Fic: Blacked Out Blur - 4/? (Santana/Quinn/Rachel)
Title: Blacked Out Blur (4/?)
Author: an_an0maly / prettylittlelea
Summary: It’s another Friday night, but not like one any of them have had before.
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn/Santana
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Everything up to and including S3 is fair game, except Finchel aren't together.
Word Count: 15,000+ (currently)
Disclaimer: I, sadly, own nothing.
Author’s Note: I know this has probably already been done, but I thought I’d have a crack at it anyway. Based on Katy Perry's "Last Friday Night (TGIF)". It's been a pretty tough year, so I'm a year late with this. Sorry.
4/? - So Don’t Pee In Our Pool
12:44pm Saturday
The trio stood at the end of Rachel’s bed staring at its sole sleeping occupant. It had taken them only seconds to start dragging items of clothing off Rachel’s hangers and tiredly trying to dress themselves. There’d been some elbowing and a completely accidental groping of Santana’s breast on Rachel’s part, but they’d managed to look halfway decent as they stumbled out of the closet one by one to investigate the aftermath of the party.
“I need to steam clean that mattress,” Rachel mumbled as she crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot against her carpet. Seconds ticked by as they each waited for the other to make a move. Rachel began wriggling, trying to reposition her short shorts, but was having no luck. She’d refused to venture outside in a skirt and no underwear and had fortunately found a pair of shorts she’d been keeping from the ninth grade on the shelf above them. They were, admittedly, a little snug, but Rachel was glad they were cotton and not denim. She’d once spent an hour skimming articles regarding the discomfort the harder material could provide when rubbed against such sensitive areas after she’d heard a rumor Santana was commando under a pair of skinny jeans. The seam line between her legs was creating a more subtle pressure - not at all unpleasant.
“And you might want to burn the sheets,” Quinn added, effectively pulling Rachel out of her thoughts. Rachel turned to her left to give Quinn her attention. The blonde had insisted that if she were to attempt to dress in Rachel’s clothes, both the length of tops and skirts would be inappropriate and she was still a good Christian girl - at least on Sundays and the occasional Saturday brunch. Quinn, in the end, had chosen to commandeer one of Rachel’s dresses. The length was somewhat modest and the effects of the alcohol were just enough that the red, yellow, white and green diagonal stripes didn’t make her want to rip off the offensive garment and sacrifice it in a fire - the expiration date on those urges were still yet to be determined. Quinn brought her right hand up to her mouth to cover a yawn. She took the time to shrug a shoulder and wince over at Rachel when she spotted the brunette staring at her.
“Do you think… they’re okay?” Rachel asked with a touch of concern, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach as she looked away from the sleepy sight of Quinn Fabray in one of her favorite outfits.
Santana rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said, dismissing Rachel’s worries. Santana had no such concerns about the lack of undergarments or the length of Rachel’s clothes on her body when it had come to stealing the brunette’s clothes. Currently, the garish pink bow on the front of Rachel’s navy top was stretched tightly across Santana’s unsupported breasts and the purple plaid skirt she’d chosen was riding high on her hips in imitation of her beloved Cheerios skirt. Nothing was left to the imagination.
Ignoring Rachel, Santana grabbed the nearest poking object she could find: a gold glitter-filled wand. “Only one way to check,” she said before stepping forward and poking the slumbering lump of a body. When the person didn’t move, Santana tried again, this time jabbing them harder with the wand, emitting a groan with the effort. “Hey, freak!” She yelled, before quickly bringing her hands to her pounding head. “Oh, God,” she moaned, mentally chastising herself for yelling just as the person on the bed began to stir.
“Hey!” A jovial voice greeted from the bed. “It’s Satan!” He acknowledged with a grin as his fingers speared through the disarrayed mop of dark hair on his head and a ring of stars was revealed on his bicep. Rachel cringed as she watched his hand drop to his naked chest and scratch at it absent-mindedly. Quinn was right. She would need to burn her sheets.
“What did you call me?” Santana asked taking a step forward. Her voice was low and her fingers retreated from her temples to wield the wand as though it were a baseball bat. She slammed the makeshift weapon down onto the bed.
“Woah!” The suddenly alert bed warmer tried to placate her, his hands now held out in front of him in an attempt to ward off any further attacks. As Santana took a threatening step closer, he scrambled to try and escape the confines of Rachel’s pink sheets. He quickly found himself on the floor untangling his legs from the bed covers, while attempting to yank up his ‘pull my trunk and watch me blow’ elephant boxer shorts. When he finally managed to stand back up, he held his shirt in one hand and a sock in the other. Finally spotting the other two figures at the end of the bed, he grinned and assumed the danger was over. “Hey! Mary!” He greeted gesturing first to Rachel, “and… Mary!” he added in Quinn’s direction with a little confusion.
“Excuse me?” Quinn asked, her arms folded across her chest and a glare directed at the stranger in Rachel’s bed. The aforementioned brunette was gripping Quinn’s right arm and burying her face almost in the blonde’s armpit. Quinn could feel the flutter of Rachel’s eyelashes with every shake of the brunette’s head against her.
“You know… The virgin,” he began, waving his sock in Rachel’s direction. His hand moved to point at Quinn. “And the slut,” he concluded, shooting the pair an odd look, wondering why they were so offended.
“I’ll have you know, she’s not a slut. She slept with one boy!” Rachel defended suddenly stepping in front of Quinn and holding her arm out in front of the blonde to protect her from the horrible lies this intruder was spouting. She glanced over her shoulder at Quinn. “One boy, right?” She whispered, turning to face the stranger before waiting for Quinn’s confirmation. She huffed and stomped her foot when he didn’t retract or even apologize for what he’d said. She did, however, narrow her eyes at him when he held his hands up in surrender once again.
Behind her, Quinn cleared her throat and leaned toward the short brunette. “Um, Rach?” She began in a soft, tentative voice. “We woke up naked,” she gently reminded her.
Rachel’s eyes widened and she whipped around as the implications of their morning state of dress finally hit her. She quickly turned her head to the right to look at Santana who was smirking and giving her a once over. Blushing and taking a deep breath, she turned back to Quinn who was sporting a half-smile and seemed unconcerned about the very likely Sapphic tryst they’d had the evening before.
“You got laid? That’s awesome!” The boy interjected jovially. “You’re not a virgin anymore!” He exclaimed, stepping forward and dropping his shirt to hold his open palm up high in the air above her head. “Up top, dude!”
Rachel scoffed in indignation, offended he’d called her ‘dude’. “My name - ”
“I’m gonna rip your trunk off and shove it down your throat if you don’t get your skinny, white ass out of this house!” Santana threatened, the wand in her left hand now pointing at the open bedroom door. The boy, whose name they’d yet to discover, grabbed up the closest remaining articles of clothing he could find, fist-bumped a stunned Rachel and hurried out the bedroom door. The girls waited with baited breath until they heard the slam of the front door.
“Who the fuck was that?”
~*~*~
10:44pm Saturday - Just Over 13 Hours Earlier
“I’m bringing sexy back,” Rachel sang loudly, her right hand holding her half-empty cup of alcohol above her head as she tried to re-enact Sam’s patented body roll. “Them mother fuckers don’t know how to act.” Rachel threw her head back and continued to roll her hips. “Quinnie!” She suddenly called out, distracted by a flash of blonde hair rushing past from the corner of her eye.
Quinn grabbed onto the wall to steady herself before turning to look in Rachel’s direction. The girl was dancing. At least, that’s what Quinn thought she was doing. But Rachel was in the toilet, with the door wide open, so Quinn wasn’t entirely sure. She braced her hands on the wall as she dodged a few people on her way toward the bathroom. “You bellowed?” Quinn asked as she leaned against the doorframe. She wasn’t completely drunk, but she knew she was well on her way to getting there.
“Baby, I’m your slave,” Rachel sang as she reached out and grabbed Quinn’s wrist and pulled hard. Quinn stumbled into the bathroom, falling into Rachel and pressing her up against the sink. Her hands greedily grabbed at the porcelain basin, preventing any potential falls.
“I’ll let you whip me if I misbehave,” Rachel sang in Quinn’s ear as she wrapped her arms around the blonde’s neck and pulled her close. It was clear that the near body check Quinn had just performed had no effect on Rachel. Nor had it even registered to the brunette that she was singing Justin Timberlake while the rest of the party was listening to Taio Cruz sing about drinking too much and having a hangover.
“You’re in the bathroom,” Quinn stated the obvious, stepping back from Rachel, but keeping her hand firmly braced on the edge of the sink to stop her from swaying.
“Pee with me!” Rachel suddenly announced with a gasp. “I’ve always wanted a peeing partner.” She began squirming; eyeing the porcelain bowl with what Quinn thought looked like lust.
Quinn didn’t even question Rachel’s request. She turned and attempted to reach behind her to close the door, but a rough shove and a shout of “no private rug-munching parties without me”, found Quinn pressed painfully up against the sink, Rachel straddling the toilet and Santana’s ass pressing into her hip, bending over doing God knows what to the lock. And then suddenly the room went dark.
Author: an_an0maly / prettylittlelea
Summary: It’s another Friday night, but not like one any of them have had before.
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn/Santana
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Everything up to and including S3 is fair game, except Finchel aren't together.
Word Count: 15,000+ (currently)
Disclaimer: I, sadly, own nothing.
Author’s Note: I know this has probably already been done, but I thought I’d have a crack at it anyway. Based on Katy Perry's "Last Friday Night (TGIF)". It's been a pretty tough year, so I'm a year late with this. Sorry.
4/? - So Don’t Pee In Our Pool
12:44pm Saturday
The trio stood at the end of Rachel’s bed staring at its sole sleeping occupant. It had taken them only seconds to start dragging items of clothing off Rachel’s hangers and tiredly trying to dress themselves. There’d been some elbowing and a completely accidental groping of Santana’s breast on Rachel’s part, but they’d managed to look halfway decent as they stumbled out of the closet one by one to investigate the aftermath of the party.
“I need to steam clean that mattress,” Rachel mumbled as she crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot against her carpet. Seconds ticked by as they each waited for the other to make a move. Rachel began wriggling, trying to reposition her short shorts, but was having no luck. She’d refused to venture outside in a skirt and no underwear and had fortunately found a pair of shorts she’d been keeping from the ninth grade on the shelf above them. They were, admittedly, a little snug, but Rachel was glad they were cotton and not denim. She’d once spent an hour skimming articles regarding the discomfort the harder material could provide when rubbed against such sensitive areas after she’d heard a rumor Santana was commando under a pair of skinny jeans. The seam line between her legs was creating a more subtle pressure - not at all unpleasant.
“And you might want to burn the sheets,” Quinn added, effectively pulling Rachel out of her thoughts. Rachel turned to her left to give Quinn her attention. The blonde had insisted that if she were to attempt to dress in Rachel’s clothes, both the length of tops and skirts would be inappropriate and she was still a good Christian girl - at least on Sundays and the occasional Saturday brunch. Quinn, in the end, had chosen to commandeer one of Rachel’s dresses. The length was somewhat modest and the effects of the alcohol were just enough that the red, yellow, white and green diagonal stripes didn’t make her want to rip off the offensive garment and sacrifice it in a fire - the expiration date on those urges were still yet to be determined. Quinn brought her right hand up to her mouth to cover a yawn. She took the time to shrug a shoulder and wince over at Rachel when she spotted the brunette staring at her.
“Do you think… they’re okay?” Rachel asked with a touch of concern, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach as she looked away from the sleepy sight of Quinn Fabray in one of her favorite outfits.
Santana rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said, dismissing Rachel’s worries. Santana had no such concerns about the lack of undergarments or the length of Rachel’s clothes on her body when it had come to stealing the brunette’s clothes. Currently, the garish pink bow on the front of Rachel’s navy top was stretched tightly across Santana’s unsupported breasts and the purple plaid skirt she’d chosen was riding high on her hips in imitation of her beloved Cheerios skirt. Nothing was left to the imagination.
Ignoring Rachel, Santana grabbed the nearest poking object she could find: a gold glitter-filled wand. “Only one way to check,” she said before stepping forward and poking the slumbering lump of a body. When the person didn’t move, Santana tried again, this time jabbing them harder with the wand, emitting a groan with the effort. “Hey, freak!” She yelled, before quickly bringing her hands to her pounding head. “Oh, God,” she moaned, mentally chastising herself for yelling just as the person on the bed began to stir.
“Hey!” A jovial voice greeted from the bed. “It’s Satan!” He acknowledged with a grin as his fingers speared through the disarrayed mop of dark hair on his head and a ring of stars was revealed on his bicep. Rachel cringed as she watched his hand drop to his naked chest and scratch at it absent-mindedly. Quinn was right. She would need to burn her sheets.
“What did you call me?” Santana asked taking a step forward. Her voice was low and her fingers retreated from her temples to wield the wand as though it were a baseball bat. She slammed the makeshift weapon down onto the bed.
“Woah!” The suddenly alert bed warmer tried to placate her, his hands now held out in front of him in an attempt to ward off any further attacks. As Santana took a threatening step closer, he scrambled to try and escape the confines of Rachel’s pink sheets. He quickly found himself on the floor untangling his legs from the bed covers, while attempting to yank up his ‘pull my trunk and watch me blow’ elephant boxer shorts. When he finally managed to stand back up, he held his shirt in one hand and a sock in the other. Finally spotting the other two figures at the end of the bed, he grinned and assumed the danger was over. “Hey! Mary!” He greeted gesturing first to Rachel, “and… Mary!” he added in Quinn’s direction with a little confusion.
“Excuse me?” Quinn asked, her arms folded across her chest and a glare directed at the stranger in Rachel’s bed. The aforementioned brunette was gripping Quinn’s right arm and burying her face almost in the blonde’s armpit. Quinn could feel the flutter of Rachel’s eyelashes with every shake of the brunette’s head against her.
“You know… The virgin,” he began, waving his sock in Rachel’s direction. His hand moved to point at Quinn. “And the slut,” he concluded, shooting the pair an odd look, wondering why they were so offended.
“I’ll have you know, she’s not a slut. She slept with one boy!” Rachel defended suddenly stepping in front of Quinn and holding her arm out in front of the blonde to protect her from the horrible lies this intruder was spouting. She glanced over her shoulder at Quinn. “One boy, right?” She whispered, turning to face the stranger before waiting for Quinn’s confirmation. She huffed and stomped her foot when he didn’t retract or even apologize for what he’d said. She did, however, narrow her eyes at him when he held his hands up in surrender once again.
Behind her, Quinn cleared her throat and leaned toward the short brunette. “Um, Rach?” She began in a soft, tentative voice. “We woke up naked,” she gently reminded her.
Rachel’s eyes widened and she whipped around as the implications of their morning state of dress finally hit her. She quickly turned her head to the right to look at Santana who was smirking and giving her a once over. Blushing and taking a deep breath, she turned back to Quinn who was sporting a half-smile and seemed unconcerned about the very likely Sapphic tryst they’d had the evening before.
“You got laid? That’s awesome!” The boy interjected jovially. “You’re not a virgin anymore!” He exclaimed, stepping forward and dropping his shirt to hold his open palm up high in the air above her head. “Up top, dude!”
Rachel scoffed in indignation, offended he’d called her ‘dude’. “My name - ”
“I’m gonna rip your trunk off and shove it down your throat if you don’t get your skinny, white ass out of this house!” Santana threatened, the wand in her left hand now pointing at the open bedroom door. The boy, whose name they’d yet to discover, grabbed up the closest remaining articles of clothing he could find, fist-bumped a stunned Rachel and hurried out the bedroom door. The girls waited with baited breath until they heard the slam of the front door.
“Who the fuck was that?”
~*~*~
10:44pm Saturday - Just Over 13 Hours Earlier
“I’m bringing sexy back,” Rachel sang loudly, her right hand holding her half-empty cup of alcohol above her head as she tried to re-enact Sam’s patented body roll. “Them mother fuckers don’t know how to act.” Rachel threw her head back and continued to roll her hips. “Quinnie!” She suddenly called out, distracted by a flash of blonde hair rushing past from the corner of her eye.
Quinn grabbed onto the wall to steady herself before turning to look in Rachel’s direction. The girl was dancing. At least, that’s what Quinn thought she was doing. But Rachel was in the toilet, with the door wide open, so Quinn wasn’t entirely sure. She braced her hands on the wall as she dodged a few people on her way toward the bathroom. “You bellowed?” Quinn asked as she leaned against the doorframe. She wasn’t completely drunk, but she knew she was well on her way to getting there.
“Baby, I’m your slave,” Rachel sang as she reached out and grabbed Quinn’s wrist and pulled hard. Quinn stumbled into the bathroom, falling into Rachel and pressing her up against the sink. Her hands greedily grabbed at the porcelain basin, preventing any potential falls.
“I’ll let you whip me if I misbehave,” Rachel sang in Quinn’s ear as she wrapped her arms around the blonde’s neck and pulled her close. It was clear that the near body check Quinn had just performed had no effect on Rachel. Nor had it even registered to the brunette that she was singing Justin Timberlake while the rest of the party was listening to Taio Cruz sing about drinking too much and having a hangover.
“You’re in the bathroom,” Quinn stated the obvious, stepping back from Rachel, but keeping her hand firmly braced on the edge of the sink to stop her from swaying.
“Pee with me!” Rachel suddenly announced with a gasp. “I’ve always wanted a peeing partner.” She began squirming; eyeing the porcelain bowl with what Quinn thought looked like lust.
Quinn didn’t even question Rachel’s request. She turned and attempted to reach behind her to close the door, but a rough shove and a shout of “no private rug-munching parties without me”, found Quinn pressed painfully up against the sink, Rachel straddling the toilet and Santana’s ass pressing into her hip, bending over doing God knows what to the lock. And then suddenly the room went dark.