Rachel scoffs in return, and the box seems to shift in her hands. Santana jumps back with a start, "Holy fucking hell, did that thing just move?"
To Rachel's delight, in her shock Santana jumped back far enough so that she can finally enter the house, kicking the door shut behind her. She simply places the box down on the bench and slips her coat off, hanging it up in the closet before turning back towards the Latina, who is still staring at her expectantly.
"Are you ready?" she asks simply.
Santana chances a wary glance down at the box again before looking up at the diva with a bit of a nod. "I guess so..."
Rachel turns her back so that the Latina can't quite see what she is doing as she unfolds the flaps of the box and reaches in to retrieve the gift. When she turns around, Santana's jaw drops and she raises her hands to her mouth.
"Oh my god!" she releases as an uncharacteristically high-pitched squeal as she looks at what's in Rachel's arms―probably the tiniest, fluffiest kitten she has ever seen in her life. She's half convinced she might melt on the spot from the level of cute on display in front of her, only magnified by the fact that it's Rachel cradling the pure white, long haired kitten like a human baby between her arms.
Rachel tries unsuccessfully to stifle a bit of laughter at the Latina's reaction―it being way beyond anything she had ever expected―before her face splits into a wildly satisfied smile. "See," she points a finger at the red bow that is tied around the cat's neck in indication. "She's gift wrapped."
Santana keeps one of her hands over her mouth as she hunches down closer to the kitten's current height and reaches a slightly hesitant hand out to scratch the little creature behind its ear, earning an excited mewl that makes her almost echo the sound. A betrayingly schoolgirlish laugh escapes her lips and she's half convinced she might explode. She shoots her eyes up at the diva for a moment with a curious eyebrow raised, finally registering her words, "She?" The diva just nods in confirmation, and Santana turns her attention back to the tiny white addition to the household, her smile spreading even further.
Rachel's smile mirrors Santana's own, the diva feeling incredibly elated with how this is all playing out. "Now you don't have to be so lonely in this big, empty house," she says softly as the Latina continues to absolutely squee over the baby animal.
Santana stands back upright, looking at the diva in a bit of amazement, knowing that pets cost a hell of a fucking lot if you go get them at the store. Rachel seems to sense what the Latina is thinking and shakes her head knowingly.
"Lima Animal Services is doing their annual Christmas Adoption Drive, so this little girl was super inexpensive!" she trails off in a high pitched voice, lifting the kitten to nuzzle their noses together before cradling her once more.
Santana just stares at the diva wide-eyed, the veritable baby talk making her feel a distinct twinge in her stomach. If she's honest, part of her wants to jump Rachel's bones right here and now, but she bites back the urge, if only to spare the kitten from getting crushed as collateral damage.
"Besides, in essence, this is a gift to myself, too," the diva adds, raising a shoulder in nonchalance.
The Latina's brow rises.
Rachel just smiles. "Well obviously I'll be her other mother. And I'll get to love her, and shower her with gifts, and cuddle her every time I come over..." she trails off, seemingly speaking more to the cat than the ex-cheerio as she scratches the small feline behind the ear.
Santana's brow drops and she raises a finger. "So, let me get this straight. Not only have you decided to strap me with custody of an unexpected child, but she's gonna steal my cuddles, too?" she questions in mock-disapproval, crossing her arms in front of her body. "Seems like a pretty shit deal for me..." she trails off, tilting her head thoughtfully with a bit of a grin.
Rachel just rolls her eyes.
"I'll be expecting a cheque at the beginning of every month for child support, of course," she teases, earning another roll of the eyes and a bit of a groan this time before diva's face settles back into a soft smile. Santana can't get over how adorable she's finding Rachel right now, how much she's actually feeling in this moment―how fucking happy she feels―and despite the fact it should be overwhelming, it's just... well... not.
She quickly shakes her head and turns her attention back to her tiny new housemate. "So what's her name?" she asks curiously without looking up, reaching out to pet the cat once more.
"A51892," the diva says simply, earning a look of confusion in return. "Her tag number," she elaborates. "I figured we'd be the ones to name her... together..." she trails off hopefully, though a bit uncertainly.
Santana just smiles and nods, "I can deal with that." She scratches at the little creature for another moment before looking up at the diva. "So... you just gonna hoard our child or can I hold her, too?"
Rachel rolls her eyes lightly but her smile doesn't drop. "Of course," she beams, finally handing over possession of the little beast.
Santana cradles the cat between her arms and pulls her up close. "Oh my god," she breathes out in slight amazement. "Her eyes are blue?" she looks up, seemingly searching for verification.
The diva nods. "Absolutely, though they did say that the colouration might fade with age."
Santana, feeling like she's wearing an even wider perma-smile than she has been the past couple days, just raises the kitten up so that her feet are dangling down towards the ground and they're face to face, the feline's nose mere inches from her own. "You're gonna ruin all of my clothes, aren't you?" she says in her own baby talk voice, something that just makes Rachel smile impossibly wider (and, to be quite honest, turns her on to a surprising degree).
Santana drops the kitten back down to cradle it in her arms before her brow drops to match and she looks over at the diva questioningly. "Is this your way of getting me to wear less black? By sending in a special ops team to search and destroy all my black clothes?" she questions, looking down at the loose white fur already hanging off of her black t-shirt in indication.
Rachel just laughs and rolls her eyes once more, and Santana shifts the cat so that it's cradled in just one of her arms, reaching her free hand out to grab the diva by her button-up. She pulls the girl in close, so that their lips are inches apart. "Thank you," she breathes out softly, not giving the short girl a chance to respond before meeting her lips in a crushing kiss.
Quinn peeks her head out into the hallway, the overheard baby talk having creeped her out in a multitude of ways, and slightly grimaces at the sight. "Ugh," she remarks loud enough for the pair to hear, her brow furrowed, though there's a slight teasing tone to her voice that makes it sound a lot less malicious than it could be. "You two could at least take it upstairs."
Santana just rolls her eyes before turning around, and when Quinn sees the kitten, she absolutely lights up. "Oh my god!" she squeals out in a similarly awkward high-pitched voice, drawing a chuckle from the Latina. She quickly approaches and starts to scratch at the cat's ears. "Can I?" she asks, gesturing towards the kitten, wanting to cuddle the little monster herself.
Santana transfers the kitten into the blonde's waiting arms before smirking. "Oh, Q," she shakes her head slightly, earning the ex-cheerio's gaze once more. "I always knew you wanted my pussy."
Rachel laughs but still slaps the back of her shoulder in reprimand, though Santana couldn't care less right now―the absolutely twisting look of mortification on Quinn's face is just... So fucking worth it.
The next half hour or so is spent bringing in a bunch of cat accessories from Rachel's car, including but not limited to: a litter box that they set up in the downstairs washroom; a decent sized scratching post which they put near the window in the living room; some assorted kitten-friendly cat toys; as well as a case of wet food, a bag of dry food, and pet dishes, which all get sorted into the kitchen.
The horror-movie marathon is quashed at Rachel's behest, and the threesome rather find themselves settled in the living room embroiled in an ongoing debate over what the newest Lopez's name should be (or the newest Berry-Lopez, if you ask Rachel). Quinn is reclined in an armchair playing with the as-yet-unnamed kitten, and Santana is seated on the end of the couch nearest Quinn with Rachel's head in her lap, the diva stretched out across the length of the couch.
"'Idina'," Rachel suggests.
"No." The Latina answers firmly, running a hand absently through the diva's hair.
"'Cheno'," the short girl presses on.
Santana groans and rolls her eyes, this little back-and-forth having been going on for a while now. "Can we please stray from the cast of 'Wicked'?"
Quinn has the kitten resting on her stomach, fruitlessly chasing after the string of her hoodie as she chimes in. "What about 'Whitey'?" she suggests simply, looking over with an eyebrow raised, her inattention giving the small beast the opening she's been waiting for to snag the white drawstring.
Santana looks over in mock fondness. "Aww, Q..." she raises a hand to her chest, really hamming it up. "That's so cute that you think I would name my cat after you."
The blonde groans. "Asshole," she mutters under her breath, and the Latina just shakes her head.
"I already said I'm not naming her after you," she deadpans.
"What about 'Barbra'?" the girl in her lap suggests, seemingly having been lost in thought this whole time.
Santana looks down with an eyebrow raised. "You want to name the cat your middle name?"
Rachel looks positively offended. "I'll have you know that Barbra Streisand is a true inspiration―not just for Jewish women but for women everywhere! She is a living legend and a testament to overcoming the odds and achieving monumental success despite not being classically beautiful!"
The Latina's expression doesn't change, and the diva groans lightly.
"Ok," she slightly grinds out. "Well if you refuse to use her name―which I think is a terrible error in judgement―" Santana rolls her eyes. "Then what about her initials?"
Santana's brow drops completely as she processes the idea. "'B.S.'?" she questions incredulously. "You wanna name the cat 'bullshit'?.?"
Quinn starts to laugh, the kitten bouncing slightly up and down on her abdomen as she does so, and Rachel just huffs in defeat.
"Fine..." the smaller girl reluctantly surrenders, furrowing her brow in thought once more before looking up in earnest. "What about 'Liza'? Liza with a 'z'..." she elaborates.
Santana rolls the name around on her tongue a few times, it honestly being the name she's been least opposed to so far. She sighs. "Fine," she cedes unenthusiastically. "But I get to call her 'Zee'," she stipulates firmly.
Rachel smiles wide and sits up, turning to face the Latina before extending her hand for a handshake. "I can accept those terms."
Santana arches an unimpressed eyebrow at the gesture and instead lightly grabs the tips of the diva's small fingers, tugging the hand up so that she can brush her lips across the girl's knuckles.
"Fucking gross," Quinn mutters as she pets the sleepy kitten, earning an eye roll from the Latina.
"I'm gonna fucking tie you to a chair and make you watch us have sex if you keep that up, Fabray," she threatens, earning a disciplining slap on the shoulder from the diva beside her. "What?" she laughs out as she turns towards the slight girl. "She totally deserves it."
Quinn just rolls her eyes. "Unless you want me to vomit all over your house, I suggest you do that for Puck or Matt or someone else who'll actually appreciate it."
It's at this point that Rachel arches an eyebrow, wanting to get in a word or two thousand of her own on the topic. "You know, Quinn, to appropriate a line from Shakespeare's literary classic Hamlet, sometimes 'the lady doth protest too much, methinks'..."
The blonde furrows her brow at the diva before looking to Santana. "Her lips are moving and there's sound coming out... please translate."
The Latina absolutely smirks and speaks in an incredibly smug tone. "Well... maybe the reason you're so against it all is because you secretly want it."
Quinn scoffs a laugh with a disbelieving stare. "Now you're just dreaming."
"I don't know, Q," Santana starts, her grin spreading with each word spoken. "As far as I can see, you seem to be pretty good at stroking the pussy..." she trails off, gesturing her head towards Liza in indication.
Rachel tries to stifle her laughter with her hand but fails miserably, and the blonde rolls her eyes once more.
"You're insane," she groans out, an exasperated hand raised to her forehead.
"I don't know, Q," Santana smiles smugly. "It's two against one here."
Quinn arches an eyebrow and shakes her head firmly in disagreement. "Oh no, no, no. You two are fucking one person lately."
Rachel beams and Santana just smirks again.
"Actually, we're fucking each other," she lightly shrugs. "But, you know, semantics."
A resounding slap meets her shoulder, the first one she's convinced might actually leave a bruise, but, once again, Totally fucking worth it for the look on the blonde's face―which has settled somewhere between a gag and possible actual vomit. Amazing.
It's only about an hour later, the time pressing on 9pm, when Rachel stands from the couch with a sigh. "I should get going," she says simply, leaning down to give Liza another scratch behind the ear before starting to hedge towards the hallway.
"Oh," Santana breathes out softly, a bit of a pout crossing her features, finding herself genuinely disappointed that the diva can't just stay the night... or, you know, forever. "Ok." She nods slightly as she also stands from the couch to see the diva out.
Rachel and Quinn exchange kind waves before Santana and the singer head out to the hallway. Rachel pulls on her jacket before turning back towards the Latina with a bit of a shy smile.
"So did you like your gift?" she asks with a playful smugness, knowing the answer before the Latina even speaks.
Santana senses it, so she decides to be as smug as she can herself, wrapping her arms around the diva's waist and licking her lips as she looks down the slight girl's body. "Well, it's not exactly the pussy that I was hoping for, but, you know," she shrugs with a grin. "I'll take what I can get."
Rachel rolls her eyes and raises a hand to slap the Latina's shoulder, but Santana catches her by the wrist mid-swing, rather raising the hand up and kissing the back of it before putting it down on her neck, the diva reflexively raising her other hand up to the indicated spot as well.
"I love the gift, or, well, Liza," Santana draws out somewhat begrudgingly, but with a smile. "It was thoughtful, and wonderful, and adorable... kind of like you."
Rachel looks down with a heavy blush, and Santana just hooks a finger under the diva's chin, lifting her back up to meet her lips with a soft kiss. "Come over tomorrow."
The diva arches an eyebrow.
"Quinn invited Puck over, so we'll make it a thing."
Rachel smiles briefly before her brow slightly furrows. "A drinking thing...?" she draws out, and Santana can hear the bit of distaste in her voice.
She just shakes her head with a bit of a chuckle, guessing that the diva is still a little wary of the drink after her epic hangover. "Nope, no booze. Just hanging out."
Rachel smiles and nods excitedly. "Ok, then, I'm in."
"Good," Santana breathes out before leaning in to kiss the diva once more, letting her hands drift down to the diva's ass and delivering a light squeeze. Rachel squeaks, and she takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, letting her tongue brush softly against the shorter girl's.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she breathes out softly when she finally pulls away, letting her forehead rest against the diva's.
Rachel nods. "You will," she breathes with equal softness, leaning in for one more peck before stepping back and out of the Latina's grasp. She just shoots a soft wave before heading out of the house completely.
Santana and Quinn resume their horror movie marathon, fitting in another two movies before finally heading off to their respective beds, the time slipping into the early morning hours.
When the Latina enters the bedroom she looks around with a bit of a satisfied smile, that is until she catches sight of her phone sitting on the nightstand charging, the sudden memory of the waiting voicemail washing over her and pushing her face down into a bit of a frown. She just stares for a few thoughtful moments before internally shrugging. Fuck it. Not today.
She changes and climbs into bed, settling under the covers, and it's not long before a small white creature jumps up onto the bed with a bit of a squeak and quickly cuddles up next to her. She smiles, though her eyes stay closed. If Rachel can't be here, at least she has Zee to keep her company.
Fun fact: I may or may not have meant 'fluffy' in the literal sense. ;)
Thanks again for reading guys, you've all been incredibly awesome! :D And Happy May 2-4 to my fellow Canadians! Enjoy the long weekend and go light some fireworks and shit!