You Know That Place [1/3]
Title: You Know That Place
Chapter: 1/3
Pairing: Puck/Rachel, Finn/Santana
Summary: When her dad comes to her and says there's no damn way he's going to the Florida Keys for two weeks in July and asks if she and her friends want the time share, she says yes before even checking with any of them.
Word Count: 22,400 (total)
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Her parents are totally the type to decide they want to take one vacation and end up with a fucking timeshare. God, they're such idiots. All they wanted was to take a tour of the Grand Canyon or some shit, and they managed to get roped into this like, Ponzi scheme or whatever. Not really. They've used the timeshare a few times, but half the places they're offered, they don't really want to go. Still, they pack their bags and go anyway, because now that they have it, they figure they might as well take advantage. Her mom grumbles about it being a forced vacation, but Santana doesn't know what the woman's complaining about; it's not like she works anyway. Her life is not hard.
But then it's summer and Santana and Rachel are home from school. They're hanging out with Puck and Finn a lot, because not only are they a couple of the only ones in Lima right now, but because they're definitely the only guys worth even looking at. She's not saying she'll pursue either of them, but it's never a bad thing to have eye candy, even if you have known them your whole life. And Finn's hotter than ever, since he's on his college football team and has to be in good shape. Puck's always been hot as sin. Rachel's ditched the toddler clothes and actually dresses like a big girl these days.
Basically, they're all hot as fuck.
So when her dad comes to her and says there's no damn way he's going to the Florida Keys for two weeks in July and asks if she and her friends want the time share, she says yes before even checking with any of them.
... ... ...
"I have a job, Santana."
She rolls her eyes at him and steals a french fry for good measure. "You work at Sheets N' Things. It's not like you're the fucking CEO, Finn."
He shakes his head. "I can't just bail for two weeks."
"Dude, you work 15 hours a week. Who the fuck cares? The job'll either be there when you get back, or you can find another," Puck explains. He reaches across the table with his hand in a fist to bump knuckles with Santana. "I'm in."
She grins smugly and she and Puck turn to Rachel, who's just nervously biting her thumbnail. "I don't know," Rachel says all quietly, shaking her head. "What about my dance classes? What about...I mean, it's really...This is what could be our last summer ever, because we graduate in the spring, and I really would feel terrible leaving my dads for..."
"Babe, first of all, it's only two weeks," Santana explains. "Secondly, it's our last summer." She makes sure Rachel really lets that sink in. "We can't just spontaneously fuck off for two weeks ever again."
"I..."
"Also," Santana starts, smirking, "you're gonna be all alone here with the three of us in Florida."
"I haven't even said I'm going!" Finn argues.
Santana shakes her head. He's seriously cute sometimes, with the stupidity. "You're coming," she tells him.
The three of them watch Rachel deliberate, chewing on her nail and stealing a sip of Puck's Coke.
"What the hell!" she finally says, kind of exploding with all this giddy energy and giggling when Puck pulls her into a headlock, then kisses her temple.
Then the three of them look at Finn and he rolls his eyes like he's annoyed, but he's totally smiling when he says, "Fine."
... ... ...
The hardest fucking thing is getting his mom to agree to let him go, which is pretty damn ridiculous, since he's twenty-fucking-one. She finally gives when he points that out. Also when he tells her that he's just going, so she can either say goodbye before he goes, or she can ignore it like a crazy person.
He's totally stoked on the trip. The Lopez' are awesome for offering (and paying for) this trip, and he got them a bottle of wine as a thank you. Well, he gave Rachel money and she got them a bottle of wine from herself, Finn and Puck. She's thoughtful that way.
He was already having a really good summer before this trip even came up. He got to Lima a couple days after everyone else, so there wasn't that shitty period of time when he's just fucking around doing nothing and waiting for his friends to get home.
And by friends, he really only means Finn, Rachel and Santana. Seriously. Anyone else who comes home for the summers have become bitches or whatever and he doesn't want to hang out with them. Like, Kurt's still around, because he's Finn's brother and whatnot, but he's just kind of 'there'. He and Kurt aren't friends. Artie and Brittany are in L.A. and have been since graduation, practically, so he and Artie totally grew apart. Mike and Tina live in Chicago and aren't coming home this summer. Everyone else can suck a dick for all he cares.
This trip's going to be amazing, he can already tell. Finn's coming around to the idea, now that he got to tell his manager off for giving him grief about it. Puck thinks it's awesome that Finn kind of has a backbone now. He'd still do anything for any pretty girl who asked him, but whatever. That's gotten him laid more than once, so Puck isn't going to judge.
And as far as Rachel and Santana go, those are his girls. He'd throw punches for either of them. He'd also take his pants off for either of them. It's kind of an interesting friendship he has with them. He's gone to see them in New York a couple times, and when Rachel was going to Berklee to the artist in residence whatever the fuck and needed a place to stay in Boston, she crashed at his place and was like, cute as fucking hell in her little wool coat in Boston at the tail end of winter.
The prospect of the both of them wearing bikinis for basically this entire trip does not hurt his feelings whatsoever.
... ... ...
The second they walk into the house/cottage/fucking perfect vacation place, Santana feels like she never wants to leave. Puck walks in and drops his shit by the couch, then takes Rachel's bags. Finn grabs Santana's on the way by and sets them near the fireplace they won't be using, since it's July and it's Florida, and why the fuck is there even a fireplace at all?
The whole place is open concept and the walls are all wood, or painted white. The 'great room' (she looked at the brochure, okay?) has two huge leather couches, a two person loveseat and a chair to match. It's all aimed at the fireplace. There's a TV hidden in a cupboard against the wall. The kitchen area is huge, and there's an island separating it from the living room. The master bedroom is on the bottom floor, along with the bathroom. Upstairs, there's a loft and two twin beds. There's a hot tub on the deck that overlooks the fucking ocean.
So yeah, best vacation spot ever.
"I call the master," Puck says, because he's an asshole.
"That's not fair," Rachel says, laughing a bit. "It's Santana's parents' timeshare. She should get the master."
"Well, who's she gonna share with? 'Cause there're only two beds upstairs," Puck argues.
Finn's just like, walking around and silently taking it all in.
"She shouldn't have to share," Rachel says.
"Unless she wants to." Santana looks at Finn to see if he meant that in a sexual way. He's just standing there near the sliding door that leads to the deck. "Seriously. We can manage upstairs, right?"
"Those beds are small," Puck complains.
"I can sleep on the couch," Rachel offers. Santana rolls her eyes. "What?"
"No one's sleeping on the fucking couch. There's an air mattress somewhere in this place. If not, we'll buy one. The three of you can sleep upstairs. Or, fuck. I don't care. Roshambo to share with me."
Finn and Puck both laugh a little and start carrying bags upstairs.
Rachel's just standing there, confused. "What's roshambo?"
... ... ...
Rachel says she wants to shower the plane air off her skin. After explaining (bullshitting) to Finn that yes, that does make sense, Santana tells her there's a whole fucking ocean right there that they should be taking advantage of immediately. So yeah, Rachel grabs her bathing suit and skips into the bathroom to change. The guys head upstairs to pull on board shorts, and Santana steps into the master, which feels really fucking big for just her, to be honest. She pulls on her royal blue bikini and pulls a pair of denim shorts up over her hips, grabs a towel and heads back into the living room. Puck and Finn are already drinking a couple beers, and she wants in.
"Yo, what the fuck is taking her so long?" Puck asks, tipping his bottle back.
"Rach!" Santana yells.
"In a minute!" Rachel snaps from the other side of the door. Santana rolls her eyes, smiles, and holds up her finger to the guys as she waits. "Santana, can you come in here?"
"How did you do that?" Finn asks, eyes wide.
She's lived with Rachel for three years. She's picked up a couple things.
She carries her beer into the bathroom and sees Rachel standing there in a black string bikini that looks fucking killer on her. She's not understanding what's taking 15 minutes here.
"What's up?"
"It's too revealing," Rachel complains, running her hands over her stomach. Santana rolls her eyes. "I mean, I know in the past I've let you talk me into wearing some...Anyway." She waves her hand and Santana laughs. "It's not very practical."
"Who needs practical? We're going swimming in the ocean, Rachel, not competing in a fucking triathlon. Here." She passes her beer to Rachel, who takes a tentative sip, and Santana tightens the ties of Rachel's top so her tits are pushed up perfectly and the strings still aren't digging into her skin. "You look hot, okay? That's kind of the only point here."
"Are they going to make fun of me?"
"They've seen you in a two piece before, Rachel." Santana tips the bottle against Rachel's lips again and forces her to take another long sip. God, maybe the alcohol'll loosen her up. Santana hasn't seen this incarnation of Rachel in about two years. "Which one of them are you trying to impress?"
"Neither!" Rachel giggles. She drinks some more beer, then hands the bottle back to Santana. "This is a friend vacation, Santana. No one's hooking up."
Santana nods.
It's cute that Rachel believes that.
... ... ...
"Is it just me, or she hotter than usual?" Finn asks as they sit on the sand and watch the girls wade out into the water.
"Which one?" Puck laughs.
Because yeah.
"Shit. Both, I guess." Finn looks out just in time to see Santana kick Rachel in the middle of the ass and send her face first into the water. "Oh, fuck."
They both get up quickly and start towards the water. "Hurry. Before she kills her."
They take off running as fast as they can along the sand until they're in the water. Finn grabs Santana around the waist and lifts her up, then throws her into the water as she screams, and Rachel gets all pissed and splashes Santana as soon as she's got her head out of the water. They're laughing though, so Puck doesn't think he'll have to break up a girl fight.
Which, honestly, he wouldn't do. Wet girls in bikinis. He's not stupid.
... ... ...
So Puck's good in the kitchen. Which makes sense, since he's working his way through college as a cook in a hotel restaurant in Boston. When Santana wakes up, there's coffee ready to pour, pancakes ready to eat, and he's shirtless and wearing boxers. Totally not a rude awakening.
Rachel comes down the stairs next, and hugs Puck from behind as a thank you for thinking to make her a fruit salad. Santana watches as she stuffs her face with pancakes (from scratch, and so fucking good). Puck's not exactly shrugging Rachel off him, here. He hands her a cup of coffee and tells her to get out of his 'prime cooking space', but he's laughing as he says it, and she feeds him a piece of pineapple from her fingers before walking over to the island and sitting next to Santana.
Then Finn comes down saying he smelled food, and he hugs Puck, too. He does get shrugged off.
The guys have been talking about learning to surf, and Rachel is all about it, too. So basically, Santana has to go. It's not that she doesn't want to, it's just that she'd kind of rather, you know, not fall off a surf board a hundred times today. But whatever. It'll be fun. They get into bathing suits again, and Finn finds them an instructor and they walk down the beach.
The entire lesson takes place on dry land, and Santana doesn't exactly mind. Then she and Rachel spend most of the afternoon with SPF 45 on them and lying on the sand. Puck and Finn walk up and down the beach and get the four of them invited to a party at this local girl's house.
Rachel wonders aloud if the girl is pretty. Santana says, "Babe, have you ever known Puck to spend time talking to an ugly girl?" They're laughing hard as they do their makeup in the master bedroom and Puck and Finn drink Coronas and watch TV.
The party's totally fucking lame. Seriously. It's not even on the beach, which sucks. The house is nice, she supposes, but Santana really doesn't want to spend her time in Florida in some girl's fucking two bedroom rental house. There's a keg, though, and Puck manages to steal vodka off a drunk girl, so that's a bonus. It's vanilla flavoured, though, so fucking disgusting, but Finn volunteers to walk to the store they saw on the way and pick up some Sprite for them to mix with.
Then things get fun. Mostly because they're staked out in the driveway of this house and practically ignoring everyone around them. Puck deemed the girl who invited them a no go because she's got a butterfly tattoo at the small of her back. There are few things that are a deal breaker for him, but that's always been one of them.
And he seems to be particularly interested in Rachel. More specifically, trying to touch her tits in her bikini top. Like, he's getting fucking creative with it and it's more entertaining than anything they've been around all night. Santana spits her drink out when Puck walks up behind Rachel and does a reach around and she elbows him so hard in the ribs that he actually looks to be in pain. Then, of course, Rachel's all worried and sorry and he says he won't forgive her unless she lets him touch them. Even Finn finds it funny.
Rachel's drunk and attempting to force those around her into loving Fame as much as she does (never gonna happen) and Puck puts his arm around her shoulder. She gets pissy and turns around and shoves her drink towards Santana as she stares at Puck.
"Fine! Fine. Just touch them if it's so important to you!" She spreads her arms and Puck's just standing there like he can't honestly believe she's saying it. Probably why he's frozen in place. "What? Do it. Touch my breasts."
"Fuck," he breathes out. He's totally nervous, and Santana's ready to start laughing. "I can't. Now it doesn't seem right."
Rachel rolls her eyes and takes her drink back, then turns her back to Puck and says, "Anyway, as I was saying," like she didn't just invite Puck to feel her up in the middle of a party.
... ... ...
They walk along the beach to get back to their place. Honestly, it's hot out and there's a breeze off the water, and really, they're in the fucking Florida Keys. It's not like they're not going to take advantage of the beach. They're all pretty drunk, thanks to that chick's vodka, which they finished before they left. And watching Rachel chug a drink will never not be funny, just because of the face she makes.
She's currently beside him and having a little difficult walking on the sand in her condition. Santana remedied that by jumping onto Finn's back, and they're about 30 feet ahead now, Finn piggy-backing Santana across the beach. Puck can hear her laughing, and he swears if Finn drops her, Puck may just die laughing. It might happen.
Rachel stumbles into him and grabs onto his shirt to steady herself, and he puts his arm around her and laughs as she gets herself walking right again.
"You okay there?" he laughs.
"I'm good," she says, hand going out in front of her. "I'm good." She giggles and it's pretty much the cutest sound she could make right now. "Hey, I'm just going to lean on you just a little bit."
"Alright." He shakes his head and chuckles at her as she slips her arm around his waist. She looks up at him as they walk. "What? Stop looking at me like that."
"I'm not looking at you."
He laughs again. "Pretty obvious you're looking at me."
"Will you eat crackers with me?" she asks. "I like to eat crackers. And you're still sleeping on the floor."
Those things, apparently, are related in her very drunk brain.
"Yeah, babe. I know." Not that he's thrilled about the floor situation, but whatever. He's not gonna make her sleep there. She's a girl and he's not an asshole. "What do you think of that?" He points down the beach at Santana and Finn. "'S'different."
Rachel shrugs. "I don't have an opinion yet," she tells him. She looks up at him again, which throws her a little off balance. "I really hate being this drunk. You shouldn't have let me get this drunk."
He laughs and shakes his head. "I wasn't exactly pouring it down your throat." She bites her lip, then gives this slow grin, and he fucking knows she's thinking something dirty. "What?" She starts shaking her head side to side. "Rachel, tell me."
"Use your imagination, Noah," she sings. Sings. God, she's drunk. "I'm tired of walking now."
He rolls his eyes. He knew this was coming. He turns his back to her and tries to ignore how cute she sounds when she squeals, claps her hands and hops onto his back. He tells her just to warn him if she's gonna puke.
She ends up sleeping in Santana's room for the night, so he makes himself comfortable on Rachel's bed and he's out as soon as his head hits the pillow.
... ... ...
She's got a handful of Rachel's ass when she wakes up, which is not the first time, but yeah, not ideal. She starts moving and Rachel opens her eyes and groans, and there's noise in the kitchen. Santana's hoping for pancakes again, but when she steps out of the bedroom, Finn's there with four bottles of Gatorade lined up on the counter, a bunch of fruit out, and a bottle of Tylenol he's found somewhere. He's also got coffee brewed and he's smearing peanut butter on a bagel he toasted.
"Hey," she mumbles. Her voice sounds like shit. She's eyeing his bagel and he must know what she wants, because he gives her half. "Thanks."
"There's coffee. And bananas."
She smiles at him despite the fact that she feels like ass, and reaches for a banana, peels it and chops some slices onto her bagel. He gives her a weird look, but she doesn't so much care what he thinks. He pours her a cup of coffee and slides an orange Gatorade to her, then they sit side by side at the island.
"You sleep?" she asks.
"Yeah. Really well. I like the loft," he says. She laughs at him. He's practically a man child, so it's no surprise he loves the novelty. "Rachel slept with you?"
"Yeah, and she's a bitch when she's hungover."
"I'm not even hungover, really. I feel better already." She narrows her eyes at him and he laughs. "Sorry. Just saying."
"Yeah, well, you're huge. I'm just a little girl."
He scoffs, chews his bagel carefully. "You're not a little girl, Tana," he says.
She's about to ask what he means by that, but Puck practically falls down the stairs and goes, "Fuck! Fuck. Shit. Goddamn," and kind of steals the moment.
Then Rachel comes out of the bedroom and lies through her teeth saying she's not hungover. Puck calls her on it immediately and puts two Tylenol in front of her like some kind of challenge, and eventually she grabs them and swallows them down with a swig of Gatorade.
They have to go to their fucking surf lesson, though, so they all manage to get showered and dressed and head down to the beach. They're allowed in the water today, but it's just paddling, and she thinks it's fucking dumb, alright? She's so fucking over this surfing thing already. To the point where she tells the instructor he'll just have three tomorrow and he nods, laughs and says, "Not your thing, huh?"
Rachel tries to talk her out of giving it up by asking what she'll do while they're at their lesson.
"Um, I dunno. Maybe not brain myself with a fucking surfboard, or get eaten by a shark? There's other shit to do, okay?"
They spread their blankets out and she knows she's not supposed to notice Rachel turn to Finn and say, "Are there a lot of sharks?"
Whatever. Those three are acting as though surfing is a skill they'll be able to use later in life, which is fucking bullshit. You know what's better? Reading a book in the sun. Or like, running along the beach, or walking through town and shopping for shit she doesn't need.
They decide it's her turn to make dinner, which means they find a decent-looking restaurant and she lays down her credit card when the bill comes.
She ignores (not at all) the way Finn puts his arm around her chair as they sit there. Puck steals a bit of Rachel's dessert, and those two are flirting like mad, so she knows they won't notice her having a conversation with Finn.
He's already looking at her.
"What?"
He grins a little, shakes his head. "Nothing." She tilts her head and raises her brow. "Nothing. You just look all relaxed."
"I'm on vacation," she reminds him. He's not that slow, but Jesus.
"No," he laughs quietly. His thumb grazes her back. An accident, she's sure. (Except not.) "I mean like right now. This second." She doesn't want to smile at this shit. It's kind of stupid and cute, though. "It's nice."
"Nice?"
She watches his ears turn pink. "You look really good," he says. He touches her again.
Then she hears, "Noah, you jackass!" from across the table and looks over to see Rachel holding an empty fork and Puck chewing what Santana can assume was the last bite of Rachel's cobbler.
Rachel is apparently completely pissed off (she's a good actress, but Santana can tell it's all a fucking performance) and holds Santana's arm as they walk back through town and towards their place.
Puck apparently has more brains than Santana's ever given him credit for, because he shells out $10 for a crappy little bouquet of daisies and grabs Rachel by the arm before she can walk up onto the deck. He hands them to her and she's fighting a smile hard. Santana stands by the door of the house and Finn just shakes his head.
"They're so dumb," he says. Santana just laughs an looks up at him. "He wants her so bad. Ever since she went to Boston."
"Really?" She honestly didn't know. She figured he was just flirting with Rachel because he flirts with everyone. Yeah, it's a little bit more, but she didn't think that really meant anything. "Huh."
"You about to go all Lima Heights?" he teases, poking her in the ribs with his index finger. She rolls her eyes. "That's your style, right? Someone goes after Puck and you go after them?"
He's still fucking poking her, which is a really good way to loose a damn hand. "Fuck off, Finn. And whatever. She happens to be my best friend. And it's been a long fucking time since he and I...You know what? Whatever."
No, she doesn't know why she's so defensive. She turns to head into the house, though, and he grabs her arm before she can.
"Hey." He leans down a bit so she's forced to look at him. "I didn't mean anything by it. I was just kidding around."
She hates how easy it is to just forgive him for talking shit. "Don't poke me again."
He laughs pretty loudly and pushes the door open so she can walk through.
Rachel comes in a few seconds later practically singing, "Look what Noah got me!" and Santana has to help her find a vase to put the stupid flowers in. She looks over her shoulder at Puck and he seems pretty fucking proud of himself.
... ... ...
It cools off enough that they can actually get into the hot tub. They don't so much need to heat the water as they just turn on the jets, get beer, and climb into the thing in their bathing suits. It's still amazing, though, and Rachel (after a beer and a half) is still wondering about the sharks and saying the tub is a way smarter idea than swimming in the ocean at night.
Two seconds later, she's saying they have to swim in the ocean after dark at least once, so Santana doesn't really take too much of what Rachel says to heart after that.
And besides, she's kind of distracted by Finn's hand curving around her ankle where she has her feet resting on the bench next to him. He's barely touching her, but it feels kind of incredible, and when she looks at him, he's watching Puck, who's talking about this band he knows in Boston who's apparently like, two shows away from making it big or whatever.
Santana doesn't give a fuck. She's thinking about how Finn's massive fingers would feel inside her, rather than just tracing the line of her foot. She moves her foot so her entire calf is lying across his lap, and then he moves his hand so his forearm is over her thigh and his fingertips are brushing over the inside of her knee. It's like, the lamest foreplay ever, only it's super hot because their friends are right there and apparently completely oblivious. She runs the toes of her other foot up and down his calf a couple times as he sips his beer and she finishes hers.
It's fucking ridiculous that she wants him so bad. She doesn't know what it is about him right now, on this trip, but he's been kind of quiet and he just looks at her, and like, earlier when they were at that stupid surf lesson, he laughed so hard at something she said that he nearly fell off his board. And he was the only one who wasn't on her ass about quitting the surf lessons all together.
But that's part of why she's so confused, because he didn't even really want to come on this trip when she first tabled the idea, and now he's starting to look like he just kind of belongs here, in this beachy environment.
Or maybe she's thinking too fucking hard, and if she stopped doing that she'd realize that she's hot and of course he wants to fuck her. She's been walking around in next to nothing for a few days.
She's ignoring the rest of it.
"Finn," she says. It's loud enough for Puck and Rachel to hear, but they don't really stop their conversation on her account. Assholes. "Come inside and help me with something."
He smirks (she didn't know he was really capable of it) and nods. "Yeah. Okay."
She knows Puck and Rachel see her grab Finn's hand once he's on the deck with her, but she honestly couldn't give a fuck what they see. They're all adults. They're all adults and she wants to have sex with this one. And she likes to get what she wants.
She kisses him in the kitchen, puts her arms around his neck and presses her damp body the length of his. He lets out this fucking sexy as hell groan from the back of his throat and puts his huge hands on her waist. She's unbelievably turned on and needs to get the hell out of these bathing suit bottoms. Which she's just about to tell him, but as soon as she pulls her mouth away, he leans forward and takes her lips, presses his tongue into her mouth and backs her up against the counter. Totally not what she expected from him (this isn't exactly the first time she's had him), but she can definitely work with it. And really, she should give him a clean slate. Hell, if she hadn't done that already, she wouldn't be signing herself up for round two.
He tightens his hold on her and lifts her up pretty effortlessly, sets her on the counter and then pushes his hand into her hair while the other hooks around her waist to keep her close to him. He doesn't really have to worry about that. She's got one hand on his arm and the other around his back, and she locks her ankles behind him.
She's breathing hard when she pulls away, and he immediately puts his mouth on her neck and kisses across her collarbone. She can tell he wants to take her top off, which, yeah, but as much as she's all for sex in the kitchen, all the windows in this place are open; she doesn't need witnesses.
"Finn."
"We should go back out."
She laughs a little too hard, apparently, because he gives her a look like she's being shitty. If he wasn't being clueless, she wouldn't have to point it out, would she?
"We're not going back outside," she tells him, eyes locked on his as she tugs the string of his shorts loose.
"Oh." He grins at her and puts his hands on her ass, lifts her up and then sets her on her feet. She's kind of thankful. She's not really the type to like being carried to a bed; she's got legs. "Fuck, Santana." He chuckles a little and looks down at her. "You're like...It's not normal." She smiles, despite the fact that he's talking instead of getting her naked. "I can't wait to..."
He's either incapable of finishing, or he just doesn't want to. It doesn't really matter, because he starts pushing her towards the door of her bedroom and tugs the strings of her top undone as soon as the door's closed behind him.
... ... ...
Last night, he suggested a walk on the beach (romance!) to get him and Rachel away from Santana and Finn, but she just told him that she's heard Santana having sex before and asked him to pass her another beer. He thought better of pointing out that he used to be the one making Santana let out those sounds, or that Rachel helped Finn to not suck at the whole sex thing. He's not a total idiot, okay?
They stayed outside for probably another hour, just talking about music and life and whatever, and summer, and their vacation. He really likes talking to her. He always has. It's even better now that she actually occasionally lets someone else get a word in.
When they finally went inside, he tried to convince her to let him push the beds together, but she practically laughed in his face and told him no. Whatever. He still slept on Finn's bed.
Which is how he ended up here, lying on this bed looking at Rachel as she lies on hers. She's awake, because he's not some creepy bastard who watches people sleep. He turned over to see if she was up yet, and then she turned over because she was and heard him moving.
"Hey," he mumbles.
"Good morning."
Fuck, she looks good in the mornings. How's that even possible? Aren't people supposed to look tired and gross in the morning? She manages to look like this cute little put-together thing. Probably because of her braided hair and her matching pajamas or something.
"She still into morning sex?" Rachel giggles at him and nods her head. "Wanna go out for breakfast?
She pushes back the covers and he tries not to look to where her shorts are all bunched up at her thighs. He's not a fucking superhero, though, and even if he was, not looking at women wouldn't be one of his powers.
So yeah, he looks.
"Just let me get dressed."
He doesn't really want to.
She's wearing this little yellow and green checkered sundress and re-braids her hair, slips her feet into her flip flops as he pulls a tee shirt on over his head. It's not a long walk to the little café they saw on the first day here. Rachel talks about how tired she is, how she really wants to nap later, and that she's glad they don't have a surf lesson today.
He says, "I'll nap with you," and she rolls her eyes, but has this little smile on when she says, "I get it, Noah."
He doesn't know what she gets, because if she really got it, she'd be naked right now or something. He wants to ask her, but then they're standing there and she's waiting for him to open the door to the café for her, and he does it mostly because he doesn't know what else to do.
She orders half a grapefruit, vegan toast, when she asks and they say they have it, a tea, and an orange juice, then judges him with her eyes for ordering real food like a real person. And really, two scrambled eggs, some bacon, home fries, toast and a coffee is pretty much the standard breakfast.
"Do you think we should have left a note?" she asks.
He laughs and shakes his head and sets his hand close to hers on top of the table. "We're adults. We can venture out into the world on our own. Jesus god, this is good jam."
"Noah," she giggles, shoulders shaking. "Really?"
"It's seriously fucking delicious. Here." He holds out a piece of toast for her, but she shakes her head, and yeah, his is not so much vegan. So he swipes his finger along the edge of the knife he used to spread the jam, and holds his finger out to her.
"I'm not licking your finger," she says incredulously.
"You want the jam or not?"
"Not that badly!"
He mutters under his breath that she's a prude (which, from some of the stories he knows, she's really not) and reaches for her hand. He smears the jam from his finger onto hers and watches as she raises it to her mouth. She tries to hide the way she licks it off, but whatever. He's got a good imagination. Then she makes this sound he swears could make him hard if he let it.
"Good, right?" he asks. He licks his own finger clean, then goes back to his toast.
"That's really good jam." They laugh together - about jam, for fuck's sake - and then she slips her finger under the strap of her dress and adjusts it over her shoulder and he kind of forgets about food. "Are you planning on eating that piece of bacon, or are you just going to hold it for a while?"
See, the annoying thing is that she obviously knows he thinks she's fucking sexy, and she's pretty much constantly teasing him about it, teasing him with it, but she's not giving in and getting naked. He doesn't know what he has to do here.
"Shut up," he mumbles. She seems pretty pleased with herself.
She's not in any big rush to get back to the house, and he's not in any big rush to spend time with people other than her, so they go for a walk through this neighbourhood that has all kinds of nice houses in it. She swings her little purse in her hand between them and lets him touch her back when they're crossing streets. He knows she's afraid of dogs, so when they see this guy walking a black lab, he puts himself between her and the dog and keeps his arm around her shoulder to comfort her and shit. Seriously, he's doing everything right here.
"Can I hold your hand?" she asks when they get back to the beach. They're about a 20 minute walk from the house.
"What?"
She shrugs her shoulder. "I just want to. Is that okay?"
She slips her fingers between his before he has a chance to tell her it's fine.
"Why?" he asks after a few moments.
"Because. You seem to think you can ask ridiculous things of me, so I figure I'm allowed to do the same with you." She grins and skips a little, squeezes his hand. "You're not really the hand holding type, are you?"
He shrugs his shoulder and tugs her back to him, strokes his thumb over the side of hers. "I can be."
She smiles like she knows something he doesn't, and looks down at their hands. "You agreed quicker than I thought you would."
"Remember that, would you?" he says, mostly joking, and she giggles and leans her head against his shoulder.
It's pretty clear that she likes all the attention he's giving her.
Good.
Chapter: 1/3
Pairing: Puck/Rachel, Finn/Santana
Summary: When her dad comes to her and says there's no damn way he's going to the Florida Keys for two weeks in July and asks if she and her friends want the time share, she says yes before even checking with any of them.
Word Count: 22,400 (total)
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Her parents are totally the type to decide they want to take one vacation and end up with a fucking timeshare. God, they're such idiots. All they wanted was to take a tour of the Grand Canyon or some shit, and they managed to get roped into this like, Ponzi scheme or whatever. Not really. They've used the timeshare a few times, but half the places they're offered, they don't really want to go. Still, they pack their bags and go anyway, because now that they have it, they figure they might as well take advantage. Her mom grumbles about it being a forced vacation, but Santana doesn't know what the woman's complaining about; it's not like she works anyway. Her life is not hard.
But then it's summer and Santana and Rachel are home from school. They're hanging out with Puck and Finn a lot, because not only are they a couple of the only ones in Lima right now, but because they're definitely the only guys worth even looking at. She's not saying she'll pursue either of them, but it's never a bad thing to have eye candy, even if you have known them your whole life. And Finn's hotter than ever, since he's on his college football team and has to be in good shape. Puck's always been hot as sin. Rachel's ditched the toddler clothes and actually dresses like a big girl these days.
Basically, they're all hot as fuck.
So when her dad comes to her and says there's no damn way he's going to the Florida Keys for two weeks in July and asks if she and her friends want the time share, she says yes before even checking with any of them.
... ... ...
"I have a job, Santana."
She rolls her eyes at him and steals a french fry for good measure. "You work at Sheets N' Things. It's not like you're the fucking CEO, Finn."
He shakes his head. "I can't just bail for two weeks."
"Dude, you work 15 hours a week. Who the fuck cares? The job'll either be there when you get back, or you can find another," Puck explains. He reaches across the table with his hand in a fist to bump knuckles with Santana. "I'm in."
She grins smugly and she and Puck turn to Rachel, who's just nervously biting her thumbnail. "I don't know," Rachel says all quietly, shaking her head. "What about my dance classes? What about...I mean, it's really...This is what could be our last summer ever, because we graduate in the spring, and I really would feel terrible leaving my dads for..."
"Babe, first of all, it's only two weeks," Santana explains. "Secondly, it's our last summer." She makes sure Rachel really lets that sink in. "We can't just spontaneously fuck off for two weeks ever again."
"I..."
"Also," Santana starts, smirking, "you're gonna be all alone here with the three of us in Florida."
"I haven't even said I'm going!" Finn argues.
Santana shakes her head. He's seriously cute sometimes, with the stupidity. "You're coming," she tells him.
The three of them watch Rachel deliberate, chewing on her nail and stealing a sip of Puck's Coke.
"What the hell!" she finally says, kind of exploding with all this giddy energy and giggling when Puck pulls her into a headlock, then kisses her temple.
Then the three of them look at Finn and he rolls his eyes like he's annoyed, but he's totally smiling when he says, "Fine."
... ... ...
The hardest fucking thing is getting his mom to agree to let him go, which is pretty damn ridiculous, since he's twenty-fucking-one. She finally gives when he points that out. Also when he tells her that he's just going, so she can either say goodbye before he goes, or she can ignore it like a crazy person.
He's totally stoked on the trip. The Lopez' are awesome for offering (and paying for) this trip, and he got them a bottle of wine as a thank you. Well, he gave Rachel money and she got them a bottle of wine from herself, Finn and Puck. She's thoughtful that way.
He was already having a really good summer before this trip even came up. He got to Lima a couple days after everyone else, so there wasn't that shitty period of time when he's just fucking around doing nothing and waiting for his friends to get home.
And by friends, he really only means Finn, Rachel and Santana. Seriously. Anyone else who comes home for the summers have become bitches or whatever and he doesn't want to hang out with them. Like, Kurt's still around, because he's Finn's brother and whatnot, but he's just kind of 'there'. He and Kurt aren't friends. Artie and Brittany are in L.A. and have been since graduation, practically, so he and Artie totally grew apart. Mike and Tina live in Chicago and aren't coming home this summer. Everyone else can suck a dick for all he cares.
This trip's going to be amazing, he can already tell. Finn's coming around to the idea, now that he got to tell his manager off for giving him grief about it. Puck thinks it's awesome that Finn kind of has a backbone now. He'd still do anything for any pretty girl who asked him, but whatever. That's gotten him laid more than once, so Puck isn't going to judge.
And as far as Rachel and Santana go, those are his girls. He'd throw punches for either of them. He'd also take his pants off for either of them. It's kind of an interesting friendship he has with them. He's gone to see them in New York a couple times, and when Rachel was going to Berklee to the artist in residence whatever the fuck and needed a place to stay in Boston, she crashed at his place and was like, cute as fucking hell in her little wool coat in Boston at the tail end of winter.
The prospect of the both of them wearing bikinis for basically this entire trip does not hurt his feelings whatsoever.
... ... ...
The second they walk into the house/cottage/fucking perfect vacation place, Santana feels like she never wants to leave. Puck walks in and drops his shit by the couch, then takes Rachel's bags. Finn grabs Santana's on the way by and sets them near the fireplace they won't be using, since it's July and it's Florida, and why the fuck is there even a fireplace at all?
The whole place is open concept and the walls are all wood, or painted white. The 'great room' (she looked at the brochure, okay?) has two huge leather couches, a two person loveseat and a chair to match. It's all aimed at the fireplace. There's a TV hidden in a cupboard against the wall. The kitchen area is huge, and there's an island separating it from the living room. The master bedroom is on the bottom floor, along with the bathroom. Upstairs, there's a loft and two twin beds. There's a hot tub on the deck that overlooks the fucking ocean.
So yeah, best vacation spot ever.
"I call the master," Puck says, because he's an asshole.
"That's not fair," Rachel says, laughing a bit. "It's Santana's parents' timeshare. She should get the master."
"Well, who's she gonna share with? 'Cause there're only two beds upstairs," Puck argues.
Finn's just like, walking around and silently taking it all in.
"She shouldn't have to share," Rachel says.
"Unless she wants to." Santana looks at Finn to see if he meant that in a sexual way. He's just standing there near the sliding door that leads to the deck. "Seriously. We can manage upstairs, right?"
"Those beds are small," Puck complains.
"I can sleep on the couch," Rachel offers. Santana rolls her eyes. "What?"
"No one's sleeping on the fucking couch. There's an air mattress somewhere in this place. If not, we'll buy one. The three of you can sleep upstairs. Or, fuck. I don't care. Roshambo to share with me."
Finn and Puck both laugh a little and start carrying bags upstairs.
Rachel's just standing there, confused. "What's roshambo?"
... ... ...
Rachel says she wants to shower the plane air off her skin. After explaining (bullshitting) to Finn that yes, that does make sense, Santana tells her there's a whole fucking ocean right there that they should be taking advantage of immediately. So yeah, Rachel grabs her bathing suit and skips into the bathroom to change. The guys head upstairs to pull on board shorts, and Santana steps into the master, which feels really fucking big for just her, to be honest. She pulls on her royal blue bikini and pulls a pair of denim shorts up over her hips, grabs a towel and heads back into the living room. Puck and Finn are already drinking a couple beers, and she wants in.
"Yo, what the fuck is taking her so long?" Puck asks, tipping his bottle back.
"Rach!" Santana yells.
"In a minute!" Rachel snaps from the other side of the door. Santana rolls her eyes, smiles, and holds up her finger to the guys as she waits. "Santana, can you come in here?"
"How did you do that?" Finn asks, eyes wide.
She's lived with Rachel for three years. She's picked up a couple things.
She carries her beer into the bathroom and sees Rachel standing there in a black string bikini that looks fucking killer on her. She's not understanding what's taking 15 minutes here.
"What's up?"
"It's too revealing," Rachel complains, running her hands over her stomach. Santana rolls her eyes. "I mean, I know in the past I've let you talk me into wearing some...Anyway." She waves her hand and Santana laughs. "It's not very practical."
"Who needs practical? We're going swimming in the ocean, Rachel, not competing in a fucking triathlon. Here." She passes her beer to Rachel, who takes a tentative sip, and Santana tightens the ties of Rachel's top so her tits are pushed up perfectly and the strings still aren't digging into her skin. "You look hot, okay? That's kind of the only point here."
"Are they going to make fun of me?"
"They've seen you in a two piece before, Rachel." Santana tips the bottle against Rachel's lips again and forces her to take another long sip. God, maybe the alcohol'll loosen her up. Santana hasn't seen this incarnation of Rachel in about two years. "Which one of them are you trying to impress?"
"Neither!" Rachel giggles. She drinks some more beer, then hands the bottle back to Santana. "This is a friend vacation, Santana. No one's hooking up."
Santana nods.
It's cute that Rachel believes that.
... ... ...
"Is it just me, or she hotter than usual?" Finn asks as they sit on the sand and watch the girls wade out into the water.
"Which one?" Puck laughs.
Because yeah.
"Shit. Both, I guess." Finn looks out just in time to see Santana kick Rachel in the middle of the ass and send her face first into the water. "Oh, fuck."
They both get up quickly and start towards the water. "Hurry. Before she kills her."
They take off running as fast as they can along the sand until they're in the water. Finn grabs Santana around the waist and lifts her up, then throws her into the water as she screams, and Rachel gets all pissed and splashes Santana as soon as she's got her head out of the water. They're laughing though, so Puck doesn't think he'll have to break up a girl fight.
Which, honestly, he wouldn't do. Wet girls in bikinis. He's not stupid.
... ... ...
So Puck's good in the kitchen. Which makes sense, since he's working his way through college as a cook in a hotel restaurant in Boston. When Santana wakes up, there's coffee ready to pour, pancakes ready to eat, and he's shirtless and wearing boxers. Totally not a rude awakening.
Rachel comes down the stairs next, and hugs Puck from behind as a thank you for thinking to make her a fruit salad. Santana watches as she stuffs her face with pancakes (from scratch, and so fucking good). Puck's not exactly shrugging Rachel off him, here. He hands her a cup of coffee and tells her to get out of his 'prime cooking space', but he's laughing as he says it, and she feeds him a piece of pineapple from her fingers before walking over to the island and sitting next to Santana.
Then Finn comes down saying he smelled food, and he hugs Puck, too. He does get shrugged off.
The guys have been talking about learning to surf, and Rachel is all about it, too. So basically, Santana has to go. It's not that she doesn't want to, it's just that she'd kind of rather, you know, not fall off a surf board a hundred times today. But whatever. It'll be fun. They get into bathing suits again, and Finn finds them an instructor and they walk down the beach.
The entire lesson takes place on dry land, and Santana doesn't exactly mind. Then she and Rachel spend most of the afternoon with SPF 45 on them and lying on the sand. Puck and Finn walk up and down the beach and get the four of them invited to a party at this local girl's house.
Rachel wonders aloud if the girl is pretty. Santana says, "Babe, have you ever known Puck to spend time talking to an ugly girl?" They're laughing hard as they do their makeup in the master bedroom and Puck and Finn drink Coronas and watch TV.
The party's totally fucking lame. Seriously. It's not even on the beach, which sucks. The house is nice, she supposes, but Santana really doesn't want to spend her time in Florida in some girl's fucking two bedroom rental house. There's a keg, though, and Puck manages to steal vodka off a drunk girl, so that's a bonus. It's vanilla flavoured, though, so fucking disgusting, but Finn volunteers to walk to the store they saw on the way and pick up some Sprite for them to mix with.
Then things get fun. Mostly because they're staked out in the driveway of this house and practically ignoring everyone around them. Puck deemed the girl who invited them a no go because she's got a butterfly tattoo at the small of her back. There are few things that are a deal breaker for him, but that's always been one of them.
And he seems to be particularly interested in Rachel. More specifically, trying to touch her tits in her bikini top. Like, he's getting fucking creative with it and it's more entertaining than anything they've been around all night. Santana spits her drink out when Puck walks up behind Rachel and does a reach around and she elbows him so hard in the ribs that he actually looks to be in pain. Then, of course, Rachel's all worried and sorry and he says he won't forgive her unless she lets him touch them. Even Finn finds it funny.
Rachel's drunk and attempting to force those around her into loving Fame as much as she does (never gonna happen) and Puck puts his arm around her shoulder. She gets pissy and turns around and shoves her drink towards Santana as she stares at Puck.
"Fine! Fine. Just touch them if it's so important to you!" She spreads her arms and Puck's just standing there like he can't honestly believe she's saying it. Probably why he's frozen in place. "What? Do it. Touch my breasts."
"Fuck," he breathes out. He's totally nervous, and Santana's ready to start laughing. "I can't. Now it doesn't seem right."
Rachel rolls her eyes and takes her drink back, then turns her back to Puck and says, "Anyway, as I was saying," like she didn't just invite Puck to feel her up in the middle of a party.
... ... ...
They walk along the beach to get back to their place. Honestly, it's hot out and there's a breeze off the water, and really, they're in the fucking Florida Keys. It's not like they're not going to take advantage of the beach. They're all pretty drunk, thanks to that chick's vodka, which they finished before they left. And watching Rachel chug a drink will never not be funny, just because of the face she makes.
She's currently beside him and having a little difficult walking on the sand in her condition. Santana remedied that by jumping onto Finn's back, and they're about 30 feet ahead now, Finn piggy-backing Santana across the beach. Puck can hear her laughing, and he swears if Finn drops her, Puck may just die laughing. It might happen.
Rachel stumbles into him and grabs onto his shirt to steady herself, and he puts his arm around her and laughs as she gets herself walking right again.
"You okay there?" he laughs.
"I'm good," she says, hand going out in front of her. "I'm good." She giggles and it's pretty much the cutest sound she could make right now. "Hey, I'm just going to lean on you just a little bit."
"Alright." He shakes his head and chuckles at her as she slips her arm around his waist. She looks up at him as they walk. "What? Stop looking at me like that."
"I'm not looking at you."
He laughs again. "Pretty obvious you're looking at me."
"Will you eat crackers with me?" she asks. "I like to eat crackers. And you're still sleeping on the floor."
Those things, apparently, are related in her very drunk brain.
"Yeah, babe. I know." Not that he's thrilled about the floor situation, but whatever. He's not gonna make her sleep there. She's a girl and he's not an asshole. "What do you think of that?" He points down the beach at Santana and Finn. "'S'different."
Rachel shrugs. "I don't have an opinion yet," she tells him. She looks up at him again, which throws her a little off balance. "I really hate being this drunk. You shouldn't have let me get this drunk."
He laughs and shakes his head. "I wasn't exactly pouring it down your throat." She bites her lip, then gives this slow grin, and he fucking knows she's thinking something dirty. "What?" She starts shaking her head side to side. "Rachel, tell me."
"Use your imagination, Noah," she sings. Sings. God, she's drunk. "I'm tired of walking now."
He rolls his eyes. He knew this was coming. He turns his back to her and tries to ignore how cute she sounds when she squeals, claps her hands and hops onto his back. He tells her just to warn him if she's gonna puke.
She ends up sleeping in Santana's room for the night, so he makes himself comfortable on Rachel's bed and he's out as soon as his head hits the pillow.
... ... ...
She's got a handful of Rachel's ass when she wakes up, which is not the first time, but yeah, not ideal. She starts moving and Rachel opens her eyes and groans, and there's noise in the kitchen. Santana's hoping for pancakes again, but when she steps out of the bedroom, Finn's there with four bottles of Gatorade lined up on the counter, a bunch of fruit out, and a bottle of Tylenol he's found somewhere. He's also got coffee brewed and he's smearing peanut butter on a bagel he toasted.
"Hey," she mumbles. Her voice sounds like shit. She's eyeing his bagel and he must know what she wants, because he gives her half. "Thanks."
"There's coffee. And bananas."
She smiles at him despite the fact that she feels like ass, and reaches for a banana, peels it and chops some slices onto her bagel. He gives her a weird look, but she doesn't so much care what he thinks. He pours her a cup of coffee and slides an orange Gatorade to her, then they sit side by side at the island.
"You sleep?" she asks.
"Yeah. Really well. I like the loft," he says. She laughs at him. He's practically a man child, so it's no surprise he loves the novelty. "Rachel slept with you?"
"Yeah, and she's a bitch when she's hungover."
"I'm not even hungover, really. I feel better already." She narrows her eyes at him and he laughs. "Sorry. Just saying."
"Yeah, well, you're huge. I'm just a little girl."
He scoffs, chews his bagel carefully. "You're not a little girl, Tana," he says.
She's about to ask what he means by that, but Puck practically falls down the stairs and goes, "Fuck! Fuck. Shit. Goddamn," and kind of steals the moment.
Then Rachel comes out of the bedroom and lies through her teeth saying she's not hungover. Puck calls her on it immediately and puts two Tylenol in front of her like some kind of challenge, and eventually she grabs them and swallows them down with a swig of Gatorade.
They have to go to their fucking surf lesson, though, so they all manage to get showered and dressed and head down to the beach. They're allowed in the water today, but it's just paddling, and she thinks it's fucking dumb, alright? She's so fucking over this surfing thing already. To the point where she tells the instructor he'll just have three tomorrow and he nods, laughs and says, "Not your thing, huh?"
Rachel tries to talk her out of giving it up by asking what she'll do while they're at their lesson.
"Um, I dunno. Maybe not brain myself with a fucking surfboard, or get eaten by a shark? There's other shit to do, okay?"
They spread their blankets out and she knows she's not supposed to notice Rachel turn to Finn and say, "Are there a lot of sharks?"
Whatever. Those three are acting as though surfing is a skill they'll be able to use later in life, which is fucking bullshit. You know what's better? Reading a book in the sun. Or like, running along the beach, or walking through town and shopping for shit she doesn't need.
They decide it's her turn to make dinner, which means they find a decent-looking restaurant and she lays down her credit card when the bill comes.
She ignores (not at all) the way Finn puts his arm around her chair as they sit there. Puck steals a bit of Rachel's dessert, and those two are flirting like mad, so she knows they won't notice her having a conversation with Finn.
He's already looking at her.
"What?"
He grins a little, shakes his head. "Nothing." She tilts her head and raises her brow. "Nothing. You just look all relaxed."
"I'm on vacation," she reminds him. He's not that slow, but Jesus.
"No," he laughs quietly. His thumb grazes her back. An accident, she's sure. (Except not.) "I mean like right now. This second." She doesn't want to smile at this shit. It's kind of stupid and cute, though. "It's nice."
"Nice?"
She watches his ears turn pink. "You look really good," he says. He touches her again.
Then she hears, "Noah, you jackass!" from across the table and looks over to see Rachel holding an empty fork and Puck chewing what Santana can assume was the last bite of Rachel's cobbler.
Rachel is apparently completely pissed off (she's a good actress, but Santana can tell it's all a fucking performance) and holds Santana's arm as they walk back through town and towards their place.
Puck apparently has more brains than Santana's ever given him credit for, because he shells out $10 for a crappy little bouquet of daisies and grabs Rachel by the arm before she can walk up onto the deck. He hands them to her and she's fighting a smile hard. Santana stands by the door of the house and Finn just shakes his head.
"They're so dumb," he says. Santana just laughs an looks up at him. "He wants her so bad. Ever since she went to Boston."
"Really?" She honestly didn't know. She figured he was just flirting with Rachel because he flirts with everyone. Yeah, it's a little bit more, but she didn't think that really meant anything. "Huh."
"You about to go all Lima Heights?" he teases, poking her in the ribs with his index finger. She rolls her eyes. "That's your style, right? Someone goes after Puck and you go after them?"
He's still fucking poking her, which is a really good way to loose a damn hand. "Fuck off, Finn. And whatever. She happens to be my best friend. And it's been a long fucking time since he and I...You know what? Whatever."
No, she doesn't know why she's so defensive. She turns to head into the house, though, and he grabs her arm before she can.
"Hey." He leans down a bit so she's forced to look at him. "I didn't mean anything by it. I was just kidding around."
She hates how easy it is to just forgive him for talking shit. "Don't poke me again."
He laughs pretty loudly and pushes the door open so she can walk through.
Rachel comes in a few seconds later practically singing, "Look what Noah got me!" and Santana has to help her find a vase to put the stupid flowers in. She looks over her shoulder at Puck and he seems pretty fucking proud of himself.
... ... ...
It cools off enough that they can actually get into the hot tub. They don't so much need to heat the water as they just turn on the jets, get beer, and climb into the thing in their bathing suits. It's still amazing, though, and Rachel (after a beer and a half) is still wondering about the sharks and saying the tub is a way smarter idea than swimming in the ocean at night.
Two seconds later, she's saying they have to swim in the ocean after dark at least once, so Santana doesn't really take too much of what Rachel says to heart after that.
And besides, she's kind of distracted by Finn's hand curving around her ankle where she has her feet resting on the bench next to him. He's barely touching her, but it feels kind of incredible, and when she looks at him, he's watching Puck, who's talking about this band he knows in Boston who's apparently like, two shows away from making it big or whatever.
Santana doesn't give a fuck. She's thinking about how Finn's massive fingers would feel inside her, rather than just tracing the line of her foot. She moves her foot so her entire calf is lying across his lap, and then he moves his hand so his forearm is over her thigh and his fingertips are brushing over the inside of her knee. It's like, the lamest foreplay ever, only it's super hot because their friends are right there and apparently completely oblivious. She runs the toes of her other foot up and down his calf a couple times as he sips his beer and she finishes hers.
It's fucking ridiculous that she wants him so bad. She doesn't know what it is about him right now, on this trip, but he's been kind of quiet and he just looks at her, and like, earlier when they were at that stupid surf lesson, he laughed so hard at something she said that he nearly fell off his board. And he was the only one who wasn't on her ass about quitting the surf lessons all together.
But that's part of why she's so confused, because he didn't even really want to come on this trip when she first tabled the idea, and now he's starting to look like he just kind of belongs here, in this beachy environment.
Or maybe she's thinking too fucking hard, and if she stopped doing that she'd realize that she's hot and of course he wants to fuck her. She's been walking around in next to nothing for a few days.
She's ignoring the rest of it.
"Finn," she says. It's loud enough for Puck and Rachel to hear, but they don't really stop their conversation on her account. Assholes. "Come inside and help me with something."
He smirks (she didn't know he was really capable of it) and nods. "Yeah. Okay."
She knows Puck and Rachel see her grab Finn's hand once he's on the deck with her, but she honestly couldn't give a fuck what they see. They're all adults. They're all adults and she wants to have sex with this one. And she likes to get what she wants.
She kisses him in the kitchen, puts her arms around his neck and presses her damp body the length of his. He lets out this fucking sexy as hell groan from the back of his throat and puts his huge hands on her waist. She's unbelievably turned on and needs to get the hell out of these bathing suit bottoms. Which she's just about to tell him, but as soon as she pulls her mouth away, he leans forward and takes her lips, presses his tongue into her mouth and backs her up against the counter. Totally not what she expected from him (this isn't exactly the first time she's had him), but she can definitely work with it. And really, she should give him a clean slate. Hell, if she hadn't done that already, she wouldn't be signing herself up for round two.
He tightens his hold on her and lifts her up pretty effortlessly, sets her on the counter and then pushes his hand into her hair while the other hooks around her waist to keep her close to him. He doesn't really have to worry about that. She's got one hand on his arm and the other around his back, and she locks her ankles behind him.
She's breathing hard when she pulls away, and he immediately puts his mouth on her neck and kisses across her collarbone. She can tell he wants to take her top off, which, yeah, but as much as she's all for sex in the kitchen, all the windows in this place are open; she doesn't need witnesses.
"Finn."
"We should go back out."
She laughs a little too hard, apparently, because he gives her a look like she's being shitty. If he wasn't being clueless, she wouldn't have to point it out, would she?
"We're not going back outside," she tells him, eyes locked on his as she tugs the string of his shorts loose.
"Oh." He grins at her and puts his hands on her ass, lifts her up and then sets her on her feet. She's kind of thankful. She's not really the type to like being carried to a bed; she's got legs. "Fuck, Santana." He chuckles a little and looks down at her. "You're like...It's not normal." She smiles, despite the fact that he's talking instead of getting her naked. "I can't wait to..."
He's either incapable of finishing, or he just doesn't want to. It doesn't really matter, because he starts pushing her towards the door of her bedroom and tugs the strings of her top undone as soon as the door's closed behind him.
... ... ...
Last night, he suggested a walk on the beach (romance!) to get him and Rachel away from Santana and Finn, but she just told him that she's heard Santana having sex before and asked him to pass her another beer. He thought better of pointing out that he used to be the one making Santana let out those sounds, or that Rachel helped Finn to not suck at the whole sex thing. He's not a total idiot, okay?
They stayed outside for probably another hour, just talking about music and life and whatever, and summer, and their vacation. He really likes talking to her. He always has. It's even better now that she actually occasionally lets someone else get a word in.
When they finally went inside, he tried to convince her to let him push the beds together, but she practically laughed in his face and told him no. Whatever. He still slept on Finn's bed.
Which is how he ended up here, lying on this bed looking at Rachel as she lies on hers. She's awake, because he's not some creepy bastard who watches people sleep. He turned over to see if she was up yet, and then she turned over because she was and heard him moving.
"Hey," he mumbles.
"Good morning."
Fuck, she looks good in the mornings. How's that even possible? Aren't people supposed to look tired and gross in the morning? She manages to look like this cute little put-together thing. Probably because of her braided hair and her matching pajamas or something.
"She still into morning sex?" Rachel giggles at him and nods her head. "Wanna go out for breakfast?
She pushes back the covers and he tries not to look to where her shorts are all bunched up at her thighs. He's not a fucking superhero, though, and even if he was, not looking at women wouldn't be one of his powers.
So yeah, he looks.
"Just let me get dressed."
He doesn't really want to.
She's wearing this little yellow and green checkered sundress and re-braids her hair, slips her feet into her flip flops as he pulls a tee shirt on over his head. It's not a long walk to the little café they saw on the first day here. Rachel talks about how tired she is, how she really wants to nap later, and that she's glad they don't have a surf lesson today.
He says, "I'll nap with you," and she rolls her eyes, but has this little smile on when she says, "I get it, Noah."
He doesn't know what she gets, because if she really got it, she'd be naked right now or something. He wants to ask her, but then they're standing there and she's waiting for him to open the door to the café for her, and he does it mostly because he doesn't know what else to do.
She orders half a grapefruit, vegan toast, when she asks and they say they have it, a tea, and an orange juice, then judges him with her eyes for ordering real food like a real person. And really, two scrambled eggs, some bacon, home fries, toast and a coffee is pretty much the standard breakfast.
"Do you think we should have left a note?" she asks.
He laughs and shakes his head and sets his hand close to hers on top of the table. "We're adults. We can venture out into the world on our own. Jesus god, this is good jam."
"Noah," she giggles, shoulders shaking. "Really?"
"It's seriously fucking delicious. Here." He holds out a piece of toast for her, but she shakes her head, and yeah, his is not so much vegan. So he swipes his finger along the edge of the knife he used to spread the jam, and holds his finger out to her.
"I'm not licking your finger," she says incredulously.
"You want the jam or not?"
"Not that badly!"
He mutters under his breath that she's a prude (which, from some of the stories he knows, she's really not) and reaches for her hand. He smears the jam from his finger onto hers and watches as she raises it to her mouth. She tries to hide the way she licks it off, but whatever. He's got a good imagination. Then she makes this sound he swears could make him hard if he let it.
"Good, right?" he asks. He licks his own finger clean, then goes back to his toast.
"That's really good jam." They laugh together - about jam, for fuck's sake - and then she slips her finger under the strap of her dress and adjusts it over her shoulder and he kind of forgets about food. "Are you planning on eating that piece of bacon, or are you just going to hold it for a while?"
See, the annoying thing is that she obviously knows he thinks she's fucking sexy, and she's pretty much constantly teasing him about it, teasing him with it, but she's not giving in and getting naked. He doesn't know what he has to do here.
"Shut up," he mumbles. She seems pretty pleased with herself.
She's not in any big rush to get back to the house, and he's not in any big rush to spend time with people other than her, so they go for a walk through this neighbourhood that has all kinds of nice houses in it. She swings her little purse in her hand between them and lets him touch her back when they're crossing streets. He knows she's afraid of dogs, so when they see this guy walking a black lab, he puts himself between her and the dog and keeps his arm around her shoulder to comfort her and shit. Seriously, he's doing everything right here.
"Can I hold your hand?" she asks when they get back to the beach. They're about a 20 minute walk from the house.
"What?"
She shrugs her shoulder. "I just want to. Is that okay?"
She slips her fingers between his before he has a chance to tell her it's fine.
"Why?" he asks after a few moments.
"Because. You seem to think you can ask ridiculous things of me, so I figure I'm allowed to do the same with you." She grins and skips a little, squeezes his hand. "You're not really the hand holding type, are you?"
He shrugs his shoulder and tugs her back to him, strokes his thumb over the side of hers. "I can be."
She smiles like she knows something he doesn't, and looks down at their hands. "You agreed quicker than I thought you would."
"Remember that, would you?" he says, mostly joking, and she giggles and leans her head against his shoulder.
It's pretty clear that she likes all the attention he's giving her.
Good.