A/N - Since there was faberry in the last chapter, its only fair to have pezberry in this one.
The One That Got Away
The fourth time Rachel kissed a girl, she had sworn off alcohol and been on a cleanse for about a month and a half, preparing for her debut as second lead for their Junior Production at NYADA. Trying to focus on school and the play and not on herself and that hole she feels within that is only getting bigger each second of each day.
The entire inane situation, all of it, just making her irritable and to be honest more of a facsimile of Santana, at the height of her bitchy reign at McKinley than anyone else she could think of. Sniping at everyone including her Director and costars and actually earning her a nickname that she neither likes nor fully deserves but just accepts because she thinks she just needs to get through this year and maybe, (she hopes and prays), it would be better and she wouldn't feel so lost.
And then she actually turned up and Rachel really was lost.
Two Years Ago
So she completely ignores the pounding on her dorm room door, not even bothering to say anything as she scrambles to cram all her accumulated stuff into the eight half-filled boxes scattered around the room. She could have moved out sophomore year except in the back of her mind, she always felt that maybe she'd get a visit from the few people she'd given her address to. And Mercedes and Mike did turn up, as did Tina and Artie.
She would never admit that she was keeping track and ever hopeful that the one last person she had scribbled her address down for would also eventually find her way there. Because how difficult was it really to take the Broadway subway from NYU, the name in itself a big frigging clue. But staying in campus housing for two years was enough and maybe she really did need a change.
Maybe accepting that hoping and wishing would never get her what she wants and accepting that, was the first step. Only, she hears that voice accompanying the loud knocks and it sends a frisson of anticipation through her that almost makes her lose her footing when she turns around to stare at the door.
"Berry, open the damn door."
She can already picture the sneer and wonders, actually pictures Santana in her mind, leaning against the door jamb in the always too short cheerios red skirt. It stops her from opening the door because Rachel knows that sometimes, her imagination was way better than her reality.
The only time that was proven wrong was last year but the aftermath from that encounter was something that she knew she didn't want to experience again.
"Rachel." But it's really the way Santana says her name because she's never heard it in that particular voice, not in jest or frustration, just enunciating it, saying it aloud like they were friends.
Rachel opens the door not sure what to expect except for the rush of anticipation as she remembers that first kiss.
She sees Santana Lopez standing there, her foot scuffing the worn rug that Rachel had snagged from home, her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her leather jacket, and that somewhat familiar expression on her face that Rachel has pegged somewhere between pissed and infinitely miserable.
"So instead of coffee, I want a drink or five." There's no hello or how's things? Or god forbid, even ,'looking good Berry' said in a low husky voice that makes her toes tingle each time she thinks of it even though the ache in her heart that takes over soon after, makes it seem like torture.
"It's been two years." Actually, just shy of that, seven hundred and sixteen days to be exact but hey, she was the only one counting in her head and maybe it was better out than in as she stares defiantly back at Santana. "What do you want?" channeling the Latina was easy when she was standing toe to toe with her; it was surprisingly like looking in a mirror. Two sad expressions don't make a happy one but misery apparently really loved company.
"I want a drink and you look like you could use one too." There is still a bit of bite in Santana's voice or maybe Rachel is just projecting but it's not like what's she's saying isn't true. Only Rachel knows that even though alcohol may improve her short term outlook, it wasn't really going to fill that hole she's been trying to ignore since last year.
Rachel weighs her responses swiftly and finally she stands there and laughs, a big belly laugh, knowing that the jokes on her but even Santana's increasingly pissed look is just making her laugh more as tears stream out and she's laugh crying or was it cry laughing since the situation is as far from funny as she could get and this was her defense mechanism kicking in because her first reaction was just to cry.
She sees Santana staring at her before turning on her heel to go back the way she came. And Rachel knows she needs to make a choice. Stay and pack or go and lose what little dignity she had left. Simple choice really as she grabs her pea coat and her wallet, before following Santana down the stairs.
#$#$#$#$#
Rachel tells herself she's not counting when the bartender puts the fourth glass of wine in front of Santana and exchanges her half-finished ice tea for another. "So how's pre law?" So far, she's got two 'maybes', a 'not a chance in hell' and a couple of grunts and one 'Are you fucking kidding me' look to all the questions that she's posed to Santana.
The Latina's only focus really on gulping down the pinot noir and catching the eye of the bartender as soon as she finished in order to get another. And her response to that question being a shrug of her shoulders before she finally takes in Rachel, looking at the brunette up and down.
Rachel's hair's longer and she's lost some weight, probably more than she should but she does sound the same and the only question Santana really has is whether she taste the same as well.
Rachel knows when she's being judged and she resist the urge to look away because she finally picks up on that one want of Santana's that's suddenly so clear. Maybe it's because she's not drinking and can discern every look and understand that some questions cannot be posed but needed to be answered nonetheless.
So she braces her hands on the bar top as she leans forward, this kiss not as quick as her first, because she telegraphs all her movements, holding Santana's gaze before looking down at her lips, the initial contact made, so feather light before she pushes forward, her hands cupping Santana's face as she kisses the hell out of her.
Coming apart only because she realized that she needed air in her lungs and passing out in the bar round the corner was almost as stupid as kissing Santana in said bar. And allowing herself one stupid thing was going to be her limit for the day.
Only Santana seems to have a very different idea as she grabs on to Rachel's hand, flinging a fifty dollar note on the bar top and pulling her back towards her dorm. It's only when they get to the traffic light does she pull away, her hands going around herself because she still feels like reaching out otherwise.
"Why are you here?"
The question tentative and really not Rachel Berry-like at all but truth be told, she really is lost and just needs some kind of direction, a map of some kind maybe, something to let her find her way back.
"You asked me to come." Santana's words like a beacon of sorts, not completely true because there were no words, just an address on a piece of paper but the invitation was implied and apparently finally accepted.
They barely make it into the room, a tangle of limbs as they crashed against the wall, Santana's arms supporting her even as her legs curled around the Latina's waist. Santana carries her into the room, Rachel's arms around her neck as they kiss, tongues dueling, even as Santana bites down on Rachel's lower lip, wanting to do that ever since she opened the door.
Rachel breathes her in and it triggers so much heat pooling within even as she feels teeth scraping and nipping without, hands pulling at her clothes that she doesn't even care if the door is closed or maybe not, just needing to feel every inch of Santana as she pulls off her jacket and t-shirt, thankful for the clement weather that meant less layers of clothes to remove.
But a naked Santana was so worth the wait and it's a multitude of sensations, not new but just long dormant and all Rachel wants to do is not slow down, her fingers working feverishly, hands exploring ridges and curves, as she kisses Santana each time she finds a patch of bare skin. Each taste so different from the one before and finally Rachel doesn't care as she loses herself.
#$#$#$#$
She blinks open her eyes and freezes because what she expects to see and what she actually sees are just two so very different things that she really does feel like maybe she's finally gone off the edge. Started hallucinating because she shouldn't have given up alcohol and no self hating twenty one year old drama student would have except for her.
But even as she blinks for the twentieth time (she does actually count), there's a still a hand laying across her abdomen, attached to a softly snoring (oh my goddess, she's actually snoring) Santana.
And Rachel does not know what to do as she lays there, idly following the spider cracks on her ceiling, as she tries to go over conversation starters in her head. She's about eighty per cent through with the almost perfect way of asking Santana to breakfast that involves mentioning bagels and a really funny cat story, when reality hits like it normally does.
"Tell me you have some aspirin." Santana pops open an eye to look at her, her words almost slurred as she slowly gets up, her back to Rachel. She can hear her rooting around for her clothes and Rachel just keeps quiet when Santana pulls on her 'I'm Glad You Came' joke t shirt her first and only girlfriend gave to her.
She does however grab some water and puts two aspirin into Santana's outstretch hand before retreating to the furthest side of the room as she braces herself, telling herself that at least she gets some closure this time.
Santana dry swallows the pills because her hands are shaking and she can't quite open the bottled water. She does not even consider asking Rachel for help because what she was probably going to do say to her was more damage than she should inflict without asking for any more favors.
Santana closes her eyes at the word, because last night wasn't a favor, it was intense and raw and she felt, she felt something that she just cannot verbalize. She hears Rachel clear her throat and use that damn tentative voice that she really, truly hates more than she hates what she needs to say next.
"What made you come now?"
She does consider lying because she knows she's good at it and can actually get away with it only, Rachel deserves the truth and she knows she deserve the look of hate that would follow.
"She's engaged. Her mom sends out these quarterly family emails. I got put on her list junior year when …" When she sang that song and Brittany finally, absolutely, irrevocably understood that she did love her. "He's a cadet pilot. They met because his sister was in one of her dance classes."
She can feel the tears roll down her face but cannot bring herself to wipe them off although she does turn away, staring out of Rachel's dorm window instead of at the beautiful brunette that she's making stand in the corner of her own room.
"The wedding's not until she graduates but they wanted to announce the engagement and share the happy news." each word in each sentence running on to the next, no inflection in her voice as she tells Rachel exactly what she had been used for. She wants to say sorry, to explain that it wasn't her intention but deep down, she can't be sure that it wasn't one of the reasons that finally gave her impetus to turn up at Rachel's door two years later.
Santana had over the course of the seven hundred days or so contemplated reaching out but didn't know what to say and didn't really feel like apologizing because it did feel wrong to say sorry for a kiss that even if she didn't initiate, she really did enjoy. So she stands feeling sorry even if she cannot verbalize any of it.
And instead of volatile angry words or looks of utter hatred, all she sees is this sad smile gracing Rachel's face even as her hands go around her middle and she blinks her eyes as if chasing away any tears.
"Did it help you forget?" Rachel's question direct and Santana knows she needs to look at Rachel when she answers it. But there really are no more words so she nods because for that one night, she did.
Rachel remembers soft touches and the feel of a hug, whispered words, blond hair and hazel eyes and she really wished she didn't. "Me too."
Maybe using each other to get lost for a short time was ok.
End Part 3