Part III: Lovers
Finding the courage to invite Santana to something other than her bed after a long day had taken some time for Rachel, her news had given her the perfect opportunity to venture into new territory with their relationship (of sorts). She didn't understand where the initial nerves came from, she never felt ill at ease with the other woman and it wasn't exactly asking for the moon. But still, it was kind of a big deal. Even Kurt said so.
Maybe him saying so was more an exasperated groan and, "It's about time. She needs to acknowledge the fact you're more than banging so that I can rightfully tell her off for using my robe." But still, it was the validation she needed.
"Don't look so nervous," Santana says as her hand snakes its way around her waist, "I promise I'll be on my best behaviour."
"I'm not nervous," she replies, voice completely betraying her.
"Tell your face that," Santana says with a click of her tongue.
"San," it's as much a warning as a plea.
Santana is quick to kiss the corner of her mouth, then jaw, before gently breathing, "I'm nervous too," into her ear.
Rachel turns her head towards her, their faces inches apart, "Really?"
"Don't tell anyone. It's a secret," her perfect lips quirked in a small smile.
She can't help but return it, her body positively humming at their proximity. "I swear," she says, mouth almost touching the other woman's.
If they weren't stood outside of the bar she was meeting her friends at, she would have jumped her bones right there and then. But they were. So, with that in the back of her mind, she kissed those sweet lips and parted from them much sooner than she wanted to.
"Isn't this cute," a voice comes from the open door of a taxi as Kurt climbs out, flowers in hand. "And to think I was the one to witness the very inception of this beautiful union."
"For your sake, I hope you didn't," Santana remarks dryly, as Rachel ducks her head to hide the blush on her cheeks.
"For you," he says as he approaches, handing the bouquet over with a sparkling smile. "Congratulations are in order."
Her thanks are sincere, the fact she'd actually gotten the job still sinking in, every reminder being a shock to her system. They don't linger in the street much longer after that, eager to get settled in with a round of drinks and chatter.
She's overwhelmed with hugs and words of encouragement, yet all the while there was a constant presence at the small of her back, a steady, unyielding touch that both grounded her and set her alight. The nerves of having their intimate, private connection finally brought to light and what that would do to their dynamic had plagued her thoughts, but being here, with her closest friends and Santana was more than perfect.
It wouldn't have felt right to do it without her.
And in that knowledge alone she knew she was in deep. Much deeper than she had thought possible for the amount of time they'd spent together.
Glancing to where Santana sat right beside her, her heart sped up at the sight of her. She was laughing at something Kurt had said, quick, as she always was, to toss a joke right back and have the whole table laughing once more. Rachel was taken by how effortlessly Santana ingratiated herself with her nearest and dearest, it almost frightened her.
When dark eyes turned to hers, the shift inside of her was palpable but unrecognisable.
Santana raises an eyebrow in question, a subtle way to ask if she's okay. In response, she moves to sit closer, a futile task as they're already thigh to thigh.
When she drops her hand from her back to reach for the hem of her dress, Rachel's eyes almost fall out of her head. She doesn't let them, however. She doesn't want everybody to stare, but she pays careful attention to every movement as Santana inches her dress higher and turns in her seat to sit against the wall. Her casual demeanour would suggest she did this regularly and for some reason, Rachel found it incredibly sexy. Santana could be digging through the trash and similar feelings would have probably arisen.
"Scoot," she says, taking Rachel's arm and pulling her closer, lifting her legs to hook over Rachel's. "Remember the first time we met we did tequila shots?"
Hands settled on exposed thigh, Rachel nods her head, "I don't think my oesophagus has ever burned like that before."
Santana's laughter is loud and loose with the booze they've already consumed, her smile easy and so, so attractive.
"It was endearing."
"Me choking was endearing to you?"
"Yes," she says simply, fingers slipping their way to the nape of her neck, slow and purposeful in a soothing motion as they stroke across the fine hair there. Goosebumps are immediate, as is the desire to ignore the others at the table to kiss Santana, hold her and never let go.
Oh dear.
It dawns on Rachel that Santana may very well have her heart in the palm of her hand.
"You must be very easily pleased," she eventually says.
"Perhaps," Santana replies with a smirk and then wets her lips before adding, "or maybe it's just you."
"You're such a flirt."
"Are my charms working?"
"No," she smiles.
"Oh no. Whatever am I to do?"
"Take one of these," Tina, one of Rachel's old friends from college, interrupts as she returns to their table after getting a round of shots in at the bar. "You too," she directs at Rachel, who takes one hesitantly.
"What is it?"
"Tequila," Tina says, handing out the rest of the glasses to Kurt and her once colleagues turned close friends, Blaine and Sam.
Rachel's immediate groan is met with laughter to her left.
Three to four… or maybe five blurry hours later, they parted ways with her friends and made their way back to Kurt and Rachel's apartment for afters. A considerably calm affair despite the copious amounts of alcohol consumed between them. Kurt was soon off to bed though, leaving just the two of them to entertain themselves.
"I'm having déjà vu," Santana whispers as she pulls Rachel's legs onto her lap, making the other woman laugh and then suddenly stop as eager hands slide under her dress.
"You are?"
Santana's eyes are low, smile slowly spreading as she nods her head. "Uh-huh," she confirms with a bite of her lip.
Edging closer, Rachel wraps an arm loosely around her neck, using her other hand up to tilt Santana's head towards her to capture her mouth in a kiss. Santana's hands are encouraged to climb higher, soft palms against even softer skin, with the slight scratch of nails that play at the very edge of her underwear.
Rachel sighs against her lips when those nimble fingers apply pressure against the thin partition that separates purposeful tips and wet heat, that sigh soon becoming a moan as legs widen to accommodate.
"Tonight went well," Santana mumbles against her cheek as they break from their kiss.
As she pulls material aside to slowly sink into Rachel, she barely gets out a, "Yeah," in response.
"We should do it again."
Rachel nods, her laboured breathing filling the silence between them.
"Do you want to come to Quinn's wedding with me?"
Rachel releases a small laugh, "Of all times, why are you asking me now?"
"It's been playing on my mind," Santana admits quietly, removing her fingers to pull Rachel's dress up to her waist as she slides off the couch to kneel between parted thighs.
"Of course I'll come."
"I know you will," Santana hums against her neck, a laugh escaping her when Rachel half-heartedly shoves at her shoulder.
They go to Quinn's wedding and it's a daunting affair. All Rachel knew about Quinn was what Santana had told her, and as Rachel had come to learn with the many hours she'd spent with the other woman, she had a knack for painting a very colourful picture of people.
For all the years she has been alive, she doesn't think she's ever seen someone describe another human as, "A fucking psychopath," with as much love as Santana did Quinn. So, as you can imagine, the whole journey there was filled with various scenarios of how their introduction would go. In the first instance, from the perspective of a new face and then, as Santana's date. It almost drove her to drink on the car ride over. They'd hired out a car to get to the estate where the whole event was taking place and despite her hatred of all GPS systems invented, Santana offered to get them there. Safe and sound, she had reassured through clenched teeth as they came to another dead end down a country lane about thirty minutes ago.
And safe and sound she delivered.
"I'm so excited to see her," Santana beams from her spot behind the wheel, practically bouncing in her seat as she follows up with, "She's so getting it for that god awful dress she picked out for me."
"I like it," Rachel admits, Santana a vision in lavender in her mind's eye.
"I remember," Santana's sly smirk has her half-heartedly pinching at her arm. "Hey," she protests, looking towards Rachel.
"Hey yourself," Rachel says, gesturing toward the gravel path that was playing road, "eyes that way."
Rachel isn't hiding behind Santana when they go to meet Quinn, she is simply taking the back seat in the experience that is Santana and Quinn's friendship as they hug and laugh. Her palms may be slightly sweaty, but it's the room's fault. It's far too hot to get anything done in here.
"This is Rachel," Santana says, the sound of her name pulling her back into the moment.
"The unfortunate soul," Quinn jokes, stepping towards her to offer a hug. "I'm glad you made it here in one piece. San would have never heard the end of it if she'd scared you off."
"She'd have to try pretty hard to do that."
"I don't know," Quinn replies dubiously, "she has her moments."
"Okay, enough with the anti-Santana propaganda," Santana interrupts, "remember Quinn, you're not married yet. I could still declare my undying love for your soon-to-be husband when I should be holding my peace."
Quinn purses her lips, "Why does that sound like something you would do?"
"Because I've done it before."
"What?" Rachel gasps.
"In elementary school," Santana placates with a crooked grin, lightly bumping shoulders with her before swiping a glass of champagne from the dresser and taking a sip. "Oh Quinn, you have impeccable taste in alcohol."
"You have my mother to thank for that," she says drolly, following Santana further into the room.
When they arrived, they were guided by staff and a very clear list of directions in a text from the bride herself. They found her in her suite, barely dressed with her hair delicately pinned and curled. She was truly a sight to behold.
They were the first of the bridal party to arrive, Santana having special bestie privileges of getting to experience the brunt of any jitters Quinn might've had and for that, Rachel served as Santana's moral support.
What could have been an extremely stressful couple of hours turned out to be pretty entertaining for Rachel. Santana and Quinn bickered endlessly, Quinn only cried once, which also meant Santana only cried once and she heard some stories about college Santana and her escapades. All of which she brushed off, but by the way she flushed pink, was clearly embarrassed to have regaled.
"Not in front of my girlfriend, please," Santana eventually resorts to begging as she slips into her bridesmaid dress and presents her back to Rachel for her to zip her up.
"I just want her to know what kind of woman she's getting involved with."
"Yeah, yeah," Santana grumbles, mumbling to herself as Quinn gets ferried away by news that her more guests had arrived.
Slowly taking the small zip between her fingers, Rachel swallows a few times before she dares to speak. It's only when the zip has travelled halfway up Santana's back does she ask in a tentative voice, "Girlfriend?"
The mumbling stops, as does Santana's fidgeting with her hair. Rachel doesn't get the chance to complete her journey along the length of Santana's back, the other woman turning to face her, eyes searching, lip caught between teeth.
They stand there for a moment, looking at each other, waiting for somebody to talk.
The silence is broken when Santana lets out a small laugh that sounds a lot like a relieved sigh, "Yeah."
Rachel's lips twitch with her own smile, "I'm okay with that."
"Yeah?" She repeats, stepping into the small space between them.
Instead of words, Rachel simply nods, taking a loose curl between her fingers as she moves to tuck it behind Santana's ear, a gentle caress that falls along her jaw as she leans in to capture lips in a kiss that is eagerly reciprocated.
"You'll ruin your makeup," Rachel reasons when she breaks their kiss sooner than she'd have liked.
Santana chases her mouth with her own, "I don't mind."
Rachel doesn't need convincing and Santana doesn't need encouragement, Quinn, however, had other plans for them.
"If you're defiling my room, you can stop right now," she announces before re-entering her suite.
Santana gives her one last peck before turning back around so she can finish the job, "Oh please, you'd love that."
"You really do know me best," and so began the next hour or so of the Quinn and Santana comedy duo, only with a few more nervous laughs and minor freakouts. More bridesmaids joined them and the noise out in the estate gardens increased as family and friends came flocking. Rachel was getting butterflies and she wasn't even getting married, she couldn't imagine how Quinn was feeling.
When Quinn finally makes her way down the aisle, it seems any nerves she might have had were abated, her smile having returned twofold. Rachel's eyes catch Santana's, who is standing upfront with the rest of the bridal party, flowers clasped in hand, and makes a playful gesture for her to widen her smile. Santana rolls her eyes in turn, but her dimples deepen nonetheless.
The ceremony goes off without a hitch, well, other than the obvious hitching. And the weather just about holds out for pictures, the beginnings of an early summer shower prickling Rachel's bare shoulders, leading her to look up at clear skies scattered with clouds.
A warm hand comes to enclose hers and a familiar voice asks, "Wanna head inside?"
Rachel turns to see Santana squinting against the sun, smile already forming as their eyes meet. "Don't fancy the rain?" She asks as she readjusts their hands to link fingers.
The skies opening answer in lieu of the other woman's response. Cool droplets of rain coming on at a sudden downpour cause them both to let out a scream of surprise, a scream that soon becomes a laugh as they rush up stone steps to get to the safety of a roof over their heads. There's congestion as all the guests bottleneck the doors, leaving Rachel laughing into the back of Santana as they shuffle with the small crowd.
Once they break into the large hall that will host the drunken antics of the evening, Santana turns around, takes her hands and positions them so they rest on her hips. A gentle sway as she moves them deeper into the room, as in time with the band as she can be, pulling Rachel close when they come to stop just in front of them.
They spend hours dancing and drinking together to end up later that evening sat back in the garden, the weather settled and sky orange. Rachel's heels bounce off the brick wall from where they hang their legs, perched on smooth stone overlooking the endless lawn.
"Today was a little crazy," Santana says from her spot beside her, head resting on her shoulder.
"And a little stressful."
"Oh, super stressful."
"But fun."
"But fun," she echoes, a smile in her voice.
Rachel suppresses a shiver brought on by the late evening chill, another follows as Santana turns her mouth to her neck and presses a warm kiss to it.
"I'd do it all again with you."
Turning to meet her gaze, Rachel searches Santana's face to find her feelings reflected.
"Really?"
It was more than a question of whether Santana would go out with her again, because of course she would. Rachel wondered if this meant something more.
"Really," Santana says steadily, gaze unwavering.
"Well, same," she replies a little breathlessly.
A low chuckle rumbles its way out of the other woman's chest, "Such a way with words," she smiles, leaning forward to meet Rachel's lips with her own only to break away slowly.
"It's in my job description."
"Of course, how could I forget? My little star on the rise."
"Little?" Rachel says in mock offence. "We're practically the same height."
"Fine, my big, gleaming star on the rise."
"Better."
As the sun sinks into the horizon, turning hazy orange blue, Santana stands, hands held out for Rachel to join her. And of course, she does. Eager to escape the impending bugs and cold brought on by the darkening sky and to keep close to a warm body.
They return to the fray full of hopeful anticipation, for what was to come when they made it to their room that night, and for what was to come once they made it back home.
Together.