#or maybe he would just see it as an opportunity to openly cannibalize others

[grahamcore]

a zombie apocalypse would have hannibal pissed off sooo bad like imagine you wake up one day and all the food has gone rotten overnight. he would seriously be in a pickle

[purrpickle]

Random Pezberry Thought of the Day #332

A/N: So parts of this were featured in previous RPTOTDs, but this quickly (and lengthily!) veers off from them. Enjoy some more amazing @thedeadflag​ (and me) awesomeness! :D Just, uh, be warned - FEELS ahead.

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purrpickle sent a post Every Time

jupiterjames:

ao3: they were trapped in a blizzard, a single vacancy at the motel with only one bed. What will happen between them?

me: *clicking on the fic* omg what will happen between them?!

*sparkly eyes*

thedeadflag 

XD that's me 10000%

purrpickle

...I just had the thought of Santana, forced in close to Rachel, one of her first thoughts being that Rachel's nightly routine smelled fucking GOOD on Rachel's skin.

There was no way Rachel was allowed to smell so good. Was RUDE.

thedeadflag

It was rude and obscene and maybe she'd put on a totally appropriate display of aggression like physical intimidation via standing close to Rachel and being in her space. To non-verbally express how rude she felt it all was, and definitely not to, you know, be able to smell her better

purrpickle

...Which is shattered later, of course, when Santana's half asleep, Rachel sprawled all over her with Santana's nose in her neck and Santana mumbles a weak protest that Rachel's not allowed to smell so good.

thedeadflag

But of course. And of course Rachel eventually figures this out. And as much as Rachel absolutely would mentally plan out a speech to Santana about how she doesn't appreciate being harassed for the crime of smelling apparently unexpectedly nice (which of course earns its own subsection in her rebuke), she sees it as a prime opportunity for bonding

purrpickle

And then the lights go out. The power lines are down. And Rachel's terrified, almost shaking, because this is one of those old hotels where the bathroom is actually out in the hall, and she REALLY needs to pee but she doesn't want to go alone.

Santana's like, "Nuh-uh, bitch. I's not going out there with the serial killers, etc. etc."

thedeadflag

But Rachel's being all pushy and getting in her space, and Santana's having a hard time thinking with Rachel smelling illegally fine. And before she knows it, she's getting dragged out of the room and into the hallway, Rachel yelling about her father's connections with the ACLU startling her out of her stupor, but it's too late by then, they're already out of their room and down the hall

purrpickle

Santana's in her underwear, nipples practically falling out as it's SOOOO COLD, while at least Rachel has her camisole and, like, actual pajama shorts because somehow, freakishly, Rachel was prepared for anything - and, like, so what if Rachel had tried to tell her to be prepared too and she'd just tuned it out because she was watching Skin Wars while Rachel rattled annoyingly in her ear through her phone? - but at least they had light courtesy of Rachel's flashlight app, but then Santana realizes Rachel's taking it with her inside the ancient bathroom and going to leave her outside in the hallway, sexy and alone and premo cannibal or ghost bait.

*falling OFF

*not out. *giggle snorts*

thedeadflag

XD

purrpickle

Rachel would only be so lucky.

thedeadflag

Rachel would probably faint tbh

And then lay out an overly wordy half-apology about her reaction, because Santana is a human being, but Santana really ought to have listened to her when she told San to prepare for the trip

Because she, otherwise, would not have had a nip slip :P But yeah, Santana's not staying out in the hall with the serial killers and children of the corn

purrpickle

Oh, she gets a good look when she opens the door and illuminates Santana in front of her, Santana actually in the process of lunging forward and pushing Rachel back into the bathroom and slamming it shut and cursing as she scrabbles for the lock - because she heard a creepy ass noise, okay? But honestly, Rachel had expected a push up bra or something otherwise padded, not the thin thing she got, gloriously putting Santana's cleavage on display and being very, very clear that Santana's cold - "ONLY cold, Berry," Santana growls, "It's not like seeing you in your skivvies is doin' anything for me."

And yes. Thin enough to slip when Rachel hangs onto her in fright, burying her face in her chest. Ooh. Poor Santana. Hot breath right on her sensitive parts.

thedeadflag

And Santana's having an internal conflict over whether to hold her close or push her away until Rachel kind of nuzzles her cleavage, asking if Santana uses cocoa butter, and it's absolutely 100% not the time for any of that when there's probably a crazed lumberjack hunting them down

purrpickle

I want to say it ends up being the hotel owner's dog (let's be real, this is more like a bed and breakfast now, old European style so Santana's also grouchy because they both had to pitch in money to pay for the night and it was very much more expensive than she would have liked), having pushed his way out of the kitchen and roaming the halls. All Santana heard was panting and claws clicking on the floor coming up the stairs, and that's it, she was gonna barge her way into the bathroom - with Rachel fortunately opening the door before she slammed her body into it. "Now is NOT the time, Berry!" Santana hisses, swallowing as Rachel exhales again, making her legs shiver, "We gots to arm ourselves. And turn off that damn light - we'll be seen!"

Rachel NOT AT ALL ON PURPOSE drops her hands to Santana's ass as they wait for the "serial killer" to move on, ears pricked to make sure it doesn't try to break into their room because, for the grace of god, Rachel remembered to bring the key with them and locked it behind her. Santana's body's just warm, okay? And she's sweating a little with cold dread and Rachel's hands slip down her naked, tight back...

thedeadflag

And Santana's about to tell Rachel to get her hands off the goodies, because she swears she hears breathing in the hallway and she needs to focus on that and not how rudely nice it feels to have Rachel pressed up against her and palming her butt, but then there's a bump against the door from the other side (the dog's wagging tail lightly impacting against it, unbeknownst to them) that startles Rachel and suddenly those hands on her ass are squeezing hard

purrpickle

Squeezing hard and pulling Santana into her so their hips knock together and Santana swears Rachel's mouth slides down completely on top of her nipple as she buries her face harder into her chest - also accidental, of course - and Santana's mortified, absolutely MORTIFIED that a low, husky groan leaves her mouth completely involuntarily, and she's freezing and grimacing, it not helped at all by Rachel squeaking and shushing her because she doesn't want to die and they need to be quiet!

But she's also sorry for squeezing Santana's... derriere.

thedeadflag

The seconds that pass after that are agonizingly long, Rachel's hot breath washing over her breast, Berry's hands no longer clutching at her ass but still firmly cupping it, that tiny body pressed her against her and holding them close as they listen for any noise, the muted clacking of feet slowly fading into the distance and down the stairs. 

And as the fear and near-death anxiety slowly leaves Rachel's body with every breath, maybe she finds a particularly ample amount of curiosity filling that vacancy. And maybe Santana's body is gloriously warm, but by the frustrated and mortified expression etched across Santana's face, maybe there's even more heat hiding in those cheeks of hers. Cheeks she might openly consider cute if it wouldn't likely get her defenestrated

purrpickle

Rachel only realizes when Santana's strong hands wrap around her shoulders and pushes her away, that she's still nestled into her. Santana's glaring at her, then telling her it's HER time to use the bathroom, and Rachel's gonna wait outside like a good dwarf, okay. Rachel protests quietly, telling her the serial killer JUST left and what if he turns around? Santana scoffs that that's not HER problem, but unless Rachel has a fetish for watching people pee and a thousand dollars to pay Santana to let her watch, she's out of luck. Finally, her own face burning, Rachel just leaves and tells Santana she can knock on the door when she's done - but ONLY two knocks followed by a pause and then four more so she knows she's not the serial killer - and MAYBE Rachel will let her in. Inside, she's planning on using the time to think about what had just happened and unpack it and figure up a way to apologize for groping Santana like that.

Rachel hears Santana stumble down the hall before the heel of Santana's hand bangs on the door, followed by a sharp curse, then, as Santana's doing the knock Rachel told her to do, Rachel's already answering the door, pulling her inside and closing and locking the door behind her. "Come on, come on, into the bed, Santana Lopez! You're freezing!" Rachel rubs her hands up and down Santana's arms, pointedly keeping her eyes from where the light from her glowing phone shows off her still hard nipples. They dive into the bed, and somehow, grumbling and huffing the whole way, Santana finds herself wrapped around Rachel again, nose buried in her hair, sharing body heat with her ears still pricked for someone trying to break down their door. Rachel STILL smells so good. It's so unfair.

thedeadflag

There are two things that Rachel notices immediately. The first is that for how chilly Santana's extremities were when she pulled San into the bedroom, they quickly turned into a warm cocoon of limbs practically the moment they tumbled into bed. Sure, Santana's torso ran as hot as ever, but Rachel knew her rubbing alone couldn't spur on that sort of warmth that quickly. The second part was that after settling in against each other, Santana huffing and puffing the whole way and still more tense than normal, Rachel couldn't help but feel Santana's heart-rate increase. And sure, there was a statistical probability that there was a serial killer roaming around, but the noise had faded, and as seconds of silence turned into minutes, Santana only seemed more tense, more worked up. Which was bizarre, because as cognizant of the threat outside her room as she was, she couldn't help but feel safe, a swell of relaxation pushing her fear toward the edges of her mind as she breathed Santana in, the strangled moan from earlier echoing in her mind. She hardly even noticed her hands drifting back down to Santana's hind-quarters again before a low half-aborted moan escapes Santana.

purrpickle

((I'm not sure how to work it in here, but I almost want Rachel to put her hand on Santana's forehead and ask her if she's coming down with a fever. XD))

thedeadflag

Haha, okay, but she would. because Santana moaning and feeling overly warm is (in Rachel's mind at least) much more explainable as a fever than, you know, attraction. And Rachel's squirming a bit, trying to gauge Santana's temperature and test her for a fever, and she's making so much noise, and Santana just wants to (A) avoid being murdered, and (B) get some quality Zzzzs, but Rachel's making that impossible, and she's just everywhere, and smelling SO GOOD, and Rachel insists she's sick (Santana insists she's not and she's just sick of Rachel poking and prodding her), and that Santana's coming down with something (which only gets Santana thinking new, dangerously alluring thoughts about going down on Rachel to see if she tastes as good as she smells, which only gets her more flustered because WHY IS THIS HAPPENING)

And maybe Santana's so frustrated that she lets slip, in trying to control the situation, that Rachel needs to calm her skeeterbites and put her hands 'back where they belong', while re-securing Rachel's hold around her (back a half inch or so above her butt) Which of course sends Rachel's mind spinning at a certain B-word in there that suddenly casts a different light on recent happenings

purrpickle

(Is the b word belong?)

(Also yes. Yes to everything.)

thedeadflag

Haha, yes. Because Rachel's insecure, she would wonder if she belonged as a part of Santana's inner circle, someone she counted as a close friend. Someone Santana would willingly involve in her world. And she knows Santana's abrasive and defensive and doesn't always mean what she says, so she's gotten better at not taking it all to heart, but now.... ...Now she's been physically close with Santana for a short time and Santana's already admitted she smells nice, and that she wants Rachel to hold her, and there were moans on two separate occasions (and then light consideration of past interactions over the years of Santana complimenting her, the consistent themes of their duets together, or those intense dark eyes lingering on her in what she thought was anger but might have been something else instead), and maybe a new conclusion is forming as to a far fetched but now not entirely impossible way that Santana considers her. And suddenly the bonding she wanted to accomplish this weekend is cast in a new light. Because Santana's so warm and her heart is racing

purrpickle

Rachel's breathless. She has near perfect breath control, but she's breathless. She's scared, too, but feeling so warm and safe, and she buries her face into Santana's neck, pulling her closer into her. 

"Santana?" she asks softly, feeling like her voice is catching in her throat even if it doesn't sound like that. And Santana grumbles, her heart triple beating as Rachel's soft nose and warm breath brush along her neck. She inhales, almost gritting her teeth as Rachel's scent grows stronger in her nose. "What?" 

"I... I really would like to kiss you, if you were interested."

thedeadflag

And all sorts of curse words are filling her head for being so damned transparent, but Rachel’s so soft, and warm, and smells so damn good, and if this is to be her last night on earth before being murdered by some michael myers slash norman bates wannabe, then maybe kissing the lips she'd spent years admiring wouldn't be the worst way to go out. Maybe kissing Rachel wouldn't be the end of the world, even if it'd probably lead to drama and endless rambling on Rachel's part, meaning a total lack of sleep ahead of her. But with the room as chilled as it was, Santana was in no rush to leave the bed, or the arms of the girl pressed up against her. Santana reluctantly removed an arm around Rachel and gently prods berry's chin up, angling them on path for a collision course. Even in the pitch darkness, Rachel's eyes are just gleaming, making Santana halt a breath away as one last stray defensive, inadvertently illuminating thought fell from her lips. "Fair warning: If you pull cat calendar craziness on me I'll ends you"

purrpickle

Heat and shock ripple through Rachel's chest, and her mouth is pursing open as the thought of SHE'S REALLY SUGGESTING A *RELATIONSHIP*? runs through her, and she's inhaling deeply, eyes wide open and seeing Santana's shining in the light and the squeak of, "Oh-okay," is on the tip of her tongue - and that's how Santana finds her lips, plush and warm and trembling, pursed and pillowing her upper lip, and Santana groans, increasing the pressure, her fingers under Rachel's chin moving forward and down to map out her neck, Rachel's throat muscles swallowing under them.

((I'm just laughing because one part of Santana's mind is sputtering because, "Aren't we hiding from a serial killer? How did it end up like this???"))

thedeadflag

XD yep. Like, she's not one to turn down a hot macking session, especially when Rachel's only getting more and more intense in her kissing as time ticks by, and damn. But still, there was a serial killer, like, right outside their door! She wasn't just hearing things! So it makes her feel like one of those girls she hates in horror movies who are too busy making out or having sex to notice the serial killer creeping up, but damn it, how can she stop?

purrpickle

Not to mention the adrenaline of almost certain death is making both girls more brazen, and it's not long until they're practically rolling all over the bed, gasping and moaning into each other's mouth as each girl takes a turn being on top. They're definitely not cold anymore.

However, when Santana elicits a loud, sharp moan by sucking on Rachel's neck, they both freeze, shocked back into reality.

thedeadflag

You know I'm not sure what idea I like more... Hearing a muted bark from the other side of the hall, letting them know they'd been freaking out over a damned dog this whole time, Santana wanting to go out and scare the thing away but Rachel's arms are snug around her waist, fearful that Santana would kill the poor pup... 

...Or the both of them freezing for a full minute and a half before letting out relieved sighs. Santana telling Rachel to be quiet and putting a hand over Rachel's mouth, only for Rachel to kiss her hand, eyes full of mischief. And Santana's super pumped that Rachel's into it, but now that reality's setting in, she's got all these previously unearthed feels rising to the surface and she's already blabbed on enough tonight, but the idea of this being a one-off and messing things up is already getting kinda scary for her, and she's not sure how to handle that, not when Rachel's usually the one rambling a mile a minute but seems content to just keep kissing, which Santana's not sure how to interpret, and everything just starts feeling so tight in her chest

purrpickle

The second second second second one. Insert even more meaning and emotions into this thing!

thedeadflag

And Rachel, she's too spooked about Santana's disparaging remarks about her wordiness in the past to even approach talking about this, at least not until maybe the morning, but she really, desperately wants to. She just doesn't want to scare Santana away, because ever since their lips brushed against each other's, all these moments in the past have started to click, so many confusing moments in their history and confusing feelings coming under new clarity, and it's all so heavy in her and building and building and all she can do is hold on. As cared as she is of the potential serial killer roaming the property, she's terrified to the bone of losing whatever this is before she had a chance to foster it and get neck deep in it. It's the most frustrated she'd felt because she'd so burdened with all this clarity and with the knowledge that if she put it to words, it'd likely slip right between her fingers. She'd always been a dreamer and she's never let one die on her before, so she wasn't about to start now.

But at the same time, in Santana's head, her composure's chipping away with every second Rachel's not using her big over dramatic words to clarify what she meant to her. Because Rachel was moon-eyed for Finnept and Jessie St. Jackoff right away, incapable of shutting up about their 'burgeoning romantic potential'. Was she not good enough? Did she not measure up? Was she just a warm body and a nice bit of adrenaline-induced entertainment for Berry? And damn it if all of that doesn't have her eyes stinging, forcing her forward to pull Rachel into a kiss to keep Rachel from noticing, to try and derail the path her emotions were on. Maybe if they kissed hard enough, maybe if they touched each other in the right places enough, maybe she could sidestep the persistent presence in her head telling her that, yet again, she wasn't good enough.

purrpickle

(I both love and rue you. This is perfect. Do you think they're in high school here? That's what I was picturing.)

(I ask as I formulate what to add next.)

thedeadflag

I wasn't committed to any particular time frame tbh, but high school was a definite possibility.

purrpickle

I like the idea of high school Pezberry because the sheer drama of it, the intensity of being unsure but WANTING so much.

Rachel's confused, inside. Santana's kisses are almost more... Desperate now. Hot. The girl having taken her hand away and replaced it with her mouth again, body pressing into Rachel's from above, from her chest to her hips, and she's... Like Santana's way of expressing panic at near certain death is getting translated by her hands running up and down Rachel's sides, tangling in her hair, the girl ONE second away from starting to rock into her. And yes, it made Rachel's heart pound, and her body squeeze, as her own hands swept up and down Santana's burning, smooth back, palms catching against her bra, but there was just something... OFF that filtered through the haze inside her own mind.

"W-wait," she gasped - mindful, barely a whisper, unable to stop a whimper when Santana's lips brushed along hers as she dropped her head back to put space between them; undeterred, Santana just moved her attention down Rachel's chin, administering to her neck again, almost as if she'd forgotten it had made Rachel moan before. "Sa-Santana. WAIT." Sure, she was screaming inside her own head that she was going to ruin EVERYTHING now, that can't she just, this ONCE, stop the babbling inside her head - - but this hurts.

thedeadflag

aAaauughhh I am slain! Seriously, this is so good and it hurts so good

purrpickle

I knooooow.

It's the rewarding, GOOD type of painful angst.

thedeadflag

Santana doesn't hear Rachel's first 'Wait'; not really. She's too worked up, too frantic, too in need not to hear it for what she's used it as before...rejection. A soft form of it, perhaps, maybe even a polite one allowing for prospects of improvement. Which is why she moved to Rachel's neck, scraping her lips along its column in frenzied fiery kisses, hands scrabbling against Rachel's expanse, knowing that against all reason and logic, this felt right. This felt right and she didn't want to lose it so quickly. But Rachel's second protest hits her like a railway spike to the heart, pinning her down in breathless agony, waiting for the inevitable late Christmas gift of coal she'd be getting in the form of a roaring ten-tonne full-steam train of rejection. And maybe one of those god damned squeaky whimpers escapes her at the prospect of being trapped in that room to fester in it, what with the storm, and the serial killer outside. And maybe a tear or two fall, and maybe Santana wonders what she's going to do about that because she can't live with Rachel's pity, but she's half a breath from falling apart, and even if this is all just a shameful one-time romp, she wants it too much not to latch onto it. To latch onto Rachel, burying her face in the diva's neck to hide from the scrutiny Berry was sure to unleash on her, even if there'd be no hiding from being told again how she wasn't enough, that this wasn't right. And maybe she just really needed Rachel to either shut up and just hold her tonight without pitying commentary, or to just keep kissing her without pitying commentary because she really fucking didn't need to hear Rachel babble on about how there'd be someone great out there for her in the world, not when she lived in Lima fucking Ohio, not when she always felt so damned lonely, especially since Britt shacked up with the transformer. She'd heard enough about how it 'gets better', she wanted to be okay right now. Why was that so wrong?

purrpickle

When Rachel realized the wetness on her neck isn't just from Santana's lips and tongue, she froze, knowing something truly WAS wrong. "Santana?" she whispered again, hands curling on the cheerleader's shoulders, as if she was about to attempt to push her up, but paused, listening to the both of their heavy, stilted breathing loud in the suddenly cold air of the room. Santana was warm, burning hot on top of her, shoulders trembling, and Rachel wanted to sit up, to curl the shaking girl into her arms, stroke her cheeks and ask her what was wrong... But she knew what was wrong, didn't she? Reality had hit Santana.

Who she was with. Why they were huddled together. Fear came roaring back into Rachel's chest, now emotional and not just for her own mortality. This was wrong. This was all wrong. And in sheer mortification, Rachel could feel tears pricking her own eyes. She was only a teenager, and this was too much. First getting stranded, then the serial killer, then the rather fast-tracked discovery of her feelings. She didn't want to die, to lose herself, or ANYTHING to change that would ruin EVERYTHING.

thedeadflag

*a gif of Ron Swanson saying "Boom, sadness"*

Because that just tore out my heart

purrpickle

I know.

I just keep on thinking, "Those poor little miscommunicating assuming babies!"

thedeadflag

They need to be loved and happy :(

purrpickle

And they can be! It's a good thing they're stranded there, honestly. Makes them actually talk to each other (eventually). As well as circling back to sweet lady kisses. But... More reverential, after confessing kisses.

As well as figuring out it was a puppy all along.

thedeadflag

(Just one way I see this going down, but there's a lot of ways to pull the trigger on this) Santana feels Rachel freeze underneath her, and no matter everything she's known in the past, that chill quickly rises up into her, knowing that even her best efforts weren't enough to win Rachel over, to convince her she was worth it. And combined with that massive hit to her pride that she was trying to prove to anyone that she was worth it... "Whatever, Berry, I get it, alright? But if you speak a damn word about this, I'll show you how we do it in Lima heights adjacent" Santana knows her voice is squeaky and strangled with tears but it doesn't stop her from grabbing the covers as she rolls off Rachel, cocooning herself in them the best she can, knowing the levee of her composure is on the verge of breaking from the emotions storming inside her, and she's not sure she'd be able to reel herself back from this one so easily.

And Rachel's just laying there perplexed, because she'd been waiting for the words in that second sentence so intensely that she almost missed them, having been caught off guard by the first words out of Santana's mouth. She expected being told to shut up. To never speak a word about Santana's spiral into the depravity of kissing and touching HER of all people in desperation. After all, she was Rachel Berry, social outcast, heavily-maligned diva extraordinaire, blabbermouth 'treasure trail', but... She'd spent most of her life growing up alongside Santana. She didn't survive this long without knowing when Santana was defensive, or when Santana was hurting. Both scenarios were liable to break out into pandemonium and collateral damage, so while her brain was tossing up all the red flags it could muster, the not-quite-concealed despair in Santana's opening words had her taking a rare moment to think before she reacted, before she inadvertently made this worse and ruined everything in a way she hadn't foreseen. Because, despite all logic and history between them, it halfway sounded like Santana was trying to spare herself the shame of being rejected, rather than sparing herself the shame of admitting she'd kissed and touched Rachel Barbra Berry with passion and fervor. And that thought, as impossible as she would have thought it an hour ago, left her colder than the crisp chill of the draft permeating the window and walls. She'd striven all her life for power and control, but hearing Santana's squeaky, half-muted cries from the bundle of covers beside her, Rachel was positive she'd never wanted this. If this was what it meant to be desired and wanted badly enough to reduce someone to tears, it'd make for a good half-censored entry into her memoirs, and a solid experience to draw upon for her future acting career, but their hearts had beat alongside each other just a few seconds ago. She could feel the aching vacancy grow with every passing second, but she didn't know how to bridge that gap, if she was even right about what it was between them. She couldn't just do nothing, though. Not with her heart yearning to be close to Santana, to feel Santana, to develop the spark they'd had together tonight into something bigger and brighter. She had to take a leap... It just needed to be a calculated one, one that Santana would understand, and one that would keep her from being murdered.

But at the same time, she was frozen in place by consequence, nothing about their situation allowing her even the slightest relief in order to catch her breath.They'd just narrowly escaped death and, more importantly, the loss of her dreams, and she deserved time to process that, and to heal from it, and yell and scream about it and all the fear bubbling up in her lungs and tearing at the sinews between her ribs. She had every right to be terrified and exhausted and bewildered, and to take a breather, but the cries from the girl next to her stole that from her. She deserved to have time to process ad think things through and make a game plan for how to approach this, complete with a series of power points and diary entries and emotionally cathartic musical performances, but they were stranded, alone together in a serial-killer's hideout that masqueraded as a bed and breakfast, and Santana was so utterly unpredictable right now that there was no right answer and she needed one just as much as she needed Santana back in her arms again.

purrpickle

((Honestly? I think the phones are down as well, the snow's piled up to the rafters, almost, and they're forced to spend another night at the bed and breakfast. So in between staring at everyone suspiciously and staring yearningly at Rachel [until the girl looks at her] - because let's be real. The girls are both exhausted. Maybe Rachel gets a quiet, reluctant, "We'll talk tomorrow," from Santana before her overworking mind makes her fall asleep still thinking about pulling Santana back into her arms. But they DO wake up tangled together - Santana's face down on the bed and groaning into it when Rachel comes back from the bathroom, the door to the room quietly clicking shut behind her.))

((Frankly put, they both make mistakes that first night.))

thedeadflag

Haha, yep, they're both too romantically clumsy not to fumble their way

purrpickle

It won't be easy! But it'll be worth it.

Definitely worth it.

I can ALSO see an almost self righteous Rachel being steamed and snapping at Santana to sit up, face her, and they are going to TALK.

To which Santana apathetically says something about "serial killer proofing their room."

'Cuz maybe Santana had been ignoring Rachel, trying to shelter her own heart and lick her wounds.

thedeadflag

Absolutely, I could def see Santana using some distance along with misdirection/deflection to keep herself safe and not aggravate her heartache any more than it already was

purrpickle

Santana also "convinced" the proprietor of the bed and breakfast (also! Let's say there's terrible to no cell service there, either, to cover those bases) to "give" her an extra large shirt that has, like, the logo of the bed and breakfast on it, so she can sleep in it, make her feel a little less "exposed" when in front of Rachel. Rachel both appreciates and hates it, because a) it covers up her distracting cleavage and abs and skimpy, skimpy underwear, but also b) it makes her legs look even more attractive somehow, and she can barely look at Santana without drooling because it's just so... It's almost like Santana's more attractive half clothed than half clothed in underwear.

thedeadflag

And as time passes, Rachel just grows more and more frustrated. Loves the way that the tops of Santana's thighs peek out with every swish of the shirt, loves the fact that despite the boxy shape of the top she can see hints of those familiar curves behind it, knows those curves intimately and it only reminds her of what Santana felt like by concealing them. However, she hates the fact that it essentially symbolizes Santana closing herself off, especially with how confused Rachel's been since the previous night. It only reminds her of the opportunity slipping through her fingers. She wants... No, she NEEDS answers. And despite knowing it could blow up in her face, that it could unleash a lot of heartbreak against her, she eventually loses her ability to put up with it later the next night, entering the bathroom while Santana's brushing her teeth, and locking the door behind her.

(At this point, I'm not sure what Rachel would do. One part of me thinks she'd be courageous and go for broke in dramatic fashion, singing something like Norah Jones' "Turn Me On" as a gambit, knowing that if Santana had a really bad reaction, there was no way Santana would ever speak of it when they found a way back home, not with everything that happened. And if Santana felt like murdering her, it would have happened last night, not when Santana was sullen and distant)

(And the other hand, I also think that Rachel would be so worked up and so buzzing with plans and ideas that she'd probably mix up her words and accidentally demand that Santana disrobe ('Stop hiding behind that silly shirt, Santana! You know I deserve to get a feel for what you're keeping from me and I'd like to think my relentlessness and dedication is too well known to you by now for you to deny me") when in her mind she'd cobbled together a sentence demanding Santana stop hiding from her in a more general sense, but that danged t-shirt just kept teasing her and before she knew it, she'd insinuated that she was going to physically ravage Santana whether the girl consented or not. And she'd be 100% aghast at herself for that, but then the most peculiar thing happens... Santana starts fiddling with the hem of her top, taking hold of it as if she's thinking of pulling it away.)

(Or maybe something else, I'm not sure, there's so much that could happen)

purrpickle

God, Rachel SO WOULD garble something like that out, thinking she's saying something more, well, non-sexual and not so directly telling Santana to strip.

Santana, for her part, is plussed, almost staring at Rachel with her jaw dropped, but damn if it doesn't also make her heart pound.

The fire, the passion in Rachel's eyes, and her voice, it momentarily shocked her still, surprising her out of her normal usual instant anger.

thedeadflag

Absolutely, because Santana does not really like being told what to do (at least outside of certain specific contexts), but her frustration over Rachel ordering her to strip is not nearly as intense as the bevy of thoughts storming in her mind over what Rachel's relentlessness and dedication would look and feel like, and she wants that passion burning in Rachel's eyes to be real. She takes a step forward as she grabs the bottom of the shirt and pulls it over her head and away, a flash of anxiety coursing through her in the half second where the t-shirt obscured her view, dreading that Rachel's expression would change like a mirage of an oasis to someone dying of thirst, but the diva's molten gaze only grew darker, pupils almost completely blown as Santana stepped up to her. Her heart was like a school band's snare drum, each beat quick and sharp, unsure if this yearning of Rachel's was just for her body or more. As scared as she was of 'more', standing a breath away from Rachel, she came to the stark realization that she needed it. This couldn't just be physical. She couldn't handle another night like last night.

"Well, Rachel? Here I am."

purrpickle

Rachel's shock is what saves her, saves them. It stills her tongue, doesn't let out a scandalized sound or gasp of outrage. Rachel won't realize it now, her eyes glued to Santana's body, all the air sucked out of her lungs as if Santana had stolen all of it, but she will, later, wrapped up in Santana's arms, so warm and excited and HAPPY, and thank Lord and Barbra she didn't stop them when they'd barely started. It's already chilly in the bathroom, the power still out, and no fireplace inside like some of the fancier b&bs Rachel had seen on HGTV before, and Santana's body... Reacts to the removal of her shield. Goosebumps are evident on her arms, when Rachel drags her gaze away, but that's not where her eyes are snared. Currently the only light in the bathroom is supplied by a flickering candle, Rachel's phone long dead, and what it does... How it frames Santana's lean frame, and definitely NOT lean chest or strong line of her hipbones leading down to her skimpy, skimpy panties... The girl's brazen, but almost as if she could reach into Santana's mind and deconstruct and take her apart, she can see she's vulnerable, too, and even if that wasn't what Rachel expected, telling Santana not to hide behind her shirt, she can't help letting out, her hands coming up to cover her mouth, in a near-gasp, lungs working overtime to draw in enough air even just to keep her STANDING, is, "You're beautiful."

Also, she's painted in shadows and moving light, and it makes Rachel's heart pound even more than the unexpected nakedness.

thedeadflag

*fluff-driven eternal screaming*

purrpickle

You know, I also think it's a turning point for Rachel. She's so used to thinking of Santana as "hot" (the hottest girl in McKinley, after all), but right at that moment... And it means SO MUCH to Santana, too, that that's where Rachel's mouth went.

thedeadflag

Absolutely. I often headcanon Santana always hearing she's hot/scorching/etc., and that Brittany's called her pretty a small handful of times, but that's about it. So Rachel saying she's beautiful just... Means everything to Santana in that moment, because everyone who only wanted her for her body always said she was hot... This connection with Rachel was new, and there Rachel was throwing a new word her way she'd never been called, at least not by anyone who wanted her. Which is a huge relief, with how it offers the notion that Rachel doesn't just want her for sex, but there's something more

And yeah, Santana's always had this more or less very put together facade/presentation in public, and it sort of plays on and lends to her reputation, but here Santana is, nearly naked physically as well as emotionally, and it's absolutely a case of Rachel realizing she's seeing Santana in a new light. All the same familiar features, but just like a song that's been transposed to a different key, there's no mistaking the difference. And so many of the old familiar words she often applied to Santana fell away, no longer viable as she sought out a more fitting vocabulary, and it's then that the simplest, easiest word that forms in her mouth comes out. Beautiful

purrpickle

The expression on Santana's face after those words left her lips is heartbreaking.

(I'm kind of conflicted what happens next. I can't see Santana being, you know, unsure about showing her body, being a cheerleader and all, but I think it's different because this is an emotional vulnerability. Not to mention it really IS cold in the bathroom, and if she's not sharing Rachel's body heat...)

thedeadflag

100%. I don't think she'd be shy about her body, but I do think she might be a little... Cautious about the way she opens herself to Rachel's touch. She'd absolutely be emotionally vulnerable, and Santana's panic threshold in those moments can be like a hair trigger at times, and so i could see her not wanting things to progress, on a physical level, in a way that's too familiar. I could see that if Rachel's touching her in ways that make her a little scared that she was wrong, that this really was just physical... I could see her moving Rachel's hands, her head, her lips, I could see Santana slowing things down to test Rachel's patience, I could see her definitely feeling on edge, and a bit uncomfortable with the newness, not to mention the chill in the air.

Not that she'd necessarily need to exercise all of that caution. Rachel, seeing Santana all new now, I think she'd take a new approach. She's always been a perfectionist, incredibly thorough and meticulous and detail oriented, and I think she'd want to learn Santana like her favourite song, inside and out, and that would mean a lot of exploration. A lot of reverence and awe. Rachel loves to learn, and as much as she'd be all for Santana guiding and teaching her, she'd absolutely take initiative and have her own priorities. And she, too, would not favor the chill, and would probably do well to keep their bodies close until either of them decided to drag each other back to the bedroom to the comfort of their warm bed

purrpickle

Agreed with all of that (though I was thinking it would be more likely someone would knock on the door, wanting to use the bathroom before too long). Just, how would they even START Rachel touching her?

I think it would be Santana who took the initiative to pull Rachel into a kiss in the bathroom, so gratified when Rachel moans and trembles against her, her skin so soft and cool against Santana's heated, bare skin, only thin fabric keeping Santana's goodies from meeting Rachel's, only her camisole between them.

Rachel's hands settle, jumpily, on Santana's sides, Rachel exhaling into Santana's mouth as Santana keeps her cheeks cupped in her hands, having taken a step forward and drawn her in. Rachel's heart is pounding, and she's acutely aware of Santana's burning skin both under her hands and against her front. She both wants to slide her palms up and down and in and back... But as much as her heart is telling her to dive in, to wrap herself up in Santana and never let go, Rachel knows, somehow, that pushing too much, too soon, will break the spell, make Santana skittish. It's her psychic ability kicking in, perhaps, but she also remembers the night before when Santana had frozen when things had gotten... Handsy. And Rachel doesn't think she could stand a repeat of last night. So as Santana expertly, slowly, explores her mouth with her own, Rachel doesn't try to speed them up, or let Santana's near nakedness get to her. It's chilly in the bathroom, but Santana's minty toothpaste is addicting, and maybe, if she presses in close enough to Santana, it'll keep her warm, too.

thedeadflag

Santana is so deeply immersed in Rachel's kisses that she nearly jumps out of her skin when a loud knock sounds at the door. One of the other guests at the B&B asking to use the bathroom, and while it could be a serial killer, she doubted the portly dude and his wife were capable of much violence given the dude calling out from the other side of the door was hobbling around the whole time she'd seen him. Rachel, courteous as always, announced loudly that they'll be finished in a second, making the decision for both of them, stepping away from her. Which sends a fresh panic spiking through her heart until Rachel's returning with her top and slipping it back over her head, those smouldering eyes not breaking focus from her own. So maybe she's not as spooked when Rachel opens the door and steps out. And maybe when the man rushes in and Santana squeezes out past him, and Rachel takes hold of her hand and gives her this entirely Rachel Berry sort of look, the same one Berry gave her before marching off to perform "Don't Rain On My Parade" in their first Sectionals, maybe her heart skips a beat and she clutches that soft, lithe hand of Rachel's.

And Rachel leads her back to their room, to their bed, tugging her to follow Rachel under the covers. The sheer relief Rachel exhales as she wraps Santana up, foreheads pressed together, Berry pulling her into a languid kiss, has her melting. Rachel didn't need her naked. Rachel didn't need her curves or her orgasms. Rachel just wanted her, no real pressure to escalate, nothing telling her Berry wanted to use her. And maybe Rachel still hadn't talked endlessly at her, but she'd looked at her like she was something special, and she was being so patient and careful, and maybe, just maybe, this could be something real.

And Rachel can feel the tension and fear slipping away inside Santana, heart bursting with pride at the happy little sounds escaping Santana with each of her kisses or ministrations,

In a moment of pure emotion and impulse, Rachel whispers "We're going to hold hands in the halls," between kisses, startling herself at letting those words slip after working so hard to contain them only for a bit of hand-holding between the bathroom and their bedroom to undo all her hard work.

And, after a moment, Santana startles as well as the words register, but when all she sees is confusion and yearning in Santana's eyes, Rachel continues. "When we get home. I'll refrain from 'cat calendar madness', but we'll hold hands. We'll hold hands in the halls and walk each other to class. You'll sing occasional duets with me in glee. And I'll take you to Breadstix on Thursdays because that's the night they expand their vegan menu, and I've always wanted to have a regular date night. I think it'd be important for our burgeoning romance." She worries she's not been concise enough, and then that she'd been too concise and ended up sounding authoritarian, not wanting to order Santana around so much as lay out her expectations. She needs to be clear. Before she gets too deep and has her heart broken again, before they get too intimate, she needs to be clear. The words had been building up over their time stranded together, and she couldn't hold them in any longer. She'd already put up such a gargantuan fight on that front, knowing Santana hated her rambling.

purrpickle

Santana's eyes almost melt, looking wet in the muted flickering of the candlelight from the bedside table that filtered through the bed sheet above them. "And I'll," Santana husks, her hand coming up to curl in Rachel's hair, fingers almost trembling as her palm brushed along her cheek, "I'll give you my Cheerio's jacket. If we make it out of here..." She searches Rachel's eyes, "I... I'd... Maybe you won't wear it at school, but," Santana inhales, her eyes darting away, as if she was starting to realize how silly or stupid she sounded, sounding a little uncomfortable even as a soft yearning threaded through her words, "I'd like you to have it. If you wanted it." She shrugs, hand sliding down Rachel's cheek to rest, a little heavily, on her shoulder. "I dunno."

It was like Santana had lost nerve somehow, for some reason, obviously in the midst of remembering something that made her uncomfortable, and Rachel frowns, hating how the sight made her heart ache. She wanted to reassure her, but there was still one thing that she wanted to make sure, for her heart. "Would you... Not want me to wear it at school?" she whispers reluctantly, convinced Santana could feel the faltering of her heart in her chest, "Because I'd... I'd really like to."

(Santana's faltering because of many reasons - she never was able to give Brittany her Cheerio's jacket as she had her own, and besides, it would be a reminder to Rachel that Santana had been part of - and still was - the institution that had made Rachel's life terrible, as well as... That was so big. So huge. To give her the jacket. And what if Rachel turned her down? What if Rachel wasn't as eager for this as it seemed? And... Even though she'd offered it, was SANTANA really ready to give it to her, either? And what would people say at school? It had seemed a good idea at the time, when she'd first brought it up, but now, it seemed like more and more doubts started to grow with each new word she'd uttered.)

thedeadflag

Rachel can see her words haven't registered, that Santana's too lost in her own head, eyes growing glassy. Whatever was going on in there, she needed to stop it before Santana worked herself up enough for them to lose this new connection before it ever really began. She brings a hand up to Santana's face, risking the less secure hold on the girl for a more intimate cradling of her cheek. "Santana..." She speaks clearly, each syllable deliberate and with purpose, drawing Santana's focus, even if the girl seems a little shaken now. Truth was, she was a fan of PDAs, and wearing Santana's jacket would count as a huge one. It was far and above what she'd spoke of, which were largely things that random passersby could chalk up as friendly occurrences, much as they had between Santana and Brittany, or at least most had. As much as she appreciated the offer, as much as she yearned to wear it despite the troupe's history with her (after all, it would be a clear sign of her conquering her past with them and claiming acceptance by their leader, evidence that she hadn't succumbed to their past efforts against her, and instead rose above and thrived in spite of them), it was a major step. As much as she wanted to sing an intimate a-capella version of Sara Bareilles' 'Brave" to the trembling girl in her arms, there was time for that at a later date. Maybe tomorrow. Or the day they get back to Lima. "Santana...I want to hold hands in the halls, and sing duets in glee, and have date nights at Breadstix..."

She brushed her thumb across the swell of Santana's cheekbones, drinking in the increasingly intense cautious focus Santana was sending back at her. "...And when you're ready, I want to wear your Cheerios jacket if that's something you want to give me. I'd like the whole world to know I'm your girlfriend, but not before you're ready for that. As you well know, I have two gay fathers who have experience in coming out, and I myself have been preparing slideshows and memoir chapters on my experiences and struggles as a semi-closeted bisexual woman in high school, and we've all seen what happened with Kurt and Karofsky so I understand the trepidation and how jumping in deep very quickly could be overwhelming and fraught with concerns, and certainly with your history of singing your romantic feelings in the past I could see Glee being a better environment to have a test run of being open before expanding it to the whole school, so I can be patient for you. I just...I would need a lot of *this*. I'm rather high maintenance, and if I can't get all the attention I need in school, then I'd need more outside of it, which was already my plan of action to begin with with step two being..."

purrpickle

Santana could hear what Rachel was saying, but the words weren't really registering. Instead, she was drinking in Rachel's expression and the feel of her hand on her face, her earnestness and soft, determined look. She had shifted some, resting on Santana's side as she looked down at her, and Santana inhaled deeply, turning her face just enough to press her cheek into her palm, Rachel trailing off. When Santana opened her eyes again, Rachel was gazing at her with semi-furrowed brows, studying her, teeth biting into her plump lip. "Santana?" she whispered.

Santana licked her lips, her hand, almost forgotten on Rachel's shoulder, stroking down, curling softly around Rachel's thin bicep. She took a chance, cobbling together the general idea of what Rachel had been talking about - what had filtered into her mind, at least. "I'm not good with the emotions, Berry, and I'll probably mess this up. Like I did now. Fuck... Look... In... In a perfect world, I'd be able to give you my... Jacket... Like I said, but you're right. Not... Not yet." She took a deep breath, then reached up with her other hand, urging Rachel down, into her chest, arms wrapping around the girl's slim shoulders, hoping Rachel could hear how fast her heart was beating with her ear on her breast, speaking more for her than her clumsy words could. After a second, Rachel having frozen before slowly, gently, making herself comfortable, curling into Santana's side, Santana reached for her hand, wrapping her fingers around the other girl's, her heart jolting as Rachel laced their fingers together. That gave her the courage, along with the silence of the bed and breakfast, almost as if they were the only people around without the hum of electricity giving her nothing but her own thoughts and Rachel's breathing to listen to, "But I DO want this. And wants those 'Stix nights, and..." When she trailed off again, fingers tracing through Rachel's hair, she was almost startled when Rachel's soft voice wafted up to her, her words vibrating against Santana's midriff: "To get to know us?"

Rachel pushed up, staring down into her eyes again. "I... I don't know if you heard me, Santana, but I'm high maintenance."

Santana abruptly snorted, squeezing Rachel's hand as a laugh left her shortly after. She dropped her head back against the pillow, continuing to laugh even when Rachel huffed, tapping her shoulder strongly. "Tell me something I DON'T know, Rache. I know." She smirked up at Rachel, the last tightness in her chest easing as she lifted her chin, pulling Rachel's pouting lips into another kiss, "And you 'totes should know I am too."

(I think it's amusing they're talking about the logistics of being in a relationship before saying they want to be in a relationship, or like each other.)

thedeadflag

At the same time, I think it's perfectly them to get ahead of themselves when they're in the moment

It's one of many reasons why I love them

purrpickle

Oh yes, definitely. It is perfectly them. Which is why they finally figure out that at some point, every so often, they need to sit down and talk and check in with each other, so they're not assuming or forging ahead or the like. All throughout their relationship.

thedeadflag

For sure!

purrpickle

Back to the "serial killer" shenanigans - how 'bout, that second night, after Rachel and Santana have fallen asleep wrapped up in each other, lips swollen and their hearts beating with hopeful plans about how their relationship is going to go, they get jerked away by the sound of barking and paws running through the halls because maybe a raccoon or other critter scratched its way into the shelter of the b&b, like, through an attic window.

((UGGGGGHHHH now I want a semi-angsty New Years Pezberry fic, or maybe have this happen over New Years. XD))

((Or, ooh! They arrive back on New Year's Eve!))

thedeadflag

it'd definitely fit the winter setting

purrpickle

That's what I was thinking!

thedeadflag

And yeah, the idea of getting back NYE, only to tackle the issue of nosy gleeks and various folks vying for each of them to be their midnight kiss... Intriguing

purrpickle

You know both of them would worry that getting back to "civilization" would break them out of their bubble, starting with whoever's driving dropping the other one off to get cleaned up for the gleek party.

Kurt and Mercedes whisk Rachel away, asking how she managed to survive Satan for three days, while Quinn and Brittany do the same for Santana, though more like The Hobbit and did she talk your ears off?

Ooh, Santana's walking through Tina's house when a small hand flashes out from a side room, Rachel all nerves and wringing hands as she's gazing worriedly/hopefully up at Santana. Her chest's warm, heart beating quickly, but she doesn't want to lose this, lose Santana, and as the hours had passed with only glances across the room and shy smiles every now and then, nothing had happened. It's not that she's expecting Santana to announce them yet, not at all, after their conversation last night, but she's feeling needy and worried. "I..." she starts, drawing herself up to apologize for pulling Santana bodily, but then Santana's eyes dilate and she moves in, hands cupping Rachel's cheeks to tilt her head up, soft lips coming down to kiss her, softly, lingeringly, but also direct and hard, as if she's been waiting, wanting this too, eager to reassure herself that this is real, too.

thedeadflag

*swoon*

purrpickle

"It's nice to know it still feels so good even without the threat of a serial killer," Rachel breathes as their lips part, eyes still closed, her cheeks pinkening as she realizes she's said that out loud. 

Santana laughs, shaking her head and kissing Rachel again. "Dork," she says affectionately.