A/N: Sorry for the delay. I kept handwriting and then putting off the daunting task of typing this up. A few notes: The doctors are in tandem on Santana's file. Fictionally she's a very rare case of intersexuality. They have the permission to speak about her case amongst themselves, and I am hoping that I am conveying the close, personal relationship they all share. The next chapter has a lot of smut. It may seem OOC—but I will be including Rachel's reaction to it in the next installment, and hopefully it meshes the way I hope it will.
Oh and I forgot this:
Disclaimer:
These characters are simply puppets. I merely make them dance.
Read and Review, it feeds my muse.
Chapter Six:
She pulled into the parking lot of the hospital nearly an hour later, noting that Rachel had made her ten minutes late for her six o'clock appointment. Cursing the garden troll as she parked, she dashed in to meet her parents at their usual spot near the intake desk. She smiled and waved at Nurse Diane, walking without waiting to be announced to Dr. J's office. Her appointment went as it usually did. She started with a physical, then a gynological exam and x-rays. Her blood was drawn and she was pestered for urine and tested for hormone levels. Her appointment ended as it usually did; her sitting in front of Dr. J's disheveled desk—her parents already excused from the room.
"So, Santana, how have things been coming along? Any new developments?" She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Well the underwear is helping. Took me three orders to match the red to my Cheerios uniform; but I'm coping with the surprise boners."
He smirked sympathetically at her, seemingly familiar with the uncontrollable urges teenagers go through at her age. He continued, pulling his glasses up and sliding them into his thinning strawberry blonde and gray hair.
"Well, Marian and I spoke and she keyed me in to her explanation of protocol. We can move forward in at least scheduling your surgery. We will be extracting some of the sensitive erectile tissue and forming it into a hopefully functioning clitoris. Have you experienced any numbness or lack of feeling?"
She shook her head, paying too much attention to her well maintained fingernails.
"Well as you have no testicles, seminal fluid will not be an issue. You should neither have any voice problems or hair growth due to your overpowering amount of estrogen. Your hormones may be a little wacked but I'm sure that's nothing new. "
"Well it's nice to know I can't get all those girls lining up at my locker pregnant eh doc?"
She joked, rolling her eyes when his demeanor turned serious.
"Santana if you are going to be sexually active, I suggest using condoms. Albeit sterile you could easily contract or spread sexually transmitted diseases, infections or –"
"Doc it was a joke. I doubt I voluntarily show anyone my Doc Johnson before you guys hack it off. "
"Even still be careful, be safe. Curiosity is expected, Santana, however you don't want any unnecessary risks."
He cleared his throat, loosening his tie as he skimmed over his half covered desk calendar.
"How about late January? You'll be out of commission for a few weeks, no cheerleading, vigorous exercise or strenuous activity until your stitches heal—"
"Woah, woah, woah—back that up? Do you know Sue Sylvester? If I miss more than three practices I sit out for Nationals."
"Well, we can wait as long as you feel comfortable; just know you will be experiencing pubescence. Morning erections, night emissions and hormonal changes. We will have to monitor you internally to make sure that we don't miss any stunted growths or abnormalities. We can schedule your surgery for the last week of June, and you'll have ample time to heal over the summer."
She sat there, her mind racing to process the scattered thoughts whizzing through her head. It was October, June seemed like light years away. She knew if she kept her not so tiny secret quiet for this long, she could wait until next summer. A few more months showering alone in the handi-capable showers and staying out of tight situations was worth keeping her well earned reputation. She looked at her lifelong doctor, nodding before finally speaking her mind.
"Okay, I think I can deal with that. In the meantime, can I get some anti Viagra?"
He chuckled then, pulling his glasses down from atop his head.
"No more medicine for you, my dear," he quipped, ushering her out of his office to her waiting parents. He engaged in doctor speak with her father, a pediatric surgeon, and her mother, an ER nurse. They left in separate vehicles, her parents heading off to work while she decided to go make amends with Brittany.
000 0000 000
Brittany usually forgot when she was angry with Santana. This time was no different. She called her best friend en route to her house; the bubbly greeting she received confirmed her suspicions. She was five minutes away when Brittany informed her of the date she was currently on. Santana rolled her eyes and told her she would call her later, switching directions to head to Breadstix for takeout instead. She thought absentmindedly to herself as she drove. She used to get furiously jealous with anyone Brittany dated. She often found ways to sabotage the union before they spiraled into anything serious.
That was why the week before bothered her. She knew that Artie had the potential to be an adequate distraction, and she fumed when Brittany had blatantly let it slip in glee that she added another notch to her bedpost. She knew it was a jab to her not wanting to sing a duet with her, and she let it slide; that time. She loved her best friend more than anything, but she seriously wasn't in love with her. Sure, they fooled around, but they also understood that element of their friendship. The jealousy usually stemmed from one simple fact:
When they were with other people, they never had time for each other.
Other people just didn't understand. They didn't understand Santana's forever shifting temperament. They couldn't comprehend Brittany's ADHD, often classifying her as stupid when she was usually spaced on the medicine that was supposed to help her stay focused. It was much easier to be best friends with benefits with Brittany, other people just wasted their time and hurt their feelings. She gave everything to the blonde, and she'd do anything for her; even if that was just so she could be as selfish a friend as she wanted to be. Brittany didn't mind. She used her for the same reasons. She often brushed off any of their male peers, making out with them and moving on.
She realized that even when they were younger; that her best friend was a lesbian. Santana always admired her for her assurance in the matter. If anything, assurance was always something Santana ached for. She wanted it; and she always got what she wanted. She was a stingy, selfish and spoiled child, the only one her parents would successfully have. And she always got what she wanted; keeping it was the hard part. She wanted acceptance, normality—not experimentation and longing. She often guessed when Brittany found the girl of her dreams, their sexual exploration would cease and she'd be happy that her friend found someone as amazing as she was.
She pulled into the Breadstix To Go lot, skipping the line and walking up to Kevin. He nodded and she paid, ten minutes later she walked back to her car to drive home. She pulled out of the lot, biting down on the crunchy breadstick, one handedly maneuvering her black two door coup. She nearly crashed, swerving onto a curb to avoid the dazed, soaked and crying Rachel Berry. She got out of her car, fuming more at the thought that she'd dropped one of her breadsticks than she was over almost crashing her car. She slammed her door, jogging to catch up to the diva.
"Berry what the fuck! I almost ran into a pole because you don't know how to look before crossing."
"Sorry Santana." She kept walking, not paying the Cheerio beside her any attention.
Santana crossed her arms. Nobody blatantly ignored Santana Lopez, she thought.
"They slushy you outside of school now? What did you do?"
Rachel stopped, balling her fists at her sides.
"I didn't do anything and I am offended that you are insinuating that I deserve any of this!"
She must have been going through some of those hormonal changes, since she decided not to deck the Jewish girl beside her. Santana took in her appearance. There were traces of every flavor slushy on different parts of her clothes. She even noticed that some of the colors had mixed—the ridiculous brown staining the front of her ugly white and black unicorn sweater vest. She softened; however, the defensive edge was still clear in her tone.
"Well, why did they slushy you?"
" Karofsky's sister told him what happened. She called me and told me to meet her at the bowling alley. That was over an hour ago."
She furrowed her brows, trying to figure out what Berry could have done to Karofsky's sister.
"Still lost here?"
She watches as Rachel rolls her eyes, her hand on her hip.
"Bella is his sister."
Santana mouthed a big O, finally slowing her pace next to the girl.
"Well, um…you want a ride home?"
She winced at her own offer, trying to decipher why she was actually trying to help the girl she tormented on a daily basis.
"I can't go home until my fathers go to bed. They'll want to press charges if they see me like this—thank you for your offer, though."
Santana tried to stop herself before the words tumbled out of her mouth.
"Well just come to my house."
Rachel stopped; looking at her like the offer was a practical joke. She relaxed, hesitantly walking back to her car. They were quiet when they both slid into the leather seats, Santana biting her tongue at the sticky sound of Rachel settling in. She pulled off, driving in silence for ten minutes before she resumed eating one of the nine breadsticks she had left in her bag. She'd offer the singer one but she didn't want to come off too nice; and besides, she never shared good food. They pulled into her driveway, Santana climbing out of the car with her food and darting to the front door, Rachel following silently behind her. She put her food down in the kitchen, and showed Rachel to her bedroom, and finally her bathroom, giving her towels, a loose fitting tank top and a pair of her WMHS sweats. She told her to take her time and chose that moment to head back to the kitchen to eat. She devoured her food, threw away her trash and headed back to her room. She was greeted by a freshly clean Rachel Berry, who was running the towel down the length of her hair, ringlets of damp curls falling and framing her face. The sweatpants were too long, and the red tank top didn't hide the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. She coughed to clear the silence.
"You can stay the night. I've been driving all day and by the time I feel like taking you home your pops will probably have a bitch fit."
She nodded, staring oddly at the girl in front of her, relaxing finally against the tension before asking to use her telephone, since hers was still wet. Santana listened to her assure her fathers that she would be fine, and that she would be home tomorrow. She hung up, finally sitting in Santana's computer chair. Santana decided that a silent Rachel Berry was eerily unnerving. Just as she was about to speak, Rachel broke the quiet.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
She rolled her eyes at her, toying with the pompoms hung on the top of her headboard. She shrugged.
"I slushy you because you're a dork and you need to bring that diva-tude down a few notches. They did it because you're gay; that's not cool."
She saw her flinch at the word.
"Don't get it twisted, dwarf, we aren't friends or anything like that. If Britt was here I would have left you outside. "
Rachel smiled. It was the kind of smile she gave to people who were nice to her. Santana just rolled her eyes.
"Well anyway, you have to sleep in here. My parents converted the guest room to a second office and my mother will have my hide if I let you sleep on the couch." Rachel nodded.
"Are you hungry?"
She shook her head.
"Well, are you going to just sit here?"
Rachel shrugged.
"Whatever. I need a shower, so the tv is in the living room, raid the pantry for snacks and don't touch anything else. My parents won't be home till around 7:30."
000 0000 000
When she emerged from the bathroom a fast forty minutes later in her Cheerios mesh shorts and tank top, Rachel was gone and the house was too quiet. Her soiled clothes were neatly folded on the floor, the hallways quiet in the one story ranch house. She first checked the kitchen; next the living room. She didn't find her until she stumbled past the dining room, Rachel's head awkwardly turned to get a better look at the photo on the wall. There were dozens of them adorning the room, her parents choosing to document almost every milestone of her life. Rachel moved on, not noticing Santana standing in the archway with her arms crossed. She was staring at a picture of her first gymnastics competition. She cleared her throat—the shorter girl whipping around with rosy cheeks; caught.
"Sorry I couldn't figure out how to turn on the television set."
Santana looked at the dining room table. The multi-pad remote left discarded in the middle. When Santana said nothing, Rachel moved on to the next photo, and then the following fidgeting with her hands and biting her bottom lip.
"Ask your question, Berry."
She watched her let out a mouthful of air, relaxing in her presence.
"So how long have you known Brittany?"
Santana walked over to her, eyeing the picture she was looking at. It was her first year at cheer camp and they were both eleven. They were sitting by the lake, elbows on their knees and pinkies linked; smiling devilishly into the camera. It brought back good memories, she smiled to herself.
"Since I enrolled into formal school—"
Rachel quirked her brow.
"I was homeschooled until I was 9."
Rachel nodded, moving on to the next picture—a family Christmas photo.
"Your mom is African American?"
Santana nodded, not taking offense to the question since she knew Rachel's father was also black.
"Well she's Black and German."
Rachel looked at her again, taking her in from foot to face, as if trying to place the cultural differences of her parents in her genetic makeup. She moved on to the next picture, pointing in inquiry at it. She was four in that picture, her parents surrounding the birthday table. Also in the picture were her four grandparents and both of her doctors.
"That was my naming day."
She watched Rachel quirk an eyebrow. She shifted on the balls of her feet, not knowing if she should be sharing such personal memories with the girl she'd voluntarily invited over. She struggled with the back and forth inside her head. She quickly decided that Rachel already knew her biggest secret—and since she hadn't scandalized her at school, she decided she could trust the girl.
"Well…I didn't have a name until I was four. My parents didn't know what I would turn out to be, so when my mother let me pick out what I wanted to wear for my birthday I picked that dress…they finally put my name on my birth certificate."
Rachel beamed in front of her.
"That's actually really sweet, Santana."
Santana smirked.
"Don't ever call me sweet, Berry."
Rachel rolled her eyes and moved on to the next photo. Santana was walking down the aisle of a pharmacy, a murderous frown on her face, arms crossed—her mother standing next to her, pointing and laughing at her. Santana laughed awkwardly.
"That was last year. My Dad thought it was funny to take pictures of me buying my first box of tampons."
Rachel cupped her mouth, shaking her head and laughing.
"That sounds like something my Dads would do. That's a little odd though."
"Well they didn't know if I'd be able to have kids. So we all went to the store together."
They looked through most of the pictures on the wall. Santana explained most of them to Rachel. By the time they got to the pictures from her Quincenera, she realized that it was nearing midnight. Rachel stopped at the most recent pictures, furrowing her brow at the one of her and Puck. They were sitting on a deck, his arm casually tossed over her shoulders. He was kissing her on the cheek, and Santana was smiling full on into the camera.
"How doesn't Puck know? Or Brittany? Or even Quinn?"
She'd expected Rachel to ask that question earlier, noting that she finally grew some manners and decided to not tactlessly blurt it out before.
"Why would they?"
Rachel's head shot up, her fumbling over her words until she made one simple declaration.
"Well, Santana, you're a rather promiscuous girl."
"Berry, you of all people should know that most rumors aren't true. Isn't there a nasty little rumor about you and your dads floating around about how they take you to see Barbra Streisand in drag?"
"Well, you've confirmed most of them yourself. You've never denied your reputation.'
"Right—I never denied it, I didn't confirm it either. And besides, hooking up doesn't have to mean sex."
Rachel blanched.
"So you're a virgin, even with Brittany?"
"Personal question, midget; mind your business."
She walked away, skirting the question.
"Speaking of Britt, I forgot to call her after her date." She thought out loud.
"Oh! I saw her at the bowling alley."
"Who was she with?"
"I couldn't tell, they were wearing a Carmel letterman jacket."
"Oh, well I'll call her tomorrow. I'm going to sleep. Need me to turn on the t.v.?"
She shook her head.
"I'm actually surprised I'm putting together coherent thoughts, I think I'll do the same."
They walked to her bedroom together, pulling down the sheets and tossing the decorative red and black pillows into a chest at the bottom of her full sized bed. They settled under the blanket, their backs close to touching, Santana clapping off the lights before pulling her blanket above her head. She felt her body relax gradually, her drooping eyes almost shut before the low buzz reverberated beneath her comforter. She rolled her eyes. 'Of course Rachel Berry snores,' she mused, 'she'll probably drool on my pillow too.' She flipped onto her back, making sure not to touch the girl curled into the fetal position beside her. She wanted to go sleep in her parent's bed, but she knew they'd wake her up too early the next morning to get her out of it. She closed her eyes again, trying to ignore the soft humming noises coming from the Jewish girl beside her.
000 0000 000
She woke up to heat. She was hot and sweating everywhere and she didn't know why. She found her senses, scanning under the blanket with her eyes, stopping only when she realized she was spooning with Rachel Berry. Her arm was wrapped around Rachel's midsection, tucked casually underneath her bare breasts; the tank top tangled higher on her chest. Their legs were twisted around each other, Santana realizing the tightness of her mesh shorts, which currently restricted her raging erection. She started pulling away, Rachel turning around and settling on her chest as Santana managed to lie on her back. She was about slide out of the bed but a single leg draped dangerously over her hip, pinning her as she watched the sleeping diva get comfortable on her chest and snuggled into the crook of her neck. She sharply inhaled a breath, keeping as still as she possibly could.
She was extremely uncomfortable; Rachel's leg could easily brush over the bulge and stir; blowing her rape whistle. The feeling of her invading her personal space only made her harder. She felt it then, the bubbling energy moving from her lungs to her throat shattering the quiet of the room. Her cough was loud and temporarily unrelenting. It finally settled, and Rachel was still snoring, none the wiser to her current predicament. And she still couldn't move from beneath her. She pinched her, trying to see how sleep the girl really was. She didn't wake up, her snoring getting slightly louder. She let out a breath and snagged the comforter with the arm that wasn't underneath Rachel. She pulled it until it slid off them. Rachel simply snuggled into her more, tucking into the crook of her neck so that her lips were brushing skin and she could feel the faint vibrations of her snoring on her skin. Her legs moved then, brushing her penis with the inside of her thigh, eliciting a low noise from the bottom of Santana's throat. Her breath hitched the second time she did it.
She would go crazy if she stayed in that position. She tentatively rolled sideways, Rachel was still asleep and she rolled onto her side and curled into a ball again. Santana tried again to move, still pinned by the arm that was stuck under Rachel's midsection. She pulled slightly, stopping when Rachel backed into her, spooning against the hard-on she harbored. Santana stopped moving all together then, relishing in the feeling of Rachel grinding into her pelvis. She felt like she'd never get harder than she was now, and it was starting to get painful. She rubbed against her softly, the up and down motion lighting dynamite behind her now closed eyelids. The snoring in the room was unchanging, constant and undisturbed. She rubbed against the diva's round bottom, her penis lifting the bottom of her shorts in the process, the tip darting out and brushing against fabric. She moved her free arm to her waist, pressing her hips into her own. She was starting to feel guilty taking advantage of the situation, but she couldn't masturbate on her back with the girl next to her either. She was pulling against her, her mouth open, hips thrusting when she noticed how quiet it had gotten.
She froze. Her eyes snapped open and Rachel turned at that same moment, her eyes bright like campfire. Santana's cheeks were an uncharacteristic red, she was sure Rachel could see it from the soft light coming from her open window. She dragged her arm from under Rachel, leaning up on her elbows to apologize, to try her best to convince her that she wasn't doing what she had been doing. Maybe she'd believe she was sleep grinding.
"Rachel I—"
The kiss was soft and cautious. Rachel kissed her like she'd drift away at any moment. It took her a moment to kiss her back, shocking even herself when she didn't pull away. Santana's arms went to her waist when Rachel began to gain confidence, pulling on her full bottom lip and sucking on it. Santana pulled her on top of her, her back hitting the headboard as she sat up fully against it. Rachel was standing on her knees, straddling her lap as she cupped her face to continue her assault. Her mouth traced across her cheeks and to her ear, flicking her tongue over it, sucking hard on it when Santana let out an audible gasp. The hands on Rachel's hips pulled down, and Rachel was sitting directly on her erection, she didn't seem to mind, kissing her way down her neck. She started rocking on her lap, the fabric the only thing between them.
Rachel broke away from her then, standing up and pulling down the sweats she'd let her borrow. She'd watched quietly, not expecting the prude, uptight girl in front of her to be the aggressor. Rachel was staring at her tented shorts, expecting the girl in front of her to drop trow. The answer to her question was barely audible in the silent room.
"No one's ever seen it…"
Rachel took off the shirt then, looking Santana directly in the eyes.
"No one's ever seen me either…"
Santana looked at her. She was tiny, but toned and gorgeous and… sexy. She was trying to tell herself how wrong this entire thing was; that she couldn't be caught in a million years with Rachel Berry in her bed. At the same time her penis jumped, apparently eager for the interaction. And she couldn't help but appreciate how good Rachel was making her feel, especially about her insecurities. She didn't open up this way to anyone. It was frightening and exhilarating to her now that she felt comfortable enough to do it with Rachel. She stood too, facing away from Rachel as she removed her shorts. She was wishing that the lights from her backyard illuminating her bedroom would play into her favor as she turned to face her. She tossed her shirt and pulled the messy bun of hair out. She shook her hands through it, her chest rising and falling heavily, her eyes shifting between the bed and her now discarded shorts on the floor. Rachel walked around the bed, her eyes still looking directly into Santana's face. She stood in front of her, pulling her by her fingertips into another soft kiss.
Feeling her skin against her erection made her feel like she was going to blow a load, she shrunk away at the hip, her hands daintily tracing her hip bone, kissing her back with no abandon. Rachel broke the kiss then, maneuvering them so that Santana's knees were pressed against the edge of her bed.
"I've never done…anything like this, Santana. But I really, really want to right now."
Santana didn't stop her from pushing her down onto the bed. Rachel lay next to her, tracing her hands over her breasts, stopping and kissing the scars from her surgery, her sides, her belly button. She got off the bed and settled between Santana's legs on the floor, her carpet comfortable against her knees. She kissed her erection, her swollen, warm lips puckering against the brutally hard organ. She put her into her mouth, swallowing the head, and tentatively sucked in her cheeks.
Santana didn't know what to feel at first. The wetness of her tongue doing circles around the tip of her penis was sending her into fits. The suction of her mouth as she moved above her made her eyes roll into the back of her head. When she looked back down at her, her abdomen tight from holding the position, Rachel took that moment to swallow the entire length of her. She gripped her head in place, emptying herself into the back of her throat. She fell back, hot and sticky, exhausted and elated. She heard Rachel swallow the remnants she had left in her mouth, and she stirred only when the weight of the bed shifted.
Santana could have slept then, and she could have stayed asleep until her therapy session at noon the next day. But she rolled onto her side, draping her arm across Rachel's stomach, letting her hand wander over the maintained hair there, and over her clitoris. Rachel breathed in, biting her lip when Santana started to circle it, dipping down her slit to wet her fingertip and swipe back across the rock hard nub.
"Are you still a virgin?"
Rachel nodded, seemingly too aroused to trust her voice.
Santana fell to the edge of the bed where Rachel had sat moments before. She inhaled her scent, and buried her face inside the canyon of her thighs. She lapped at her clit, her eyes staring intently into Rachel's. She was finally in her element, and no longer vulnerable under the glare of the tiny Jewish girl. She was twirling her tongue around her clit, zigzagging her way down to her opening and shoving the length of her tongue into her opening, rolling it while it was inside of her. Her back arched off the bed, her hips pressing into Santana's face and riding it. She drifted back to her clit, working it in insane combinations, slightly upset that the girl under her was not making a sound. She pushed her finger under her chin and slowly pushed into her. She moaned then, low and guttural; Santana worked both her hand and mouth. She was panting against the sheets, pulling a pillow to her face and screaming into it. Santana felt her g-spot, curling her finger against it as she urged her orgasm out. She bucked finally, a wet, hot liquid squirting and pooling on her chest and leaking down her body. She hadn't expected it, and the look of horror on Rachel's face was priceless. She fell against the bed, covering her blushing face with her palms.
Santana stood, grabbing her tank top and wiping her body down. She wiped the insides of Rachel's thighs and went to her bureau to get another shirt. She pulled on the shorts on the floor, and put the blanket back on the bed. Rachel was so redressing, and they sat beside each other, their backs against the headboard. Rachel's arms crossed over her chest, her hair disheveled and curly, the front of it tucked behind her ears.
"I—"
"That—"
They sat in silence.
"That was hot."
Santana smiled at her as she spoke, and all the tension in the room dissipated.
"Was I …any good?"
Santana shrugged, a smirk playing on her lips.
"Best I ever had."
They snuggled under the blankets again, Santana thinking of all the things she could say in the morning to explain away her case of temporary insanity.
End of Chapter 6