Title: Makin' Music
Pairing: Santana/Rachel, Quinn/Brittany
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Because all fic writers own Glee, right?
A/N: This chapter is primarily just a filler, I guess. It's just basically a hell of a lot of fluff with some sexytimes thrown in, so I guess it's not too bad... But the whole sexytimes part is the first time I've really written anything remotely smutty, you know, so if you could give me a heads up about what you thought of it, despite its brief tameness, that'd be cool.
A/N2: Oh, and as I predicted, I'm at a loss as to how to end this, but I reckon that there's probably only going to be one or two more chapters - which will include Quitt. I miss them.
Adios. For now...
Makin' Music
Santana and Rachel had slept in until nine on Saturday; something of a lie-in for the both of them. And besides, they needed to sleep off the emotional baggage from yesterday. Santana had been wide awake since eight, perfectly content to watch Rachel sleep in the pale glow of the newly risen sun. She was spooning Rachel from behind, watching as her shoulders rose and fell gently with the soft rhythm of her breathing. Chocolate curls spilled down Rachel's back and sat on the sheets, between her body and her girlfriend's slightly taller one.
Santana leaned up, resting on her elbows, and looked over Rachel's sleeping form. She took a good look at the healing cuts on her girlfriend's hand, which was fisted into a loose ball by her face. Each of the jagged red marks were surrounded by tender pink flesh, which looked incredibly sore. She couldn't think of a rational explanation as to why Rachel would actually have cuts like that on her hand. She supposed she'd have to wake her up to get an answer, so that's what she did – in the best way she knew how.
Santana brushed a few strands of hair from Rachel's shoulder and planted brief kisses along the skin, until she reached Rachel's ear, and tugged on the lobe gently with her teeth. The shorter girl shivered at the touch, and Santana smiled against the shell of her ear, running her tongue along the length of it. Santana brought her hand around to Rachel's front and began trailing her fingers down the expanse of her torso, tracing light circles on the heated skin.
"Mmmm..." Rachel turned to face Santana, "What's the time?"
"Nine," Santana replied, capturing Rachel's lips with her own, "Did you sleep well?"
"Incredibly," Rachel drawled, still a little sleepy. "What about you?"
"It was okay. I've been watching you sleep for an hour... it's very therapeutic yet unsettling."
"How is watching me sleep unsettling? Oh God, I don't snore, do I?"
Yes. Rachel snored. But it was the cutest thing she'd ever heard in her entire life. "No, baby; but I would very much like to know where these came from..." She brushed her thumb lightly over the cuts, wincing as Rachel hissed at the touch.
"It doesn't matter where they came from-"
"It does to me; you're hurt, and it was because of last night." Santana brought the hand to her lips and kissed each knuckle softly. "I don't want us to have any more secrets, baby."
"Neither do I, but my hand... it's just... stupid." Rachel couldn't bear to think of when she'd actually punched a mirror last night. She was blinded by tears and self loathing... ugh. She couldn't keep thinking about that. It had been flushed out of her system already, and today was a new day.
"No more secrets, Rachel," Santana repeated. "Did you get into a fight or something?"
"No."
"Did you trip and fall?" On what? A pile of razor blades randomly scattered around in the street? Pffft.
"No."
"Rachel," Santana hissed. "Don't start our morning off like this."
"I punched a mirror."
"How? Where'd you even go last night?" Santana sat up and pulled Rachel's hand towards her, trying to get a better look. "Ugh, this needs to be cleaned up."
"I went to a diner and cried in a bathroom stall and then I couldn't stand the sight of my own face in the mirror, so I punched it."
Santana stared down at Rachel in absolute disbelief. "If you ever do that again, I'll tie your hands behind your back. And not in the good way," she added.
Rachel quirked an eyebrow at her girlfriend, "Doesn't that hurt?"
"Not unless you remember not to struggle," Santana quipped, smiling smugly – Rachel's bed was a four-poster, of course there was going to be tying up. Why hadn't she thought of this before? "Guess I've got a few more things to teach you, huh?"
"Sure," Rachel smiled. She hadn't even entertained the idea of being tied up; it just wasn't on the top of her list of things to do; she was only right now learning the ins and outs of having sex with another girl. Not that she'd had sex with any guys before, but well... that was different. They gave you sex-ed books about 'regular' sex, not lesbian sex. And she didn't read any of that – what was it? – Fanfiction, or God forbid that she would ever trawl the internet searching for porn.
"Good." Santana gave a final kiss to Rachel's hand and got off the bed, finding the clothes she'd been wearing last night and pulling them on. "Get up. I'm going to clean those damn cuts and then you can make me breakfast because I had to do it."
"There are your pancakes," Rachel smiled; handing a very pleased Santana a plate of five stacked on it, with some syrup drizzled on top. Santana eyed her breakfast dubiously and reached for the bottle of maple syrup across the table, liberally squirting more of the sauce over the plate and began wolfing down huge bites. Rachel rolled her eyes. "I know you said Mrs. Puckerman cooked for you sometimes, but don't you think you should have learned to cook more than toast and pop tarts?"
Santana stared at Rachel, her mouth full. She tried to quickly chew the gargantuan portion she'd shoved into her mouth down and swallowed it pretty much all at once. "Ow." She rubbed her throat and pouted, "Does it really matter? I'll learn when I get to college."
"College students eat little more than your repertoire already caters for," Rachel countered, cutting up some fruit for herself.
"Then I guess I'm already two years ahead of schedule," Santana quipped, knocking back a full glass of orange juice. Damn; last night had really given her appetite some kind of urge, because she'd poured herself out another glass and drank that down as Rachel shook her head. She wasn't the most ladylike of eaters, it had to be said.
"Well, I was thinking that maybe you could learn to cook some of the recipes your grandmother passed down," Rachel gestured to the thick, leather bound book sitting on the work top. "Although you would have to find vegan-friendly substitutes for the meat, eggs and cheese for me to actually eat it."
"Well, sure. Maybe I'll be a half decent chef by the time our first anniversary comes around," Santana laughed.
Rachel beamed. "You think we'll be together next year?"
"Sure I do," Santana replied, taking Rachel's bandaged hand as the diva joined the table with her bowl of fruit. She leaned in for a kiss, but pulled away as the kitchen door opened and a very tired looking Rafael entered. "Morning, Papa."
"Morning, mija," he smiled. He looked between the girls, noticing their hands laced together by entwining fingers. "And, uh, who might this be?" He furrowed his brow; he didn't hear anybody come in last night.
"This is Rachel; and Rachel, this is papa."
"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Lopez."
"Nice to meet you too, Rachel," he replied, reaching over and shaking her free hand, "Call me Rafael; Mr. Lopez was my father." Santana shook her head; every time she'd had a friend round, he introduced himself like that. He and her mother were about the youngest parents in her entire grade, somehow telling him that he could say things like that and still feel 'cool'. Rafael grabbed a cup and poured out some of the coffee Rachel had made. He turned to shorter girl and raised his cup, "You make good coffee."
"Hey! What if I made that?" Santana huffed.
Her father merely laughed heartily, and took a seat at the table. "Did you?" Santana said nothing, and he shook his head. "I don't suppose you made those pancakes, either." He took her fork and picked up a few bites from her plate. She frowned at him; when it came to pancakes, she was about as protective of them as Puck was with his waffles. "Nah, they taste great. Of course you didn't make them."
Rachel suppressed a giggle beside her girlfriend, but it didn't go unnoticed. She took one look at Santana's clenched jaw and burst out laughing. She covered her mouth with both her hands, and Santana folded her arms across her chest.
"Do you mind if I asked why you're here?" Rafael looked to the girls, raising a brow. He watched as they shared a look, smiled coyly and turned back to him.
"Rachel's my girlfriend," Santana said. She looked into her father's eyes, and found his acceptance. "She stayed over last night."
"I guessed that much," he replied. "I'm happy for you both." He got up from the table, taking another cup of coffee with him. "I've got to finish up some paperwork. You girls enjoy your day." He hung back and leant against the doorjamb, "And Santana; next time your guest stays over, I better find you making her breakfast. And, uh, don't forget to clean up."
They nodded and bid Rafael a good morning, as he walked away to his study, whistling some obscure tune.
"That went well," Rachel noted, leaning in and snatching that kiss that was snatched from her ten minutes ago.
"I think he's always had some kind of idea that I was gay," Santana laughed. "I mean, he always gave me this look whenever Britt was over."
"You were always kind of obvious, though," Rachel quipped.
"True," Santana looked over at Rachel. "How do you think your Dads will react?"
"Don't worry about them; we're very open people. We talk about everything."
"That's what I was afraid of," Santana muttered.
"Oh."
"Yeah... how much did you tell them?"
"All of it..." Rachel winced as Santana screwed up her face, trying to work out how telling them would ever go smoothly. "Look at me, Santana. Don't worry. They'll see how much you've changed, and maybe Dad will take a little convincing, but Daddy will love you, I promise."
"Which one's Dad?"
"Dad's shorting, balding and Jewish and Daddy is tall, black and very smiley."
"Well at least the big one won't beat me up."
Rachel slapped her arm playfully. "They would never do such a thing!"
"No bedazzled shotguns?"
"No!"
"Alright," Santana snickered, "I'm okay. I'm a little nervous, but that's normal. Now," Santana stood up from the table and tugged Rachel with her, "Come upstairs and soothe my nerves."
"But-"
"We can clean up later. Right now, we need to shower."
"They're going to hate me, I know it," Santana moaned, as Rachel practically dragged her down the path to the Berry house.
"You're so cute when you're nervous," Rachel returned, squeezing her girlfriend's hand in support. They had been over this so many times – before the shower, drying off after the shower, hastily cleaning up in case Rafael found Santana had neglected her chores and in the car to Rachel's house. Rachel even had to drive, because Santana's hands were beginning to shake with the nerves.
"Thanks, babe," Santana deadpanned.
"But it's true," Rachel wiggled her eyebrows. "And besides; at least it's the weekend, so they don't have to see you in your cheerleading uniform." Rachel's eyes roved over the Latina's body. She was very pleased with the slim-fitting vest and tight jeans that Santana had picked out, but it was that she had left her hair down that Rachel enjoyed the most.
"Please don't start mentally undressing me here; I don't think the inevitable result of it would be something your fathers are ready to hear," Santana brought Rachel's eyes up to hers with her words. "Later, though."
"Fine." Rachel turned to open the door, and dropped Santana's hand from hers as they entered the hall. They were enticed in by the smell of hearty Italian herbs and spices – Santana was glad it was lunchtime. Maybe the food could distract her.
"Rachel, is that you? Where have you been? We've been trying to call you all night!" A short man, a little thick around the waist, entered the hall and stopped when he saw the girls.
"Oh... I lost my phone," Rachel turned to Santana, "Did you see it?"
"It's in my room," she explained. Her eyes were trained on the unimpressed man before her.
"And you are?" Hiram folded his arms and waited patiently. He knew exactly who was standing in his hallway, nervously fiddling with her fingers trying to find anywhere else to look, but failing.
"Santana Lopez, sir." She swallowed nervously, and Rachel looked to her, giving her a reassuring smile.
"And I suppose you're the reason my daughter didn't come home last night?"
"Dad," Rachel interjected – finally – "Let's just go into the kitchen."
He nodded, and reluctantly led the girls into the kitchen. "Leroy, she's home."
"Hey, sweetie," Leroy wrapped her into his arms as soon as he saw her, "We were worried about you." He picked up her bandaged hand, examining it. "What did you do to your hand?"
"Tripped and fell," Rachel lied quickly and pulled Santana further into the room, noticing that she was hanging back in the doorway; afraid to inch further away from her nearest escape route. "This is Santana."
Leroy took one stride over to her and welcomed her with a hug, too. Rachel was relieved that they weren't going to press her about the bandage if there was a guest to entertain. She awkwardly wrapped her arms around him in return, but was altogether glad when he pulled away. Rachel's fathers were chalk and cheese.
"Have you girls eaten? We're about to serve lunch, if that's okay."
"That would be great, Daddy," Rachel answered. She beamed at Santana, who was still silent. It unnerved her, to see such a shy side of her girlfriend when she was otherwise so forceful and confident. "What are having?"
"I made a lasagne that should be done in twenty minutes." Leroy pointed a hand to the oven, "I'll whip you up something, Rachel. You girls go on upstairs; we'll call you down when it's done."
Rachel and Santana left the kitchen quickly, to Hiram's little surprise. He shut the door behind them and turned to his husband. "You know who that is, right?"
"Oh, yeah," Leroy answered, grabbing some plates to heat up for the meal. He expected a reaction along these lines from Hiram, if the day came that Rachel came home with somebody that used to make her cry. "Could you defrost some of that vegetable soup I made the other day?"
Hiram complied and found the soup – scowling as he did so – placing it in the microwave and setting the timer. "Aren't you in the slightest bit concerned?"
"About what?" Leroy turned to Hiram, placing his hands on his hips.
"That she's alone upstairs with our daughter?"
"What's the big deal? Rachel obviously trusts her enough to bring her into her home and in case you didn't notice her obviously freaked out body language, I'd say she's expecting us to roast her."
"Well, I will." Hiram answered, puffing up his chest.
"No you won't," Leroy replied, "You'll do no such thing. She isn't some boy clearly unfit for her, like Finn, or Noah, or Jesse."
"I quite liked Finn." Hiram noted, "He was sweet."
"He would never be able to keep up with Rachel, and you know it. Noah was a better match for her, and that's saying something."
Suddenly, something in Hiram's head clicked. "You don't think-"
"Of course I do," Leroy chuckled at his husband's stupidity. "It's obvious. Her cheeks had that cute pink flush, like she's on cloud nine, or after she's watched RENT."
"Don't remind me," Hiram groaned. Musicals weren't his thing, and his daughter's obvious admiration for that coked-up stripper Maureen was something he found disconcerting. Even more so now, that he realised that in twenty minutes, those girls could be doing a lot up in her room.
The timer on the microwave buzzed loudly. Leroy laughed, as Hiram jumped at the noise. He threw a dishcloth over to his husband. "Serve that up. I'll go call them down."
Santana caught Rachel off guard, spinning Rachel around to face her once she'd closed the door behind them. Santana fisted Rachel's hair as she pushed her girlfriend onto her bed, plunging her tongue into her mouth. Rachel's hands moved up her shirt and under Santana's bra, cupping her breasts. Santana squeezed a thigh between Rachel's legs, rocking gently.
"Shit," Rachel breathed against Santana's mouth, as she pulled away for air. "You can't do that. They'll hear us."
"Says the girl with her hands under my bra," Santana quipped, licking a trail down Rachel's neck and chest. "On the plus side, I'm a lot less nervous now."
"I should think you would be nervous that they might hear us," Rachel hissed.
"They said we had twenty minutes." Santana rocked her thigh into Rachel's centre again, grinning evilly as the girl bit her lip to keep from moaning. "Besides, at least we can't knock each other up."
"Uh huh," Rachel couldn't form coherent words any more, as Santana took to unbuttoning her blouse and unclipping her bra. Santana shoved all the unwelcome material away from Rachel's chest and took an erect bud into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip. She smiled against the heated skin as she felt Rachel try to rub her thighs together to relieve some of the building ache down below.
She released it from her mouth with a 'pop' and turned her attentions to the second peak, that she had been taking care of with her hand. Rachel brought one of the hands she had been previously massaging Santana's scalp with to her mouth, biting lightly on it to keep from groaning. It was getting harder to control, considering the increasingly more erratic rhythm of her breathing – her chest was heaving as Santana continued her ministrations.
Curse Santana for to gaining control of her nerves by coercing Rachel into having sex without a single word. Fuck, she was beginning to get close. Santana was moving her thigh at a steady speed, though each touch was escalating Rachel's approach to, dare she admit it without Santana even properly touching her, orgasm.
"You have to stop, Santana," Rachel gasped, "Please."
"Can't make me," the Latina challenged, as she brushed her lips down. She looked up to Rachel's face, and saw the diva's eyes were screwed shut and her lip was quivering in that familiar way – she was close. Santana leaned up and hovered above Rachel, taking both of her hands and holding them above her head. She swallowed Rachel's lips with her own, knowing that Rachel wouldn't be able to keep quiet at this rate.
"Girls?" The voice of Leroy Berry was heard through the door, along with a startling knock, hereby ending their fun.
"Shit," Santana growled, tearing her mouth away from Rachel's reluctantly and rolling off of the girl so she could compose and redress herself. She'd just been cockblocked by Rachel's freaking Dad. In all fairness, her girlfriend had warned her, but she wasn't one to back down from a challenge.
"Lunch is ready!"
"We'll be down in a second," Rachel called through the door, as she speedily buttoned up her blouse. They heard his footsteps fade away downstairs, and Rachel quickly brushed her hair. She threw the brush over to Santana. "I can't believe that!"
"Can't knock me for trying," Santana countered. She threw the hairbrush onto the bed and held the door open for Rachel. "Sorry, baby."
"It's alright. I just hope he doesn't actually know what was going on up here."
In the kitchen, Leroy gave his husband a knowing look as the girls entered; Hiram closed his eyes and shook his head, displeased with Leroy's antics.
Santana sat opposite from Hiram, with Rachel to her left and Leroy to her right. She eyed Rachel's green soup uneasily – it sort of looked like when her grandfather's old pet dog threw up the remnants of the shrubs at the park he'd once eaten – and turned to her lasagne. It was perfect.
"Wait... I thought you guys were vegans or something."
"Nope, just Rachel," Leroy said. "Ciabatta?"
Santana thanked him and took a slice of the bread and spread some butter on it.
"I hope that's organic," Rachel said, looking to Hiram.
"Yes," he answered quickly.
"Sweetheart; you do know that your uh..."
"What, Daddy?" Rachel turned to Leroy expectantly.
"The buttons on your blouse," he continued, nervously, realising what he'd been about to say. Instead, he motioned to his own chest, hoping she'd get the message.
Rachel looked down to her blouse, noticing that the buttons weren't even. Santana's eyes widened and she near-spit her food back onto her plate – they knew. Oh God. This was going to be fun to explain.
"Oh."
"Told you," Leroy turned to Hiram, grinning smugly.
"Leroy, please, not at the table," Hiram snapped.
"Daddy! What did you tell him?"
Santana leaned back in her chair, wondering if this was what every exchange between the members of the Berry household was like; Leroy and Rachel, the bubbly ones and Hiram there to keep a stern face on and keep his family together with an iron hand.
"That you're obviously dating," Leroy replied, as if Rachel should have known. Well, she probably should have expected that. Her Daddy was excellent at reading people.
"We were hoping to get to that after lunch," Rachel informed them. Santana sat forward again, taking Rachel's hand in her own.
"Yes, well, I suppose you can explain now, can't you?" Hiram sat back and clasped his hands together, waiting for either one of the teens to let him in on everything.
"Let me," Santana offered, before Rachel spoke. She turned to Hiram, who had quirked an eyebrow, "I know what you must be thinking, Mr. Berry. You probably think that I'm still the same girl that bullied your daughter," she paused, apologetically looking at each of the others, "But I'm not, and I hope you see that. I mean, I'm not above being brutally opinionated and that will never change, but Rachel means the world to me and I'd be the first to step in for her if anybody tried to hurt her. I know that I haven't made the best first impression, considering the whole shirt thing and all, but I love your daughter, and I'll be damned if you try to keep me away from her because of what I did to her years ago."
"You love me?"
"Yes." Santana answered, with a firm squeeze of her girlfriend's hand. "I maybe should have waited before I said-"
Rachel smashed her lips to Santana's, knocking the wind out of the other girl's lungs at the force of it. She kissed back, before pulling away, realising where they were.
"I love you, too," Rachel breathed against her lips, holding her close. The two shared another brief kiss, which was promptly broken up by Hiram clearing his throat.
Leroy slapped his arm, frowning. "Let them have their moment."
"They already had a moment upstairs, thank you very much," Hiram retorted. He looked to Santana, who was staring pie-eyed at Rachel with a goofy grin on her face. Her reverie was broken, when she felt her mobile buzzing in her pocket. She excused herself from the table to take the call.
Santana returned a few minutes later, sighing.
"What is it?"
"Quinn and Brittany have booked a table for the four of us at Breadstix tonight, for seven." She shoved her phone back into her pocket and took her seat once more, taking Rachel's hand.
"You're friends with Quinn Fabray, now?" Hiram was shocked even more so at that titbit of information. "And Brittany is...?"
"Yes, Daddy," Rachel answered easily. "And Brittany is Quinn's girlfriend."
"Quinn's gay?" Leroy and Hiram exclaimed, in perfect unison. "That's a shocker," Hiram muttered.
"Yeah, we all thought so," Santana joked.
"Well then, I suggest we both go and pick out something to wear," Rachel began, "You can pick me up at half past six, Santana."
"Can't I help you pick something out?"
Rachel narrowed her eyes at her girlfriend. "No. It's going to be a surprise."
"Can't wait." Santana stood up to leave, taking Rachel into the hallway with her so they could say goodbye properly, without disturbing Hiram further. She took Rachel into her arms and they kissed passionately, until they had to break apart for air.
"That's all you're getting for now," Rachel told Santana, reaching up again and lightly pressing their lips together. She pulled away before the Latina could deepen the kiss and released the taller girl from her arms.
"I look forward to the rest," Santana flirted. Rachel held the door open for Santana to leave, and opened her mouth in shock as Santana copped a quick squeeze of her ass.
"I said that's all you were getting," Rachel hissed, swatting the wandering hand away.
"Just one for the road, right?" Santana laughed over her shoulder. She turned to wave, still snickering at Rachel's faux-admonishment.