Fanfiction - Glee: What a Bright Time, To Rock the Night Away
Title: What a Bright Time, To Rock the Night Away
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2,500
Pairing: Mike/Rachel, Santana/Rachel mentions, Puck, Santana
Summary: Lots of jello shots, hence the get wasted title to the night.
Author's Note: Swiped rockinrye prompt from lynnearlington's winter meme here.
It’s Christmas so they’re having their annual get wasted while wearing festive attire party. Rachel and Santana co-named the event, and it isn’t too hard to know who titled what part.
Festive attire is a fairly loose term that means he and Rachel will actually wear something Christmasy, Santana will wear a green dress that makes her look good, and Puck will throw on a Santa hat with whatever he’s already wearing.
This year the party is at his and Puck’s place because even though the girls have a nicer apartment, last year at their place dissolved into Santana banging out horrible versions of Christmas songs that Rachel had taught her on the piano.
Mike would have compared it to a first time piano recital, but at least five-year-olds don’t drunkenly sing along to Up on the House Top and Jingle Bells.
The party is mostly in full swing by the time Santana arrives because without Rachel to keep her on track Santana’s default is showing up late. Mike doesn’t even consider the girl late anymore unless it’s past the forty-five minute mark.
“Happy Holidays, bitches and hoes!” Santana shouts when she enters the apartment. “Guess who’s here with fucking awesome dragon berry rum jello shots.”
So the other reason the party is at the guys’ apartment and also partially during Rachel’s practice is so they can have jello shots. Lots of jello shots, hence the get wasted title to the night.
Every time they try to have jello shots at a party or even just a hangout night, Rachel fights them tooth and nail until they give up.
“While I understand that we consider ourselves adults solely in the chronological sense and not in actual behavior sense, I do believe jello shots are a bit beneath us,” are Rachel’s exact sentiments.
“I’ve been waiting all month for these,” Puck says as he takes the tray away from Santana and sets it behind his that already line the kitchen counter top.
“Haven’t we all. So we starting with yours then?” Mike asks.
Puck shrugs but passes a shot to each of them which they down in unison.
“God, what was that,” Mike sputters after he takes the jello shot, even Puck’s face is contorted in a grimace.
“Supposed to cranberry,” Puck says. “I thought it would be festive.”
“No way in hell that was cranberry,” Santana says.
“Um, so I might have used banana flavored liquor,” Puck says and Mike slugs him in the shoulder. He deserves worse for making terrible shots when that was the whole point of the party.
“No shit,” Santana sticks out her tongue like it will get rid of the taste. “Let’s do some of mine instead.”
“Yes. That was vile,” Mike says gratefully taking a shot from Santana.
Santana’s shots are a vast improvement - not too strong, the dragonberry rum compliments the kiwi jello nicely, and most importantly there’s no banana taste.
Santana’s eyes track across his chest as they finish their second set of shots, and Mike worries that he’s dumped something on himself already before he’s even gotten himself drunk.
“Mike what the hell are you wearing?” Santana’s laugh echoes in the small kitchen.
Mike looks down at his red shirt, a Joe Cool Snoopy dressed as Santa Claus screen printed dead center. He frowns exaggeratedly at Santana’s ribbing. “It’s my Snoopy Christmas shirt.”
“Dude, you are so whipped. Rachel has a matching one doesn’t she,” Puck says.
“No, not exactly,” Mike knows he’s blushing a little. “Hers has Woodstock with reindeer ears.”
“It’s a wonder Puck and I hang out with people as lame as you two,” Santana says.
“Good taste in booze,” Mike shrugs. “And I make the best jello shots.”
“Prove it,” Puck says.
“Like he has to, anything would beat yours,” Santana fires back.
“Presenting the Christmas jello shot syringe,” Mike retrieves his tupperware from the fridge to reveal plastic 25 milliliter syringes filled with alternating red and and green jello. “Made with the good stuff - Mountain Gay rum.”
“Damn, how in the world...” Puck says as he and Santana look on in awe. Mike feels pretty proud of himself right about now.
“I stole the syringes from lab, and first filled them the red jello. Let that solidify and then dumped the green jello on top. There you have it,” Mike says. “Obviously there are no sharps on them because you would need way too high of guage needle to get the jello to...”
“Stop,” Santana puts a hand on his arm. “Your nerd talk is getting in the way of the awesome.”
She takes two out of the container and hands one to Puck.
Mike’s kinda nervous as to how they’ll actually work because he didn’t have time to test them out before the party. But they knock the syringes together and simultaneously press the plungers to shoot the jello into their mouths.
It’s a little weird. The jello comes out in little pieces because of the smaller hole so it’s somewhat like rum soaked gummy worms, but the flavors work well together and everything goes down smooth. Plus there’s the fact that he used the good stuff.
“These are my new favorite,” Santana says. “You are so making these every time we have a party.”
“Quick, hide them in the fridge before anyone else can get them. We can let people have mine,” Puck says.
“That’s terrible,” Mike says.
“But it’ll be hilarious,” Santana says. “Is it a bad sign to miss getting to do jello shots?”
“It’s a sign of badassness is what it is,” Puck says. “Awesome things always happen when jello shots are involved.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” Santana says. “You guys do remember what happened last time we got to make jello shots right?”
It’s been well over a year since they last made jello shots, and if Mike is perfectly honest he remembers almost nothing about the party except that he woke up on Santana’s couch on top of what he thought was a pile of blankets but ended up being Puck. At least they had been too hungover for it to be awkward.
“No one?” Santana asks and they shake their heads. “It was the night Rachel finally let me in her pants.”
Santana gives Mike a aren’t-I-an-adorable-little-piece-of-shit grin, but he refuses to rise to the bait. He actually mildly impressed she didn’t say it in some crasser way.
Besides he can’t be mad that Santana and Rachel had a friends with benefits thing going on that culminated that evening and then fizzled when Santana found some soccer player to date a couple weeks later. Rachel is his now and that’s what matters.
Seeing that he isn’t going to respond to the clear challenge as long as Rachel isn’t around, Santana goes for different tactic.
“You’d think she’d be up for it again? Threesome this time?” Santana asks and pops some holiday Chex mix into her mouth “You know I’m amazing in bed, and Rachel and I are awesome together.”
Mike kinda grimaces at the thought. Not because the mental picture isn’t completely hot because it totally is. It’s just the thought of Santana smirking at him while she’s all over his girlfriend doesn’t hold the same appeal it once would have. Mike’s pretty easygoing, but he gets jealous about his girl like any good boyfriend would.
Puck seems to know what he’s going to say because he interjects, “Chang, you can’t say no to this idea. It’s like every guys fantasy.”
“I can say no. Pretty easily too. No,” Mike says smirking back at both Puck and Santana.
“Come on Mikey,” Santana says even though she knows he hates the nickname from anyone other than Rachel. “You know you want too.”
“It’s not going to happen,” Mike says seriously, dropping the joking tone.
“Fine. I have a hard time finding you attractive with a cartoon on your chest anyway,” Santana says and it’s the perfect thing to bring back the lighthearted party mood.
“Like you’re one to talk. You’re a total softie when it comes to Rachel. I came by your apartment the other day to the two of you snuggled up on the couch watching Mulan,” Mike counters and Puck gives him a fist bump.
“Shut up. It was cold, and Mulan is a badass,” Santana’s says.
Mike can’t argue with that kind of logic.
//
“Need you, Chang,” Santana says grabbing his shoulders from behind and almost causing him to spill his drink. Good thing he has reflexes of a ninja even when he’s drunk.
“For what?” Mike is always skeptical when Santana needs him, especially at parties.
“Liquor pong,” Santana says.
“No way,” Mike’s response is immediate and he pulls away from her in case he has to defend himself. “Puck’s your permanent partner for that thing after you almost punched me in the face last time.”
“I remember the rule, asshole,” Santana does try to take a swat at him, but she just grazes the back of his head. “I need you for the liquor not the partner. I know you still have the good rum stashed somewhere from those shots.”
“Come on, why don’t you just play beer pong for once instead of wasting my rum,” Mike says.
“First of all, wouldn’t be wasting,” Santana crosses her arms all defiant. “I plan on enjoying every drop. And second, the only beer that you nerd friends brought was PBR and Heineken Light. Not drinking that shit.”
Mike knows for a fact that Santana is fine with Heineken (even light), but he agrees on the PBR end so he gives in.
“Fine. But the other team isn’t getting it, and I’ll mix the drinks,” Mike says.
“That was always the plan,” Santana smiles. “Besides this way you get to see the other team drink cheap tequila and Vanilla Coke.”
“Ugh, nasty,” A full body shiver runs through him at the thought.
“I know.”
//
A text from Rachel saying she’s on her way up saves him from a rough game of drinking Jenga. He’s already having to keep his feet off the floor, can’t use his thumbs, and been named the Beer Bitch. From his awkward position at the end of the table he knows it will be all over next turn.
Mike excuses himself, and Santana coughs pansy into her hand. She’s just mad that she’ll be the one to topple it over now.
Rachel bounds in the door, white plastic bag in hand and wearing her Woodstock shirt that makes him smile.
“Smartest thing you’ve done was programming Santana’s phone with the text. Drunk. Need Tacos. I appreciate not having to decipher the misspelled version,” Rachel says pushing up on her tiptoes to give Mike a peck on the lips.
“I knew you always loved me for my brain,” Mike says. “Want to go get some jello shots. I made some special Christmas ones you’ll love.”
“Oh, God, jello shots,” Rachel laughs. “The last time we had those...” She trails off with a blush.
“You slept with Santana,” Mike supplies, the alcohol having removed much of his usual decorum. “Yeah Santana already brought it up. Heads up. She suggested a threesome.”
“Of course she did,” Rachel deadpans before her eyes widen with nervous tension. “Is that something you want?”
“Not at all,” Mike smooths his hands down Rachel’s arms to calm her. “I have exactly what I want right here.”
“Good answer,” Rachel whispers and pulls him into the deep kiss that doesn’t last long because Santana is shouting across the room.
“Rach! You’re my favorite roommate!” Santana grabs the bag of tacos and then lifts Rachel off the ground in a hug.
“You’re my favorite too,” Puck says only it comes out muffled because he already has a taco in his mouth.
“I’m pleased with the consensus that I’m everyone’s preeminent friend,” Rachel says.
“Please go get some jello shots so you stop talking like that,” Santana says in between bites.
“Come on, babe. You’ll really like mine,” Mike says.
“You know how I feel about them,” Rachel says.
“I do. But trust me. These are epic,” Mike says and kisses the pout off her lips.
//
Rachel’s a lightweight so it doesn’t take her long to catch up with him. (He not going to let her get caught up with Puck and Santana because he wants more than for her to just pass out on his bed at the end of the night).
When Rachel starts giving an impromptu Christmas concert standing on the table he knows it’s time to cut her off. She retains her perfect pitch while she drinks so the performance is still pretty good. Santa Claus is Coming to Town is even complete with added little sounds for the toys between lines.
Then Santana joins her for a couple songs and things deteriorate into the two of them singing Jingle Bell Rock only replaced with the words jello shot rock.
Mike waits for the last smattering of drunken applause to end, and jumps up on the table to sweep Rachel up into his arms before she and Santana start another song.
“You’re really strong,” Rachel says looking up at him. “I like it when you carry me.”
“I know you do. It’s why I do it,” Mike says. But he hasn’t exactly thought things through because when he looks at the floor and then the stairs leading to his room he knows he’s in no state to get them there.
“But do you think you can make it up the stairs yourself? I’m not sure I can make it,” Mike admits sheepishly.
Rachel nods confidently and hops down off the table.
“Where you going?” Santana tries to replicate Rachel’s move and ends up crashing into the side of the couch when she can’t keep her balance when she lands.
It’s hilarious so they all end up laughing lying on the floor, or in Mike’s case the table.
Once he’s lost the energy to laugh, he and Puck help Santana to the couch. She’s clearly crashing there for the night.
Rachel’s waiting for him but he can’t quite decipher her expression so for no reason he’s suddenly nervous she’s upset with him.
“Are you mad? Is it about the jello shots?” Mike asks because Santana is beyond wasted and Rachel’s definitely going to have to take care of her in the morning.
Rachel takes one last look at Santana sprawled out on the couch and laughs long and hard. “Nope. Everything’s perfect.” She wraps herself around him and they head upstairs.
He knows he going to regret some of it in the morning, but at the moment Mike couldn’t agree with Rachel more.
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2,500
Pairing: Mike/Rachel, Santana/Rachel mentions, Puck, Santana
Summary: Lots of jello shots, hence the get wasted title to the night.
Author's Note: Swiped rockinrye prompt from lynnearlington's winter meme here.
It’s Christmas so they’re having their annual get wasted while wearing festive attire party. Rachel and Santana co-named the event, and it isn’t too hard to know who titled what part.
Festive attire is a fairly loose term that means he and Rachel will actually wear something Christmasy, Santana will wear a green dress that makes her look good, and Puck will throw on a Santa hat with whatever he’s already wearing.
This year the party is at his and Puck’s place because even though the girls have a nicer apartment, last year at their place dissolved into Santana banging out horrible versions of Christmas songs that Rachel had taught her on the piano.
Mike would have compared it to a first time piano recital, but at least five-year-olds don’t drunkenly sing along to Up on the House Top and Jingle Bells.
The party is mostly in full swing by the time Santana arrives because without Rachel to keep her on track Santana’s default is showing up late. Mike doesn’t even consider the girl late anymore unless it’s past the forty-five minute mark.
“Happy Holidays, bitches and hoes!” Santana shouts when she enters the apartment. “Guess who’s here with fucking awesome dragon berry rum jello shots.”
So the other reason the party is at the guys’ apartment and also partially during Rachel’s practice is so they can have jello shots. Lots of jello shots, hence the get wasted title to the night.
Every time they try to have jello shots at a party or even just a hangout night, Rachel fights them tooth and nail until they give up.
“While I understand that we consider ourselves adults solely in the chronological sense and not in actual behavior sense, I do believe jello shots are a bit beneath us,” are Rachel’s exact sentiments.
“I’ve been waiting all month for these,” Puck says as he takes the tray away from Santana and sets it behind his that already line the kitchen counter top.
“Haven’t we all. So we starting with yours then?” Mike asks.
Puck shrugs but passes a shot to each of them which they down in unison.
“God, what was that,” Mike sputters after he takes the jello shot, even Puck’s face is contorted in a grimace.
“Supposed to cranberry,” Puck says. “I thought it would be festive.”
“No way in hell that was cranberry,” Santana says.
“Um, so I might have used banana flavored liquor,” Puck says and Mike slugs him in the shoulder. He deserves worse for making terrible shots when that was the whole point of the party.
“No shit,” Santana sticks out her tongue like it will get rid of the taste. “Let’s do some of mine instead.”
“Yes. That was vile,” Mike says gratefully taking a shot from Santana.
Santana’s shots are a vast improvement - not too strong, the dragonberry rum compliments the kiwi jello nicely, and most importantly there’s no banana taste.
Santana’s eyes track across his chest as they finish their second set of shots, and Mike worries that he’s dumped something on himself already before he’s even gotten himself drunk.
“Mike what the hell are you wearing?” Santana’s laugh echoes in the small kitchen.
Mike looks down at his red shirt, a Joe Cool Snoopy dressed as Santa Claus screen printed dead center. He frowns exaggeratedly at Santana’s ribbing. “It’s my Snoopy Christmas shirt.”
“Dude, you are so whipped. Rachel has a matching one doesn’t she,” Puck says.
“No, not exactly,” Mike knows he’s blushing a little. “Hers has Woodstock with reindeer ears.”
“It’s a wonder Puck and I hang out with people as lame as you two,” Santana says.
“Good taste in booze,” Mike shrugs. “And I make the best jello shots.”
“Prove it,” Puck says.
“Like he has to, anything would beat yours,” Santana fires back.
“Presenting the Christmas jello shot syringe,” Mike retrieves his tupperware from the fridge to reveal plastic 25 milliliter syringes filled with alternating red and and green jello. “Made with the good stuff - Mountain Gay rum.”
“Damn, how in the world...” Puck says as he and Santana look on in awe. Mike feels pretty proud of himself right about now.
“I stole the syringes from lab, and first filled them the red jello. Let that solidify and then dumped the green jello on top. There you have it,” Mike says. “Obviously there are no sharps on them because you would need way too high of guage needle to get the jello to...”
“Stop,” Santana puts a hand on his arm. “Your nerd talk is getting in the way of the awesome.”
She takes two out of the container and hands one to Puck.
Mike’s kinda nervous as to how they’ll actually work because he didn’t have time to test them out before the party. But they knock the syringes together and simultaneously press the plungers to shoot the jello into their mouths.
It’s a little weird. The jello comes out in little pieces because of the smaller hole so it’s somewhat like rum soaked gummy worms, but the flavors work well together and everything goes down smooth. Plus there’s the fact that he used the good stuff.
“These are my new favorite,” Santana says. “You are so making these every time we have a party.”
“Quick, hide them in the fridge before anyone else can get them. We can let people have mine,” Puck says.
“That’s terrible,” Mike says.
“But it’ll be hilarious,” Santana says. “Is it a bad sign to miss getting to do jello shots?”
“It’s a sign of badassness is what it is,” Puck says. “Awesome things always happen when jello shots are involved.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” Santana says. “You guys do remember what happened last time we got to make jello shots right?”
It’s been well over a year since they last made jello shots, and if Mike is perfectly honest he remembers almost nothing about the party except that he woke up on Santana’s couch on top of what he thought was a pile of blankets but ended up being Puck. At least they had been too hungover for it to be awkward.
“No one?” Santana asks and they shake their heads. “It was the night Rachel finally let me in her pants.”
Santana gives Mike a aren’t-I-an-adorable-little-piece-of-shit grin, but he refuses to rise to the bait. He actually mildly impressed she didn’t say it in some crasser way.
Besides he can’t be mad that Santana and Rachel had a friends with benefits thing going on that culminated that evening and then fizzled when Santana found some soccer player to date a couple weeks later. Rachel is his now and that’s what matters.
Seeing that he isn’t going to respond to the clear challenge as long as Rachel isn’t around, Santana goes for different tactic.
“You’d think she’d be up for it again? Threesome this time?” Santana asks and pops some holiday Chex mix into her mouth “You know I’m amazing in bed, and Rachel and I are awesome together.”
Mike kinda grimaces at the thought. Not because the mental picture isn’t completely hot because it totally is. It’s just the thought of Santana smirking at him while she’s all over his girlfriend doesn’t hold the same appeal it once would have. Mike’s pretty easygoing, but he gets jealous about his girl like any good boyfriend would.
Puck seems to know what he’s going to say because he interjects, “Chang, you can’t say no to this idea. It’s like every guys fantasy.”
“I can say no. Pretty easily too. No,” Mike says smirking back at both Puck and Santana.
“Come on Mikey,” Santana says even though she knows he hates the nickname from anyone other than Rachel. “You know you want too.”
“It’s not going to happen,” Mike says seriously, dropping the joking tone.
“Fine. I have a hard time finding you attractive with a cartoon on your chest anyway,” Santana says and it’s the perfect thing to bring back the lighthearted party mood.
“Like you’re one to talk. You’re a total softie when it comes to Rachel. I came by your apartment the other day to the two of you snuggled up on the couch watching Mulan,” Mike counters and Puck gives him a fist bump.
“Shut up. It was cold, and Mulan is a badass,” Santana’s says.
Mike can’t argue with that kind of logic.
//
“Need you, Chang,” Santana says grabbing his shoulders from behind and almost causing him to spill his drink. Good thing he has reflexes of a ninja even when he’s drunk.
“For what?” Mike is always skeptical when Santana needs him, especially at parties.
“Liquor pong,” Santana says.
“No way,” Mike’s response is immediate and he pulls away from her in case he has to defend himself. “Puck’s your permanent partner for that thing after you almost punched me in the face last time.”
“I remember the rule, asshole,” Santana does try to take a swat at him, but she just grazes the back of his head. “I need you for the liquor not the partner. I know you still have the good rum stashed somewhere from those shots.”
“Come on, why don’t you just play beer pong for once instead of wasting my rum,” Mike says.
“First of all, wouldn’t be wasting,” Santana crosses her arms all defiant. “I plan on enjoying every drop. And second, the only beer that you nerd friends brought was PBR and Heineken Light. Not drinking that shit.”
Mike knows for a fact that Santana is fine with Heineken (even light), but he agrees on the PBR end so he gives in.
“Fine. But the other team isn’t getting it, and I’ll mix the drinks,” Mike says.
“That was always the plan,” Santana smiles. “Besides this way you get to see the other team drink cheap tequila and Vanilla Coke.”
“Ugh, nasty,” A full body shiver runs through him at the thought.
“I know.”
//
A text from Rachel saying she’s on her way up saves him from a rough game of drinking Jenga. He’s already having to keep his feet off the floor, can’t use his thumbs, and been named the Beer Bitch. From his awkward position at the end of the table he knows it will be all over next turn.
Mike excuses himself, and Santana coughs pansy into her hand. She’s just mad that she’ll be the one to topple it over now.
Rachel bounds in the door, white plastic bag in hand and wearing her Woodstock shirt that makes him smile.
“Smartest thing you’ve done was programming Santana’s phone with the text. Drunk. Need Tacos. I appreciate not having to decipher the misspelled version,” Rachel says pushing up on her tiptoes to give Mike a peck on the lips.
“I knew you always loved me for my brain,” Mike says. “Want to go get some jello shots. I made some special Christmas ones you’ll love.”
“Oh, God, jello shots,” Rachel laughs. “The last time we had those...” She trails off with a blush.
“You slept with Santana,” Mike supplies, the alcohol having removed much of his usual decorum. “Yeah Santana already brought it up. Heads up. She suggested a threesome.”
“Of course she did,” Rachel deadpans before her eyes widen with nervous tension. “Is that something you want?”
“Not at all,” Mike smooths his hands down Rachel’s arms to calm her. “I have exactly what I want right here.”
“Good answer,” Rachel whispers and pulls him into the deep kiss that doesn’t last long because Santana is shouting across the room.
“Rach! You’re my favorite roommate!” Santana grabs the bag of tacos and then lifts Rachel off the ground in a hug.
“You’re my favorite too,” Puck says only it comes out muffled because he already has a taco in his mouth.
“I’m pleased with the consensus that I’m everyone’s preeminent friend,” Rachel says.
“Please go get some jello shots so you stop talking like that,” Santana says in between bites.
“Come on, babe. You’ll really like mine,” Mike says.
“You know how I feel about them,” Rachel says.
“I do. But trust me. These are epic,” Mike says and kisses the pout off her lips.
//
Rachel’s a lightweight so it doesn’t take her long to catch up with him. (He not going to let her get caught up with Puck and Santana because he wants more than for her to just pass out on his bed at the end of the night).
When Rachel starts giving an impromptu Christmas concert standing on the table he knows it’s time to cut her off. She retains her perfect pitch while she drinks so the performance is still pretty good. Santa Claus is Coming to Town is even complete with added little sounds for the toys between lines.
Then Santana joins her for a couple songs and things deteriorate into the two of them singing Jingle Bell Rock only replaced with the words jello shot rock.
Mike waits for the last smattering of drunken applause to end, and jumps up on the table to sweep Rachel up into his arms before she and Santana start another song.
“You’re really strong,” Rachel says looking up at him. “I like it when you carry me.”
“I know you do. It’s why I do it,” Mike says. But he hasn’t exactly thought things through because when he looks at the floor and then the stairs leading to his room he knows he’s in no state to get them there.
“But do you think you can make it up the stairs yourself? I’m not sure I can make it,” Mike admits sheepishly.
Rachel nods confidently and hops down off the table.
“Where you going?” Santana tries to replicate Rachel’s move and ends up crashing into the side of the couch when she can’t keep her balance when she lands.
It’s hilarious so they all end up laughing lying on the floor, or in Mike’s case the table.
Once he’s lost the energy to laugh, he and Puck help Santana to the couch. She’s clearly crashing there for the night.
Rachel’s waiting for him but he can’t quite decipher her expression so for no reason he’s suddenly nervous she’s upset with him.
“Are you mad? Is it about the jello shots?” Mike asks because Santana is beyond wasted and Rachel’s definitely going to have to take care of her in the morning.
Rachel takes one last look at Santana sprawled out on the couch and laughs long and hard. “Nope. Everything’s perfect.” She wraps herself around him and they head upstairs.
He knows he going to regret some of it in the morning, but at the moment Mike couldn’t agree with Rachel more.