fic: you're just my kind of crazy (glee, santana/rachel)
Title: You're Just My Kind of Crazy
Fandom: Glee
Paring: Santana/Rachel, implied Sam/Quinn
Rating: PG-13
Length: 3327
Spoilers: Season 2
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Summary: “I went out as an honorable member of Gryffindor and came home as Snooki.”
Author's Note: Written for lynnearlington for round three of the glee_rare_pairs exchange. Inspired by three tfln:
(250): I went out as a member of the house of Gryfindor and came home as Snooki
(678): Just wrestled a cop. He won my shorts. I won my freedom. In fishnets and army boots. still headed to the party. would appreciate pants, but not necessary.
(205): How the fuck did you end up in a tree? With multiple people?
Santana likes to think she's always had a good amount of self-control. Even back in high school, she'd resist the urge to run across the hall and go make out with Brittany in front of everyone, even if she really, really wanted to (she'd walk over calmly and pull Brittany into the nearest janitor's closet instead, and she'd cover Brittany's hand with her mouth to muffle any sound so no one would discover them, because she's sneaky and sleuth like that).
And she'd resist the urge to throw her phone at Mr. Schue's head whenever he gave a solo she'd absolutely kill to someone else (she'd broken or lost way too many phones already and her dad was getting tired of it. And okay, she knew she could get another with a bat of her eyelids but her gem-lined case was really expensive and there were lots of cute photos on there she didn't want to lose and Mr. Schue was just not worth it, so she'd make a biting comment instead and watch with satisfaction as he'd try to pretend he hadn't heard it).
But when she sees Rachel in that costume, all her self-control goes out the window.
They were pregaming at some guy’s super sweet college suite, on their way to a Halloween party in Williamsburg. Santana was dressed as the totally amazing JWoww from Jersey Shore, who was a lot of the things Santana inspired to be in life - bold, fierce and super hot. Rachel, on the other hand, was dressed as Hermione Granger from Harry Potter.
Santana glances over to her girlfriend, embarrassed by the slight flush she feels on her cheeks as she does so. It’s just that, as much as Santana’s glad Rachel’s ditched the creepy hybrid toddler-grandmother outfits from high school, she definitely misses seeing Rachel in those inappropriately short skirts from back then. Because the one Rachel’s wearing right now? Well it’s making Santana think about things she really shouldn’t think about, especially when she can’t drag Rachel across the hall and into the nearest janitor’s closet to show Rachel just how much she appreciates her chosen attire.
Santana sighs and decides, after noticing that Rachel’s even got a freaking tie on, too - oh God - that she really needs to do something about the thoughts that won’t leave her head. She walks over to Rachel and kisses her cheek.
"Hey babe, wanna be the Snooki to my JWoww?"
Rachel rolls her eyes. "If you're trying to seduce me, mentioning that awful TV show is not the way to do it."
"Fine, the Hermione to my JWoww," Santana says quickly.
“I don’t want to be the anyone to your ‘JWoww’.”
"Look, it doesn't matter who the people are, I'm just saying that you’re hot and we should get down in the bathroom, if you know what I mean."
"I don't want to have sex in a bathroom. It's so gross and unsanitary," Rachel says, crinkling her nose."
“It’s not my fault you took so long to get ready, otherwise we could’ve done it before we left,” Santana whines.
Rachel’s still crinkling her nose so Santana leans close to her and whispers, “Besides, with what I’m about to do to you, you’ll forget all about where you are, trust me.”
Rachel steps backwards and shakes her head. “It’s still unsanitary, so it’s still a ‘no’.”
Santana looks at her girlfriend and does her best attempt at doe-eyes, because, like, Rachel doesn’t own that, but all she gets from Rachel is a raised eyebrow and a stubborn pout.
"Ugh, you are no fun. You know that, right?"
"Oh I'm always fun. Right now, my fun is not giving you what you want," Rachel says, poking Santana's nose. She meets Santana's eyes, smirks and walks away.
That little shit, Santana thinks, but she smiles in spite of herself. Rachel likes to tease her little, okay, a lot, but she always gives in to the pleasing eventually - especially if Santana threw in a ‘you were so the hottest person in the room tonight, baby’ and a ‘God, I have been thinking about this all night’ while they were making out -, so Santana was content in the knowledge that the night would end well and she could just distract herself until then. Well that was usually the plan, anyway.
But she’s never had to deal with Rachel in that outfit before. That damn outfit.
She looks over at Rachel, who’s laughing with a group of her fellow crazy Broadway-nerds now, noticing how Rachel’s whole body moves as she laughs. Her eyes travel down Rachel’s body, past her shirt which has been carefully buttoned so it’s revealing-but-not-too-revealing, to her painfully short skirt, she’s changed her mind - they’re even better then the ones she wore in high school -, and down her long, toned legs and - Santana leans across the table and pours herself a shot of vodka. And another. She downs them both and winces slightly as the alcohol goes down her throat, before straightening up. Get it together, Lopez.
She looks around the room, spots Sam in his Luke Skywalker costumer - he would - and acknowledges him. He walks over to her, and Santana smirks as she watches him stumble slightly.
“Santana!” he half-shouts, opening his arms wide and pulling her in for a hug, squashing her face against his chest. She pats his back awkwardly before pushing him off.
“Someone’s clearly had a lot to drink.”
Sam shakes his head vehemently. “No, dude, I’ve only had like…” He pauses for a second to think, counting out loud using his fingers. “Five beers. And like a shot or two. And some cherry sourz. Have you ever tried them? They’re really good….”
Santana laughs and then pours herself a glass of punch from the table behind them, taking a long sip. She looks over and meets Rachel’s eyes, who leans down slightly and bites her lip, feigning innocence, even though she knows exactly what she’s doing. Santana closes her eyes and turns back to Sam, focusing hard on his face.
“What’s up with you?” Sam asks, his eyes narrowed.
Santana points her cup in the direction of Rachel and her friends. “Rachel looks really hot but she won’t let me do anything about it, because she’s against bathroom sex or something stupid. She gets off on frustrating me, I swear.”
Sam pats her shoulder heavily. “Hey, at least your girlfriend is here tonight,” Sam says. “Quinn is pissed at me and she’s gone to a party with her sorority friends instead of coming here. And the worst part is, I don’t even know what I did.”
Santana tries hard not to laugh because Sam looks so upset about the whole situation, but really, that shit is hilarious.
“Look, that’s what you get for dating Quinn. I love her but the girl’s crazy, I don’t know why you’ve put up with it for so long.”
“Uh, says the girl who’s dating Rachel.”
“Please. Quinn’s a whole other league of crazy and you know it.”
Sam opens his mouth to protest, shrugs, and nods. “Yeah. I guess the weirdest thing about it is that I kind of love her for it,” he says, throwing a peanut towards his mouth, missing, and hitting his eye instead.
Santana laughs. “Well, you know that makes you kind of crazy too, right?”
They’re cut off by Santana’s friend Andy walking over and announcing that they’re taking the L Train over to the party, and that they should get going.
“Yeah, coming, let me just find Rachel…” Santana says, looking around the room.
“Oh, she left for the train already,” Andy says.
“What!” Santana says. “Was she alone? Was she drunk?”
Andy shrugs and Santana swears. The last time she saw Rachel, she was around a table with a bunch of her friends, a series of shots lined up on the table in preparation for a circle.
“Santana, it’s fine,” Sam slurs, patting her on the back.
“No, she’s like dwarf-sized and hardly ever drinks, she has the lowest tolerance ever. I mean, a glass of wine gets her drunk. And I don’t even know if she’s with anybody. Come on, we have to catch up to her.”
Sam sighs dramatically but grabs his jacket and follows her out of the house.
--
The bitter New York wind hits them hard and Santana pulls her own jacket tighter around her. She texts Rachel a ‘where are you?’ but doesn’t get a response, and shakes her phone.
“Rachel is the worst at texting when she’s drunk. She usually either doesn’t respond or she types so fast that she misspells everything and I have no idea what she’s saying,” Santana says to Sam.
Sam’s not listening though; he’s too busy typing away furiously at his own phone. Santana peers over his shoulder.
“’Nahgya yawn’ what?” she says, squinting at his screen.
Sam looks up and smiles at her. “Nga yawne lu oer. It means ‘I love you’ in Na’vi.” He pauses. “Hopefully Quinn will like it and then she’ll stop being mad at me.”
Santana raises her eyebrows; about to poke fun at the insane level of nerd Sam just is in general, but instead laughs at his incredibly hopeful face. “Yeah, she’ll love that.”
They finally reach the subway five minutes later and Santana runs down the stairs and to the platform.
Sam spins around wildly before whispering, “She’s not here!”
“Yeah, she’s probably on the train already,” Santana responds. She feels her phone vibrate in her pocket and pulls it out.
Took a detour. Not on the train yet.
“Ugh, she’s not even on the train yet!” Santana yells at her phone. She looks over at Sam, motions her head towards the exit and he grudgingly follows her out of the station.
ok, so then where are you?
Santana begins to head off in the opposite direction of the station when Sam stops her.
“Maybe we should stay here. She’s coming on the train eventually, right? So we’ll get her when she comes here.”
She sighs but agrees to wait a few minutes; at least until she knows exactly where Rachel is so she can go find her. She rocks backwards and forwards on her feet impatiently and thinks back to twenty minutes ago when her only problem was trying not to jump her girlfriend in front of a room full of people.
Five minutes later, her phone buzzes again.
Just fell in a bush. It won my skirt as I got out, I won my freedom. In tights and flats, still headed to the party. Would appreciate a skirt, but not necessary.
“Oh god,” Santana says, staring at her phone screen. Sam peers over her shoulder and laughs.
“I love Rachel,” he murmurs.
Santana hastily dials Rachel’s number and groans when she doesn’t pick up.
WHERE ARE YOU??? she texts Rachel. When she doesn’t get an immediate response, she turns to Sam and hits him with the back of her hand.
“Come on, we’ve gotta at least look for her or something. It’s better than just waiting here.”
Sam rubs his arm, frowning, and they both head off again. Santana can feel the shots she’s had throughout the night so far start to kick in and swears under her breath.
Sam notices her expression and wraps an arm around her waist. “Don’t worry, she’s probably with her friends somewhere. We’ll find her.”
“I know, but... she fell in a fucking bush. I’d just feel better if I was with her right now.”
They carry on walking and pass a line of people doing a zombie trail through the city. One of the ‘zombies’ comes up to Santana and starts making groaning noises and waving his hands in front of her face, and she stares back at him, unimpressed, waving him off like a fly. Sam looks at the walkers, his mouth wide open in amazement, and tries to join them but Santana pulls him away stubbornly with one hand, the other fumbling for her phone clumsily as she feels it vibrate again.
I’m stuck in a tree. Come save me.
Santana blinks and rereads the text, before shoving her phone in Sam’s face.
"Did my girlfriend really just text me saying she's stuck in a tree or am I that drunk?"
Sam squints at the phone. “No, she’s really stuck in a tree, I think.”
“What even…” she mutters, pressing the dial button on her phone. She sighs in relief when Rachel picks up.
“Hey!” Rachel shouts.
“Oh my god, where are you?”
“I’m in a tree,” Rachel says matter-of-factly. “Baby,” she draws out, “Will you come get me?”
“Yeah, just tell me where you are!”
There’s a pause on the line. “66th Street, Transverse Road. I’m in a tree.”
“How the hell did you get all the way over to Central Park? Okay, just wait there; I’m coming, okay? Don’t move.”
“I won’t,” Rachel says.
Santana hangs up and waves in front of Sam’s face, who’s staring longingly at the zombie walkers.
“She’s in Central Park, come on.”
“That’s like a twenty minute walk, can we take a cab?”
“It’ll be quicker to walk,” Santana says, already heading off again.
Sam groans and throws his head back, reluctantly following her. “This costume isn’t very warm, even with my jacket, y’know.”
They walk fast and manage to make it there in fifteen minutes. Both of them spin around quickly, looking for any sign of Rachel.
Santana squints up at some nearby trees, half-amused at the situation, half-terrified. She turns around to see Sam poking at a bush close by.
“Sam! She’s in a damn tree, not a bush!”
Sam stands up, looking mildly disoriented. “Oh yeah.”
Santana hears a loud, “Santana!” and she rushes over to the direction of the sound to find Rachel up in a tree, sitting on a think branch, leaning against the trunk in the crown and looking down at the ground warily. Two of her friends are with her, also stuck up in the tree.
“Oh, thank God,” Santana says, breathing out. “How the fuck did you end up in a tree? With multiple people?” she yells at Rachel.
“We were running away from the zombies!”
Santana furrows her eyebrows. “What?”
“San, the zombie walk,” Sam says to her.
Oh. Santana rolls her eyes. “They weren’t real, you know that, right?” she calls to Rachel.
“They looked real,” Rachel says.
Santana sighs. This was neither the time nor the place to argue about this. “Okay, hold on, I’ll get you down.”
Sam hoists her up and she grabs a hold of the tree, resting her feet on two knots. She steps up the knots awkwardly due to her skirt, until she’s close to where Rachel is.
“Grab my hand and step down, Rach,” Santana says.
Rachel reaches down and grabs Santana’s hand, cautiously putting her foot on a nearby knot.
“Okay, you got it,” Santana says. “Just put your other foot down.”
Santana steps down a knot herself and almost misses it. This would be a lot easier if I wasn’t tipsy, she thinks, as her vision spins a little. She leads Rachel down carefully until Santana’s almost near the bottom. Santana reaches with her feet for another knot in the tree but can’t find it, so just risks it and jumps down, pulling Rachel with her.
They both fall to the ground, Rachel landing on top of Santana.
“Ow,” Santana groans.
Rachel gets up quickly and leans down to pull Santana up. Sam grins at both of them, clearly amused by the whole situation. “I really should’ve recorded that.” He walks over and hugs them from behind. “I love you guys.”
“Ew, Samwise,” Santana says, crinkling her nose. She softens into a smile and glances back to the tree. “Can you help the other two geniuses down?”
Sam nods and moves over to the tree to help the other two down.
“Are you okay?” Rachel asks.
“Yeah, my fingers hurt a little,” Santana says with a slight wince as she flexes them.
Rachel moves closer to her and brings Santana’s hand to her mouth, gently kissing it. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
“Something awful could’ve happened to you, fuck,” Santana says.
“I’m sorry,” Rachel says, her eyes wide.
“It’s fine. I mean, you are okay, right?” Santana says. “Well, except for you losing your skirt,” she says, her eyes moving down to Rachel’s legs. “You fell in a bush?”
Rachel furrows her eyebrows. “That wasn’t my finest moment.”
Santana laughs and pulls Rachel closer, resting her hands on Rachel’s hips.
“Thanks for saving me,” Rachel says in a low voice.
“Anytime,” Santana says, kissing Rachel softly. They deepen the kiss and Rachel moves her arms, wrapping them around Santana’s neck.
“Hey, you guys still going to the party?” Sam calls.
Santana breaks apart from Rachel. “You go ahead. My hand’s sore so I’m gonna go home and rest it.”
Sam rolls his eyes. “You’re ditching me to go have sex, aren’t you?”
Santana nods, unable to contain her smug expression. “Pretty much, yeah.”
--
Rachel looks at herself in the mirror, her hair disheveled and frizzy, her makeup smudged, and skirtless and sighs. “I went out as an honorable member of Gryffindor and came home as Snooki.” She pauses. “It is Snooki, right?”
“Yeah, babe,” Santana says with a smirk. “You still look really hot, by the way.”
“Yeah?” Rachel says, grinning. She walks over to the bed slowly and Santana reaches forward and pulls her onto the bed, rolling on top of Rachel.
“Mmhmm.” Santana kisses Rachel softly, and runs a hand through Rachel’s hair.
“What the-” Santana mutters. She carefully takes a leaf out of Rachel’s hair and shows it to her. They both burst out into laughter.
“I’m never drinking again,” Rachel says with a slur.
“Yeah, yeah,” Santana responds, smiling. “I can’t believe I rescued you from a fucking tree tonight. Because of ‘zombies’.” She bites her lips and kisses Rachel again. “And hey, you can’t give me shit about those ‘drunken incidents’ of mine, as you call them, since you, you know, totally have one too now.”
“My one incident hardly compares to the amount of times I’ve had to come rescue you at three in the morning.”
Damn. “Whatever, you’re still not completely in the clear or anything.”
Rachel sighs. “We should’ve just stayed in and done my normal Halloween plans; apple bobbing, outrageous costumes, lots and candy and scary movies.”
“Uh no, I hate- horror movies are so lame, I don’t know why you get scared by them.”
“Right,” Rachel says, grinning. “Because you don’t make up terrible excuses every time I ask you if you want to watch one with me, because you’re not at all terrified by scary movies.”
“Shut up.”
Rachel’s laughing underneath her now and Santana rolls her eyes and looks at her nails. But then Rachel meets her eyes and smiles her stupid smug smile, the one that says I know you so well and Santana wants to stay mad but something about that smile is as cute as hell so she kisses Rachel again instead.
It’s at times like this that Santana’s glad no one can read her mind because she comes across as majorly whipped and she’s not sure her reputation could handle a smattering like that.
“So, do you want to be the Snooki to my JWoow?”
Rachel shakes her head, barely managing to disguise her smile. “You hurt your hand.”
“It’s not that bad,” Santana insists, leaning down to press a kiss on Rachel’s collarbone. “And my mouth still works fine. And so does yours.” She raises her eyebrow suggestively.
Rachel shifts underneath her. “Well I’m not so sure about that.” Rachel reaches up and tucks a strand of Santana’s hair behind her ear, sliding her other hand underneath Santana’s shirt. “But what do you say to finding out?”
Fandom: Glee
Paring: Santana/Rachel, implied Sam/Quinn
Rating: PG-13
Length: 3327
Spoilers: Season 2
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Summary: “I went out as an honorable member of Gryffindor and came home as Snooki.”
Author's Note: Written for lynnearlington for round three of the glee_rare_pairs exchange. Inspired by three tfln:
(250): I went out as a member of the house of Gryfindor and came home as Snooki
(678): Just wrestled a cop. He won my shorts. I won my freedom. In fishnets and army boots. still headed to the party. would appreciate pants, but not necessary.
(205): How the fuck did you end up in a tree? With multiple people?
Santana likes to think she's always had a good amount of self-control. Even back in high school, she'd resist the urge to run across the hall and go make out with Brittany in front of everyone, even if she really, really wanted to (she'd walk over calmly and pull Brittany into the nearest janitor's closet instead, and she'd cover Brittany's hand with her mouth to muffle any sound so no one would discover them, because she's sneaky and sleuth like that).
And she'd resist the urge to throw her phone at Mr. Schue's head whenever he gave a solo she'd absolutely kill to someone else (she'd broken or lost way too many phones already and her dad was getting tired of it. And okay, she knew she could get another with a bat of her eyelids but her gem-lined case was really expensive and there were lots of cute photos on there she didn't want to lose and Mr. Schue was just not worth it, so she'd make a biting comment instead and watch with satisfaction as he'd try to pretend he hadn't heard it).
But when she sees Rachel in that costume, all her self-control goes out the window.
They were pregaming at some guy’s super sweet college suite, on their way to a Halloween party in Williamsburg. Santana was dressed as the totally amazing JWoww from Jersey Shore, who was a lot of the things Santana inspired to be in life - bold, fierce and super hot. Rachel, on the other hand, was dressed as Hermione Granger from Harry Potter.
Santana glances over to her girlfriend, embarrassed by the slight flush she feels on her cheeks as she does so. It’s just that, as much as Santana’s glad Rachel’s ditched the creepy hybrid toddler-grandmother outfits from high school, she definitely misses seeing Rachel in those inappropriately short skirts from back then. Because the one Rachel’s wearing right now? Well it’s making Santana think about things she really shouldn’t think about, especially when she can’t drag Rachel across the hall and into the nearest janitor’s closet to show Rachel just how much she appreciates her chosen attire.
Santana sighs and decides, after noticing that Rachel’s even got a freaking tie on, too - oh God - that she really needs to do something about the thoughts that won’t leave her head. She walks over to Rachel and kisses her cheek.
"Hey babe, wanna be the Snooki to my JWoww?"
Rachel rolls her eyes. "If you're trying to seduce me, mentioning that awful TV show is not the way to do it."
"Fine, the Hermione to my JWoww," Santana says quickly.
“I don’t want to be the anyone to your ‘JWoww’.”
"Look, it doesn't matter who the people are, I'm just saying that you’re hot and we should get down in the bathroom, if you know what I mean."
"I don't want to have sex in a bathroom. It's so gross and unsanitary," Rachel says, crinkling her nose."
“It’s not my fault you took so long to get ready, otherwise we could’ve done it before we left,” Santana whines.
Rachel’s still crinkling her nose so Santana leans close to her and whispers, “Besides, with what I’m about to do to you, you’ll forget all about where you are, trust me.”
Rachel steps backwards and shakes her head. “It’s still unsanitary, so it’s still a ‘no’.”
Santana looks at her girlfriend and does her best attempt at doe-eyes, because, like, Rachel doesn’t own that, but all she gets from Rachel is a raised eyebrow and a stubborn pout.
"Ugh, you are no fun. You know that, right?"
"Oh I'm always fun. Right now, my fun is not giving you what you want," Rachel says, poking Santana's nose. She meets Santana's eyes, smirks and walks away.
That little shit, Santana thinks, but she smiles in spite of herself. Rachel likes to tease her little, okay, a lot, but she always gives in to the pleasing eventually - especially if Santana threw in a ‘you were so the hottest person in the room tonight, baby’ and a ‘God, I have been thinking about this all night’ while they were making out -, so Santana was content in the knowledge that the night would end well and she could just distract herself until then. Well that was usually the plan, anyway.
But she’s never had to deal with Rachel in that outfit before. That damn outfit.
She looks over at Rachel, who’s laughing with a group of her fellow crazy Broadway-nerds now, noticing how Rachel’s whole body moves as she laughs. Her eyes travel down Rachel’s body, past her shirt which has been carefully buttoned so it’s revealing-but-not-too-revealing, to her painfully short skirt, she’s changed her mind - they’re even better then the ones she wore in high school -, and down her long, toned legs and - Santana leans across the table and pours herself a shot of vodka. And another. She downs them both and winces slightly as the alcohol goes down her throat, before straightening up. Get it together, Lopez.
She looks around the room, spots Sam in his Luke Skywalker costumer - he would - and acknowledges him. He walks over to her, and Santana smirks as she watches him stumble slightly.
“Santana!” he half-shouts, opening his arms wide and pulling her in for a hug, squashing her face against his chest. She pats his back awkwardly before pushing him off.
“Someone’s clearly had a lot to drink.”
Sam shakes his head vehemently. “No, dude, I’ve only had like…” He pauses for a second to think, counting out loud using his fingers. “Five beers. And like a shot or two. And some cherry sourz. Have you ever tried them? They’re really good….”
Santana laughs and then pours herself a glass of punch from the table behind them, taking a long sip. She looks over and meets Rachel’s eyes, who leans down slightly and bites her lip, feigning innocence, even though she knows exactly what she’s doing. Santana closes her eyes and turns back to Sam, focusing hard on his face.
“What’s up with you?” Sam asks, his eyes narrowed.
Santana points her cup in the direction of Rachel and her friends. “Rachel looks really hot but she won’t let me do anything about it, because she’s against bathroom sex or something stupid. She gets off on frustrating me, I swear.”
Sam pats her shoulder heavily. “Hey, at least your girlfriend is here tonight,” Sam says. “Quinn is pissed at me and she’s gone to a party with her sorority friends instead of coming here. And the worst part is, I don’t even know what I did.”
Santana tries hard not to laugh because Sam looks so upset about the whole situation, but really, that shit is hilarious.
“Look, that’s what you get for dating Quinn. I love her but the girl’s crazy, I don’t know why you’ve put up with it for so long.”
“Uh, says the girl who’s dating Rachel.”
“Please. Quinn’s a whole other league of crazy and you know it.”
Sam opens his mouth to protest, shrugs, and nods. “Yeah. I guess the weirdest thing about it is that I kind of love her for it,” he says, throwing a peanut towards his mouth, missing, and hitting his eye instead.
Santana laughs. “Well, you know that makes you kind of crazy too, right?”
They’re cut off by Santana’s friend Andy walking over and announcing that they’re taking the L Train over to the party, and that they should get going.
“Yeah, coming, let me just find Rachel…” Santana says, looking around the room.
“Oh, she left for the train already,” Andy says.
“What!” Santana says. “Was she alone? Was she drunk?”
Andy shrugs and Santana swears. The last time she saw Rachel, she was around a table with a bunch of her friends, a series of shots lined up on the table in preparation for a circle.
“Santana, it’s fine,” Sam slurs, patting her on the back.
“No, she’s like dwarf-sized and hardly ever drinks, she has the lowest tolerance ever. I mean, a glass of wine gets her drunk. And I don’t even know if she’s with anybody. Come on, we have to catch up to her.”
Sam sighs dramatically but grabs his jacket and follows her out of the house.
--
The bitter New York wind hits them hard and Santana pulls her own jacket tighter around her. She texts Rachel a ‘where are you?’ but doesn’t get a response, and shakes her phone.
“Rachel is the worst at texting when she’s drunk. She usually either doesn’t respond or she types so fast that she misspells everything and I have no idea what she’s saying,” Santana says to Sam.
Sam’s not listening though; he’s too busy typing away furiously at his own phone. Santana peers over his shoulder.
“’Nahgya yawn’ what?” she says, squinting at his screen.
Sam looks up and smiles at her. “Nga yawne lu oer. It means ‘I love you’ in Na’vi.” He pauses. “Hopefully Quinn will like it and then she’ll stop being mad at me.”
Santana raises her eyebrows; about to poke fun at the insane level of nerd Sam just is in general, but instead laughs at his incredibly hopeful face. “Yeah, she’ll love that.”
They finally reach the subway five minutes later and Santana runs down the stairs and to the platform.
Sam spins around wildly before whispering, “She’s not here!”
“Yeah, she’s probably on the train already,” Santana responds. She feels her phone vibrate in her pocket and pulls it out.
Took a detour. Not on the train yet.
“Ugh, she’s not even on the train yet!” Santana yells at her phone. She looks over at Sam, motions her head towards the exit and he grudgingly follows her out of the station.
ok, so then where are you?
Santana begins to head off in the opposite direction of the station when Sam stops her.
“Maybe we should stay here. She’s coming on the train eventually, right? So we’ll get her when she comes here.”
She sighs but agrees to wait a few minutes; at least until she knows exactly where Rachel is so she can go find her. She rocks backwards and forwards on her feet impatiently and thinks back to twenty minutes ago when her only problem was trying not to jump her girlfriend in front of a room full of people.
Five minutes later, her phone buzzes again.
Just fell in a bush. It won my skirt as I got out, I won my freedom. In tights and flats, still headed to the party. Would appreciate a skirt, but not necessary.
“Oh god,” Santana says, staring at her phone screen. Sam peers over her shoulder and laughs.
“I love Rachel,” he murmurs.
Santana hastily dials Rachel’s number and groans when she doesn’t pick up.
WHERE ARE YOU??? she texts Rachel. When she doesn’t get an immediate response, she turns to Sam and hits him with the back of her hand.
“Come on, we’ve gotta at least look for her or something. It’s better than just waiting here.”
Sam rubs his arm, frowning, and they both head off again. Santana can feel the shots she’s had throughout the night so far start to kick in and swears under her breath.
Sam notices her expression and wraps an arm around her waist. “Don’t worry, she’s probably with her friends somewhere. We’ll find her.”
“I know, but... she fell in a fucking bush. I’d just feel better if I was with her right now.”
They carry on walking and pass a line of people doing a zombie trail through the city. One of the ‘zombies’ comes up to Santana and starts making groaning noises and waving his hands in front of her face, and she stares back at him, unimpressed, waving him off like a fly. Sam looks at the walkers, his mouth wide open in amazement, and tries to join them but Santana pulls him away stubbornly with one hand, the other fumbling for her phone clumsily as she feels it vibrate again.
I’m stuck in a tree. Come save me.
Santana blinks and rereads the text, before shoving her phone in Sam’s face.
"Did my girlfriend really just text me saying she's stuck in a tree or am I that drunk?"
Sam squints at the phone. “No, she’s really stuck in a tree, I think.”
“What even…” she mutters, pressing the dial button on her phone. She sighs in relief when Rachel picks up.
“Hey!” Rachel shouts.
“Oh my god, where are you?”
“I’m in a tree,” Rachel says matter-of-factly. “Baby,” she draws out, “Will you come get me?”
“Yeah, just tell me where you are!”
There’s a pause on the line. “66th Street, Transverse Road. I’m in a tree.”
“How the hell did you get all the way over to Central Park? Okay, just wait there; I’m coming, okay? Don’t move.”
“I won’t,” Rachel says.
Santana hangs up and waves in front of Sam’s face, who’s staring longingly at the zombie walkers.
“She’s in Central Park, come on.”
“That’s like a twenty minute walk, can we take a cab?”
“It’ll be quicker to walk,” Santana says, already heading off again.
Sam groans and throws his head back, reluctantly following her. “This costume isn’t very warm, even with my jacket, y’know.”
They walk fast and manage to make it there in fifteen minutes. Both of them spin around quickly, looking for any sign of Rachel.
Santana squints up at some nearby trees, half-amused at the situation, half-terrified. She turns around to see Sam poking at a bush close by.
“Sam! She’s in a damn tree, not a bush!”
Sam stands up, looking mildly disoriented. “Oh yeah.”
Santana hears a loud, “Santana!” and she rushes over to the direction of the sound to find Rachel up in a tree, sitting on a think branch, leaning against the trunk in the crown and looking down at the ground warily. Two of her friends are with her, also stuck up in the tree.
“Oh, thank God,” Santana says, breathing out. “How the fuck did you end up in a tree? With multiple people?” she yells at Rachel.
“We were running away from the zombies!”
Santana furrows her eyebrows. “What?”
“San, the zombie walk,” Sam says to her.
Oh. Santana rolls her eyes. “They weren’t real, you know that, right?” she calls to Rachel.
“They looked real,” Rachel says.
Santana sighs. This was neither the time nor the place to argue about this. “Okay, hold on, I’ll get you down.”
Sam hoists her up and she grabs a hold of the tree, resting her feet on two knots. She steps up the knots awkwardly due to her skirt, until she’s close to where Rachel is.
“Grab my hand and step down, Rach,” Santana says.
Rachel reaches down and grabs Santana’s hand, cautiously putting her foot on a nearby knot.
“Okay, you got it,” Santana says. “Just put your other foot down.”
Santana steps down a knot herself and almost misses it. This would be a lot easier if I wasn’t tipsy, she thinks, as her vision spins a little. She leads Rachel down carefully until Santana’s almost near the bottom. Santana reaches with her feet for another knot in the tree but can’t find it, so just risks it and jumps down, pulling Rachel with her.
They both fall to the ground, Rachel landing on top of Santana.
“Ow,” Santana groans.
Rachel gets up quickly and leans down to pull Santana up. Sam grins at both of them, clearly amused by the whole situation. “I really should’ve recorded that.” He walks over and hugs them from behind. “I love you guys.”
“Ew, Samwise,” Santana says, crinkling her nose. She softens into a smile and glances back to the tree. “Can you help the other two geniuses down?”
Sam nods and moves over to the tree to help the other two down.
“Are you okay?” Rachel asks.
“Yeah, my fingers hurt a little,” Santana says with a slight wince as she flexes them.
Rachel moves closer to her and brings Santana’s hand to her mouth, gently kissing it. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
“Something awful could’ve happened to you, fuck,” Santana says.
“I’m sorry,” Rachel says, her eyes wide.
“It’s fine. I mean, you are okay, right?” Santana says. “Well, except for you losing your skirt,” she says, her eyes moving down to Rachel’s legs. “You fell in a bush?”
Rachel furrows her eyebrows. “That wasn’t my finest moment.”
Santana laughs and pulls Rachel closer, resting her hands on Rachel’s hips.
“Thanks for saving me,” Rachel says in a low voice.
“Anytime,” Santana says, kissing Rachel softly. They deepen the kiss and Rachel moves her arms, wrapping them around Santana’s neck.
“Hey, you guys still going to the party?” Sam calls.
Santana breaks apart from Rachel. “You go ahead. My hand’s sore so I’m gonna go home and rest it.”
Sam rolls his eyes. “You’re ditching me to go have sex, aren’t you?”
Santana nods, unable to contain her smug expression. “Pretty much, yeah.”
--
Rachel looks at herself in the mirror, her hair disheveled and frizzy, her makeup smudged, and skirtless and sighs. “I went out as an honorable member of Gryffindor and came home as Snooki.” She pauses. “It is Snooki, right?”
“Yeah, babe,” Santana says with a smirk. “You still look really hot, by the way.”
“Yeah?” Rachel says, grinning. She walks over to the bed slowly and Santana reaches forward and pulls her onto the bed, rolling on top of Rachel.
“Mmhmm.” Santana kisses Rachel softly, and runs a hand through Rachel’s hair.
“What the-” Santana mutters. She carefully takes a leaf out of Rachel’s hair and shows it to her. They both burst out into laughter.
“I’m never drinking again,” Rachel says with a slur.
“Yeah, yeah,” Santana responds, smiling. “I can’t believe I rescued you from a fucking tree tonight. Because of ‘zombies’.” She bites her lips and kisses Rachel again. “And hey, you can’t give me shit about those ‘drunken incidents’ of mine, as you call them, since you, you know, totally have one too now.”
“My one incident hardly compares to the amount of times I’ve had to come rescue you at three in the morning.”
Damn. “Whatever, you’re still not completely in the clear or anything.”
Rachel sighs. “We should’ve just stayed in and done my normal Halloween plans; apple bobbing, outrageous costumes, lots and candy and scary movies.”
“Uh no, I hate- horror movies are so lame, I don’t know why you get scared by them.”
“Right,” Rachel says, grinning. “Because you don’t make up terrible excuses every time I ask you if you want to watch one with me, because you’re not at all terrified by scary movies.”
“Shut up.”
Rachel’s laughing underneath her now and Santana rolls her eyes and looks at her nails. But then Rachel meets her eyes and smiles her stupid smug smile, the one that says I know you so well and Santana wants to stay mad but something about that smile is as cute as hell so she kisses Rachel again instead.
It’s at times like this that Santana’s glad no one can read her mind because she comes across as majorly whipped and she’s not sure her reputation could handle a smattering like that.
“So, do you want to be the Snooki to my JWoow?”
Rachel shakes her head, barely managing to disguise her smile. “You hurt your hand.”
“It’s not that bad,” Santana insists, leaning down to press a kiss on Rachel’s collarbone. “And my mouth still works fine. And so does yours.” She raises her eyebrow suggestively.
Rachel shifts underneath her. “Well I’m not so sure about that.” Rachel reaches up and tucks a strand of Santana’s hair behind her ear, sliding her other hand underneath Santana’s shirt. “But what do you say to finding out?”