.
Now painting rainbows on my ugly face
.

She gets back from work Friday morning and tries to remind herself that she just has one more day of work until she gets to enjoy a day off.

And it should be a good one. Quinn should be arriving in town this afternoon, and on Saturday night, they're all going to go see Rachel's show; she and Kurt had arranged to both be off that evening.

After tiredly washing her face and brushing her teeth, Santana steps cautiously into the bedroom. She and Rachel may not wake each other up often, but that doesn't mean Santana doesn't do her best to be quiet.

But when she glances over toward Rachel's bed, she realizes…it's empty.

This is weird. This doesn't happen. She glances around. No shoulder bag. She goes back out to the living room. Rachel's coat is gone. But there's no way Rachel will have left the house already. She may be an early riser, but not this early much anymore. It's not even seven. Even if she did wake up at six, she'd still be at the apartment, in the shower or something.

Something just feels wrong about this, and Santana sends a text.

Tana: Where r u? Did u leave the apt
already today? Let me know.

She stands in the living room staring at her phone for several minutes, and when a response isn't forthcoming, irrational worry propels her over to Kurt's door, where she knocks firmly several times.

She hears a little groan, and a "what?" before long moments of shuffling finally bring Kurt over to his door. He cracks it open, blinking at her in tight boxer-briefs and an undershirt, "What?" he growls again.

"Where's Rachel?" she asks.

He blinks slowly a few more times and unconsciously tries to smooth his hair. "She's…not here?"

"No…" Santana says slowly, "She had her show last night and I left for work before she would have headed home. You were supposed to meet her, remember?"

"Oh. Right," Kurt shakes his head a little, "She went to the cast party after her show. I told her to call and wake me when she was on her way home." He frowns and turns back into his room to pick up his phone. Shaking his head, he reports, "She didn't call."

Santana gnaws her lip, "Ugh, you told her to wake you up? You know she wouldn't do that." She unlocks her own phone and calls Rachel. It goes straight to voicemail. She shuts her eyes anxiously, "No answer. Straight to voicemail."

They stare at each other a moment and Kurt's exhausted eyes slowly become as panicked as Santana's.

"Um. Okay," he says, "We should see if we can contact any of her castmates. Maybe through Facebook?"

"Good idea," Santana agrees, but as Kurt starts to leave his room, she rolls her eyes, "But cover up, Jesus, Kurt, I don't need to see the outline of your junk in those boy panties."

Kurt rolls his eyes and gets his pajama pants, but Santana's crudeness seems to have lessened their panic somewhat. They sit together on the couch, both clutching their phones, and are just starting to sort through Rachel's Facebook friends on Santana's computer when Santana's phone buzzes.

Berry: I'm almost home. I stayed the
night at the cast party. Sorry if you were
worried!

Santana slumps back against the couch. "She stayed the night there. She's on her way home now."

Releasing a sigh, Kurt slumps back beside her, "Oh thank god we were worrying for nothing. We really should have known she would do that."

"I suppose," Santana shrugs.

"Well, I'm way too awake to sleep now…" Kurt trails off.

"Me too. I'm gonna wait up for her now. Besides, maybe she got some," Santana wiggles her eyebrows and Kurt releases a sharp laugh.

They don't have the energy to do much more than stare at the blank TV screen until Rachel gets there, which takes about ten minutes; she must have texted after getting out from underground. When they hear the key in the door, they both perk up like a pair of bored puppies and they watch as Rachel comes into the apartment.

They falter for a moment at that point, and Kurt utters, "Oh my god, I'm having flashbacks to that makeover I gave her sophomore year…"

"Not helping," Santana snaps, elbowing him, but whatever he did to her back then, she supposes he's right. Rachel looks…bad. Her hair is a mess of tangles and limp curls, her face is covered in blotchy, smeared heavy makeup. When she takes off her winter coat, they see she's wearing her little black dress, which is rumpled and hangs awkwardly off her. She doesn't even seem to react to Kurt's comment about her appearance, just kind of focuses on the task of hanging up her coat with exhaustion evident on her face.

"Hey," Santana greets awkwardly, sitting forward on the couch. "Are you alright?"

Rachel flashes a very strained smile and for a moment it looks like she's going to attempt to gloss over her appearance and obvious mood, but then her face twists and crumples slightly and she speaks quietly, "I…don't know."

Santana's heart starts hammering with anxiety all over again, because, well, she knows what a walk of shame looks like, but it's not this. She's about to stand up, but Kurt beats her to it, approaching Rachel cautiously and hooking his arm with hers to guide her to the couch. Rachel blinks and gives him a watery smile before settling on the couch between him and Santana.

"What happened, sweetie?" Kurt asks softly, his eyes, much clearer than they were moments before, tracing over her face. Santana reaches for the blanket they keep draped over the back of the couch to drape over Rachel awkwardly. Since the landlord pays for the heat, it's never that warm in the apartment, generally just comfortable, but Rachel looks cold in that little black dress, which, seriously, is really only appropriate for summer…

"I went to the cast party," Rachel begins hesitantly, "It was being thrown by Gretchen, you know, that girl I don't really like? Well, I can't say that anymore, I don't think, I think we may have reached an understanding, but regardless…" Kurt nods encouragingly as Rachel collects herself, while Santana masks her impatience. "I…Jeremy accompanied me. In a context that felt…date-like, I suppose. Though we never made that quite clear, and…Kurt, Blaine said something to me recently, about how the best way to get over your ex is to get under the next, so that was on my mind."

Kurt sucks on his teeth briefly and shakes his head, "That does sound like Blaine. So, you and Jeremy?"

Rachel nods, barely. "Yes. I wanted to take Blaine's advice, because it sounded good, and Jeremy is the type of guy I should really click with, you know? He's sweet, and handsome, and talented…"

"But?" Santana prompts.

Shoulders slumping, Rachel appears to shrink in on herself as she answers, "It just…when we attempted to be physical, it didn't go well. It just…nothing felt good, nothing felt right. Like I was going through the motions."

Santana meets Kurt's eye, and he looks concerned and bewildered, but she can't help but take what Rachel's saying a different direction. Maybe it's Brittany's assumption that something could happen between her and Rachel, but Santana kind of blithely states, "Well, don't take this as an accusation, Rachel, but that sounds an awful lot like the sex I used to have with Puck." Both sets of eyes snap to her at this, Rachel's looking kind of scared, Kurt's looking like are you serious? So Santana rolls her eyes a little and says, "Come on, Kurt. You have to know what I mean. I mean, compare when you were fooling around with Britts to the first time you and Captain Eyebrows got down and dirty. Big fucking difference, right?'

"I am not discussing my sex life with you," Kurt huffs. Rachel is frowning thoughtfully, and looks like she's about to say something before Kurt turns to her, "Sweetie, look, it's okay. You and I have both had sex for questionable reasons before, and that's all this is."

"We didn't have sex," Rachel mumbles, "Just…hands. I thought I wanted to have intercourse, but…no…and when he touched me…" she shakes her head, "It felt wrong."

"What do you mean about having sex for questionable reason?" Santana directs at Kurt.

He exchanges a look with Rachel, who winces slightly. "Fine," he huffs, "for the sake of context. Rachel and I both lost our virginities under…not the best of circumstances, retrospectively."

"Well, yeah," Santana grumbles, "Rachel did lose hers to Finn fucking Hudson right after we all told her not to."

Rachel looks a little hurt, "You don't sound surprised. That that's when I chose to give myself to him, I mean."

"Uh, no. You think he could keep his mouth shut after getting horizontal with you? Everybody knew."

If possible, Rachel looks even more hurt, but she takes a breath. "It's not just that it was Finn. I was in love with him, Santana. It didn't matter to me how good…or not…he was. It's just…" she shakes her head, "It took me awhile to realize this, but I don't think I made the decision for the right reasons. It was all about…doing better in West Side Story, and making him feel good about himself. I didn't choose to do it as an expression of the love we shared."

Kurt nods, "Yes, it was much the same for Blaine and myself. And…he and I were not ready." Kurt looks away, his cheeks tinged pink, "If I may be a little crude, we attempted…penetrative sex our first time. I was the bottom because, obviously, that's what everyone expects of me, right?" He gestures to himself, rolling his eyes. "It was…well, we were not cautious, and it was painful for me, and frustrating for him. We didn't entirely know what we were doing and…we kind of tried to force it." He winces at the memory. "Blaine did manage to finish, but I was nowhere near aroused at that point. I just wanted to whole encounter over with. He felt awful that it hadn't been good for me."

"You didn't tell me it had been that bad," Rachel breathes at him.

Kurt blinks a few times and shrugs helplessly, and both girls let him continue, because he seems to need to. "Afterwards, Blaine felt so terrible that it hadn't gone well for me that he starting researching. You know how he likes to think he's knowledgeable about gay issues. He started reading a lot of Dan Savage. You guys know him?"

Santana shakes her head, while Rachel murmurs, "Sounds kind of familiar."

"He did the 'It Gets Better' project. I really admired him for that, and when I discovered the project, and it really helped me to think positive, I looked into his other stuff, but his sex advice just…I didn't like it. It was too crude and disturbing for me. Blaine loved it, however, and told me so much more than I ever wanted to know about other people's sexual practices. But he did learn things that helped us. Such as, apparently it's not all that unusual for a gay man to not be particularly into," he fumbles with his words before rapidly uttering, "anal sex. So we learned to explore other things, that we realized were just as much sex and were loving expressions that fit us better." Kurt smiles, faintly, "so yes. Our first time was not what it should be, but we learned."

Rachel grimaces a little and says, "I wish I could say the same for Finn and myself. The sex was…it was…well, if I didn't love him I would probably have been bored to tears. But it didn't change. And…I hate to say it, but as time went on, sexual experiences with him began to resemble something like a chore. Something else I needed to do to keep my life ordered."

"Ringing Puckerman bells," Santana mutters. Kurt glares at her a little again, and she rolls her eyes, "Look, okay, I'm gay. I'm a lesbian who has had a ton of sex with a ton of guys. I wouldn't have done it if I wasn't getting something out of it. There were aspects I enjoyed, okay, even if it was just that it fucking felt good and was more fun than just using my hand, right? I fooled myself for a long time and with so many guys. Someone once told me it's about who you love rather than who you're attracted to, so Rachel, I'm not saying you're gay. I'm just saying that if the men feel wrong, maybe something about them is wrong. And there's a slim chance it could be because they're men."

"And I'm saying that accusing Rachel of being a closet case is impolite and completely delusional," Kurt sniffs.

"It's okay," Rachel says quietly, then pauses for a long moment, licking her lips and softly informing them, "Santana is not entirely off-base."

Santana's eyebrows shoot up, intrigued, while Kurt stares openmouthed. "In what possible way?" he asks sharply.

Rachel looks away from him, obviously hearing the distrust in his voice. She focuses her gaze on her hands, curled together in a painful-looking knot in her lap. "What I mean is that…I am attracted to men, very much so, and very much emotionally and romantically. But I am also attracted to women, and…recently have begun to wonder if I'm not…more attracted to them physically and sexually."

Santana blows out a breath and leans back on the couch hard. Really, nothing could have prepared her for…for that. That admission and that mess. What the hell does that even mean?

"You're bisexual?" Kurt squeaks in shock, staring at her like…like she's a Rachel-bot, like on Buffy.

"I don't know," Rachel answers honestly, "Because Santana's right, it's really about who you love, and I'm fairly certain I'm incapable of falling in love with a woman. I just…don't think that kind of romantic attraction is possible for me."

"You're bisexual," Kurt negates, his nostrils flaring, "For the love of god, Rachel, why didn't you tell me?"

Rachel turns hot eyes to him, "Maybe because of how you're reacting now? Kurt, you don't even believe bisexuality exists!"

Kurt glares for a brief moment, his jaw tight, before looking away. "I doubt the existence of bisexual men. If I ever meet one that convinces me and that I don't think is just a horny teenage boy who is happy to get a blowjob from any mouth, then I might change my mind. I've never doubted bisexual women exist."

Rachel and Santana exchange a bewildered glance at Kurt's strangely specific description, but then Rachel is gazing at him with hurt on her face and she speaks softly, "Okay, fine, but I've never heard you say it. But I also didn't tell you or anyone because…I had to come to terms with it myself, okay? This has been a part of me for a long time, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. In fact…there was this time when I was eleven…" she stops, chews her lip for a moment, and while Kurt still sits beside her, struggling to mask his obvious discomfort, Santana lays a hand on her arm.

"What happened when you were eleven?" she asks.

Rachel smiles at her, exceedingly brief, and murmurs, "I chose men." Santana feels her face harden in some irrational mixture of horror and anger, but Rachel isn't looking at her or Kurt anymore, she's back to staring at her lap, and she continues, "It didn't feel like it at the time, but retrospectively…that's what happened. My fathers, they…they always told me to be myself, and they would love me regardless. And I always knew that, I always believed that, but somehow, it wasn't enough. And I got the mail when I came home from school one day, and there was a pamphlet inside, from a church. I don't even remember which one, just a church in Lima, and the pamphlet was made by their pastor."

Santana winces sympathetically, already sensing what kind of pamphlet this is, and steals a glance at Kurt, whose sour expression is finally softening sympathetically. They share a guilty glance as Rachel continues.

"And being naturally curious, I read it. It contained probably what you're expecting—all kind of socio-political rhetorical propaganda about how gay couples are incapable of properly raising children. But there was a section in which the pastor implored my fathers personally to change the way they were raising me, and the pastor said, basically, that they were dooming me to a life of abnormal sexuality because of the lack of a female parent in my life. That I was going to grow up emotionally and sexually stunted because I didn't have a mother."

Kurt shudders, and Santana breathes out a seething breath through her nose, and both have ready retorts at the tips of their tongues, but rein it in. They know Rachel knows how crazy this pamphlet was.

"The problem is, at the time…it rang very true to me. I was beginning puberty—behind all my peers, because, as you know, I am a bit younger, and so I already felt stunted physically. And I wasn't good at making friends, I really, really wished I had a mother at that age, because everything was so hard and confusing and my fathers were having a lot of trouble relating to my teenage girl concerns. And worse…I had begun to notice that I felt…funny around girls sometimes. At that age, bourgeoning sexuality is embarrassing enough that I didn't want anyone to know anyway, but this…" She shakes her head with a little laugh, "There was one part in the pamphlet, talking about how because I was unable to bond with my mother, that I would seek connections with other women instead, connections that would become muddled by puberty to become sexual. And I thought, oh my God, this is happening to me, because I had never fantasized about girls whatsoever throughout my childhood. All my romantic fantasies were about boys. Still are."

"…you really believed that?" Santana asks, surprised to find her voice shaky.

"It was very persuasive to a young, motherless girl, who was already lonely and whose sexual feelings were not developing the way she'd expected."

"So you…chose."

Rachel sighs, "Yes. So I suppose you could say I chose men. I was interested in them—I had such a huge crush on Matt Rutherford at that age. Did you know he was in my ballet class back then? Before his father pulled him out of ballet, I think. He was one of the first 'leading men' in my life, you could say. He was much the same as we know him—strong, silent type—but he was talented and dancing with him felt good. But, I suspected he was gay, which kind of ruined the fantasy for me—my fathers had always taught me to be aware of the fact that so many leading men in my Broadway career would be gay. Regardless, that was why I told myself was why I was noticing the good female dancers in my class."

"You know, I always wondered that about him," Kurt muses, "He tripped my gaydar, too."

Santana snorts, "Seriously? He's straight," she states decisively.

"How do you know?" Kurt counters. Santana just gives him a long look until he turns pink and murmurs, "Oh."

"Yeah," Santana smirks, "Been there, done that."

Kurt shakes his head and turns back to look at Rachel, "So your choice was…?"

Rachel shrugs a little, "It was more of a subconscious choice to ignore the part of me that was interested in staring at women's bodies. To focus on the part of me that wanted to be swept off my feet by a talented man. But I suppose, by electing to lock away that other part of myself, I chose essentially men. And rejected any kind of bisexual label."

"You still reject that," Santana points out.

Rachel shrugs, "I just don't think it fits if I can't love women."

"It fits," Kurt says firmly, "Because your feelings are sexual."

"Semantics," Rachel retorts, but tiredly, "It's my identity." She sighs, "But…yes. I suppose I am…a bit bisexual."

"I'm just still baffled," Santana admits, "That this isn't something you'd embrace once you got to, say, high school or something. You had to have known that pamphlet was bullshit by then."

Rachel shrugs a bit helplessly, "I suppose I did, yes, but I had so successfully suppressed that part of myself that I was able to write off any need to come out in any way. Besides which, do you really think I'd want to do that to myself? Give people another reason to torture me?"

Santana winces, noting that Rachel uses the word "people" rather than "you." Somehow, glossing over it doesn't make her feel any better.

Apparently, she's not the only one with angsty thoughts, because abruptly, Rachel is crying, "I had such an awful time throughout most of high school," she admits brokenly, and though it's not news in the slightest sense, Santana feels a fresh wave of pain and guilt. Kurt wraps an arm around Rachel, who sobs a bit more, "Even if I'd admitted it to myself then, how much I enjoyed looking at girls, I never would have told anyone. The bigots would blame my fathers, and," she rounds on Santana suddenly, "Even you. Even you would not have acknowledged that perhaps we have it in common. You would have tortured me."

Santana's hand flies to her mouth to stifle a sob, and she barely registers Rachel mirroring the action, apparently shocked by her own outburst, but Santana just shakes her head furiously, "No, no, you're right, I would have. I would have made you life even more of a hell than it was. Quinn, too. She and I were just so fucked up about sexuality in different ways, repressed and making bad choices, and anyone brave enough to own their sexuality would have infuriated us. But, god, Rachel, if you had…it would have torn Brittany and me apart. She would have loved knowing you and her had something in common, and would have gotten so mad at me for being terrible to you for something she also was." Santana swallows, the thought of Brittany destroying her ability to stay on the subject, "She's just…so sweet," she moans brokenly, "I mean, she has a mean streak when she thinks she needs to protect something, even if that something is just what she thinks the truth is, and she…she was never all that crazy about what Quinn and I got up to, because, because she spent elementary school dealing with people calling her stupid because they didn't understand that she learns things in a different way. And when we became friends, I did my best to protect her, but she never quite forgot, and it hurt her. She never would have let me do it, and I never would have backed down, and I can't imagine my life without her," she's sobbing freely now, feeling so stupid as she does it, but then there are hugs, and even Kurt has a few tears on his face.

When they pull back from each other and wipe their faces, Santana just murmurs, "I'm so sorry."

"You know I've already forgiven you, Santana," Rachel answers sincerely.

Kurt breaks the tension to say cautiously, "Forgive me, Rachel, but you've…really never felt a romantic attraction to a woman? That just seems to strange."

Rachel twists her mouth a little and says, "Once I thought there was…potential. But I'm glad there wasn't. It would never work out anyway; there's no way she'd want me. We're better off as friends."

Seeing Kurt's morbidly curious expression and Rachel's expression of clear regret, Santana interrupts the impending awkward storm to say, "Okay, but you've totally wanted to fuck girls before. So who was it? Me, Britts or Q?"

"I-I'm sorry?" Rachel stutters.

Santana chuckles, "Come on. We were the Unholy Trinity. Everyone who was attracted to girls wanted at least one of us, because I was the boobs, Britts was the legs and Q was the ass. So which were you into?"

"Santana," Kurt says somewhat sharply, and when she looks away from Rachel's blushing face, he's giving her a very pointed look that clearly says, shut the hell up.

"Fine, fine," Santana huffs, "You don't have to answer, I get it. Guess it would be awkward if you wanted to fuck your roommate, her girlfriend, or your best friend. Best to leave those thoughts behind…"

Rachel seems incredibly relieved, and just muses, "I'm tempted to do just that. I think what I've learned from my encounter with Jeremy is that I cannot enjoy sex if there aren't very strong romantic feelings attached. And since I'm incapable of feeling that way toward women, I believe I find myself in the same place I started."

Santana makes a wounded expression, "You mean we're not going pussy hunting together?"

The ensuing laughter settles it.

.
Some ghastly predicament of mine
.

It's pretty difficult to think about sleep after that, so Kurt offers to make Santana some herbal tea to help her relax. She nods gratefully, and Rachel gets up off the couch to get a shower.

Kurt sits next to her a few moments later with two steaming mugs. Santana sips, winces at the heat. They sit in silence a few moments, listening to the water running in the bathroom, while they both attempt to wind down; Kurt also intends to get a bit more sleep before his afternoon work shift starts.

Santana side-eyes him and says, "Okay, I've gotta ask. What the fuck?"

Kurt twists his mouth and retorts, "If this is about my opinions on bisexuality, I don't want to hear it."

"What? No. You think whatever the hell you want. But why'd you stop me from teasing Rachel about who she's attracted to? Hell, your and my friendship is entirely about teasing each other for being fucking gay as hell."

Kurt stares at her hard for a few moments and then asks, "Are you serious?"

"Would we be having this conversation if I weren't?"

Kurt glances at the bathroom door, as if not trusting that the sound of running water actually indicates Rachel is still in there, and lowers his voice, "Because it's clear that the person Rachel thought there could be romantic potential with is you."

Jaw dropping, Santana falls back hard against the couch for the second time that morning. "What the fuck?" she asks.

"Come on, it's obvious," Kurt lectures, "You're better off as friends—she was thrilled to befriend you—she's sure you wouldn't want her because you have Brittany and everyone can see that's a forever match. And she didn't want to tell you. I mean, this is Rachel Berry. Do you really think she'd be shy about telling you if she'd been attracted to Quinn or Brittany? It's the only logical conclusion."

"Fuck," Santana mutters.

A/N: Chapter titles from Passion Pit, "Little Secrets," and Purity Ring, "Obedear."