It’s the worst storm to hit in years and they’ve already been stuck inside for a week. The city takes forever to get the snow up before it starts falling again. So, it’s compacted and frozen and escape from their apartment seems bleak.
They spent the first day and a half of the storm without power, which she didn’t mind because it’s not like they needed lights or heat to fuck. And they’ve done a lot of that but she really just wants to be able to take a walk without being swallowed in snow.
There’s a bottle of black nail lacquer propped between her knees and the straw of one of those reusable iced coffee cups from Target between her lips. She looks up to see that Rachel is looking at her with an inscrutable expression. It’s nothing new and it used to weird her out but now it just makes her laugh. Rachel smiles and scrunches up her nose.
“What?” Santana asks, dragging the brush across her thumbnail methodically.
“Nothing,” Rachel says before looking back down at her book. She’s at the end of Santana’s bed, lying on her stomach with her knees bent and her ankles crossed and now Santana’s staring at her. “You’re staring.”
Every now and then she wonders how she ever insulted Rachel’s looks in high school. The girl is gorgeous. Even more so now that they’re a little older and she’s stopped dressing like a toddler.
She’s not a sap or anything but she doesn’t even think about how she’s going to ruin her nails when she pushes at Rachel’s shoulder and tells her to roll over.
She settles between her legs and Rachel hums contentedly as she moves some hair out of her face. She kisses Rachel’s jaw and then her cheek and Rachel squirms a little and giggles.
“What do you want?” Rachel asks.
“Just wanna kiss you. Now, shh,” she says before pushing their lips together. And, yeah, this is how she knows she’s stupidly in love with her because it’s not even about wrestling tongues. She just likes the way their lips slide together, likes that little gasp of air Rachel takes whenever she pulls back and the soft way her fingers scratch at her scalp.
“You know, for a girl who paints her nails black, you’re pretty soft,” Rachel teases, sliding her hands over the skin of her back.
“Shut up,” Santana says, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. And, whatever, maybe she is but it’s worth it.
They spent the first day and a half of the storm without power, which she didn’t mind because it’s not like they needed lights or heat to fuck. And they’ve done a lot of that but she really just wants to be able to take a walk without being swallowed in snow.
There’s a bottle of black nail lacquer propped between her knees and the straw of one of those reusable iced coffee cups from Target between her lips. She looks up to see that Rachel is looking at her with an inscrutable expression. It’s nothing new and it used to weird her out but now it just makes her laugh. Rachel smiles and scrunches up her nose.
“What?” Santana asks, dragging the brush across her thumbnail methodically.
“Nothing,” Rachel says before looking back down at her book. She’s at the end of Santana’s bed, lying on her stomach with her knees bent and her ankles crossed and now Santana’s staring at her. “You’re staring.”
Every now and then she wonders how she ever insulted Rachel’s looks in high school. The girl is gorgeous. Even more so now that they’re a little older and she’s stopped dressing like a toddler.
She’s not a sap or anything but she doesn’t even think about how she’s going to ruin her nails when she pushes at Rachel’s shoulder and tells her to roll over.
She settles between her legs and Rachel hums contentedly as she moves some hair out of her face. She kisses Rachel’s jaw and then her cheek and Rachel squirms a little and giggles.
“What do you want?” Rachel asks.
“Just wanna kiss you. Now, shh,” she says before pushing their lips together. And, yeah, this is how she knows she’s stupidly in love with her because it’s not even about wrestling tongues. She just likes the way their lips slide together, likes that little gasp of air Rachel takes whenever she pulls back and the soft way her fingers scratch at her scalp.
“You know, for a girl who paints her nails black, you’re pretty soft,” Rachel teases, sliding her hands over the skin of her back.
“Shut up,” Santana says, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. And, whatever, maybe she is but it’s worth it.
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