fic: Physics and Golf
Title: Physics and Golf
Author: slacker_d
Pairing/Characters: Rachel/Santana, Puck, Kurt, Finn, Brittany
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Puck decides he and Rachel should be bros.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: ~2,600
Spoilers: Very minor spoilers up to 2.01
A/N: Sort of a sequel to Cuffed, but it's not necessary to read the first one.
2nd A/N: Unbeta’ed, so all mistakes are mine.
"Remind me why I'm doing this again," Rachel says.
"Because doing it will make you epically awesome," Puck replies. "Almost as awesome as the Puckerone."
They're standing on one end of a soccer field next to a stolen golf cart.
"I have no respect for you when you call yourself that Noah."
"You're just jealous."
"Shouldn't I have a helmet at least?" Rachel asks.
"They're golf carts, Berry," Puck replies. "They go 25 MPH at most. You don't need a helmet. Now I know it doesn't have seatbelts, but I think you're old enough to keep your arms and legs inside the cart when it's moving."
"Fuck off, Puckernone."
"Whoa, Berry, seems your girlfriend is rubbing off on you," Puck snickers. "Hot…"
After the handcuff incident, Puck decided he and Rachel should be bros. Though Rachel still thinks he's just hoping to worm his way into a threesome.
Santana was suspicious as well. The first time Rachel told Santana she was hanging out with Puck as bros, the Latina almost immediately sought him out. Finding him at his locker, she'd slammed Puck into the metal door while ignoring his leer.
"Listen here, Puckerman," she said. "You make one move on my girl and I will cut off your manhood with a rusty spoon and then set you on fire. Got it?"
"Jeez, paranoid, much, Lopez? What's wrong with two hot Jews just hanging out as bros?"
"When one of them's you? A lot."
However, after the first evening of action flicks and beer went rather smoothly, almost everyone just accepted that Puck seemed to be telling the truth for once.
Which is why Rachel finds herself being pushed into a stolen golf cart at eleven on a Friday night. She wishes they were watching more movies instead. She can handle the excessive violence and flimsy plots, but playing chicken with golf carts? Against Kurt of all people? Definitely ridiculous.
…
"Remind me why I'm doing this again," Kurt tells Finn on the other side of the field.
"You said tonight's activity was my choice, since you picked last time."
"I thought since you said we were hanging out as bros, you meant brothers," Kurt groans. "I should have known you meant otherwise."
"Why couldn't I have meant both?" Finn asks.
"And does she really have to be here?"
"They were already hanging out tonight, too. I thought the four of us could have some fun. Rachel's cool. You just need to give her a chance. Besides, she makes the teams even."
Kurt sighs. "Well, I will admit, she's mellowed somewhat since her and Santana have permanently damaged my corneas by constantly making out in the hallway."
"That's the spirit," Finn says, smacking Kurt on the back.
"So how does this work?"
"You each start at one end of the field and drive towards each other. Whoever chickens out and turns away loses."
"Oh, like in Footloose," Kurt replies.
"Exactly," Finn hesitantly says.
"What if neither of us turns away?"
"Don't worry, dude," Finn tells him. "Someone always does."
"What have I told you about calling me dude?"
…
"I know this isn't your usual," Puck says. "But I can't lose to Hudson and Hummel. Just because their folks are shacking up and they're doing all this brotherly bonding, doesn't mean we're less awesome. Right?"
"Whatever you say, Noah."
"Concentrate, Berry," Puck continues. "This is about pride and honor and, uh…"
"You just hate to lose."
"Who doesn't, miss I have to be the best at everything no matter what the consequences?"
"That's quite a mouthful, but I think I like that better than you just calling me Berry," Rachel tells him.
"You're so weird."
…
After Puck and Finn have lined up the carts just so to ensure a perfect head on collision, they walk to the center of the soccer field. Both Kurt and Rachel climb into their vehicle.
Rachel is eternally grateful that Noah told her to wear jeans. She can just imagine her skirt flying up as she drives. The thought makes her chuckle. That view would definitely make Kurt turn away.
Looking over, she sees Kurt gripping the steering wheel and staring intently back at her. She's becoming mildly concerned. She thought this was just stupid teenage thing for fun. It seems that Kurt is taking it very seriously. Rachel doesn't want to lose, so she tries to focus as both hands clutch the steering wheel.
Midfield, both Puck and Finn stand with one arm raised. Each nods at their teammate and when they both receive a nod back, their arms drop. Rachel lets her foot fall onto the gas pedal and the cart jerks forward for a moment before surging ahead.
It seems Puck was right, the cart doesn't go that fast. Despite the fact that Rachel's foot is now flat. It makes sense; these things just weren't made for joyrides.
Slightly hunched around the steering wheel, Rachel's eyes stare straight ahead at Kurt's. He's matching her intensity as they get closer and closer to each other. She's getting nervous; she has to win, but it doesn't look like Kurt's backing down either.
Finally when they're mere feet apart, both turn away. Thankfully, they both jerk to the left. The carts do brush by each other. They're so close, they could touch hands if they wanted.
However, while Kurt's golf cart has four wheels, Rachel's oddly only has three. So when she turns away sharply, but doesn't take her foot off the gas, the cart tilts and rolls as it flips itself over. It stops rolling and is now up right again, a few feet away while Rachel, who was just flattened by a golf cart, lies motionless on the ground.
…
Seeing Rachel just lying there, Puck panics. He does care about her, especially now that they've become bros, but his real fear is Santana. He has visions of being eviscerated or worse, castrated. Both are looking to be real concerns with Rachel unmoving on the ground.
He and Finn both charge over as Kurt notices and exits his cart.
Thankfully, before they reach her, Rachel lets out a groan.
"Oh thank god," Finn says. "She's not dead."
"It's a golf cart, dude," Puck says. "Not a car."
"So you're saying you weren't worried?"
"Of course I was worried," Puck replies. "But I didn't think she was dead."
"Guys!" Kurt interrupts. "Maybe you could help Rachel."
"Should be move her?" Finn asks. "Isn't that supposed to be dangerous?"
"Finn, I'm fine," Rachel says. "Just sore." She sits up slowly. "I told you we should have just watched movies."
"No way, dude," Puck says. "This is way more epic. I knew you were an awesome choice for bro."
"Hey!"
"Sorry man," Puck tells Finn. "But tell me this wasn't epic."
Looking at Rachel's cart, Kurt says, "There's a science extra credit project somewhere in this."
"Yeah," Puck agrees. "But who wants to bother?"
"Normally I would volunteer," Rachel says. "But I'd rather just put this whole incident behind us."
"Definitely," Kurt agrees. "Santana might kick my ass for even participating."
"Guys, don't be ridiculous," Rachel says. "I'm fine. Santana will freak out for a moment when I tell her, but when she sees I'm fine, it'll blow over."
"It better, Berry," Puck replies. "Because if she comes after me--"
"You'll run and cower behind Rachel?" Kurt offers.
"You're lucky I like you now, Hummel," Puck replies. "Or I'd mess up the mop on your head."
…
They end up at Puck's house. His little sister is at a friend's for a sleepover and his mom is already asleep. So they basically have the house to themselves.
There's beer of course. Finn and Puck easily finish a six pack while Kurt has one and Rachel has half, under protest. Puck quickly finishes the can when the diva begins complaining that it isn't helping with her soreness.
"I think you need to drink more than half a can," Kurt tells her.
"She never drinks, though," Finn points out. "It shouldn't take much."
"It's fine," Rachel says. "I'm switching to water. Alcohol isn't the proper way to treat discomfort."
"Are you sure?" Finn asks. "It always makes me feel less uncomfortable."
"I'm not sure that's quite the same thing, Finn," Rachel tells him.
"Beer totally fixes everything," Puck interjects.
"Yeah, for about five hours," Kurt says. "And then you sober up and realize you got the president of the celibacy club pregnant."
"Dude."
"Oh. Sorry Finn."
…
When Rachel finally arrives home, she's exhausted and sore. She changes for bed and crawls in. She's supposed to call Santana when she gets back. Since it's only the fourth time hanging out, Santana's still suspicious of Puck's motivations. Having similar thoughts, Rachel easily agreed. However, she currently doesn't want to deal with her girlfriend's reaction. So instead sends a text.
Santana. I'm extremely worn out and need sleep immediately. I'll call you tomorrow. Good night.
Hitting send, she sets her phone on her night stand and curls up in bed.
…
The next day Rachel is woken up by a pounding on the front door. Groaning, she blinks and checks the time. 12:14 p.m. That's much later than she usually sleeps, even on a Saturday. But a person should be allowed to sleep in every once in a while.
Grumbling, because the pounding hasn't stopped, she stumbles out of bed and heads downstairs to answer to front door.
Angrily, she swings it open. "What?!"
Standing there, mid pound, is Santana.
"Oh good," Santana deadpans. "You're not dead."
Rachel leaves the door open and heads back up to her room, knowing Santana will follow. The front door slams shut and she feels her girlfriend's eyes on her ass as she ascends the stairs.
In her bedroom, Rachel flops back onto her bed.
"So you've been sleeping this whole time?" Santana asks, joining Rachel in bed.
"I have," Rachel replies. "Why?"
"Because I've been calling and calling," Santana tells her. "I had visions of you being severely maimed because of something stupid Puck made you do last night."
"Well, as you can see, I'm fine," Rachel says, curling into her girlfriend and closing her eyes. "It really was no big deal."
The silence that follows is eerie as Rachel realizes what she just said.
"What isn't a big deal?" Santana asks, eventually as she sits up.
"Last night," Rachel tries. She's lost her comfy pillow, so she sits up as well. "Last night's activities weren't all that enthralling."
"And what did you do last night?"
"Nothing. Just hung out."
Santana just raises an eyebrow at her.
"Okay," Rachel sighs. "Finn and Kurt were there too. But Noah said it was all part of the "bro" experience."
Santana crosses her arms and continues to stare.
Rachel just stares back. She promised Noah she wouldn't tell Santana what happened last night. Apparently being woken out of a dead sleep throws off her ability to lie.
Even if the only clock in her bedroom is digital, Rachel still swears she hears the seconds ticking away as her girlfriend stares her down.
"Fine. We played chicken with some old golf carts Noah found."
"How the hell did he get you to agree to that? Or Kurt for that matter?"
"Everyone's always saying I need to loosen up and try new things," Rachel replies. "As for Kurt? I have no idea. That was all Finn."
"Of course it was," Santana snarks. "Hummel's just lucky Finnocence is too stupid to realize the power he still has over him."
"Kurt is completely over his crush on Finn, I'll have you know," Rachel replies. "Just like I am."
"You better be."
"So that's the big secret?" Santana asks. "Puck convinced you to do something stupid? I knew it would happen sooner or later, I just assumed later."
"Part of the teenage experience is partaking in stupid shenanigans," Rachel tells her. "Participating in chicanery will be helpful later in my acting career, I'm sure."
"Not everything is fodder for your future career, you know."
"Well it should be," Rachel huffs.
"At least tell me that you at least didn't lose to Hummel," Santana says.
"No. I didn't lose."
Santana waits for her girlfriend's usual lengthy explanation. It never comes.
"So?" Santana asks. "You won?"
"Um, we never really figured it out…"
"Because?"
Rachel just stares at her hands. She can feel Santana's eyes on her, burning into her. Finally she blurts out, "Mycarttippedandrolledovermesoweweredistracted."
Even though she's used to Rachel's monologues and rants, doesn't mean Santana can understand her girlfriend when she speaks all in one breath.
"Babe, could you maybe say that a bit slower?"
"We didn't decide a winner because my cart tipped and rolled over me so we were somewhat distracted."
"How the hell did you manage that?" Santana asks.
"One of the carts only had three wheels," Rachel explains. "It didn't respond well to a sharp left turn at full speed. Even if full speed is only approximately 30 MPH."
"And who was in charge of getting the carts?"
"Noah, of course, procured the golf carts. I'm not sure where he got them," Rachel says.
"He is so dead."
"Santana," Rachel says. "I'm fine. Yes, it was somewhat terrifying when it happened and for a full minute I was very concerned about my injuries, but as you can see, I'm fine."
"But you're sore."
"Well, yes," Rachel replies. "I did have a 900 pound golf cart roll over me. There's bound to be some side effects. Thankfully there seems to be no permanent damage."
"Still," Santana continues. "I think I better examine you for injuries."
"Really? We're going to play doctor?"
"I'm game if you are."
"Again?"
"C'mon, you know you want to."
"Fine," Rachel agrees. "But this time, no rectal exam."
"Spoil sport."
…
Monday morning, Puck is feeling good. He fully expected Santana to show up at his house and castrate him because of Friday night. But when Sunday morning dawned without a visit, Puck's confidence began to grow. And when he went to bed that night without receiving a visit, he thought himself in the clear.
He was wrong.
Just as he's closing his locker, he's grabbed from behind and slammed into the lockers.
"Lopez," he says nervously, trying to appear cool. "Change your mind about a threesome yet?"
"Listen, waste of space," Santana growls. "I already know you're an idiot, so save it. But I didn't realize you were a colossal moron too."
"Hey," Puck says. "Words can hurt, you know."
"Why the hell would you play chicken with a three wheeled golf cart? What if Rachel'd been seriously hurt, dip shit?"
"Well she wasn't, all right?"
"You're damn lucky, Puckerman," Santana tells him. "And the only reason I'm not ripping off your dick and stuffing it down your throat is because Rachel actually seems to like being your bro."
"Us hot Jews have to stick together," he says.
"But she didn't say I couldn't do this," Santana replies as she slams her Biology textbook into his crotch.
Puck crumples to the ground.
"Next time, think things through a little bit more."
Brittany walks up to Santana and links their pinkies. "That seemed kinda harsh, S," she says looking down at Puck.
"He deserves it," Santana replies. "Besides it's not like it's going to affect his ability to have kids."
The pair stroll down the hall, leaving Puck curled up on the ground groaning in pain. No one else gives him a second glance.
All in all, a normal day at McKinley.
Author: slacker_d
Pairing/Characters: Rachel/Santana, Puck, Kurt, Finn, Brittany
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Puck decides he and Rachel should be bros.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: ~2,600
Spoilers: Very minor spoilers up to 2.01
A/N: Sort of a sequel to Cuffed, but it's not necessary to read the first one.
2nd A/N: Unbeta’ed, so all mistakes are mine.
"Remind me why I'm doing this again," Rachel says.
"Because doing it will make you epically awesome," Puck replies. "Almost as awesome as the Puckerone."
They're standing on one end of a soccer field next to a stolen golf cart.
"I have no respect for you when you call yourself that Noah."
"You're just jealous."
"Shouldn't I have a helmet at least?" Rachel asks.
"They're golf carts, Berry," Puck replies. "They go 25 MPH at most. You don't need a helmet. Now I know it doesn't have seatbelts, but I think you're old enough to keep your arms and legs inside the cart when it's moving."
"Fuck off, Puckernone."
"Whoa, Berry, seems your girlfriend is rubbing off on you," Puck snickers. "Hot…"
After the handcuff incident, Puck decided he and Rachel should be bros. Though Rachel still thinks he's just hoping to worm his way into a threesome.
Santana was suspicious as well. The first time Rachel told Santana she was hanging out with Puck as bros, the Latina almost immediately sought him out. Finding him at his locker, she'd slammed Puck into the metal door while ignoring his leer.
"Listen here, Puckerman," she said. "You make one move on my girl and I will cut off your manhood with a rusty spoon and then set you on fire. Got it?"
"Jeez, paranoid, much, Lopez? What's wrong with two hot Jews just hanging out as bros?"
"When one of them's you? A lot."
However, after the first evening of action flicks and beer went rather smoothly, almost everyone just accepted that Puck seemed to be telling the truth for once.
Which is why Rachel finds herself being pushed into a stolen golf cart at eleven on a Friday night. She wishes they were watching more movies instead. She can handle the excessive violence and flimsy plots, but playing chicken with golf carts? Against Kurt of all people? Definitely ridiculous.
…
"Remind me why I'm doing this again," Kurt tells Finn on the other side of the field.
"You said tonight's activity was my choice, since you picked last time."
"I thought since you said we were hanging out as bros, you meant brothers," Kurt groans. "I should have known you meant otherwise."
"Why couldn't I have meant both?" Finn asks.
"And does she really have to be here?"
"They were already hanging out tonight, too. I thought the four of us could have some fun. Rachel's cool. You just need to give her a chance. Besides, she makes the teams even."
Kurt sighs. "Well, I will admit, she's mellowed somewhat since her and Santana have permanently damaged my corneas by constantly making out in the hallway."
"That's the spirit," Finn says, smacking Kurt on the back.
"So how does this work?"
"You each start at one end of the field and drive towards each other. Whoever chickens out and turns away loses."
"Oh, like in Footloose," Kurt replies.
"Exactly," Finn hesitantly says.
"What if neither of us turns away?"
"Don't worry, dude," Finn tells him. "Someone always does."
"What have I told you about calling me dude?"
…
"I know this isn't your usual," Puck says. "But I can't lose to Hudson and Hummel. Just because their folks are shacking up and they're doing all this brotherly bonding, doesn't mean we're less awesome. Right?"
"Whatever you say, Noah."
"Concentrate, Berry," Puck continues. "This is about pride and honor and, uh…"
"You just hate to lose."
"Who doesn't, miss I have to be the best at everything no matter what the consequences?"
"That's quite a mouthful, but I think I like that better than you just calling me Berry," Rachel tells him.
"You're so weird."
…
After Puck and Finn have lined up the carts just so to ensure a perfect head on collision, they walk to the center of the soccer field. Both Kurt and Rachel climb into their vehicle.
Rachel is eternally grateful that Noah told her to wear jeans. She can just imagine her skirt flying up as she drives. The thought makes her chuckle. That view would definitely make Kurt turn away.
Looking over, she sees Kurt gripping the steering wheel and staring intently back at her. She's becoming mildly concerned. She thought this was just stupid teenage thing for fun. It seems that Kurt is taking it very seriously. Rachel doesn't want to lose, so she tries to focus as both hands clutch the steering wheel.
Midfield, both Puck and Finn stand with one arm raised. Each nods at their teammate and when they both receive a nod back, their arms drop. Rachel lets her foot fall onto the gas pedal and the cart jerks forward for a moment before surging ahead.
It seems Puck was right, the cart doesn't go that fast. Despite the fact that Rachel's foot is now flat. It makes sense; these things just weren't made for joyrides.
Slightly hunched around the steering wheel, Rachel's eyes stare straight ahead at Kurt's. He's matching her intensity as they get closer and closer to each other. She's getting nervous; she has to win, but it doesn't look like Kurt's backing down either.
Finally when they're mere feet apart, both turn away. Thankfully, they both jerk to the left. The carts do brush by each other. They're so close, they could touch hands if they wanted.
However, while Kurt's golf cart has four wheels, Rachel's oddly only has three. So when she turns away sharply, but doesn't take her foot off the gas, the cart tilts and rolls as it flips itself over. It stops rolling and is now up right again, a few feet away while Rachel, who was just flattened by a golf cart, lies motionless on the ground.
…
Seeing Rachel just lying there, Puck panics. He does care about her, especially now that they've become bros, but his real fear is Santana. He has visions of being eviscerated or worse, castrated. Both are looking to be real concerns with Rachel unmoving on the ground.
He and Finn both charge over as Kurt notices and exits his cart.
Thankfully, before they reach her, Rachel lets out a groan.
"Oh thank god," Finn says. "She's not dead."
"It's a golf cart, dude," Puck says. "Not a car."
"So you're saying you weren't worried?"
"Of course I was worried," Puck replies. "But I didn't think she was dead."
"Guys!" Kurt interrupts. "Maybe you could help Rachel."
"Should be move her?" Finn asks. "Isn't that supposed to be dangerous?"
"Finn, I'm fine," Rachel says. "Just sore." She sits up slowly. "I told you we should have just watched movies."
"No way, dude," Puck says. "This is way more epic. I knew you were an awesome choice for bro."
"Hey!"
"Sorry man," Puck tells Finn. "But tell me this wasn't epic."
Looking at Rachel's cart, Kurt says, "There's a science extra credit project somewhere in this."
"Yeah," Puck agrees. "But who wants to bother?"
"Normally I would volunteer," Rachel says. "But I'd rather just put this whole incident behind us."
"Definitely," Kurt agrees. "Santana might kick my ass for even participating."
"Guys, don't be ridiculous," Rachel says. "I'm fine. Santana will freak out for a moment when I tell her, but when she sees I'm fine, it'll blow over."
"It better, Berry," Puck replies. "Because if she comes after me--"
"You'll run and cower behind Rachel?" Kurt offers.
"You're lucky I like you now, Hummel," Puck replies. "Or I'd mess up the mop on your head."
…
They end up at Puck's house. His little sister is at a friend's for a sleepover and his mom is already asleep. So they basically have the house to themselves.
There's beer of course. Finn and Puck easily finish a six pack while Kurt has one and Rachel has half, under protest. Puck quickly finishes the can when the diva begins complaining that it isn't helping with her soreness.
"I think you need to drink more than half a can," Kurt tells her.
"She never drinks, though," Finn points out. "It shouldn't take much."
"It's fine," Rachel says. "I'm switching to water. Alcohol isn't the proper way to treat discomfort."
"Are you sure?" Finn asks. "It always makes me feel less uncomfortable."
"I'm not sure that's quite the same thing, Finn," Rachel tells him.
"Beer totally fixes everything," Puck interjects.
"Yeah, for about five hours," Kurt says. "And then you sober up and realize you got the president of the celibacy club pregnant."
"Dude."
"Oh. Sorry Finn."
…
When Rachel finally arrives home, she's exhausted and sore. She changes for bed and crawls in. She's supposed to call Santana when she gets back. Since it's only the fourth time hanging out, Santana's still suspicious of Puck's motivations. Having similar thoughts, Rachel easily agreed. However, she currently doesn't want to deal with her girlfriend's reaction. So instead sends a text.
Santana. I'm extremely worn out and need sleep immediately. I'll call you tomorrow. Good night.
Hitting send, she sets her phone on her night stand and curls up in bed.
…
The next day Rachel is woken up by a pounding on the front door. Groaning, she blinks and checks the time. 12:14 p.m. That's much later than she usually sleeps, even on a Saturday. But a person should be allowed to sleep in every once in a while.
Grumbling, because the pounding hasn't stopped, she stumbles out of bed and heads downstairs to answer to front door.
Angrily, she swings it open. "What?!"
Standing there, mid pound, is Santana.
"Oh good," Santana deadpans. "You're not dead."
Rachel leaves the door open and heads back up to her room, knowing Santana will follow. The front door slams shut and she feels her girlfriend's eyes on her ass as she ascends the stairs.
In her bedroom, Rachel flops back onto her bed.
"So you've been sleeping this whole time?" Santana asks, joining Rachel in bed.
"I have," Rachel replies. "Why?"
"Because I've been calling and calling," Santana tells her. "I had visions of you being severely maimed because of something stupid Puck made you do last night."
"Well, as you can see, I'm fine," Rachel says, curling into her girlfriend and closing her eyes. "It really was no big deal."
The silence that follows is eerie as Rachel realizes what she just said.
"What isn't a big deal?" Santana asks, eventually as she sits up.
"Last night," Rachel tries. She's lost her comfy pillow, so she sits up as well. "Last night's activities weren't all that enthralling."
"And what did you do last night?"
"Nothing. Just hung out."
Santana just raises an eyebrow at her.
"Okay," Rachel sighs. "Finn and Kurt were there too. But Noah said it was all part of the "bro" experience."
Santana crosses her arms and continues to stare.
Rachel just stares back. She promised Noah she wouldn't tell Santana what happened last night. Apparently being woken out of a dead sleep throws off her ability to lie.
Even if the only clock in her bedroom is digital, Rachel still swears she hears the seconds ticking away as her girlfriend stares her down.
"Fine. We played chicken with some old golf carts Noah found."
"How the hell did he get you to agree to that? Or Kurt for that matter?"
"Everyone's always saying I need to loosen up and try new things," Rachel replies. "As for Kurt? I have no idea. That was all Finn."
"Of course it was," Santana snarks. "Hummel's just lucky Finnocence is too stupid to realize the power he still has over him."
"Kurt is completely over his crush on Finn, I'll have you know," Rachel replies. "Just like I am."
"You better be."
"So that's the big secret?" Santana asks. "Puck convinced you to do something stupid? I knew it would happen sooner or later, I just assumed later."
"Part of the teenage experience is partaking in stupid shenanigans," Rachel tells her. "Participating in chicanery will be helpful later in my acting career, I'm sure."
"Not everything is fodder for your future career, you know."
"Well it should be," Rachel huffs.
"At least tell me that you at least didn't lose to Hummel," Santana says.
"No. I didn't lose."
Santana waits for her girlfriend's usual lengthy explanation. It never comes.
"So?" Santana asks. "You won?"
"Um, we never really figured it out…"
"Because?"
Rachel just stares at her hands. She can feel Santana's eyes on her, burning into her. Finally she blurts out, "Mycarttippedandrolledovermesoweweredistracted."
Even though she's used to Rachel's monologues and rants, doesn't mean Santana can understand her girlfriend when she speaks all in one breath.
"Babe, could you maybe say that a bit slower?"
"We didn't decide a winner because my cart tipped and rolled over me so we were somewhat distracted."
"How the hell did you manage that?" Santana asks.
"One of the carts only had three wheels," Rachel explains. "It didn't respond well to a sharp left turn at full speed. Even if full speed is only approximately 30 MPH."
"And who was in charge of getting the carts?"
"Noah, of course, procured the golf carts. I'm not sure where he got them," Rachel says.
"He is so dead."
"Santana," Rachel says. "I'm fine. Yes, it was somewhat terrifying when it happened and for a full minute I was very concerned about my injuries, but as you can see, I'm fine."
"But you're sore."
"Well, yes," Rachel replies. "I did have a 900 pound golf cart roll over me. There's bound to be some side effects. Thankfully there seems to be no permanent damage."
"Still," Santana continues. "I think I better examine you for injuries."
"Really? We're going to play doctor?"
"I'm game if you are."
"Again?"
"C'mon, you know you want to."
"Fine," Rachel agrees. "But this time, no rectal exam."
"Spoil sport."
…
Monday morning, Puck is feeling good. He fully expected Santana to show up at his house and castrate him because of Friday night. But when Sunday morning dawned without a visit, Puck's confidence began to grow. And when he went to bed that night without receiving a visit, he thought himself in the clear.
He was wrong.
Just as he's closing his locker, he's grabbed from behind and slammed into the lockers.
"Lopez," he says nervously, trying to appear cool. "Change your mind about a threesome yet?"
"Listen, waste of space," Santana growls. "I already know you're an idiot, so save it. But I didn't realize you were a colossal moron too."
"Hey," Puck says. "Words can hurt, you know."
"Why the hell would you play chicken with a three wheeled golf cart? What if Rachel'd been seriously hurt, dip shit?"
"Well she wasn't, all right?"
"You're damn lucky, Puckerman," Santana tells him. "And the only reason I'm not ripping off your dick and stuffing it down your throat is because Rachel actually seems to like being your bro."
"Us hot Jews have to stick together," he says.
"But she didn't say I couldn't do this," Santana replies as she slams her Biology textbook into his crotch.
Puck crumples to the ground.
"Next time, think things through a little bit more."
Brittany walks up to Santana and links their pinkies. "That seemed kinda harsh, S," she says looking down at Puck.
"He deserves it," Santana replies. "Besides it's not like it's going to affect his ability to have kids."
The pair stroll down the hall, leaving Puck curled up on the ground groaning in pain. No one else gives him a second glance.
All in all, a normal day at McKinley.