HSN Exchange Fic: The Sun Never Sets (1/2), for neimans
Title: The Sun Never Sets (1/2)
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Puck/Rachel, Santana, Brittany (implied Santana/Puck, Santana/Brittany)
Warnings: N/A
Word count: ~8700 (total ~15,700)
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: On their last night in Mexico, Santana has a plan that's bound to get someone in trouble.
A/N: Thank you to my lovely, lovely beta for her everlasting patience. ♥ neimans I hope you enjoy this!
"We're going out," Santana says when she returns from the vending machine sans snacks.
Rachel looks up from an article about flirting in Santana's Cosmo to watch her dig in her suitcase for something, tossing clothing over her shoulder haphazardly.
She frowns. She just packed both their suitcases after dinner, making sure that everything they wouldn't be using before they leave tomorrow wouldn't be forgotten.
"Is this sanctioned by Mr. Schuester?" Rachel asks. After all, their itinerary clearly states that they're not allowed to leave the hotel without adult supervision, and Mr. Schuester said he had plans to turn in early tonight.
"Who cares?" Santana says as she strips off her top. Rachel barely even blinks. She's used to it by now; rooming with Santana for a week severely dampens one's sense of modesty. "We're the entire reason the Glee Club is here. Trust me, we deserve to have some fun."
She must look dubious - Santana's logic isn't always the clearest - because after she dons a purple tank top, Santana says, "C'mon, Rachel. How often are you going to be in Mexico?"
Rachel doesn't entirely trust Santana. Despite their mutual personal success as of late, the sting of a lost solo is still a little too vivid, despite their mutual personal success as of late.
Santana smiles wickedly in the mirror after applying a fresh coat of lipgloss, eyes bright and inviting, just like they were the first time they talked after they found the journal and the lists. It reminds Rachel of hushed conspiratorial plots and a camaraderie she'd always wanted but had never really known until recently.
And that's all it takes.
-
"We can't go into a bar!" Rachel says.
"Mexico," Santana says, like that means anything whatsoever. Mexico is not the city of teenage rebelliousness; it's not a place for whatever deviousness Santana certainly has planned, and Rachel's about to protest when Santana says, "There you are."
She glances over her shoulder to see Puck, strolling along like he isn't out after curfew.
"Noah! What are you -"
Of course. Santana must have invited him.
"What about the rest of the Glee Club?"
Santana shrugs and shares a look with Brittany. It's a strange feeling, to be privy to something exclusive, something by invitation only. Rachel hasn't had a lot of experience with that. She follows them into the bar, head held high. Her wardrobe may be questionable to others' taste - and really, are they blind? She color coordinates excellently - and her personality may still be grating, but the rest of Glee Club isn't here.
She is.
"Puck. Get us some alcohol," Santana says halfway through the bar. She turns to Rachel and gestures after him. "Go with him."
Rachel frowns, but does what she's told.
"I'm not sure of the correct way to order an alcoholic beverage. Is it proper to use querer or would a colloquialism be a better route?"
"It's okay, babe. I know all the Mexican we need," Puck says, motioning to the bartender. "Tequila!"
"No," he says, when the bartender reaches for a bottle. He points and then, drawling it out, louder than what is probably necessary, says, "That one."
The bartender rolls his eyes and sets the bottle Puck wants down on the bar.
"Anything else?" he says.
"Nah. Gracias." Puck hands the man some money and turns to Rachel, saying, "I'm a little surprised you came tonight."
"Santana insisted."
He nods. "That makes sense. It's not really your scene."
The bartender sets down two shot glasses and a dish of limes. Puck takes his change, and she must look confused because Puck elaborates, "You know. Fun stuff."
"I have plenty of fun, thank you very much." She frowns when he laughs again, bright and obviously highly amused. She doesn't know why people insist on finding humor whenever she says anything like that.
"Sure, babe. C'mon," he says, palming the two shot glasses and the bottle of tequila. Rachel picks up the limes and follows Puck through the mostly empty bar.
Brittany is resting her head on Santana's shoulder, and Santana watches them approach - watches Rachel approach - smiling in a way that makes Rachel's stomach flip nastily. She slows a little, falling behind.
Maybe this little outing of theirs was a bad idea.
The hotel isn't that far away, but even with her rape whistle handy, Rachel doesn't feel comfortable returning alone. Even though she's apprehensive - Santana isn't her friend - Rachel's fairly certain they've stopped hating each other.
Puck sets the tequila and shot glasses on the table. He glances back at the bar, and Rachel follows his gaze. There's a woman sitting alone.She's attractive in a traditionally chesty way, Rachel guesses. Apparently boys and men are attracted to that. Noah certainly is.
"Where are you going?" Santana asks when he turns away from the table.
Puck stares at her, like she should already know the answer to that, before shaking his head and heading over to the bar.
Santana's frowning, eyes following Puck for a moment before she gestures for Rachel take a seat, pouring the tequila into one of the glasses and then into the other. She doesn't spill, confident and clearly practiced. Rachel sits down slowly on the very edge of the chair.
It isn't a very comforting thought, wondering if this is some insidious plot to humiliate her once again.
Perhaps she's being paranoid. Despite their differences, and their rivalry this past year, Santana is bound to her by the secrets only the two of them know.
Rachel almost convinces herself with that line of reasoning, but she can't fight the tiny voice of doubt in her mind, especially when Santana smiles like that and slides a glass across the table to Rachel in a move that she's seen in dozens of movies.
She stares at it. She's never had tequila before. She's never even had all that much alcohol. Occasional sips of celebratory champagne, of course. Seder wine, obviously, but never tequila. Her daddy says it's the devil, and she's inclined to believe him. He is, after all, her father and a Berry, so being right is second nature to him.
And maybe tequila is the devil, even if it looks pretty harmless. Like apple juice. Rachel stares down at the shot glass in front of her, wondering what she's supposed to do with it and why Santana, of all people, is offering it to her. Rachel attempts to mentally quell the twisting in her stomach. It has nothing to do with the seedy back alley cantina and nothing to do with the fact that they're all out without Mr. Schuester's permission or even knowledge.
It might have something to do with Santana's smile, sly and promising something Rachel doesn't want to recognize.
But she's Rachel Berry. She doesn't let nerves get the better of her.
"You've never been drunk," Santana says after Rachel's hesitated for far too long. She leans over, resting her elbows on the table, and considers Rachel carefully. It's the same way she's been looking at her for the past two days, thoughtfully and cunning. Like she's planning something.
Rachel doesn't like it at all. She pushes the glass back towards Santana. "No. I don't engage in underage drinking."
Santana nods, like she was expecting that. "I bet there's a lot you haven't done."
"I don't see what that has to do with anything," Rachel says.
"We're in Mexico, Rachel. Have some fun."
"Yeah, Rachel," Brittany says, "Mexico is supposed to be all about fun."
Santana laughs, nudging Brittany with her shoulder before she turns back to Rachel.
"Brittany's right. Take a drink. One's not going to hurt you."
Rachel stares at the shot glass in front of her. Does she want to do this? After all, it is true. It's unlikely that she'll be in Mexico anytime soon, but there aren't any positives in this situation. She pushes it across the table and some of it splashes over the side and onto her fingers.
"I don't think this is a good idea."
"Of course it is. Santana always has good ideas," Brittany says. They smile at each other, and Brittany reaches over to lace their fingers together on top of the table.
Santana says, "Honestly, Rachel. Are you the girl that suggested we use that journal for blackmail or aren't you? Don't chicken out on us now." She pushes the shot glass back in Rachel's direction, and Santana rests her elbow on the table, chin in her hand and a wicked curve to her mouth.
Brittany's watching carefully, head tilted to the side.
"How many times are you going to be in Mexico?" Santana asks again. It sounds rehearsed, a little too staged for Rachel's comfort, but there's a small part of her that wants to ignore it.
She's never had the traditional high school experience. No parties, no drunken cavorting. Junior Homecoming was a disaster, thanks to Jacob and his completely fraudulent blog, and that year's Prom a disappointment because of the situation with Finn, and she'd spent the majority of senior year fighting to maintain her status as female lead in Glee club instead.
Rachel swallows. The glass is a little slippery in her fingers, sticky with spilled alcohol and things she's never experienced. In an uncharacteristic turn of events, Rachel does something she has never done in the entire history of her life.
She balks.
"I can't." She sets the glass down but doesn't let go of it.
Santana reaches across the table and gently takes the glass from her fingers. "It's easy, Rachel. Here, I'll show you."
She turns towards Brittany. Brittany smiles, leaning even further into Santana's space, and Santana pushes Brittany's hair behind her ears with her free hand, flipping the ends over her shoulder. That's when Puck sits down next to her, breaking Rachel out of her focus. He looks more than mildly interested.
Of course he is. Brittany is practically in Santana's lap.
"What's up?"
Santana smiles, glancing over at him. "Rachel's going to do her first shot. We're showing her how it's done." She pauses, like she's suddenly realizing something profound. "Unless you'd rather give her a physical demonstration."
Rachel stiffens, arm brushing against Puck's bicep. Santana looks between them, bright eyes and a smile that makes Rachel want to back away or lock herself in a room somewhere. At least until it's time for her to leave at the end of the summer.
"I'll do you," he offers, leering at her.
Rachel stares at him and that insufferable grin on his face.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not?"
It's not a good idea because Puck is her ex-boyfriend's best friend, because she dated him once, and no matter how short lived that particular affair was, Rachel knows she had good reasons for breaking up with him.
Even if those reasons don't truly matter anymore.
Puck raises his eyebrow at her, but Rachel shakes her head, unwilling to offer him that explanation.
She wants to have the quintessential high school experience How can she really portray what it means to be rebellious like Fanny if she's never had those experiences? But her parents expect a certain level of decorum from her, and Rachel is far above the infantile desire to become inebriated.
"Your loss," he says, like it's no big deal.
There's a downturn to the corner of Santana's mouth. She sighs, clearly exasperated about something. "Here, watch us. First, you put a little salt on-" She smiles, cat-like, and tugs on the collar of Brittany's shirt, pulling her closer. Next to Rachel, Puck shifts in his seat, elbow bumping against her as he leans forward to watch Santana lick a slow, lingering trail up the column of Brittany's throat.
"You're disgusting," she whispers, staring at his profile. Puck grins but he doesn't look away from Santana and Brittany. She completely misses Santana taking the shot, looking over only when she hears the shot glass hit the table.
Santana bites down on a lime from the dish in the middle of the table. She looks at them, eyes lazy and half lidded as she sets it on a napkin. "See? It's easy."
"Hey, c'mere," Puck says, grabbing the extra shot and reaching out in an attempt to pull her around the table, but Santana resists.
"Dream on, Puck."
He scowls but licks his own wrist, salting it and then taking the other shot, before standing up. The scrap of his chair against the floor is loud, echoing in the quiet bar.
"Whatever, I'm not dealing with this."
Rachel frowns, wondering what Santana's reluctance stems from. She's seen them in the hallways at school, familiar to the point of indecency. Santana certainly doesn't appreciate when Puck sleeps with the wrong girl, though Rachel's never fully understood what being the wrong girl entails. She's certain Puck doesn't either.
"He's so hot," Santana says, nonchalant. She doesn't even look at Rachel, too busy watching Puck walk away.
"Yeah," Brittany says, "Super fine."
Rachel turns to look at Puck, leaning against the bar next to the woman and rests his hand on the bar next to hers. It's undeniable that he's attractive. She tries not to think about it most of the time. Besides, it's been an impossibly long time since he did so much as attempt to even flirt with her.
She frowns. It isn't as if she's upset about it; really, they're friends, if only because of the sheer force of Rachel's persistence, accidentally on purpose being in his presence whenever she could, convincing him to work on assignments for Glee with her, and showing up unannounced to his house, his sporting events and his job at Sheets N Things until Puck finally gave up and admitted that he didn't totally hate spending time with her.
She marked that day with a big giant star on her mental road map to personal success.
She plays with the lime on her napkin, getting sticky juice on her fingertips. There isn't room in their friendship for the kind of flirting he used to attempt to partake in with her anyway.
"You should hook up with him." Rachel drops the lime and stares at Santana, frozen. "For real, Rachel. It'd be super hot."
She shakes her head, smiling absently at the table. "I don't think so."
"For someone as obsessed with reaching her goals, all you are is can't, can't, can't."
Rachel narrows her eyes, wiping her fingers on a napkin. "What are you playing at, Santana?"
She shrugs, like she isn't proposing something completely ludicrous. "Nothing. I just think you should hook up with him."
Rachel doesn't trust that at all. Her sixth sense is screaming that Santana's up to something; she doesn't think she'll like whatever it is.
"That won't happen."
"Why not? You have a problem with Puck?"
There's a weird edge underlying the tone of her voice, sharp, almost hard. Rachel's spent the last few months studying the tonality of Santana's voice, looking for flaws and weaknesses she could exploit. She can tell that Santana's annoyed, possibly angry.
"That's not it at all."
He might be overtly vulgar at times and completely inappropriate at others, but Puck is her friend. For that very reason, Rachel values him more than anyone else in her life - besides her dads, of course - despite the unfortunate aspects of his personality.
"Then what is it? You have a problem with -"
"I don't casually have sexual relationships with people!"
Santana's smile dims, and her eyes darken. "Oh, I see. You think hooking up with people is beneath you? Or maybe you just think Puck's beneath you."
It's too warm in the bar, not at all helped by the hot Mexican night air, but Rachel suddenly feels very, very cold. Everyone knows how Santana can get about Puck or Brittany. Rachel - the entire Glee club, really - saw it first hand the first time he tried to date Mercedes. It was even worse when he actually dated her the summer after junior year.
Rachel is not afraid of Santana.
She isn't.
It doesn't matter that Santana knows about the blackmail, and it doesn't matter that their relationship has been tumultuous, seesawing from musical rivals to co-conspirators and back, While Santana may have gotten the solo in the end, it certainly doesn't mean that Rachel's the weaker party.
"That's not what I meant," Rachel says slowly, "and you know it."
"Uh huh. And what exactly did you mean?"
"I just. I need more than what that kind of relationship offers." It's true. Rachel doesn't think that she could easily limit herself to only a physical connection and nothing more. She'll always want more. More and more and more until there's nothing left for her to actually get. It'll never be enough, like she sometimes wonders if reaching her dreams will ever be enough for her.
"There's nothing wrong with casual sex," Brittany says. "Plus, guys totally like you more if you don't say no."
"It's true. Right now, you're kind of prime material, 'cause this whole virgin thing totally gets them hot. But when you get too old, it's not going to work anymore. Then you're just weird." Santana pauses, tilts her head and smiles. "Weirder than you already are, I mean. "
Rachel frowns. "I do perfectly fine, thank you."
"Really? You haven't dated anyone since wonderboy last year." Santana says, words coated with fictitious empathy.
Rachel looks away quickly, ignoring the sting of a wound she pretends has long scabbed over. She knows her stage smile should be impenetrable whenever she's around Santana, but prom night - and Tina's fingers laced with Finn's, her hands in his hair - is something that she's not quite over yet.
Santana and Brittany have already seen her moment of weakness, but Rachel pretends it didn't happen. "I've been focusing on the success of both Glee and my career. Clearly, my focus hasn't been a complete waste, despite Nationals."
"Yeah, we've all heard about your scholarship," Santana says and looks at her nails. Rachel smiles, despite Santana and Brittany's obvious disinterest.
It's not Julliard or the Peabody Institute. It's not Broadway, but it's not Lima. It's not Ohio. She's getting out, and that has always been a main component of all of her dreams. She leaves in fifty-six days; and Rachel's already eager to cross off more and more days on her calender.
It's far too long.
"I don't know what you're trying to do, but I'm not interested in playing your games."
Santana rolls her eyes and gets to her feet, grabbing the bottle of tequila. "Whatever. This is boring. Let's go."
"Go where?" Rachel asks as they pull her to her feet.
Santana smiles, spreading her arms wide. "Where ever we want to go. Puck!" Santana beckons with her index finger when he looks up. "Come on. We're leaving."
She shuffles Rachel out the door behind Brittany without even waiting to see if he'll follow.
-
Her arm brushes against Puck's as they walk through the area of town surrounding the hotel, and he grins at her, lazy and sort of amused before snagging the tequila from Santana and drinking some, grimacing through the after bite of the taste.
He offers it to her, but Rachel shakes her head. Perhaps she'd fit in better with the three of them if she did - and her fingers itch for the bottle for that very reason - but it feels like Santana's playing a game with her.
Rachel will not lose.
"Brittany and I are going in," Santana says, stopping in front of an alley just outside a tiny grocer. Rachel starts to follow but Santana shakes her head. "Yeah, no. You'll get us caught, little miss muffet."
She looks at Puck over Rachel's shoulder. "Make sure a hobo doesn't run off with her, okay? Her dads would sue."
Rachel nods. "It's true. They would."
Santana smirks and pushes Rachel right into Puck's arms before she leaves. He catches her when she stumbles, and all Rachel can think about is the hint of sweat, lingering despite the smell of the hotel soap. It's not the first time she's been in his arms, but every single time the strength in his muscles catches her off guard.
How warm he always seems to be, even when snowflakes fell all around them during that impromptu snowball fight one day after Glee rehearsal. He caught her when she skidded on the icy sidewalk. She remembers that now, how he grinned at her, warm and breathtakingly handsome before dumping snow down the back of her jacket.
And she can't help it; Rachel thinks about what Santana and Brittany proposed earlier.
Hooking up with Puck would be completely irresponsible, completely reckless and completely inappropriate in so many ways. He's not her boyfriend, and Rachel doesn't know if she can regulate herself to a casual relationship.
Part of her wants it, just to know what it's like. What it'd be like with Puck. It's small, and ridiculously insignificant, but it's there, humming quietly to a melody she's never understood. Is this all Santana's doing? Plant the seeds of an idea, sit back and watch it sprout?
Why would Santana want that?
She pulls away, straightening her shirt and smoothing out her skirt. She's not entirely certain she's talking about the alcohol or the sneaking out when she says, "I think she's going to get us in trouble."
"Santana's off her rocker," Puck says, "And Britt -" He laughs again, and Rachel can practically feel the low rumble in his chest. "Don't take them too seriously."
"I'm not. They're actually being rather nice. Santana insisted that I come with tonight, but despite the peace treaty we've reached since Regionals, I can't shake the feeling that -"
"She's up to something?" Puck nods. "Yeah, probably. You piss her off lately?"
Rachel thinks about that. She isn't often aware of it when she upsets other people. She thinks she's gotten better, at least a little, but she still misses those particular social cues far too frequently. And after Regionals, after the very heated discussion in the dressing room, after she'd won - it still burns, even though Rachel tries not to think about it all that much - Santana hadn't been anything more or less than amicable towards Rachel.
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Yeah, I always think that too. And then she stops putting out for some stupid reason."
Rachel frowns, wrinkling her nose. She does not need the personal details of his relationship with Santana. He laughs when she tells him that.
"I'm surprised the two of you aren't -" Rachel stops. As much as Santana and Puck are talked about, people don't actually talk about them. "Nobody really knows what's going on with you two. You're relationship is- it's complex."
Puck takes another drink, possibly to avoid the conversation altogether. It can't be because he enjoys the taste, not from the way he grimaces.
"Noah. You know you can tell me anything, right? I may talk too much most of the time, but I have gotten exceptionally good at keeping secrets."
It's the truth, even though she knows Puck won't believe her. He rarely lets that facade drop, but it'd be nice if he would confide in her - she realizes that she really wants it. She doesn't know why it's so important - but she knows how he normally reacts when pushed. He clams up, getting sullen and angry.
"Nah, babe. There's nothing to talk about."
"Are you sur-"
"Not interrupting anything, are we?" Santana says sweetly, a brown paper bag in her hands.
Puck doesn't seem to notice her jibe, or the blush Rachel knows is on her cheeks. He says, "That was quick. What's in the bag?"
Santana smiles and hands it to Puck. Rachel leans over, distracted momentarily by the heat of his arm before she looks in the bag. It's a bottle of orange juice.
Santana fills the half empty tequila bottle with some of it and shakes it up, grimacing when she takes a sip.
"I don't know if this is going to help at all," Santana says. "Couldn't you have bought something that isn't so terrible?"
"You weren't complaining at the bar," Puck says tightly.
"I'm complaining now."
"Whatever, Santana," Puck says, "Just because you're all hormonal and shit-"
Santana's frown tightens, scowling at him. Brittany's looking between them, wide-eyed and probably just as startled as Rachel is. She doesn't know where this is coming from.
"Wow, Puck," Santana says slowly, drawling it out. "You sure you want to go there?"
"You want better booze, baby? Get it yourself next time. Hell, get it yourself now if you're going to be a bitch about it." Puck grabs the bottle and yanks it from Santana's hand and then he turns and starts to walk off.
Santana's just going to let him go, standing there with her arms crossed and an ugly frown on her face. Rachel shares a look with Brittany, and then she follows him, brushing past Santana.
She catches him right before he's almost out of the alley. Rachel touches the back of his elbow, and it seems to calm him, to distract him from this sudden hostility. He's still incredibly tense, and she's never seen him this angry, not even when Dave Karofsky thought it'd be funny to slushie Quinn her first day back after giving birth to Beth.
"Noah," she says. "Don't go."
When he doesn't say or do anything - he barely even looks at her - she squeezes his elbow as reassuringly as she can. Rachel doesn't think that touching him like this will ever be enough, not with the hot flush on his skin, hot from the heat or from the anger. She doesn't know.
After a moment, he nods once and lets her tug him back towards the others. Santana doesn't apologize and neither does Puck, but it only takes Brittany wresting the tequila from Puck to ease the tension a little.
"I don't know if this is such a good idea." Rachel says as she takes a drink. "Did you know that underage drinking can-"
Santana reaches out and hooks her fingers in the waistband of Brittany's denim skirt, pulling Brittany towards her. "I think Rachel needs to loosen up."
Rachel juts her chin forward. "I am perfectly loose, thank you very much."
"Yeah, that happens when you drink the water here," Brittany says, settling her hands on Santana's shoulders. Santana stares at her for a moment before she shakes her head and turns back to Rachel, leaning in close.
She says, "Look, if you're not going to hook up with him, at least drink something."
Rachel glances over at Puck. Did he hear that? He gives no indication that he did, adding more orange juice to the tequila and handing the bottle to Brittany, but Rachel would rather Santana just stopped talking about it altogether. It's not going to happen.
"Come on. How often are you going to be in Mexico?"
"How often are you going to ask me that? Besides, when I'm famous, I can come here whenever I choose."
Santana sighs. "Yeah, but how often are you going to be in Mexico with us?"
She frowns. She's fairly convinced that Santana wouldn't care to vacation with Rachel again. She probably wouldn't even think twice about seeing her after this trip, even when Rachel is a famous star.
Rachel shakes her head. It isn't a good idea in the first place, and with the way Santana keeps pushing it, both the alcohol and the idea of Puck, she isn't about to be swayed. Even with the grin on his face and his devil-may-care attitude, laughing at Brittany while trying to grab the bottle away from her.
If sleeping with him isn't a good idea, why is she still thinking about it?
-
They wander around some more, and Rachel wonders the entire time if this is what inebriated people do, walk around without actually doing anything. The hype is overrated, if that is the case.
Every time Puck accidentally - he's not paying her enough attention to be doing it on purpose - brushes up against her, Rachel fights a shiver. He takes a drink, and she watches his throat work, the sweat clinging to his skin in the heat still lingering from the afternoon, and she doesn't know why she's suddenly so tempted.
This is completely irrational. Puck isn't a boy she should be interested in despite how movie perfect it is, the young ingenue and the rebel in a foreign city and mostly unsupervised.
Santana seems to catch it all, smiling in a way that makes Rachel's stomach clench and her nerves fray a little more each time.
"I don't know where to go," Puck says when they stop and loiter on a street corner.
"I like wandering around," Brittany says.
"Yeah, but it's boring, babe. We need to, like, burn something. Or we could-"
Rachel takes a step to the side, closer to Santana.
"Can I have a word? In private?" She raises an eyebrow. "Please?"
"All right."
Santana leads her further into an alley, and Rachel really hopes there isn't an axe murderer in the shadows. She doesn't want to die before she has a star on Hollywood Boulevard.
No matter. She can always push Santana in the way so Rachel can successfully make her own escape.
"What are you doing?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Santana says. Rachel doesn't buy her innocent act for a second. She crosses her arms and attempts to stare her down, but Santana doesn't even flinch.
"This entire thing," Rachel says, waving her hand wildly in an attempt to encompass the entirety of the night. "Inviting me out, trying to get me drunk, telling me that I should seduce Noah-"
"You can't go to college as socially unprepared as you are. They'll eat you alive," Santana says. Her smile is a little too bright, brilliantly blinding like a shining beacon of emotional and social devastation. "I'm just looking out for you.
Rachel simply stares, saying slowly, "I can't believe you expect me to believe that."
It takes a moment, but then Santana cracks a real smile. "You're right. I don't expect you to believe that. Trust me, I'm just trying to have a little fun."
"At my expense. Santana, that is hardly a rousing reason for me to trust you."
"That's not what I meant. Look, this whole - thing that you have going on? It's awful." Rachel stares at her in shock. Even during the most tumultuous moments of their rivalry this last year, she hadn't been outright horrible about anything, even if some of her statements bordered on cruel. "And it's starting to get boring."
Rachel feels the jibe, right between her ribs; it really shouldn't catch her off guard. This is Santana, despite everything they've been through in the last few weeks. She should have been expecting this.
The hotel isn't that far away - she knows they've been wandering in circles for most of the night- and she's fairly sure she could find her way, and it may be a foreign city, but there are a lot of tourists. Many of the locals probably speak some English, at the very least.
"You're taking this the wrong way."
"Is there a right way to take this?" Rachel says. "I'm well aware of what everyone thinks of me; there's absolutely no need to -"
"That's not what this is about. Whatever my motives are, you'd only benefit-"
"According to whom? You? We're rivals. I should have known better than to -"
"Not anymore," Santana says, but Rachel doesn't listen.
"Just because we engaged in potentially illegal activities together certainly doesn't mean I'm stupid enough to ignore that fact that you deliberately went after that solo to ruin m-"
"We're not rivals anymore," Santana says loud enough that Rachel's almost certain Puck and Brittany will have heard them. "And for the record? Whatever you want to think, it had nothing to do with you. I wanted that solo, and I got it. Get over it."
Mr. Schuester has an unfortunate habit of giving away solos to people who clearly deserve them less than Rachel does; it's always been that way. Even now, Rachel doesn't know why she ever imagined that her senior year would be different. Santana isn't as strong a singer as Rachel; she isn't as well trained, but in the end, it didn't matter at all.
It's infuriating, even now, even when there's nothing Rachel can do about it. That solo is long out of her grasp, but it burns, remembering how easily it slipped from her fingers and how persistently Santana fought for it.
Just as persistently as Rachel did. It's something she denied she admired. Rachel doesn't like feeling an empathic connection to her rivals. It's a weakness.
She says quietly, "I never told you, but you sang it really well." It's true. Santana delivered a strikingly performance, even if Rachel knows she could have delivered a much more emotionally provocative one, Santana exceeded even Rachel's expectations.
"I know."
It's more than a little awkward now, but thankfully Brittany's laughter distracts both of them; she's stretching on her tip toes as she tries to hold the tequila away from Puck. It doesn't prevent him from reaching, pressing up against her for it. Rachel doubts it's really the bottle he's actually after.
"Does it ever bother you?" Rachel asks. She doesn't know the particulars of any of their relationships, but she suspects that Santana's the most possessive of the three. Rachel doesn't know if she could do that, be with someone that wasn't one hundred percent invested in her and only her.
Santana looks thoughtful. "You know. I meant it earlier. You should hook up with him. It'd be really hot."
Rachel shakes her head, wondering why Santana keeps returning to that topic. She doesn't stop staring at Puck, the easy swing of his shoulders as he wrests the bottle from Brittany's hands, the familiar way his hand rests on her shoulder as he takes a drink from the bottle.
She bites her lower lip, certain that there's something in the Mexican air, or maybe the water, because wanting Noah Puckerman isn't something she usually admits to, even to herself.
"Oh my god. You want it. You want him."
Rachel inhales sharply. It's too late to lie about it, not when Santana's already seen everything she needs to. "There might be a small part of me -"
"So go for it."
"It's not that simple!"
"Honestly, Rachel? Your virginity needs to go. It's really bringing down anything you have to offer. And it's Puck," Santana says. "He won't say no, if that's what you're worried about."
Rachel looks away. "I'm not sure - I don't want it to happen because I'm available. My first time should be something special, and -"
Santana sighs, and then Rachel feels a hand on her shoulder. Santana stares at Rachel for a long moment, intensely quiet. Just like the first time they actually talked after they'd found that journal hidden in the wings of the auditorium and everything in her screamed they were about to get caught.
Rachel is forced to strain her ears over the sound of Brittany and Puck's rowdiness when Santana says, "Sex is great. Eventually. Eventually, it's pretty awesome. And if you ever tell anyone that I said this, I'll totally lie, but if you want a first time that doesn't totally suck, Puck's your best bet. He'll take care of you."
Rachel bites her lower lip, thinking about that. Does she really want to do this? Seducing Puck has never really been something she's actively thought about. Not really.
Not all the time, anyway.
Maybe she's thought about it, what it'd be like with him. What it'd be like period. Something tightens in her chest, thinking about that. She's not prone to impulsiveness, or recklessness, or even any sort of rebellious behavior. Would it really be that inappropriate? After all, he's not her boyfriend, but he is attractive, and he is her friend. He cares about her, even if she knows he'll deny it.
"I've never seduced someone before," she says, so quiet she's not sure Santana even heard her.
"It's Puck," Santana says. "It won't be that hard."
Rachel watches Puck hand Brittany back the bottle, focusing the way he laughs, easy and buoyant.
“Well?" Santana asks, and Rachel walks away without responding.
She doesn't have an answer.
-
Rachel falls into step with Puck as soon as they leave the alley. Santana and Brittany are ahead of them, pinkies linked and heads bent together, whispering to each other.
She keeps sneaking looks over at him, trying to be subtle, but he catches her after only the third time.
"I know I'm hot, babe, but this is kind of freaking me out," Puck says, and it's funny, funny enough to make her forget to watch where she's going. She stumbles over uneven pavement, pressing against him for a moment. He catches her and tucks her under his arm, like it's something they've done before, like she's his girl and they're just wandering around school.
It's weird, having him touch her like this. Even when they were dating, she only ever threaded her arm through the cradle of his elbow. It was never as possessively intimate as this. She rolls her shoulder to ease the tension in her lower back. His hand slips down her arm, fingers resting on the side of her breast.
His fingers are light, barely there and she wonders if he even realizes what's going on.
Rachel inhales slowly, quietly. She wants him and the heat of his body and most definitely she wants to know if all those rumors about him are actually true. It doesn't catch her off guard like she thinks it's supposed to. He is extensively attractive, to say the least, and his bad boy image is one she's certainly very fond of, even if she's never let herself dwell on it before.
She wonders why that is. Maybe she's known all along what she's realizing now, but that's a epiphany that's quickly overshadowed.
Rachel wants to sleep with him tonight. She will have sex with him tonight.
Acknowledging it is both terrifying and a relief, so much so that she almost forgets about the gentle press of his finger tips against her breast.
He's tense beside her, most likely completely expecting her to push him away. She doesn't. Rachel doesn't do anything but stare straight ahead, as if it'll make the flush in her cheeks go away, as if she can simply ignore the way her thoughts are far too jumbled to coherently formulate the correct mode of action. Is this the first step in her seduction of him?
Puck stops walking, catching her shoulder and pulling her around to face him.
"You totally just let me touch your boob."
His grin is bright and vexatious, and she can't help it.
"I did not."
"Did too."
She stomps her foot before she can stop herself. "Accidental breast grazing does not count as letting you touch them."
"That was not a boob graze. That was at least ten seconds. A graze is more like -" He reaches out, and she pushes his hand away without thinking. He grins, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Whatever Rachel. I got side boob."
Inordinately pleased with himself, he tucks her back under his arm and guides them after Brittany and Santana.
Rachel frowns, trying to untangle the conflicted web of thoughts in her head. She's normally a very direct person, a bluntness she can't always control, even when a small part of her knows that she should. It should be simple to say Noah, I want you to take my virginity tonight, but the words are caught in her throat.
It's a problem because she doesn't know what to say. At all. It's in this moment that Rachel realizes that she doesn't really know how to flirt. She was always too starstruck with Jesse, too in awe of his talent. He's the only boy she's ever known to completely rob her of her speech. Finn just made her nervous in ways she never fully understood, both of them bumbling along and making more mistakes than their relationship could handle.
Puck's a different story. He only ever made her nervous before they were dating. But now? When she's thinking about having sex with him - in more than a fleeting fancy - she feels tongue-tied.
Santana keeps glancing back at them, a look in her eyes that Rachel can't fully decipher. She's not absolutely certain that she wants to. Not when following Santana's suggestions feels like an odd mix of winning and losing, like someone took how it felt showing Vocal Adrenaline how funky they could be and how it felt when Jesse crushed that egg on her forehead and put them in a blender.
"You know what we should do?" Puck says when they stop on a street corner.
"Copulate," Rachel says before she can stop herself.
Puck blinks at her. "What?"
"Nothing." she says quickly, looking away. Santana looks like she can't decided if she wants to be amused or exasperated. "It's nothing."
She wants to seduce him, not act like a complete harlot. She isn't interested in that. It's a big deal to her. Losing her virginity is something she's debated and planned for, and improving a seduction like this isn't a strength she has. She's not at all prepared for it.
"Let's go, guys," Brittany says over her shoulder as they cross the street.
The article she read in Santana's Cosmo was about flirting. Personally, Rachel thought some of them were completely ridiculous and trite, but now, she's willing to try anything.
She tugs on a strand of hair, curling it around her index finger and releasing it. She does it again before she looks at him. He's looking straight ahead, watching where they're going. Drat.
Rachel clears her throat and tries again, tugging a little too hard. She can't stop the low ouch, but it gets Puck to look at her.
"You okay there?" He asks.
She beams at him, even if it's mostly a stage face. This might not be working the way she wants it to, but it's getting him to pay attention to her. It's definitely a start.
"I'm excellent, thank you."
"Yeah, okay," he says, looking at her strangely. Rachel frowns at him, and he arches his eyebrow. Is he really completely oblivious that she's attempting to seduce him? She resists the urge to stomp her foot.
"Noah-" She pauses, thinking hard. A boy like Noah Puckerman needs something more than coy flirting. There has to be something - "What do you think of my skirt? It's new."
"It's ah. It's great," he says, glancing down briefly. He doesn't even stare at her legs. She has wonderful legs and she's expressly giving him permission to ogle her!
She frowns a little. It really shouldn't be this difficult, should it? It's never like this in the movies! "Noah. I think it would be advantageous for both of us if we were to return to the hotel."
He laughs, shaking his head. "No way. We haven't even set anything on fire yet, and there's no way I'm gonna go back without at least making a Molotov cocktail out of it."
"That's highly illegal." Rachel says, frown deepening. He's thinking about blowing things up when she's propositioning him?
"Whatever. It's totally cool."
She resists the urge to act like a complete tart and press herself flush against him, so she tries the direct approach, saying, "I want to go back to the hotel."
"Why?" Puck sounds annoyed and Rachel blinks, sensing that her control of the situation is slipping.
"Well, it's recently come to my attention that we're - I mean -" Puck's staring at her and Rachel fights to keep from wiping her hands on her skirt. Never show your nerves, even if it feels like they're trying to crawl out from under her skin. "I think that we should return to the hotel because - because Brittany and Santana deserve some alone time. They haven't had any this entire week."
He smirks and looks away, towards them. Rachel follows his gaze to see Santana frowning at them. She drops drops back and links her arm with Rachel's, controlling their gait so they're lagging behind a little bit. "Puck, walk with Brittany. I need to talk to Rachel."
"You're doing it wrong, Sesame Street," Santana says when they're a sufficient distance from the others. "This isn't how you get someone to have sex with you. Puck is the easiest lay I have ever met. All you have to do is tell him you want to sleep with him. Tell him he gets you hot. Hell, tell him you're not wearing underwear, even. It'll work."
"But I'm wearing underwear."
Santana stares at her and sighs. "Look, Rachel, you just have to tell him. I never thought you'd have a problem with telling people things."
Nothing is ever that easy for Rachel Berry. It doesn't matter if she's direct or subtle about it; nearly everything she's ever wanted was snatched away by someone else.
Santana frowns at her, looking her up and down. "Well, your shirt definitely isn't helping. It probably makes him think of his grandma. You have a tank top underneath that, right?" Santana says and reaches for the hem of Rachel's cardigan without waiting for a response.
"Santana!" Rachel shrieks, slapping her hands away.
"Relax, Rachel. I'm trying to help."
Santana peels the shirt off over her head, tossing it behind her. She smooths out Rachel's hair and then uncaps a tube of lipgloss. She takes Rachel's chin in her hand and tilts her face up. Rachel's too shocked to do anything but let Santana do what she wants.
She only starts to protest when Santana links their arms and starts them after Puck and Brittany.
"My shirt-"
"Leave it."
Rachel pulls away and crosses her arms over her chest. "It's one of my favorites."
Santana stares at her. "It's hideous."
"It is not."
"The hobos need it more than you do. Think of it as charity," she says and then pulls her away before Rachel can protest.
They catch up to the others quickly, and Santana takes Brittany's hand and peels away from Rachel and Puck without a word.
Puck blinks and looks down at her. If she had bigger breasts, she'd think he was looking at them. Unfortunately, Rachel is well aware of her lack of physical endowment.
"I've been assaulted," she says, "by Santana."
Puck just looks at her, eyes sort of distant and mouth slightly parted. When he doesn't say or do anything for several moments, she starts to fidget under his gaze. Her shirt wasn't that horrid, was it? It didn't have any of the various offenses Kurt always feels the need to bring up - no animals, no bows, no ruffles - and Puck won't stop staring at her.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
He grins slowly, completely lecherous and depraved, and she's still confused until he looks over at Santana, and it's suddenly very clear what he's imagining.
Rachel slaps his chest. "Not like that!"
"Doesn't matter," Puck says. "I can totally picture it now."
She wonders what he'd think if he knew about the dressing room at Regionals.
"You are vulgar," she says.
"I'm a dude. Two hot chicks? I'm so in." Puck keeps his eyes on Santana and Brittany as they walk. Rachel rolls her eyes, trying not to imagine what he's thinking about. Probably something completely base. It's much better that she doesn't know.
Puck says, "Too bad she wouldn't go for it anyway."
Rachel wonders if she should be offended by that. "Excuse me?"
She must sound affronted, because Puck grins at her, curling his arm tighter around her shoulders briefly. "No offense, babe. She's only been sleeping with Brittany lately."
"Really?" Rachel asks, thinking about Regionals. "I didn't know that."
He shrugs, jostling her. "It's not like we paint each other's toe nails and talk about our girlfriends or anything, but she doesn't hang out like she used to."
Rachel She's not used to this sensitivity from him. She doesn't remember the last time he was this open and honest with her. After Beth, maybe.
"And by hang out," Rachel says, "You mean sex."
Puck rubs his jaw, nodding. "Yeah. She's been acting messed up for a couple weeks. Maybe even since her birthday."
Her birthday. They'd found the journal on her birthday, preparing for an egregious assignment from Mr. Schuester.
"I figure some Puckerone lovin' in the city of love tonight will snap her out of this funk."
"I think you mean Paris," she says because she doesn't want to think about the rest of it.
"Whatever. I can't believe we're in Mexico," he says, then, catching Rachel off guard.
"All thanks to that anonymous donor," Rachel says. She almost tells him. It's on the tip of her tongue, but even though she knows Puck would appreciate it in a way that most people wouldn't, she has a solemn pact with Santana not to tell anyone.
It's been very hard, keeping it to herself.
She can almost imagine how he'd react, that glint in his eyes, like when he told her how he stole the costumes for Vocal Adrenaline's leads last year. She can practically hear the admiration, You blackmailed someone? Badass, babe, and she almost tells him, just because she wants that more than anything else.
~
The shops are dark and the streets are mostly empty. It doesn't seem to faze anyone else as they wandering around aimlessly, laughing exuberantly, getting louder and more rambunctious as the bottle of tequila and orange juice gets progressively emptier.
She hasn't had a single drop of alcohol, but Rachel even joins them in a rousing rendition of Cabeza, Hombros, Rodillas y Dos Pies, though she can tell that Puck purposefully sings off key, just to annoy her.
Rachel has no idea where they are anymore, but she ignores that niggling doubt as they turn the corner and enter a plaza. Puck says, "Hey! There's a fountain!" and he and Brittany take off immediately, racing towards it despite the people loitering around it, but Santana grabs her elbow, holding her back.
"Walk with me, Rachel."
They slow considerably until Brittany and Puck are several yards ahead of them, almost halfway into the plaza before Santana rounds on her.
"What are you doing? You're supposed to have this in the bag already!"
Rachel watches them as they keep running ahead, smiling when Puck tries to pick Brittany up and throw her in the fountain. It's hard admitting possible defeat. It's just like everything else she's ever realized that she's wanted. Puck isn't something she can have. She sighs, shaking her head.
"I think Noah has other plans this evening."
"Are you talking about that slut at the bar? Oh my god," Santana says. "It's Puck. Of course he's interested in you." And at Rachel's dubious look, she says flatly, "You have tits. They're tiny, but they're tits. He's interested."
Rachel tries to push past her. She's not interested in having this conversation. Santana prevents her from leaving, stepping in front of her and holding her in place with her hands on Rachel's shoulders. She hesitates for a moment, like it's painful to say it, but then she sighs.
"He talks about you all the time."
"He does not."
Santana just looks at her.
"Really?" Rachel asks after a moment of internal debate and doubt, feeling her cheeks heat.
She nods. "It's nauseatingly boring."
"But he's not responding to anything I do or say, and -" She realizes it the second before it's out of her mouth. She says, "He's been watching you all night."
Santana blinks, like she wasn't expecting that at all. Like she's caught off guard. It's rare to see her off balance, and it's gone quickly, but it means more than Rachel's fully comprehending.
From across the plaza, Puck yells, "Hey! What're you guys doing?"
Santana tries to go to him, but Rachel grips her elbow and pulls her back. "He's really concerned about you. And he says that you've been acting strangely since your birthday. Is this about that journal? Santana, what's really going on here?"
Santana attempts to shakes her off. "Nothing, apparently."
She yanks her elbow out of Rachel's grasp and walks briskly after Puck and Brittany.
Part Two
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Puck/Rachel, Santana, Brittany (implied Santana/Puck, Santana/Brittany)
Warnings: N/A
Word count: ~8700 (total ~15,700)
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: On their last night in Mexico, Santana has a plan that's bound to get someone in trouble.
A/N: Thank you to my lovely, lovely beta for her everlasting patience. ♥ neimans I hope you enjoy this!
"We're going out," Santana says when she returns from the vending machine sans snacks.
Rachel looks up from an article about flirting in Santana's Cosmo to watch her dig in her suitcase for something, tossing clothing over her shoulder haphazardly.
She frowns. She just packed both their suitcases after dinner, making sure that everything they wouldn't be using before they leave tomorrow wouldn't be forgotten.
"Is this sanctioned by Mr. Schuester?" Rachel asks. After all, their itinerary clearly states that they're not allowed to leave the hotel without adult supervision, and Mr. Schuester said he had plans to turn in early tonight.
"Who cares?" Santana says as she strips off her top. Rachel barely even blinks. She's used to it by now; rooming with Santana for a week severely dampens one's sense of modesty. "We're the entire reason the Glee Club is here. Trust me, we deserve to have some fun."
She must look dubious - Santana's logic isn't always the clearest - because after she dons a purple tank top, Santana says, "C'mon, Rachel. How often are you going to be in Mexico?"
Rachel doesn't entirely trust Santana. Despite their mutual personal success as of late, the sting of a lost solo is still a little too vivid, despite their mutual personal success as of late.
Santana smiles wickedly in the mirror after applying a fresh coat of lipgloss, eyes bright and inviting, just like they were the first time they talked after they found the journal and the lists. It reminds Rachel of hushed conspiratorial plots and a camaraderie she'd always wanted but had never really known until recently.
And that's all it takes.
-
"We can't go into a bar!" Rachel says.
"Mexico," Santana says, like that means anything whatsoever. Mexico is not the city of teenage rebelliousness; it's not a place for whatever deviousness Santana certainly has planned, and Rachel's about to protest when Santana says, "There you are."
She glances over her shoulder to see Puck, strolling along like he isn't out after curfew.
"Noah! What are you -"
Of course. Santana must have invited him.
"What about the rest of the Glee Club?"
Santana shrugs and shares a look with Brittany. It's a strange feeling, to be privy to something exclusive, something by invitation only. Rachel hasn't had a lot of experience with that. She follows them into the bar, head held high. Her wardrobe may be questionable to others' taste - and really, are they blind? She color coordinates excellently - and her personality may still be grating, but the rest of Glee Club isn't here.
She is.
"Puck. Get us some alcohol," Santana says halfway through the bar. She turns to Rachel and gestures after him. "Go with him."
Rachel frowns, but does what she's told.
"I'm not sure of the correct way to order an alcoholic beverage. Is it proper to use querer or would a colloquialism be a better route?"
"It's okay, babe. I know all the Mexican we need," Puck says, motioning to the bartender. "Tequila!"
"No," he says, when the bartender reaches for a bottle. He points and then, drawling it out, louder than what is probably necessary, says, "That one."
The bartender rolls his eyes and sets the bottle Puck wants down on the bar.
"Anything else?" he says.
"Nah. Gracias." Puck hands the man some money and turns to Rachel, saying, "I'm a little surprised you came tonight."
"Santana insisted."
He nods. "That makes sense. It's not really your scene."
The bartender sets down two shot glasses and a dish of limes. Puck takes his change, and she must look confused because Puck elaborates, "You know. Fun stuff."
"I have plenty of fun, thank you very much." She frowns when he laughs again, bright and obviously highly amused. She doesn't know why people insist on finding humor whenever she says anything like that.
"Sure, babe. C'mon," he says, palming the two shot glasses and the bottle of tequila. Rachel picks up the limes and follows Puck through the mostly empty bar.
Brittany is resting her head on Santana's shoulder, and Santana watches them approach - watches Rachel approach - smiling in a way that makes Rachel's stomach flip nastily. She slows a little, falling behind.
Maybe this little outing of theirs was a bad idea.
The hotel isn't that far away, but even with her rape whistle handy, Rachel doesn't feel comfortable returning alone. Even though she's apprehensive - Santana isn't her friend - Rachel's fairly certain they've stopped hating each other.
Puck sets the tequila and shot glasses on the table. He glances back at the bar, and Rachel follows his gaze. There's a woman sitting alone.She's attractive in a traditionally chesty way, Rachel guesses. Apparently boys and men are attracted to that. Noah certainly is.
"Where are you going?" Santana asks when he turns away from the table.
Puck stares at her, like she should already know the answer to that, before shaking his head and heading over to the bar.
Santana's frowning, eyes following Puck for a moment before she gestures for Rachel take a seat, pouring the tequila into one of the glasses and then into the other. She doesn't spill, confident and clearly practiced. Rachel sits down slowly on the very edge of the chair.
It isn't a very comforting thought, wondering if this is some insidious plot to humiliate her once again.
Perhaps she's being paranoid. Despite their differences, and their rivalry this past year, Santana is bound to her by the secrets only the two of them know.
Rachel almost convinces herself with that line of reasoning, but she can't fight the tiny voice of doubt in her mind, especially when Santana smiles like that and slides a glass across the table to Rachel in a move that she's seen in dozens of movies.
She stares at it. She's never had tequila before. She's never even had all that much alcohol. Occasional sips of celebratory champagne, of course. Seder wine, obviously, but never tequila. Her daddy says it's the devil, and she's inclined to believe him. He is, after all, her father and a Berry, so being right is second nature to him.
And maybe tequila is the devil, even if it looks pretty harmless. Like apple juice. Rachel stares down at the shot glass in front of her, wondering what she's supposed to do with it and why Santana, of all people, is offering it to her. Rachel attempts to mentally quell the twisting in her stomach. It has nothing to do with the seedy back alley cantina and nothing to do with the fact that they're all out without Mr. Schuester's permission or even knowledge.
It might have something to do with Santana's smile, sly and promising something Rachel doesn't want to recognize.
But she's Rachel Berry. She doesn't let nerves get the better of her.
"You've never been drunk," Santana says after Rachel's hesitated for far too long. She leans over, resting her elbows on the table, and considers Rachel carefully. It's the same way she's been looking at her for the past two days, thoughtfully and cunning. Like she's planning something.
Rachel doesn't like it at all. She pushes the glass back towards Santana. "No. I don't engage in underage drinking."
Santana nods, like she was expecting that. "I bet there's a lot you haven't done."
"I don't see what that has to do with anything," Rachel says.
"We're in Mexico, Rachel. Have some fun."
"Yeah, Rachel," Brittany says, "Mexico is supposed to be all about fun."
Santana laughs, nudging Brittany with her shoulder before she turns back to Rachel.
"Brittany's right. Take a drink. One's not going to hurt you."
Rachel stares at the shot glass in front of her. Does she want to do this? After all, it is true. It's unlikely that she'll be in Mexico anytime soon, but there aren't any positives in this situation. She pushes it across the table and some of it splashes over the side and onto her fingers.
"I don't think this is a good idea."
"Of course it is. Santana always has good ideas," Brittany says. They smile at each other, and Brittany reaches over to lace their fingers together on top of the table.
Santana says, "Honestly, Rachel. Are you the girl that suggested we use that journal for blackmail or aren't you? Don't chicken out on us now." She pushes the shot glass back in Rachel's direction, and Santana rests her elbow on the table, chin in her hand and a wicked curve to her mouth.
Brittany's watching carefully, head tilted to the side.
"How many times are you going to be in Mexico?" Santana asks again. It sounds rehearsed, a little too staged for Rachel's comfort, but there's a small part of her that wants to ignore it.
She's never had the traditional high school experience. No parties, no drunken cavorting. Junior Homecoming was a disaster, thanks to Jacob and his completely fraudulent blog, and that year's Prom a disappointment because of the situation with Finn, and she'd spent the majority of senior year fighting to maintain her status as female lead in Glee club instead.
Rachel swallows. The glass is a little slippery in her fingers, sticky with spilled alcohol and things she's never experienced. In an uncharacteristic turn of events, Rachel does something she has never done in the entire history of her life.
She balks.
"I can't." She sets the glass down but doesn't let go of it.
Santana reaches across the table and gently takes the glass from her fingers. "It's easy, Rachel. Here, I'll show you."
She turns towards Brittany. Brittany smiles, leaning even further into Santana's space, and Santana pushes Brittany's hair behind her ears with her free hand, flipping the ends over her shoulder. That's when Puck sits down next to her, breaking Rachel out of her focus. He looks more than mildly interested.
Of course he is. Brittany is practically in Santana's lap.
"What's up?"
Santana smiles, glancing over at him. "Rachel's going to do her first shot. We're showing her how it's done." She pauses, like she's suddenly realizing something profound. "Unless you'd rather give her a physical demonstration."
Rachel stiffens, arm brushing against Puck's bicep. Santana looks between them, bright eyes and a smile that makes Rachel want to back away or lock herself in a room somewhere. At least until it's time for her to leave at the end of the summer.
"I'll do you," he offers, leering at her.
Rachel stares at him and that insufferable grin on his face.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not?"
It's not a good idea because Puck is her ex-boyfriend's best friend, because she dated him once, and no matter how short lived that particular affair was, Rachel knows she had good reasons for breaking up with him.
Even if those reasons don't truly matter anymore.
Puck raises his eyebrow at her, but Rachel shakes her head, unwilling to offer him that explanation.
She wants to have the quintessential high school experience How can she really portray what it means to be rebellious like Fanny if she's never had those experiences? But her parents expect a certain level of decorum from her, and Rachel is far above the infantile desire to become inebriated.
"Your loss," he says, like it's no big deal.
There's a downturn to the corner of Santana's mouth. She sighs, clearly exasperated about something. "Here, watch us. First, you put a little salt on-" She smiles, cat-like, and tugs on the collar of Brittany's shirt, pulling her closer. Next to Rachel, Puck shifts in his seat, elbow bumping against her as he leans forward to watch Santana lick a slow, lingering trail up the column of Brittany's throat.
"You're disgusting," she whispers, staring at his profile. Puck grins but he doesn't look away from Santana and Brittany. She completely misses Santana taking the shot, looking over only when she hears the shot glass hit the table.
Santana bites down on a lime from the dish in the middle of the table. She looks at them, eyes lazy and half lidded as she sets it on a napkin. "See? It's easy."
"Hey, c'mere," Puck says, grabbing the extra shot and reaching out in an attempt to pull her around the table, but Santana resists.
"Dream on, Puck."
He scowls but licks his own wrist, salting it and then taking the other shot, before standing up. The scrap of his chair against the floor is loud, echoing in the quiet bar.
"Whatever, I'm not dealing with this."
Rachel frowns, wondering what Santana's reluctance stems from. She's seen them in the hallways at school, familiar to the point of indecency. Santana certainly doesn't appreciate when Puck sleeps with the wrong girl, though Rachel's never fully understood what being the wrong girl entails. She's certain Puck doesn't either.
"He's so hot," Santana says, nonchalant. She doesn't even look at Rachel, too busy watching Puck walk away.
"Yeah," Brittany says, "Super fine."
Rachel turns to look at Puck, leaning against the bar next to the woman and rests his hand on the bar next to hers. It's undeniable that he's attractive. She tries not to think about it most of the time. Besides, it's been an impossibly long time since he did so much as attempt to even flirt with her.
She frowns. It isn't as if she's upset about it; really, they're friends, if only because of the sheer force of Rachel's persistence, accidentally on purpose being in his presence whenever she could, convincing him to work on assignments for Glee with her, and showing up unannounced to his house, his sporting events and his job at Sheets N Things until Puck finally gave up and admitted that he didn't totally hate spending time with her.
She marked that day with a big giant star on her mental road map to personal success.
She plays with the lime on her napkin, getting sticky juice on her fingertips. There isn't room in their friendship for the kind of flirting he used to attempt to partake in with her anyway.
"You should hook up with him." Rachel drops the lime and stares at Santana, frozen. "For real, Rachel. It'd be super hot."
She shakes her head, smiling absently at the table. "I don't think so."
"For someone as obsessed with reaching her goals, all you are is can't, can't, can't."
Rachel narrows her eyes, wiping her fingers on a napkin. "What are you playing at, Santana?"
She shrugs, like she isn't proposing something completely ludicrous. "Nothing. I just think you should hook up with him."
Rachel doesn't trust that at all. Her sixth sense is screaming that Santana's up to something; she doesn't think she'll like whatever it is.
"That won't happen."
"Why not? You have a problem with Puck?"
There's a weird edge underlying the tone of her voice, sharp, almost hard. Rachel's spent the last few months studying the tonality of Santana's voice, looking for flaws and weaknesses she could exploit. She can tell that Santana's annoyed, possibly angry.
"That's not it at all."
He might be overtly vulgar at times and completely inappropriate at others, but Puck is her friend. For that very reason, Rachel values him more than anyone else in her life - besides her dads, of course - despite the unfortunate aspects of his personality.
"Then what is it? You have a problem with -"
"I don't casually have sexual relationships with people!"
Santana's smile dims, and her eyes darken. "Oh, I see. You think hooking up with people is beneath you? Or maybe you just think Puck's beneath you."
It's too warm in the bar, not at all helped by the hot Mexican night air, but Rachel suddenly feels very, very cold. Everyone knows how Santana can get about Puck or Brittany. Rachel - the entire Glee club, really - saw it first hand the first time he tried to date Mercedes. It was even worse when he actually dated her the summer after junior year.
Rachel is not afraid of Santana.
She isn't.
It doesn't matter that Santana knows about the blackmail, and it doesn't matter that their relationship has been tumultuous, seesawing from musical rivals to co-conspirators and back, While Santana may have gotten the solo in the end, it certainly doesn't mean that Rachel's the weaker party.
"That's not what I meant," Rachel says slowly, "and you know it."
"Uh huh. And what exactly did you mean?"
"I just. I need more than what that kind of relationship offers." It's true. Rachel doesn't think that she could easily limit herself to only a physical connection and nothing more. She'll always want more. More and more and more until there's nothing left for her to actually get. It'll never be enough, like she sometimes wonders if reaching her dreams will ever be enough for her.
"There's nothing wrong with casual sex," Brittany says. "Plus, guys totally like you more if you don't say no."
"It's true. Right now, you're kind of prime material, 'cause this whole virgin thing totally gets them hot. But when you get too old, it's not going to work anymore. Then you're just weird." Santana pauses, tilts her head and smiles. "Weirder than you already are, I mean. "
Rachel frowns. "I do perfectly fine, thank you."
"Really? You haven't dated anyone since wonderboy last year." Santana says, words coated with fictitious empathy.
Rachel looks away quickly, ignoring the sting of a wound she pretends has long scabbed over. She knows her stage smile should be impenetrable whenever she's around Santana, but prom night - and Tina's fingers laced with Finn's, her hands in his hair - is something that she's not quite over yet.
Santana and Brittany have already seen her moment of weakness, but Rachel pretends it didn't happen. "I've been focusing on the success of both Glee and my career. Clearly, my focus hasn't been a complete waste, despite Nationals."
"Yeah, we've all heard about your scholarship," Santana says and looks at her nails. Rachel smiles, despite Santana and Brittany's obvious disinterest.
It's not Julliard or the Peabody Institute. It's not Broadway, but it's not Lima. It's not Ohio. She's getting out, and that has always been a main component of all of her dreams. She leaves in fifty-six days; and Rachel's already eager to cross off more and more days on her calender.
It's far too long.
"I don't know what you're trying to do, but I'm not interested in playing your games."
Santana rolls her eyes and gets to her feet, grabbing the bottle of tequila. "Whatever. This is boring. Let's go."
"Go where?" Rachel asks as they pull her to her feet.
Santana smiles, spreading her arms wide. "Where ever we want to go. Puck!" Santana beckons with her index finger when he looks up. "Come on. We're leaving."
She shuffles Rachel out the door behind Brittany without even waiting to see if he'll follow.
-
Her arm brushes against Puck's as they walk through the area of town surrounding the hotel, and he grins at her, lazy and sort of amused before snagging the tequila from Santana and drinking some, grimacing through the after bite of the taste.
He offers it to her, but Rachel shakes her head. Perhaps she'd fit in better with the three of them if she did - and her fingers itch for the bottle for that very reason - but it feels like Santana's playing a game with her.
Rachel will not lose.
"Brittany and I are going in," Santana says, stopping in front of an alley just outside a tiny grocer. Rachel starts to follow but Santana shakes her head. "Yeah, no. You'll get us caught, little miss muffet."
She looks at Puck over Rachel's shoulder. "Make sure a hobo doesn't run off with her, okay? Her dads would sue."
Rachel nods. "It's true. They would."
Santana smirks and pushes Rachel right into Puck's arms before she leaves. He catches her when she stumbles, and all Rachel can think about is the hint of sweat, lingering despite the smell of the hotel soap. It's not the first time she's been in his arms, but every single time the strength in his muscles catches her off guard.
How warm he always seems to be, even when snowflakes fell all around them during that impromptu snowball fight one day after Glee rehearsal. He caught her when she skidded on the icy sidewalk. She remembers that now, how he grinned at her, warm and breathtakingly handsome before dumping snow down the back of her jacket.
And she can't help it; Rachel thinks about what Santana and Brittany proposed earlier.
Hooking up with Puck would be completely irresponsible, completely reckless and completely inappropriate in so many ways. He's not her boyfriend, and Rachel doesn't know if she can regulate herself to a casual relationship.
Part of her wants it, just to know what it's like. What it'd be like with Puck. It's small, and ridiculously insignificant, but it's there, humming quietly to a melody she's never understood. Is this all Santana's doing? Plant the seeds of an idea, sit back and watch it sprout?
Why would Santana want that?
She pulls away, straightening her shirt and smoothing out her skirt. She's not entirely certain she's talking about the alcohol or the sneaking out when she says, "I think she's going to get us in trouble."
"Santana's off her rocker," Puck says, "And Britt -" He laughs again, and Rachel can practically feel the low rumble in his chest. "Don't take them too seriously."
"I'm not. They're actually being rather nice. Santana insisted that I come with tonight, but despite the peace treaty we've reached since Regionals, I can't shake the feeling that -"
"She's up to something?" Puck nods. "Yeah, probably. You piss her off lately?"
Rachel thinks about that. She isn't often aware of it when she upsets other people. She thinks she's gotten better, at least a little, but she still misses those particular social cues far too frequently. And after Regionals, after the very heated discussion in the dressing room, after she'd won - it still burns, even though Rachel tries not to think about it all that much - Santana hadn't been anything more or less than amicable towards Rachel.
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Yeah, I always think that too. And then she stops putting out for some stupid reason."
Rachel frowns, wrinkling her nose. She does not need the personal details of his relationship with Santana. He laughs when she tells him that.
"I'm surprised the two of you aren't -" Rachel stops. As much as Santana and Puck are talked about, people don't actually talk about them. "Nobody really knows what's going on with you two. You're relationship is- it's complex."
Puck takes another drink, possibly to avoid the conversation altogether. It can't be because he enjoys the taste, not from the way he grimaces.
"Noah. You know you can tell me anything, right? I may talk too much most of the time, but I have gotten exceptionally good at keeping secrets."
It's the truth, even though she knows Puck won't believe her. He rarely lets that facade drop, but it'd be nice if he would confide in her - she realizes that she really wants it. She doesn't know why it's so important - but she knows how he normally reacts when pushed. He clams up, getting sullen and angry.
"Nah, babe. There's nothing to talk about."
"Are you sur-"
"Not interrupting anything, are we?" Santana says sweetly, a brown paper bag in her hands.
Puck doesn't seem to notice her jibe, or the blush Rachel knows is on her cheeks. He says, "That was quick. What's in the bag?"
Santana smiles and hands it to Puck. Rachel leans over, distracted momentarily by the heat of his arm before she looks in the bag. It's a bottle of orange juice.
Santana fills the half empty tequila bottle with some of it and shakes it up, grimacing when she takes a sip.
"I don't know if this is going to help at all," Santana says. "Couldn't you have bought something that isn't so terrible?"
"You weren't complaining at the bar," Puck says tightly.
"I'm complaining now."
"Whatever, Santana," Puck says, "Just because you're all hormonal and shit-"
Santana's frown tightens, scowling at him. Brittany's looking between them, wide-eyed and probably just as startled as Rachel is. She doesn't know where this is coming from.
"Wow, Puck," Santana says slowly, drawling it out. "You sure you want to go there?"
"You want better booze, baby? Get it yourself next time. Hell, get it yourself now if you're going to be a bitch about it." Puck grabs the bottle and yanks it from Santana's hand and then he turns and starts to walk off.
Santana's just going to let him go, standing there with her arms crossed and an ugly frown on her face. Rachel shares a look with Brittany, and then she follows him, brushing past Santana.
She catches him right before he's almost out of the alley. Rachel touches the back of his elbow, and it seems to calm him, to distract him from this sudden hostility. He's still incredibly tense, and she's never seen him this angry, not even when Dave Karofsky thought it'd be funny to slushie Quinn her first day back after giving birth to Beth.
"Noah," she says. "Don't go."
When he doesn't say or do anything - he barely even looks at her - she squeezes his elbow as reassuringly as she can. Rachel doesn't think that touching him like this will ever be enough, not with the hot flush on his skin, hot from the heat or from the anger. She doesn't know.
After a moment, he nods once and lets her tug him back towards the others. Santana doesn't apologize and neither does Puck, but it only takes Brittany wresting the tequila from Puck to ease the tension a little.
"I don't know if this is such a good idea." Rachel says as she takes a drink. "Did you know that underage drinking can-"
Santana reaches out and hooks her fingers in the waistband of Brittany's denim skirt, pulling Brittany towards her. "I think Rachel needs to loosen up."
Rachel juts her chin forward. "I am perfectly loose, thank you very much."
"Yeah, that happens when you drink the water here," Brittany says, settling her hands on Santana's shoulders. Santana stares at her for a moment before she shakes her head and turns back to Rachel, leaning in close.
She says, "Look, if you're not going to hook up with him, at least drink something."
Rachel glances over at Puck. Did he hear that? He gives no indication that he did, adding more orange juice to the tequila and handing the bottle to Brittany, but Rachel would rather Santana just stopped talking about it altogether. It's not going to happen.
"Come on. How often are you going to be in Mexico?"
"How often are you going to ask me that? Besides, when I'm famous, I can come here whenever I choose."
Santana sighs. "Yeah, but how often are you going to be in Mexico with us?"
She frowns. She's fairly convinced that Santana wouldn't care to vacation with Rachel again. She probably wouldn't even think twice about seeing her after this trip, even when Rachel is a famous star.
Rachel shakes her head. It isn't a good idea in the first place, and with the way Santana keeps pushing it, both the alcohol and the idea of Puck, she isn't about to be swayed. Even with the grin on his face and his devil-may-care attitude, laughing at Brittany while trying to grab the bottle away from her.
If sleeping with him isn't a good idea, why is she still thinking about it?
-
They wander around some more, and Rachel wonders the entire time if this is what inebriated people do, walk around without actually doing anything. The hype is overrated, if that is the case.
Every time Puck accidentally - he's not paying her enough attention to be doing it on purpose - brushes up against her, Rachel fights a shiver. He takes a drink, and she watches his throat work, the sweat clinging to his skin in the heat still lingering from the afternoon, and she doesn't know why she's suddenly so tempted.
This is completely irrational. Puck isn't a boy she should be interested in despite how movie perfect it is, the young ingenue and the rebel in a foreign city and mostly unsupervised.
Santana seems to catch it all, smiling in a way that makes Rachel's stomach clench and her nerves fray a little more each time.
"I don't know where to go," Puck says when they stop and loiter on a street corner.
"I like wandering around," Brittany says.
"Yeah, but it's boring, babe. We need to, like, burn something. Or we could-"
Rachel takes a step to the side, closer to Santana.
"Can I have a word? In private?" She raises an eyebrow. "Please?"
"All right."
Santana leads her further into an alley, and Rachel really hopes there isn't an axe murderer in the shadows. She doesn't want to die before she has a star on Hollywood Boulevard.
No matter. She can always push Santana in the way so Rachel can successfully make her own escape.
"What are you doing?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Santana says. Rachel doesn't buy her innocent act for a second. She crosses her arms and attempts to stare her down, but Santana doesn't even flinch.
"This entire thing," Rachel says, waving her hand wildly in an attempt to encompass the entirety of the night. "Inviting me out, trying to get me drunk, telling me that I should seduce Noah-"
"You can't go to college as socially unprepared as you are. They'll eat you alive," Santana says. Her smile is a little too bright, brilliantly blinding like a shining beacon of emotional and social devastation. "I'm just looking out for you.
Rachel simply stares, saying slowly, "I can't believe you expect me to believe that."
It takes a moment, but then Santana cracks a real smile. "You're right. I don't expect you to believe that. Trust me, I'm just trying to have a little fun."
"At my expense. Santana, that is hardly a rousing reason for me to trust you."
"That's not what I meant. Look, this whole - thing that you have going on? It's awful." Rachel stares at her in shock. Even during the most tumultuous moments of their rivalry this last year, she hadn't been outright horrible about anything, even if some of her statements bordered on cruel. "And it's starting to get boring."
Rachel feels the jibe, right between her ribs; it really shouldn't catch her off guard. This is Santana, despite everything they've been through in the last few weeks. She should have been expecting this.
The hotel isn't that far away - she knows they've been wandering in circles for most of the night- and she's fairly sure she could find her way, and it may be a foreign city, but there are a lot of tourists. Many of the locals probably speak some English, at the very least.
"You're taking this the wrong way."
"Is there a right way to take this?" Rachel says. "I'm well aware of what everyone thinks of me; there's absolutely no need to -"
"That's not what this is about. Whatever my motives are, you'd only benefit-"
"According to whom? You? We're rivals. I should have known better than to -"
"Not anymore," Santana says, but Rachel doesn't listen.
"Just because we engaged in potentially illegal activities together certainly doesn't mean I'm stupid enough to ignore that fact that you deliberately went after that solo to ruin m-"
"We're not rivals anymore," Santana says loud enough that Rachel's almost certain Puck and Brittany will have heard them. "And for the record? Whatever you want to think, it had nothing to do with you. I wanted that solo, and I got it. Get over it."
Mr. Schuester has an unfortunate habit of giving away solos to people who clearly deserve them less than Rachel does; it's always been that way. Even now, Rachel doesn't know why she ever imagined that her senior year would be different. Santana isn't as strong a singer as Rachel; she isn't as well trained, but in the end, it didn't matter at all.
It's infuriating, even now, even when there's nothing Rachel can do about it. That solo is long out of her grasp, but it burns, remembering how easily it slipped from her fingers and how persistently Santana fought for it.
Just as persistently as Rachel did. It's something she denied she admired. Rachel doesn't like feeling an empathic connection to her rivals. It's a weakness.
She says quietly, "I never told you, but you sang it really well." It's true. Santana delivered a strikingly performance, even if Rachel knows she could have delivered a much more emotionally provocative one, Santana exceeded even Rachel's expectations.
"I know."
It's more than a little awkward now, but thankfully Brittany's laughter distracts both of them; she's stretching on her tip toes as she tries to hold the tequila away from Puck. It doesn't prevent him from reaching, pressing up against her for it. Rachel doubts it's really the bottle he's actually after.
"Does it ever bother you?" Rachel asks. She doesn't know the particulars of any of their relationships, but she suspects that Santana's the most possessive of the three. Rachel doesn't know if she could do that, be with someone that wasn't one hundred percent invested in her and only her.
Santana looks thoughtful. "You know. I meant it earlier. You should hook up with him. It'd be really hot."
Rachel shakes her head, wondering why Santana keeps returning to that topic. She doesn't stop staring at Puck, the easy swing of his shoulders as he wrests the bottle from Brittany's hands, the familiar way his hand rests on her shoulder as he takes a drink from the bottle.
She bites her lower lip, certain that there's something in the Mexican air, or maybe the water, because wanting Noah Puckerman isn't something she usually admits to, even to herself.
"Oh my god. You want it. You want him."
Rachel inhales sharply. It's too late to lie about it, not when Santana's already seen everything she needs to. "There might be a small part of me -"
"So go for it."
"It's not that simple!"
"Honestly, Rachel? Your virginity needs to go. It's really bringing down anything you have to offer. And it's Puck," Santana says. "He won't say no, if that's what you're worried about."
Rachel looks away. "I'm not sure - I don't want it to happen because I'm available. My first time should be something special, and -"
Santana sighs, and then Rachel feels a hand on her shoulder. Santana stares at Rachel for a long moment, intensely quiet. Just like the first time they actually talked after they'd found that journal hidden in the wings of the auditorium and everything in her screamed they were about to get caught.
Rachel is forced to strain her ears over the sound of Brittany and Puck's rowdiness when Santana says, "Sex is great. Eventually. Eventually, it's pretty awesome. And if you ever tell anyone that I said this, I'll totally lie, but if you want a first time that doesn't totally suck, Puck's your best bet. He'll take care of you."
Rachel bites her lower lip, thinking about that. Does she really want to do this? Seducing Puck has never really been something she's actively thought about. Not really.
Not all the time, anyway.
Maybe she's thought about it, what it'd be like with him. What it'd be like period. Something tightens in her chest, thinking about that. She's not prone to impulsiveness, or recklessness, or even any sort of rebellious behavior. Would it really be that inappropriate? After all, he's not her boyfriend, but he is attractive, and he is her friend. He cares about her, even if she knows he'll deny it.
"I've never seduced someone before," she says, so quiet she's not sure Santana even heard her.
"It's Puck," Santana says. "It won't be that hard."
Rachel watches Puck hand Brittany back the bottle, focusing the way he laughs, easy and buoyant.
“Well?" Santana asks, and Rachel walks away without responding.
She doesn't have an answer.
-
Rachel falls into step with Puck as soon as they leave the alley. Santana and Brittany are ahead of them, pinkies linked and heads bent together, whispering to each other.
She keeps sneaking looks over at him, trying to be subtle, but he catches her after only the third time.
"I know I'm hot, babe, but this is kind of freaking me out," Puck says, and it's funny, funny enough to make her forget to watch where she's going. She stumbles over uneven pavement, pressing against him for a moment. He catches her and tucks her under his arm, like it's something they've done before, like she's his girl and they're just wandering around school.
It's weird, having him touch her like this. Even when they were dating, she only ever threaded her arm through the cradle of his elbow. It was never as possessively intimate as this. She rolls her shoulder to ease the tension in her lower back. His hand slips down her arm, fingers resting on the side of her breast.
His fingers are light, barely there and she wonders if he even realizes what's going on.
Rachel inhales slowly, quietly. She wants him and the heat of his body and most definitely she wants to know if all those rumors about him are actually true. It doesn't catch her off guard like she thinks it's supposed to. He is extensively attractive, to say the least, and his bad boy image is one she's certainly very fond of, even if she's never let herself dwell on it before.
She wonders why that is. Maybe she's known all along what she's realizing now, but that's a epiphany that's quickly overshadowed.
Rachel wants to sleep with him tonight. She will have sex with him tonight.
Acknowledging it is both terrifying and a relief, so much so that she almost forgets about the gentle press of his finger tips against her breast.
He's tense beside her, most likely completely expecting her to push him away. She doesn't. Rachel doesn't do anything but stare straight ahead, as if it'll make the flush in her cheeks go away, as if she can simply ignore the way her thoughts are far too jumbled to coherently formulate the correct mode of action. Is this the first step in her seduction of him?
Puck stops walking, catching her shoulder and pulling her around to face him.
"You totally just let me touch your boob."
His grin is bright and vexatious, and she can't help it.
"I did not."
"Did too."
She stomps her foot before she can stop herself. "Accidental breast grazing does not count as letting you touch them."
"That was not a boob graze. That was at least ten seconds. A graze is more like -" He reaches out, and she pushes his hand away without thinking. He grins, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Whatever Rachel. I got side boob."
Inordinately pleased with himself, he tucks her back under his arm and guides them after Brittany and Santana.
Rachel frowns, trying to untangle the conflicted web of thoughts in her head. She's normally a very direct person, a bluntness she can't always control, even when a small part of her knows that she should. It should be simple to say Noah, I want you to take my virginity tonight, but the words are caught in her throat.
It's a problem because she doesn't know what to say. At all. It's in this moment that Rachel realizes that she doesn't really know how to flirt. She was always too starstruck with Jesse, too in awe of his talent. He's the only boy she's ever known to completely rob her of her speech. Finn just made her nervous in ways she never fully understood, both of them bumbling along and making more mistakes than their relationship could handle.
Puck's a different story. He only ever made her nervous before they were dating. But now? When she's thinking about having sex with him - in more than a fleeting fancy - she feels tongue-tied.
Santana keeps glancing back at them, a look in her eyes that Rachel can't fully decipher. She's not absolutely certain that she wants to. Not when following Santana's suggestions feels like an odd mix of winning and losing, like someone took how it felt showing Vocal Adrenaline how funky they could be and how it felt when Jesse crushed that egg on her forehead and put them in a blender.
"You know what we should do?" Puck says when they stop on a street corner.
"Copulate," Rachel says before she can stop herself.
Puck blinks at her. "What?"
"Nothing." she says quickly, looking away. Santana looks like she can't decided if she wants to be amused or exasperated. "It's nothing."
She wants to seduce him, not act like a complete harlot. She isn't interested in that. It's a big deal to her. Losing her virginity is something she's debated and planned for, and improving a seduction like this isn't a strength she has. She's not at all prepared for it.
"Let's go, guys," Brittany says over her shoulder as they cross the street.
The article she read in Santana's Cosmo was about flirting. Personally, Rachel thought some of them were completely ridiculous and trite, but now, she's willing to try anything.
She tugs on a strand of hair, curling it around her index finger and releasing it. She does it again before she looks at him. He's looking straight ahead, watching where they're going. Drat.
Rachel clears her throat and tries again, tugging a little too hard. She can't stop the low ouch, but it gets Puck to look at her.
"You okay there?" He asks.
She beams at him, even if it's mostly a stage face. This might not be working the way she wants it to, but it's getting him to pay attention to her. It's definitely a start.
"I'm excellent, thank you."
"Yeah, okay," he says, looking at her strangely. Rachel frowns at him, and he arches his eyebrow. Is he really completely oblivious that she's attempting to seduce him? She resists the urge to stomp her foot.
"Noah-" She pauses, thinking hard. A boy like Noah Puckerman needs something more than coy flirting. There has to be something - "What do you think of my skirt? It's new."
"It's ah. It's great," he says, glancing down briefly. He doesn't even stare at her legs. She has wonderful legs and she's expressly giving him permission to ogle her!
She frowns a little. It really shouldn't be this difficult, should it? It's never like this in the movies! "Noah. I think it would be advantageous for both of us if we were to return to the hotel."
He laughs, shaking his head. "No way. We haven't even set anything on fire yet, and there's no way I'm gonna go back without at least making a Molotov cocktail out of it."
"That's highly illegal." Rachel says, frown deepening. He's thinking about blowing things up when she's propositioning him?
"Whatever. It's totally cool."
She resists the urge to act like a complete tart and press herself flush against him, so she tries the direct approach, saying, "I want to go back to the hotel."
"Why?" Puck sounds annoyed and Rachel blinks, sensing that her control of the situation is slipping.
"Well, it's recently come to my attention that we're - I mean -" Puck's staring at her and Rachel fights to keep from wiping her hands on her skirt. Never show your nerves, even if it feels like they're trying to crawl out from under her skin. "I think that we should return to the hotel because - because Brittany and Santana deserve some alone time. They haven't had any this entire week."
He smirks and looks away, towards them. Rachel follows his gaze to see Santana frowning at them. She drops drops back and links her arm with Rachel's, controlling their gait so they're lagging behind a little bit. "Puck, walk with Brittany. I need to talk to Rachel."
"You're doing it wrong, Sesame Street," Santana says when they're a sufficient distance from the others. "This isn't how you get someone to have sex with you. Puck is the easiest lay I have ever met. All you have to do is tell him you want to sleep with him. Tell him he gets you hot. Hell, tell him you're not wearing underwear, even. It'll work."
"But I'm wearing underwear."
Santana stares at her and sighs. "Look, Rachel, you just have to tell him. I never thought you'd have a problem with telling people things."
Nothing is ever that easy for Rachel Berry. It doesn't matter if she's direct or subtle about it; nearly everything she's ever wanted was snatched away by someone else.
Santana frowns at her, looking her up and down. "Well, your shirt definitely isn't helping. It probably makes him think of his grandma. You have a tank top underneath that, right?" Santana says and reaches for the hem of Rachel's cardigan without waiting for a response.
"Santana!" Rachel shrieks, slapping her hands away.
"Relax, Rachel. I'm trying to help."
Santana peels the shirt off over her head, tossing it behind her. She smooths out Rachel's hair and then uncaps a tube of lipgloss. She takes Rachel's chin in her hand and tilts her face up. Rachel's too shocked to do anything but let Santana do what she wants.
She only starts to protest when Santana links their arms and starts them after Puck and Brittany.
"My shirt-"
"Leave it."
Rachel pulls away and crosses her arms over her chest. "It's one of my favorites."
Santana stares at her. "It's hideous."
"It is not."
"The hobos need it more than you do. Think of it as charity," she says and then pulls her away before Rachel can protest.
They catch up to the others quickly, and Santana takes Brittany's hand and peels away from Rachel and Puck without a word.
Puck blinks and looks down at her. If she had bigger breasts, she'd think he was looking at them. Unfortunately, Rachel is well aware of her lack of physical endowment.
"I've been assaulted," she says, "by Santana."
Puck just looks at her, eyes sort of distant and mouth slightly parted. When he doesn't say or do anything for several moments, she starts to fidget under his gaze. Her shirt wasn't that horrid, was it? It didn't have any of the various offenses Kurt always feels the need to bring up - no animals, no bows, no ruffles - and Puck won't stop staring at her.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
He grins slowly, completely lecherous and depraved, and she's still confused until he looks over at Santana, and it's suddenly very clear what he's imagining.
Rachel slaps his chest. "Not like that!"
"Doesn't matter," Puck says. "I can totally picture it now."
She wonders what he'd think if he knew about the dressing room at Regionals.
"You are vulgar," she says.
"I'm a dude. Two hot chicks? I'm so in." Puck keeps his eyes on Santana and Brittany as they walk. Rachel rolls her eyes, trying not to imagine what he's thinking about. Probably something completely base. It's much better that she doesn't know.
Puck says, "Too bad she wouldn't go for it anyway."
Rachel wonders if she should be offended by that. "Excuse me?"
She must sound affronted, because Puck grins at her, curling his arm tighter around her shoulders briefly. "No offense, babe. She's only been sleeping with Brittany lately."
"Really?" Rachel asks, thinking about Regionals. "I didn't know that."
He shrugs, jostling her. "It's not like we paint each other's toe nails and talk about our girlfriends or anything, but she doesn't hang out like she used to."
Rachel She's not used to this sensitivity from him. She doesn't remember the last time he was this open and honest with her. After Beth, maybe.
"And by hang out," Rachel says, "You mean sex."
Puck rubs his jaw, nodding. "Yeah. She's been acting messed up for a couple weeks. Maybe even since her birthday."
Her birthday. They'd found the journal on her birthday, preparing for an egregious assignment from Mr. Schuester.
"I figure some Puckerone lovin' in the city of love tonight will snap her out of this funk."
"I think you mean Paris," she says because she doesn't want to think about the rest of it.
"Whatever. I can't believe we're in Mexico," he says, then, catching Rachel off guard.
"All thanks to that anonymous donor," Rachel says. She almost tells him. It's on the tip of her tongue, but even though she knows Puck would appreciate it in a way that most people wouldn't, she has a solemn pact with Santana not to tell anyone.
It's been very hard, keeping it to herself.
She can almost imagine how he'd react, that glint in his eyes, like when he told her how he stole the costumes for Vocal Adrenaline's leads last year. She can practically hear the admiration, You blackmailed someone? Badass, babe, and she almost tells him, just because she wants that more than anything else.
~
The shops are dark and the streets are mostly empty. It doesn't seem to faze anyone else as they wandering around aimlessly, laughing exuberantly, getting louder and more rambunctious as the bottle of tequila and orange juice gets progressively emptier.
She hasn't had a single drop of alcohol, but Rachel even joins them in a rousing rendition of Cabeza, Hombros, Rodillas y Dos Pies, though she can tell that Puck purposefully sings off key, just to annoy her.
Rachel has no idea where they are anymore, but she ignores that niggling doubt as they turn the corner and enter a plaza. Puck says, "Hey! There's a fountain!" and he and Brittany take off immediately, racing towards it despite the people loitering around it, but Santana grabs her elbow, holding her back.
"Walk with me, Rachel."
They slow considerably until Brittany and Puck are several yards ahead of them, almost halfway into the plaza before Santana rounds on her.
"What are you doing? You're supposed to have this in the bag already!"
Rachel watches them as they keep running ahead, smiling when Puck tries to pick Brittany up and throw her in the fountain. It's hard admitting possible defeat. It's just like everything else she's ever realized that she's wanted. Puck isn't something she can have. She sighs, shaking her head.
"I think Noah has other plans this evening."
"Are you talking about that slut at the bar? Oh my god," Santana says. "It's Puck. Of course he's interested in you." And at Rachel's dubious look, she says flatly, "You have tits. They're tiny, but they're tits. He's interested."
Rachel tries to push past her. She's not interested in having this conversation. Santana prevents her from leaving, stepping in front of her and holding her in place with her hands on Rachel's shoulders. She hesitates for a moment, like it's painful to say it, but then she sighs.
"He talks about you all the time."
"He does not."
Santana just looks at her.
"Really?" Rachel asks after a moment of internal debate and doubt, feeling her cheeks heat.
She nods. "It's nauseatingly boring."
"But he's not responding to anything I do or say, and -" She realizes it the second before it's out of her mouth. She says, "He's been watching you all night."
Santana blinks, like she wasn't expecting that at all. Like she's caught off guard. It's rare to see her off balance, and it's gone quickly, but it means more than Rachel's fully comprehending.
From across the plaza, Puck yells, "Hey! What're you guys doing?"
Santana tries to go to him, but Rachel grips her elbow and pulls her back. "He's really concerned about you. And he says that you've been acting strangely since your birthday. Is this about that journal? Santana, what's really going on here?"
Santana attempts to shakes her off. "Nothing, apparently."
She yanks her elbow out of Rachel's grasp and walks briskly after Puck and Brittany.
Part Two