This Kiss, Chapter Four
Title: This Kiss
Author: poetzproblem
Fandom Glee
Characters: Rachel Berry / Quinn Fabray
Word Count: 2854
Rating: R
Summary: One pivotal moment can change everything.
Spoilers/Warnings: hrough A Very Glee Christmas. Then AU. Cursing, sexual references, Femslash.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the characters, just like to play with them.
A/N: Written for a Faberry prompt, but can't remember where. 'Rachel and Quinn share a kiss during a game of spin the bottle. From that night forward both girls desperately try to deny what they felt; what they feel. ..The other Glee kids know what’s up and attempt to play matchmaker.'
(Chapter One) (Chapter Two) (Chapter Three)
Hovering Somewhere Above Three
The first thing that Kurt noticed when he entered the choir room was Quinn Fabray in the front row, arms crossed over her chest, right leg demurely hooked over her left, and sporting her usual look of cool indifference-even though Sam was talking animatedly to her about something or other that Kurt (and from the look of it, Quinn) didn't care to know about. Sam was slightly vapid and uninteresting, and Kurt didn't know why he'd ever been marginally attracted in the first place, but that was beside the point. He raised a brow at Quinn, still a little miffed on Rachel's behalf, which was a strange development considering his own checkered history with her. Quinn just mirrored his action (and damn it, why was she so much better at that eyebrow thing than everyone else?) and glared back at him, silently daring him to say a word.
He supposed his sudden protective streak was a natural progression from his whole ordeal with Karofsky and that fact that Rachel Berry, of all people, had actually been the one to notice how badly he'd been struggling last fall. They really were more alike than he wanted to admit, perhaps even more so now that she and Quinn had practically broken his gaydar on Friday-not that Quinn hadn't been giving it a workout all on her own for the last few years. Babygate had quieted his suspicions for awhile, but now they were back with a vengeance.
Kurt's instinct on these matters wasn't exactly infallible. He would have never guessed that Karofsky had been rattling against the closet doors all these years. Meanwhile, Sam and his bleached-out hair had totally pinged for him, at least until he'd started following Quinn around like a besotted puppy. He wondered what Sam would do if it turned out that his girlfriend was batting for the home team. Not that Kurt was in any way interested in Sam, especially when he had Blaine. Okay, so he didn't exactly have Blaine in the romantic sense. They were only friends, for now, but at least he knew that Blaine was one hundred percent gay.
Quinn, however, was a mystery. On the surface, there was the whole strict Christian upbringing that seemed to be a big check in the must-be-straight category, not to mention the string of popular jock boyfriends and, hello, the whole pregnancy thing, which was a pretty big indication that she must be into guys. On the other hand, rumor had it (because Kurt did love his gossip) that Quinn was back to her teasing-not-pleasing mantra, and from what he'd heard from Mercedes, the one-time only crossing of that line with Puck hadn't exactly sparked any desire for a repeat performance. Kurt had often wondered if Quinn's reputation and tenure as president of the Celibacy Club had just been a convenient way to keep the boys at arms length. And her choice of boy toys-with the possible exception of Puck-had been on the big, dumb (easily controlled) and sweet side. The evidence for and against was equally compelling, but the one thing that seemed to keep Quinn hovering somewhere above three on the Kinsey scale was one Rachel Barbra Berry.
It wasn't even so much the name-calling, or the slushies, because seriously, Quinn had done that to everyone-although Rachel's epithets were decidedly more sexual in nature than was strictly normal. Kurt honestly never used to care very much about how Quinn Fabray treated Rachel since they weren't exactly friends until recently. No, what really got him to sit up and pay attention was an incident early freshman year when he'd had the misfortune of sharing the same gym period with both girls.
The first semester had been co-ed tennis-Rachel had been shockingly good at the sport for someone who generally wasn't very athletic-and it had been warm enough that short shorts and t-shirts were standard apparel. Kurt and most of the girls had enjoyed leaning against the fence and ogling the cute boys as they'd run around all sweaty and forceful, but Quinn, isolated from her cheerio cohorts, had just looked bored. He hadn't thought much of it at first, until Rachel's turn came around. For all her irritating personality quirks and nauseating fashion sense, the girl possessed a certain unexpected hotness. Even Kurt had been obliged to admit that Rachel had legs to die for, and since she was just as competitive at tennis as everything else that she attempted, those legs had gotten one hell of a workout. The boys had been leering appreciatively. And so had Quinn.
At first, Kurt had thought he was seeing things or misinterpreting one of the Quinn's patented glares for something almost like hunger. But, no, as he'd continued to covertly study her, she'd continued to watch Rachel-hazel eyes following Rachel's every move, her teeth absently chewing on her lower lip, and her tongue darting out to moisten the abused flesh every so often. After that, Kurt's interest had been captured, and he'd spent the rest of the term thoroughly entertained by Quinn Fabray not-so-secretly eye-fucking Rachel Berry every time she bounced around the tennis court.
From that moment on, he'd noticed that Quinn subtly checked out other girls from time to time, though not to the same degree that she did with Rachel. When she'd joined glee last year, she still spent most of her time staring at Rachel, but with the whole angst-ridden, teen triangle (quadrangle?) and the baby drama, he'd started mentally pushing Quinn back toward the straight and narrow.
Rachel had been even harder to get a read on, and Kurt was often frustrated in his attempts. He'd written her off years ago as very straight and incredibly boy crazy. Yes, she could go on for hours about her gay dads and acceptance and civil rights and all that dull drivel, but she also had the tendency to throw herself at any male who showed the slightest bit of interest and cling for all her worth. But every so often, she'd say or do something so completely gay that he'd start wondering again. Like wanting to organize a Gaylesball last year, or telling him that she understood his loneliness in a way that made him believe that she was experiencing exactly the same thing for exactly the same reason, or her tendency to get very touchy-feely with the other girls when she was in performance mode. And she did keep putting off Finn's attempts at sex, despite claiming to be so in love with him.
Kurt may have been a little (okay, a lot) buzzed Friday night, but once he'd gotten past the initial gag reflex from witnessing the girl-on-girl action, he'd been able to recognize the look of stunned passion that they'd both been wearing when they'd parted. He'd totally anticipated Quinn's reversion to super bitch mode, he just hadn't known if Rachel would be taking the complete denial route or instantly crushing on Quinn. It seemed like denial was the winner, peppered with an unhealthy dose of hiding behind her relationship with Finn. Kurt was just grateful that she hadn't decided to sleep with the poor boy in some misguided attempt to prove she wasn't gay. Hmm, come to think of it, that approach would actually explain babygate a hell of a lot better than Quinn feeling fat that day.
Putting his musings on pause, Kurt made his way up the risers to the middle row and dropped into the empty chair next to Mercedes, greeting her with a smile before turning his attention to the door. They were positioned on the opposite end from Quinn, and he had a fairly decent view of her profile. He did not want to miss any potential drama when Rachel made her grand entrance. Alas, the wrong brunette was the next through the door. Santana swaggered in with a scowl and silently claimed the chair to Kurt's left with a do-not-fuck-with-me vibe rolling off her in waves. A few seconds later, Artie wheeled into the room with Brittany on his lap, and Kurt shook his head as he realized the reason for the Latina's surlier than usual mood. He'd given up trying to make sense of that relationship. Brittany would try to sleep with anything, and Santana mostly came off like a spoiled bitch who didn't want to share any of her toys.
And right on cue, two more of said toys made an appearance. Puck and Finn ambled in together, leaving only Rachel unaccounted for. Kurt frowned, wondering what was taking her so long. It was rare for Rachel to be the last one to glee, and when Mr. Schuester walked in, Kurt started to worry even more.
"Hey, guys, I've got a great idea for your next assignment," he paused to look around. "Where's Rachel?"
A chorus of mumbled don't knows (plus one or two don't cares) sounded, along with a few shrugs. Kurt ever-so-slightly leaned forward in his chair and looked over at Quinn, noticing the little smirk on her face. He had a bad feeling about that. Mercedes bumped his shoulder and whispered, "Maybe one of us will actually get to sing today."
He was on the verge of responding when Rachel stormed in, fists clenched, face scrubbed clean, and hair dripping wet again. The plain white cardigan that she'd changed into earlier was stained blue. Kurt felt his stomach bubble with anticipation as she pointed a finger right in Quinn's face.
"You. Are. Despicable! I cannot believe you had that Neanderthal slushie me twice today! And right before glee! What the hell is your problem?"
Everyone in the room gasped; Kurt could only presume it was because no one had ever heard Rachel swear. Quinn seemed to hesitate for a beat before she batted Rachel's hand away and stood from her chair to go toe-to-toe with the shorter girl. "I told you to keep your man-hands away from me!"
"Quinn, Rachel," Mr. Schue unsuccessfully attempted to dispel the tension humming between the two girls, but they ignored him.
"I would gladly maintain my distance if only you would extend me the same courtesy."
"You're the one invading my space, Frodo. I never came near you."
"Please…you specifically had me targeted, and I demand to know why!"
"Rachel," their teacher tried again.
"Because you deserve it, you little freak," Quinn yelled.
"Enough!" Mr. Schue demanded with a shout, and both girls flinched slightly. "Quinn, sit down right now." She glared at him and opened her mouth to argue, but Mr. Schue cut her off. "Not one more word. Sit!" He pointed to the chair, and Quinn angrily complied, crossing her arms and continuing to stare him down.
Beside Kurt, Santana barked out a quiet laugh, muttering, "completely off the deep end" under her breath.
"You too, Rachel," Mr. Schue sighed wearily.
She spun toward him with her hands on her hips. "Are you serious? You're not even going to reprimand her for her blatant verbal bullying?"
"Rachel," he snapped. "Just sit down and be quiet."
"Ah, hell no," Mercedes said quietly. "Even I know that's whack."
"Fine," Rachel snapped back, throwing herself into the empty chair in front of Kurt and crossing her arms to unconsciously match Quinn's posture perfectly. He leaned forward and patted her shoulder in support, and she tossed a grateful glance back in his direction, apparently having forgiven him for their earlier disagreement.
Mr. Schuester stood in front of the group, shaking his head. "What is wrong with you guys? I thought we'd gotten past all this selfish bickering after Sectionals. We're supposed to be a team." He directed his gaze to the head cheerio, "Quinn, I'm very disappointed in you. I thought you learned your lesson last year after the glist incident."
Rachel gasped, "That was you?"
"Please, she just makes it too easy," Quinn replied.
"Wow, you're being kind of mean, Quinn," Finn told her. "I know you and Rachel don't like each other, but at least she tries to be nice to you."
"Yeah, because stealing my boyfriend was so nice of her."
Sam's head whipped to his right. "I thought you didn't care about Finn anymore."
"I don't! I care about Rachel," she growled, then turned an interesting shade of red when she realized exactly what she'd said. "I mean…I don't care about her. I just care that she took what was mine. It could have been a pencil, and I'd care."
"Totally pressed," Santana mumbled, and Kurt shot the girl a questioning glance that she completely disregarded.
"That is it!" Mr. Schue ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want to hear another word; not another insult. You will all leave your personal issues at the door, and there will be nothing but harmony in this room from this moment on. Am I clear?"
"Isn't there always harmony here?" Brittany asked. "I mean, we sing and dance and stuff." Artie squeezed his girlfriend's hand and nodded in agreement.
Rachel shook her head and huffed, ripping at the buttons of her soiled cardigan and shrugging it off to reveal a tight black t-shirt underneath. She ran her fingers through her damp hair in an attempt to fluff it, but only succeeded in mussing it more. Kurt had to concede that the effect was not exactly unattractive. Apparently Santana agreed because she leaned forward and said, "Wet and wild is a good look on you Berry," loudly enough to draw everyone's attention. Rachel blushed, Finn bristled, and Quinn bit the corner of her lip in that oh-so-telling way.
Mr. Schue threw his hands up. "Santana, what did I just say?"
She crossed her arms. "What? I was being nice. She's hot when she's pissed." Rachel's blush deepened, and Quinn whipped her head back to glare at Santana, who grinned evilly at her captain.
"Watch your language," Mr. Schuester warned.
"Whatever," she shrugged.
"So, what's this amazing new assignment, Mr. Schue?" Kurt asked in an attempt to calm the still rippling waters around their little glee ship.
Their teacher sighed again and offered a weak smile. "Well, you guys did so well with the last boys versus girls mash-up competition…"
Puck groaned, "aw, c'mon man. Are we gonna have to sing chick songs again?"
"You're just hatin' 'cause we totally rocked our number and blew you guys off the stage," Mercedes said, and all the girls chimed in with their approval.
"You all rocked," Mr. Schue agreed, "but we're not doing mash-ups again, or even a competition. Part of that assignment was stepping out of your comfort zone and doing a song that was unexpected. I want you to do that again, only this time, with a solo. Pick a song from a genre of music that you wouldn't normally choose, or even necessarily listen to, and make it your own. Rachel, Kurt, no Broadway numbers," and they both gasped dramatically, "Mercedes and Santana, no R&B," he looked pointedly at Mercedes, "and no Motown either. Finn, nothing from the eighties and Puck, no Jewish singers."
"No fair," the boy complained. "I was gonna to bust out the Barry Manilow."
Everyone laughed, including Mr. Schue. "You guys get the idea. Shake it up. Experiment. Now, speaking of experimenting, I want to talk about a couple of musicians that did just that…pushing the boundaries… "
Kurt sat back in his seat and partially tuned out their teacher as he started waxing poetic about John Lennon. Instead, he entertained himself by alternately watching Quinn and Rachel attempt to sneak unsubtle glances at one another in the front row. Really, someone should just lock them in an empty classroom or something until they worked out all their unresolved sexual tension. A slow smile spread over his face as the thought took hold. He did so love a project.
Chapter Five
Author: poetzproblem
Fandom Glee
Characters: Rachel Berry / Quinn Fabray
Word Count: 2854
Rating: R
Summary: One pivotal moment can change everything.
Spoilers/Warnings: hrough A Very Glee Christmas. Then AU. Cursing, sexual references, Femslash.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the characters, just like to play with them.
A/N: Written for a Faberry prompt, but can't remember where. 'Rachel and Quinn share a kiss during a game of spin the bottle. From that night forward both girls desperately try to deny what they felt; what they feel. ..The other Glee kids know what’s up and attempt to play matchmaker.'
(Chapter One) (Chapter Two) (Chapter Three)
Hovering Somewhere Above Three
The first thing that Kurt noticed when he entered the choir room was Quinn Fabray in the front row, arms crossed over her chest, right leg demurely hooked over her left, and sporting her usual look of cool indifference-even though Sam was talking animatedly to her about something or other that Kurt (and from the look of it, Quinn) didn't care to know about. Sam was slightly vapid and uninteresting, and Kurt didn't know why he'd ever been marginally attracted in the first place, but that was beside the point. He raised a brow at Quinn, still a little miffed on Rachel's behalf, which was a strange development considering his own checkered history with her. Quinn just mirrored his action (and damn it, why was she so much better at that eyebrow thing than everyone else?) and glared back at him, silently daring him to say a word.
He supposed his sudden protective streak was a natural progression from his whole ordeal with Karofsky and that fact that Rachel Berry, of all people, had actually been the one to notice how badly he'd been struggling last fall. They really were more alike than he wanted to admit, perhaps even more so now that she and Quinn had practically broken his gaydar on Friday-not that Quinn hadn't been giving it a workout all on her own for the last few years. Babygate had quieted his suspicions for awhile, but now they were back with a vengeance.
Kurt's instinct on these matters wasn't exactly infallible. He would have never guessed that Karofsky had been rattling against the closet doors all these years. Meanwhile, Sam and his bleached-out hair had totally pinged for him, at least until he'd started following Quinn around like a besotted puppy. He wondered what Sam would do if it turned out that his girlfriend was batting for the home team. Not that Kurt was in any way interested in Sam, especially when he had Blaine. Okay, so he didn't exactly have Blaine in the romantic sense. They were only friends, for now, but at least he knew that Blaine was one hundred percent gay.
Quinn, however, was a mystery. On the surface, there was the whole strict Christian upbringing that seemed to be a big check in the must-be-straight category, not to mention the string of popular jock boyfriends and, hello, the whole pregnancy thing, which was a pretty big indication that she must be into guys. On the other hand, rumor had it (because Kurt did love his gossip) that Quinn was back to her teasing-not-pleasing mantra, and from what he'd heard from Mercedes, the one-time only crossing of that line with Puck hadn't exactly sparked any desire for a repeat performance. Kurt had often wondered if Quinn's reputation and tenure as president of the Celibacy Club had just been a convenient way to keep the boys at arms length. And her choice of boy toys-with the possible exception of Puck-had been on the big, dumb (easily controlled) and sweet side. The evidence for and against was equally compelling, but the one thing that seemed to keep Quinn hovering somewhere above three on the Kinsey scale was one Rachel Barbra Berry.
It wasn't even so much the name-calling, or the slushies, because seriously, Quinn had done that to everyone-although Rachel's epithets were decidedly more sexual in nature than was strictly normal. Kurt honestly never used to care very much about how Quinn Fabray treated Rachel since they weren't exactly friends until recently. No, what really got him to sit up and pay attention was an incident early freshman year when he'd had the misfortune of sharing the same gym period with both girls.
The first semester had been co-ed tennis-Rachel had been shockingly good at the sport for someone who generally wasn't very athletic-and it had been warm enough that short shorts and t-shirts were standard apparel. Kurt and most of the girls had enjoyed leaning against the fence and ogling the cute boys as they'd run around all sweaty and forceful, but Quinn, isolated from her cheerio cohorts, had just looked bored. He hadn't thought much of it at first, until Rachel's turn came around. For all her irritating personality quirks and nauseating fashion sense, the girl possessed a certain unexpected hotness. Even Kurt had been obliged to admit that Rachel had legs to die for, and since she was just as competitive at tennis as everything else that she attempted, those legs had gotten one hell of a workout. The boys had been leering appreciatively. And so had Quinn.
At first, Kurt had thought he was seeing things or misinterpreting one of the Quinn's patented glares for something almost like hunger. But, no, as he'd continued to covertly study her, she'd continued to watch Rachel-hazel eyes following Rachel's every move, her teeth absently chewing on her lower lip, and her tongue darting out to moisten the abused flesh every so often. After that, Kurt's interest had been captured, and he'd spent the rest of the term thoroughly entertained by Quinn Fabray not-so-secretly eye-fucking Rachel Berry every time she bounced around the tennis court.
From that moment on, he'd noticed that Quinn subtly checked out other girls from time to time, though not to the same degree that she did with Rachel. When she'd joined glee last year, she still spent most of her time staring at Rachel, but with the whole angst-ridden, teen triangle (quadrangle?) and the baby drama, he'd started mentally pushing Quinn back toward the straight and narrow.
Rachel had been even harder to get a read on, and Kurt was often frustrated in his attempts. He'd written her off years ago as very straight and incredibly boy crazy. Yes, she could go on for hours about her gay dads and acceptance and civil rights and all that dull drivel, but she also had the tendency to throw herself at any male who showed the slightest bit of interest and cling for all her worth. But every so often, she'd say or do something so completely gay that he'd start wondering again. Like wanting to organize a Gaylesball last year, or telling him that she understood his loneliness in a way that made him believe that she was experiencing exactly the same thing for exactly the same reason, or her tendency to get very touchy-feely with the other girls when she was in performance mode. And she did keep putting off Finn's attempts at sex, despite claiming to be so in love with him.
Kurt may have been a little (okay, a lot) buzzed Friday night, but once he'd gotten past the initial gag reflex from witnessing the girl-on-girl action, he'd been able to recognize the look of stunned passion that they'd both been wearing when they'd parted. He'd totally anticipated Quinn's reversion to super bitch mode, he just hadn't known if Rachel would be taking the complete denial route or instantly crushing on Quinn. It seemed like denial was the winner, peppered with an unhealthy dose of hiding behind her relationship with Finn. Kurt was just grateful that she hadn't decided to sleep with the poor boy in some misguided attempt to prove she wasn't gay. Hmm, come to think of it, that approach would actually explain babygate a hell of a lot better than Quinn feeling fat that day.
Putting his musings on pause, Kurt made his way up the risers to the middle row and dropped into the empty chair next to Mercedes, greeting her with a smile before turning his attention to the door. They were positioned on the opposite end from Quinn, and he had a fairly decent view of her profile. He did not want to miss any potential drama when Rachel made her grand entrance. Alas, the wrong brunette was the next through the door. Santana swaggered in with a scowl and silently claimed the chair to Kurt's left with a do-not-fuck-with-me vibe rolling off her in waves. A few seconds later, Artie wheeled into the room with Brittany on his lap, and Kurt shook his head as he realized the reason for the Latina's surlier than usual mood. He'd given up trying to make sense of that relationship. Brittany would try to sleep with anything, and Santana mostly came off like a spoiled bitch who didn't want to share any of her toys.
And right on cue, two more of said toys made an appearance. Puck and Finn ambled in together, leaving only Rachel unaccounted for. Kurt frowned, wondering what was taking her so long. It was rare for Rachel to be the last one to glee, and when Mr. Schuester walked in, Kurt started to worry even more.
"Hey, guys, I've got a great idea for your next assignment," he paused to look around. "Where's Rachel?"
A chorus of mumbled don't knows (plus one or two don't cares) sounded, along with a few shrugs. Kurt ever-so-slightly leaned forward in his chair and looked over at Quinn, noticing the little smirk on her face. He had a bad feeling about that. Mercedes bumped his shoulder and whispered, "Maybe one of us will actually get to sing today."
He was on the verge of responding when Rachel stormed in, fists clenched, face scrubbed clean, and hair dripping wet again. The plain white cardigan that she'd changed into earlier was stained blue. Kurt felt his stomach bubble with anticipation as she pointed a finger right in Quinn's face.
"You. Are. Despicable! I cannot believe you had that Neanderthal slushie me twice today! And right before glee! What the hell is your problem?"
Everyone in the room gasped; Kurt could only presume it was because no one had ever heard Rachel swear. Quinn seemed to hesitate for a beat before she batted Rachel's hand away and stood from her chair to go toe-to-toe with the shorter girl. "I told you to keep your man-hands away from me!"
"Quinn, Rachel," Mr. Schue unsuccessfully attempted to dispel the tension humming between the two girls, but they ignored him.
"I would gladly maintain my distance if only you would extend me the same courtesy."
"You're the one invading my space, Frodo. I never came near you."
"Please…you specifically had me targeted, and I demand to know why!"
"Rachel," their teacher tried again.
"Because you deserve it, you little freak," Quinn yelled.
"Enough!" Mr. Schue demanded with a shout, and both girls flinched slightly. "Quinn, sit down right now." She glared at him and opened her mouth to argue, but Mr. Schue cut her off. "Not one more word. Sit!" He pointed to the chair, and Quinn angrily complied, crossing her arms and continuing to stare him down.
Beside Kurt, Santana barked out a quiet laugh, muttering, "completely off the deep end" under her breath.
"You too, Rachel," Mr. Schue sighed wearily.
She spun toward him with her hands on her hips. "Are you serious? You're not even going to reprimand her for her blatant verbal bullying?"
"Rachel," he snapped. "Just sit down and be quiet."
"Ah, hell no," Mercedes said quietly. "Even I know that's whack."
"Fine," Rachel snapped back, throwing herself into the empty chair in front of Kurt and crossing her arms to unconsciously match Quinn's posture perfectly. He leaned forward and patted her shoulder in support, and she tossed a grateful glance back in his direction, apparently having forgiven him for their earlier disagreement.
Mr. Schuester stood in front of the group, shaking his head. "What is wrong with you guys? I thought we'd gotten past all this selfish bickering after Sectionals. We're supposed to be a team." He directed his gaze to the head cheerio, "Quinn, I'm very disappointed in you. I thought you learned your lesson last year after the glist incident."
Rachel gasped, "That was you?"
"Please, she just makes it too easy," Quinn replied.
"Wow, you're being kind of mean, Quinn," Finn told her. "I know you and Rachel don't like each other, but at least she tries to be nice to you."
"Yeah, because stealing my boyfriend was so nice of her."
Sam's head whipped to his right. "I thought you didn't care about Finn anymore."
"I don't! I care about Rachel," she growled, then turned an interesting shade of red when she realized exactly what she'd said. "I mean…I don't care about her. I just care that she took what was mine. It could have been a pencil, and I'd care."
"Totally pressed," Santana mumbled, and Kurt shot the girl a questioning glance that she completely disregarded.
"That is it!" Mr. Schue ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want to hear another word; not another insult. You will all leave your personal issues at the door, and there will be nothing but harmony in this room from this moment on. Am I clear?"
"Isn't there always harmony here?" Brittany asked. "I mean, we sing and dance and stuff." Artie squeezed his girlfriend's hand and nodded in agreement.
Rachel shook her head and huffed, ripping at the buttons of her soiled cardigan and shrugging it off to reveal a tight black t-shirt underneath. She ran her fingers through her damp hair in an attempt to fluff it, but only succeeded in mussing it more. Kurt had to concede that the effect was not exactly unattractive. Apparently Santana agreed because she leaned forward and said, "Wet and wild is a good look on you Berry," loudly enough to draw everyone's attention. Rachel blushed, Finn bristled, and Quinn bit the corner of her lip in that oh-so-telling way.
Mr. Schue threw his hands up. "Santana, what did I just say?"
She crossed her arms. "What? I was being nice. She's hot when she's pissed." Rachel's blush deepened, and Quinn whipped her head back to glare at Santana, who grinned evilly at her captain.
"Watch your language," Mr. Schuester warned.
"Whatever," she shrugged.
"So, what's this amazing new assignment, Mr. Schue?" Kurt asked in an attempt to calm the still rippling waters around their little glee ship.
Their teacher sighed again and offered a weak smile. "Well, you guys did so well with the last boys versus girls mash-up competition…"
Puck groaned, "aw, c'mon man. Are we gonna have to sing chick songs again?"
"You're just hatin' 'cause we totally rocked our number and blew you guys off the stage," Mercedes said, and all the girls chimed in with their approval.
"You all rocked," Mr. Schue agreed, "but we're not doing mash-ups again, or even a competition. Part of that assignment was stepping out of your comfort zone and doing a song that was unexpected. I want you to do that again, only this time, with a solo. Pick a song from a genre of music that you wouldn't normally choose, or even necessarily listen to, and make it your own. Rachel, Kurt, no Broadway numbers," and they both gasped dramatically, "Mercedes and Santana, no R&B," he looked pointedly at Mercedes, "and no Motown either. Finn, nothing from the eighties and Puck, no Jewish singers."
"No fair," the boy complained. "I was gonna to bust out the Barry Manilow."
Everyone laughed, including Mr. Schue. "You guys get the idea. Shake it up. Experiment. Now, speaking of experimenting, I want to talk about a couple of musicians that did just that…pushing the boundaries… "
Kurt sat back in his seat and partially tuned out their teacher as he started waxing poetic about John Lennon. Instead, he entertained himself by alternately watching Quinn and Rachel attempt to sneak unsubtle glances at one another in the front row. Really, someone should just lock them in an empty classroom or something until they worked out all their unresolved sexual tension. A slow smile spread over his face as the thought took hold. He did so love a project.
Chapter Five