Blame The Turkey - - Finn/Santana.
Title: Blame The Turkey.
Author: Fufuluff
Pairing/Characters: Finn x Santana. Fantana. Fanta. Whatever ya wanna call 'em!
Rating: PG?
Summary: Quinn and Puck baking was so last season. They, were cooking dinner.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. If I did, Naya & Heather would have started off as regulars.
Spoilers: Wheels. (1x09.)
Prompt: Christmas, and the turkey dinner must play a big role.
Also Found: Right Here.
Author Note:
So I want to dedicate this to my FANTASTIC friend, Vienna. Her stories are perfect and adorable. Vienna, you are a joy! Keeping me sane, really!
Anyway, I wanted to contribute to this pairing. I figure they needed something fluffy and fun!
SPREAD THE FANTA LOVE, EVERYONE. Heh. Heh. Heh. Who doesn't love hot latina cheerleaders and stupid jockeys?
Pardon if you see any mistakes, I edited the best as I could~.
"It's that time of year again," Mr. Shue started, a sparkle of excitement in his eyes, "Mistletoe, snow, caroling... it's Christmas." He grinned his lop-sided grin as the students in front of him eyed him quizzically. They could all feel it. He was on another one of his "do-good" programs. "Christmas is a time for giving back, and spreading joy, and just feeling good about yourself and the people around you." As some of the Glee kids looked somewhat interested, such as Tina and Artie, Santana Lopez sat there with a bored look on her face. The Cheerio's Christmas event was so much funner. They did a routine on the main square of town for free. Well, Coach Sylvester would hold out and hat and "ask" people to donate. Coach Sylvester usually had them dress up as cute elves. It was a much better Christmas event.
"Mr. Shuester," Santana's eyes drifted toward Rachel Berry as she spoke, holding her hand up in the air professionally, "Don't you think you're stereotyping Christmas? You sound awfully cliché. Christmas is actually a hard time for some people."
"How would you know?" Puck piped up, raising an eyebrow quizzically at the brunette, "You're Jewish."
Rachel gaped for a few minutes, dumbfounded by Puck's sudden fact. Her eyes shifted around the room as she gathered herself, throwing a few strands of brown hair over her shoulder. "Well, regardless of religion, Christmas is actually a very emotional, tragic time for some people. An example would be like the Broadway classic- RENT." She was getting at something. Rachel Berry wanted something, and she was putting her plan into action. Santana braced herself- what would it be this time? They had done so many stupid things in Glee. Was Rachel going to make Christmas stupid too?
"Your point, Rachel?" Mr. Shue inquired, slightly annoyed that he had been interrupted yet again.
"My point is," she pointed out, taking the liberty to leave her chair and stride to the front of the class, facing them with a beaming grin, "that we should start a fundraiser!"
Groans derived from the students sitting in their chairs. Fundraiser? Another one? Santana was about to protest in agony, but Mr. Shuester seems to impressed with the idea. She could cry. Fundraisers were so drab. Especially for Glee Club like, who the hell would pay to see losers run around a stage? She frowned at the idea, folding her arms across her chest in hopes someone would notice and stand up against the idea with her. But nobody said a word as Rachel bounced on her heels with excitement at Mr. Shuester's reaction.
"It would be great for our resume's, making me- I mean us - sound like thoughtful, caring, young devoted teenagers," she rambled, clapping her hands together, "and we'd be helping out too."
"What exactly did you have in mind, Rach?" The spanish teacher was very interested. She couldn't help but feel a sickening feeling down in her stomach as Mr. Shuester and Rachel went at it, "I guess you have the floor!" He finished, rubbing his hands and grinning at the glee kids.
"I was thinking we do dinner and show, for the homeless people who don't have anything special planned for Christmas," she then spun around, ignoring the other students completely and focused on Mr. Shue, "I'd like the performance to be taped for future reference. Also, I want the solo on Amazing Grace..."
And that's how she ended up here. Santana had a choice- sing with Rachel, clean up the auditorium, or cook. First of all, Rachel was horribly irritating. Not ever would she willingly go into a room on her spare time with Rachel Berry. Second of all, cleaning was disgusting. Santana Lopez did not clean. She told others to pick up things for her- not actually clean herself. This left only one job. Cooking. Cooking wasn't actually that bad, right? Just put a bunch of ingredients into a bowl and mix. Read the occasional directions now and then- yeah. It was simple. Brittany couldn't cook- all the measurements confused her, so she had chosen to go help clean with Mike in the auditorium. Since Finn and Rachel weren't on good terms right now, Finn had not chosen to go sing with her like he normally would.
This means she was stuck with the abnormally tall guy. He was to fetch her a big turkey to stuff for the banquet part of the Christmas event. Her brown eyes drifted to the clock- he was late. She groaned with frustration as she leaned against the counter and examined the ingredients she had set out beforehand. Was there anything she could make in the mean time? She sighed as she realized there was something she could prepare. That was the mashed-potatoes. Snatching the potatoes, she bounced two in her hands. Okay. So she really had no idea how to make mashed potatoes. You just peeled them and squished them up, right? She pulled out a bowl and a pairing knife and started tucked it beneath the skin of the potato, gently sliding it so the skin fell off gracefully. Easy enough. She quickened her pace and started to skin each blob of potato easily. In a matter of moments- she found that she was finished. She clumped all the potatoes into a bowl and found the biggest kitchen utensil possible, and then hammered away.
She recoiled back with surprise and disgust as bits of potato flung up and hit her face. She clearly wasn't using the right tool.
"You're supposed to use this," a voice sounded from behind her. Finn held her a silver thing with holes on the bottom. When did he get here?
"I knew that," she remarked, rolling her eyes and grabbing the tool from his hands and turned back to her unfinished work, "You get the turkey?"
"Huh? Yeah," Finn replied, setting his groceries on the table. The bag crumpled as Finn parted the top and pulled out a huge skinless bird. Santana glanced at it, and froze. Was he that stupid? Finn, seeing her already disapproving gaze, turned the huge bird over so the label couldn't be read, and took a few steps back before Santana's claws came out. He swallowed nervously and pretended to develop a deep interest with his shoes.
"Finn." Santana's voice came out as a low hiss, "What the hell is this?"
"A turkey?" He tried, not bothering to meet her gaze.
"Finn. This is a chicken."
"Chicken tastes better!" Finn whined, pushing the pink featherless bird to the displeased girl, "Turkey is kinda gross... plus, they're kinda mean. We wanted to make something cheerful, like Mr. Shue said right? Well, Turkeys are not cheerful..."
"Finn." Santana snarled, "It's dead." She couldn't believe it. He was so stupid. She didn't have the time for this. The sooner she was finished her job, the sooner she could get out of there and spend time with her fellow Cheerio's, rehearsing. Plus, she had a practice she needed to be on time for! She was so ready to smack him across the face, but he had taken a hint and crossed to the other side of the table. Her brown eyes followed him, all the while shooting daggers.
"It's the same thing, right?" He fiddled with the equipment and food on the table absently. His fingers played with the edge of the bowl Santana had kept her potatoes in. He took the spare potato masher and started to grind the potatoes into a mush. Santana rolled her eyes and decided to move on with the situation, muttering curse words beneath her breath as she started to unwrap the chicken out of the bag. Finn couldn't help but chuckle lightly as her face looked so utterly disgusted. Her slender fingers were poised in such a way that she barely touched the plastic around the bird. He stuck the potato masher in the bowl one last time, and held it in his hand, loaded with a bunch of mashed potato.
"Job switch?" He offered, tilting his head to the side and holding out the potato masher out to her. He must have thrust it forward too quickly, because some of it flew off and spluttered onto her Cheerio's uniform again. Her jaw gaped with anger. Did he not understand that Coach Sylvester would kill her if she got her uniform dirty?
"God! You're an idiot!"She seethed with irritation, trying to keep her cool. That didn't last long, as her temper had gotten the better of her. Seizing the closest thing to her - the pre-made bowl of gravy - she splashed some onto his face. He closed his eyes and gasped lightly. She could feel a sadistic grin crawl upon her face. Victory. As his eyes started to flutter open, Santana made sure the playful smirk vanished from her face and she became all business again. She needed to get things done, not play games in the kitchen like Barbie. She cocked her hip to the side, "Seriously, Finn. How am I supposed to stuff a freaking chicken?"
"I don't know? Use the butthol-" Finn almost suggested, then upon seeing her deadly gaze, he decided against it. He had caught that little grin she made earlier. Santana didn't really have fun all the time (except sex) did she? She got to have fun at parties and stuff, but she was always drunk, so she never remembered it. He began to take the gravy out of his eyes, reluctantly leaning toward the bowl of cranberry juice. He reached out with his spoon and loaded it was Cranberry ammo. He flung it at her mouth, then after he suddenly realized how he was now going to hell. "I'm - uh - sorry."
"Finn. Hudson." A low growl escaped her lips as the cranberry juice tastefully dripped off her mouth and onto her Cheerio's uniform. It would stain. She was going to kill him. He was being such a fool right now! She slammed her first against the table and picked up the bowl of mashed potatoes, marching over to the opposite side of the table before he could decipher what was going on. She dug her hand into the bowl of mashed potatoes and then planted it all over his face. Then another handful on his chest for good measure. "I'm not Rachel Berry. I don't find your stupidity cute at all. I will claw you to death if you touch me one more time."
He flicked some of the evil potato onto her cheek.
The nerve.
"Um. Okay. I'm sorry." He stammered, as Santana advanced on him. She was going to wrangle his neck, and he knew it. "I just like chicken better, okay?"
He just liked chicken better! That was it. She snapped. She took the raw pumpkin pie off the table and splattered it all over his face. He choked and coughed, gasping with shock. Slowly, his hands went up to his eyes and he wiped them, staring from the center working it's way around the sides. He looked really weird. Like a monster of some sort, with food all over his face. His entire face was covered in pie and mashed potatoes except his eyes and it just looked ridiculous. She couldn't help but feel a smile tug at her lips as he stood there, his eyes wide open. He kind of resembled an ugly deer frozen by headlights, with his eyes exposed and stuff. His mouth was completely covered, and that just didn't look right. Was it wrong that she felt turned on right now? Or was it the wasted pumpkin pie making her hungry?
"Wipe your mouth," she remarked, but as he rose his sleeve to wipe it off, she bent in closer and planted her lips on his. Yum, pumpkin pie.
She rolled her eyes at his startled grunt as he struggled to hold his balance. She was on her tippy-toes, he was so freaking tall. Her mouth parted with his for a few moments only for her to let out a small chuckle, and then she pressed against his once more. He still wasn't doing anything. Slightly saddened by this reaction, she pushed him backwards so his entire body hit the table, and he had no choice but to hold her instead of her tumbling forward and making a mess. Skillfully, she breathed in with her nose as her hands snaked up his back. She let out a satisfied mumble of incoherent words as Finn, seemingly out of defeat, kissed her back. So she was wiping his mouth, really. They broke off breathlessly.
"Um. What was that f-for?" Finn's face reddened as Santana licked the excess pumpkin pie off her lips.
"Being stupid," she replied before reaching out for his collar and spinning him around so that she was now against the table and he was extremely close to her. Her eyes fluttered alluringly as she stood there innocently batting at the buttons on his shirt. As she expected, Finn, in all his boy-hormonal glory, had his nose tickling hers. They stood there in silence as the tension between them escalated. She figured Finn was too stupid to know what to do, so she decided to help him along (just like she had to when she deflowered him). She stole his lips and smiled into the kiss as Finn let out a startled, but pleased grunt. His hands placed on her hips, and he realized she was having difficulty reaching his height, so he hoisted her onto the table. When he had done this, he can caused various items on the table to "move out of the way" by spilling and clattering onto the floor. They were making such a bloody mess. They were both dirty as hell, covered in cranberries and heat of the kiss was getting to Santana- she found her legs wrapping around his body as she craned her neck to hint that she wanted kisses along her jaw line. He obliged, like taking directions from a teacher, and supported her back as she let out an involuntary moan. Her fingers raked through his hair as he pulled back up to fight her lips once more. He pulled her closer as Santana's hands picked at the buttons of his shirt. The entire charade was just hot to Santana's surprise, and she was surprised his volcano hadn't erupted yet. It was just a hot mess, really.
They both ignored, or didn't hear the sound of footsteps coming through the door. Neither did they notice the sounds of shock coming out of Quinn Fabray's mouth. She gulped before interrupting the two with a loud cough. Santana broke off instantly and pushed Finn away quickly, gasping for air. Finn grinned that dopey grin of his.
"We're cooking."
Author Notes:
Alright buds! How did you like it? My first shot at writing something remotely... sensual. Let me know if it worked for ya. Trying to expand my horizons?
Not like I have a choice with this hot pairing. ;)
Author: Fufuluff
Pairing/Characters: Finn x Santana. Fantana. Fanta. Whatever ya wanna call 'em!
Rating: PG?
Summary: Quinn and Puck baking was so last season. They, were cooking dinner.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. If I did, Naya & Heather would have started off as regulars.
Spoilers: Wheels. (1x09.)
Prompt: Christmas, and the turkey dinner must play a big role.
Also Found: Right Here.
Author Note:
So I want to dedicate this to my FANTASTIC friend, Vienna. Her stories are perfect and adorable. Vienna, you are a joy! Keeping me sane, really!
Anyway, I wanted to contribute to this pairing. I figure they needed something fluffy and fun!
SPREAD THE FANTA LOVE, EVERYONE. Heh. Heh. Heh. Who doesn't love hot latina cheerleaders and stupid jockeys?
Pardon if you see any mistakes, I edited the best as I could~.
"It's that time of year again," Mr. Shue started, a sparkle of excitement in his eyes, "Mistletoe, snow, caroling... it's Christmas." He grinned his lop-sided grin as the students in front of him eyed him quizzically. They could all feel it. He was on another one of his "do-good" programs. "Christmas is a time for giving back, and spreading joy, and just feeling good about yourself and the people around you." As some of the Glee kids looked somewhat interested, such as Tina and Artie, Santana Lopez sat there with a bored look on her face. The Cheerio's Christmas event was so much funner. They did a routine on the main square of town for free. Well, Coach Sylvester would hold out and hat and "ask" people to donate. Coach Sylvester usually had them dress up as cute elves. It was a much better Christmas event.
"Mr. Shuester," Santana's eyes drifted toward Rachel Berry as she spoke, holding her hand up in the air professionally, "Don't you think you're stereotyping Christmas? You sound awfully cliché. Christmas is actually a hard time for some people."
"How would you know?" Puck piped up, raising an eyebrow quizzically at the brunette, "You're Jewish."
Rachel gaped for a few minutes, dumbfounded by Puck's sudden fact. Her eyes shifted around the room as she gathered herself, throwing a few strands of brown hair over her shoulder. "Well, regardless of religion, Christmas is actually a very emotional, tragic time for some people. An example would be like the Broadway classic- RENT." She was getting at something. Rachel Berry wanted something, and she was putting her plan into action. Santana braced herself- what would it be this time? They had done so many stupid things in Glee. Was Rachel going to make Christmas stupid too?
"Your point, Rachel?" Mr. Shue inquired, slightly annoyed that he had been interrupted yet again.
"My point is," she pointed out, taking the liberty to leave her chair and stride to the front of the class, facing them with a beaming grin, "that we should start a fundraiser!"
Groans derived from the students sitting in their chairs. Fundraiser? Another one? Santana was about to protest in agony, but Mr. Shuester seems to impressed with the idea. She could cry. Fundraisers were so drab. Especially for Glee Club like, who the hell would pay to see losers run around a stage? She frowned at the idea, folding her arms across her chest in hopes someone would notice and stand up against the idea with her. But nobody said a word as Rachel bounced on her heels with excitement at Mr. Shuester's reaction.
"It would be great for our resume's, making me- I mean us - sound like thoughtful, caring, young devoted teenagers," she rambled, clapping her hands together, "and we'd be helping out too."
"What exactly did you have in mind, Rach?" The spanish teacher was very interested. She couldn't help but feel a sickening feeling down in her stomach as Mr. Shuester and Rachel went at it, "I guess you have the floor!" He finished, rubbing his hands and grinning at the glee kids.
"I was thinking we do dinner and show, for the homeless people who don't have anything special planned for Christmas," she then spun around, ignoring the other students completely and focused on Mr. Shue, "I'd like the performance to be taped for future reference. Also, I want the solo on Amazing Grace..."
And that's how she ended up here. Santana had a choice- sing with Rachel, clean up the auditorium, or cook. First of all, Rachel was horribly irritating. Not ever would she willingly go into a room on her spare time with Rachel Berry. Second of all, cleaning was disgusting. Santana Lopez did not clean. She told others to pick up things for her- not actually clean herself. This left only one job. Cooking. Cooking wasn't actually that bad, right? Just put a bunch of ingredients into a bowl and mix. Read the occasional directions now and then- yeah. It was simple. Brittany couldn't cook- all the measurements confused her, so she had chosen to go help clean with Mike in the auditorium. Since Finn and Rachel weren't on good terms right now, Finn had not chosen to go sing with her like he normally would.
This means she was stuck with the abnormally tall guy. He was to fetch her a big turkey to stuff for the banquet part of the Christmas event. Her brown eyes drifted to the clock- he was late. She groaned with frustration as she leaned against the counter and examined the ingredients she had set out beforehand. Was there anything she could make in the mean time? She sighed as she realized there was something she could prepare. That was the mashed-potatoes. Snatching the potatoes, she bounced two in her hands. Okay. So she really had no idea how to make mashed potatoes. You just peeled them and squished them up, right? She pulled out a bowl and a pairing knife and started tucked it beneath the skin of the potato, gently sliding it so the skin fell off gracefully. Easy enough. She quickened her pace and started to skin each blob of potato easily. In a matter of moments- she found that she was finished. She clumped all the potatoes into a bowl and found the biggest kitchen utensil possible, and then hammered away.
She recoiled back with surprise and disgust as bits of potato flung up and hit her face. She clearly wasn't using the right tool.
"You're supposed to use this," a voice sounded from behind her. Finn held her a silver thing with holes on the bottom. When did he get here?
"I knew that," she remarked, rolling her eyes and grabbing the tool from his hands and turned back to her unfinished work, "You get the turkey?"
"Huh? Yeah," Finn replied, setting his groceries on the table. The bag crumpled as Finn parted the top and pulled out a huge skinless bird. Santana glanced at it, and froze. Was he that stupid? Finn, seeing her already disapproving gaze, turned the huge bird over so the label couldn't be read, and took a few steps back before Santana's claws came out. He swallowed nervously and pretended to develop a deep interest with his shoes.
"Finn." Santana's voice came out as a low hiss, "What the hell is this?"
"A turkey?" He tried, not bothering to meet her gaze.
"Finn. This is a chicken."
"Chicken tastes better!" Finn whined, pushing the pink featherless bird to the displeased girl, "Turkey is kinda gross... plus, they're kinda mean. We wanted to make something cheerful, like Mr. Shue said right? Well, Turkeys are not cheerful..."
"Finn." Santana snarled, "It's dead." She couldn't believe it. He was so stupid. She didn't have the time for this. The sooner she was finished her job, the sooner she could get out of there and spend time with her fellow Cheerio's, rehearsing. Plus, she had a practice she needed to be on time for! She was so ready to smack him across the face, but he had taken a hint and crossed to the other side of the table. Her brown eyes followed him, all the while shooting daggers.
"It's the same thing, right?" He fiddled with the equipment and food on the table absently. His fingers played with the edge of the bowl Santana had kept her potatoes in. He took the spare potato masher and started to grind the potatoes into a mush. Santana rolled her eyes and decided to move on with the situation, muttering curse words beneath her breath as she started to unwrap the chicken out of the bag. Finn couldn't help but chuckle lightly as her face looked so utterly disgusted. Her slender fingers were poised in such a way that she barely touched the plastic around the bird. He stuck the potato masher in the bowl one last time, and held it in his hand, loaded with a bunch of mashed potato.
"Job switch?" He offered, tilting his head to the side and holding out the potato masher out to her. He must have thrust it forward too quickly, because some of it flew off and spluttered onto her Cheerio's uniform again. Her jaw gaped with anger. Did he not understand that Coach Sylvester would kill her if she got her uniform dirty?
"God! You're an idiot!"She seethed with irritation, trying to keep her cool. That didn't last long, as her temper had gotten the better of her. Seizing the closest thing to her - the pre-made bowl of gravy - she splashed some onto his face. He closed his eyes and gasped lightly. She could feel a sadistic grin crawl upon her face. Victory. As his eyes started to flutter open, Santana made sure the playful smirk vanished from her face and she became all business again. She needed to get things done, not play games in the kitchen like Barbie. She cocked her hip to the side, "Seriously, Finn. How am I supposed to stuff a freaking chicken?"
"I don't know? Use the butthol-" Finn almost suggested, then upon seeing her deadly gaze, he decided against it. He had caught that little grin she made earlier. Santana didn't really have fun all the time (except sex) did she? She got to have fun at parties and stuff, but she was always drunk, so she never remembered it. He began to take the gravy out of his eyes, reluctantly leaning toward the bowl of cranberry juice. He reached out with his spoon and loaded it was Cranberry ammo. He flung it at her mouth, then after he suddenly realized how he was now going to hell. "I'm - uh - sorry."
"Finn. Hudson." A low growl escaped her lips as the cranberry juice tastefully dripped off her mouth and onto her Cheerio's uniform. It would stain. She was going to kill him. He was being such a fool right now! She slammed her first against the table and picked up the bowl of mashed potatoes, marching over to the opposite side of the table before he could decipher what was going on. She dug her hand into the bowl of mashed potatoes and then planted it all over his face. Then another handful on his chest for good measure. "I'm not Rachel Berry. I don't find your stupidity cute at all. I will claw you to death if you touch me one more time."
He flicked some of the evil potato onto her cheek.
The nerve.
"Um. Okay. I'm sorry." He stammered, as Santana advanced on him. She was going to wrangle his neck, and he knew it. "I just like chicken better, okay?"
He just liked chicken better! That was it. She snapped. She took the raw pumpkin pie off the table and splattered it all over his face. He choked and coughed, gasping with shock. Slowly, his hands went up to his eyes and he wiped them, staring from the center working it's way around the sides. He looked really weird. Like a monster of some sort, with food all over his face. His entire face was covered in pie and mashed potatoes except his eyes and it just looked ridiculous. She couldn't help but feel a smile tug at her lips as he stood there, his eyes wide open. He kind of resembled an ugly deer frozen by headlights, with his eyes exposed and stuff. His mouth was completely covered, and that just didn't look right. Was it wrong that she felt turned on right now? Or was it the wasted pumpkin pie making her hungry?
"Wipe your mouth," she remarked, but as he rose his sleeve to wipe it off, she bent in closer and planted her lips on his. Yum, pumpkin pie.
She rolled her eyes at his startled grunt as he struggled to hold his balance. She was on her tippy-toes, he was so freaking tall. Her mouth parted with his for a few moments only for her to let out a small chuckle, and then she pressed against his once more. He still wasn't doing anything. Slightly saddened by this reaction, she pushed him backwards so his entire body hit the table, and he had no choice but to hold her instead of her tumbling forward and making a mess. Skillfully, she breathed in with her nose as her hands snaked up his back. She let out a satisfied mumble of incoherent words as Finn, seemingly out of defeat, kissed her back. So she was wiping his mouth, really. They broke off breathlessly.
"Um. What was that f-for?" Finn's face reddened as Santana licked the excess pumpkin pie off her lips.
"Being stupid," she replied before reaching out for his collar and spinning him around so that she was now against the table and he was extremely close to her. Her eyes fluttered alluringly as she stood there innocently batting at the buttons on his shirt. As she expected, Finn, in all his boy-hormonal glory, had his nose tickling hers. They stood there in silence as the tension between them escalated. She figured Finn was too stupid to know what to do, so she decided to help him along (just like she had to when she deflowered him). She stole his lips and smiled into the kiss as Finn let out a startled, but pleased grunt. His hands placed on her hips, and he realized she was having difficulty reaching his height, so he hoisted her onto the table. When he had done this, he can caused various items on the table to "move out of the way" by spilling and clattering onto the floor. They were making such a bloody mess. They were both dirty as hell, covered in cranberries and heat of the kiss was getting to Santana- she found her legs wrapping around his body as she craned her neck to hint that she wanted kisses along her jaw line. He obliged, like taking directions from a teacher, and supported her back as she let out an involuntary moan. Her fingers raked through his hair as he pulled back up to fight her lips once more. He pulled her closer as Santana's hands picked at the buttons of his shirt. The entire charade was just hot to Santana's surprise, and she was surprised his volcano hadn't erupted yet. It was just a hot mess, really.
They both ignored, or didn't hear the sound of footsteps coming through the door. Neither did they notice the sounds of shock coming out of Quinn Fabray's mouth. She gulped before interrupting the two with a loud cough. Santana broke off instantly and pushed Finn away quickly, gasping for air. Finn grinned that dopey grin of his.
"We're cooking."
Author Notes:
Alright buds! How did you like it? My first shot at writing something remotely... sensual. Let me know if it worked for ya. Trying to expand my horizons?
Not like I have a choice with this hot pairing. ;)