“Millions and millions of years would still not give me half enough time to describe that tiny instant of all eternity when you put your arms around me and I put my arms around you.” - Jacques Prévert
Continuation of this.
“Uh yeah, astronomy,” he quickly lies, lunging forward and grabbing the notebook out of her hands. Then immediately looking sheepish, added, “‘Star’ is easier to read.” Another lie. He cleared his throat and nudged the notebook. “Thanks.”
Rachel watched him amused and confused. “Sure.” Her smile quirks and he feels his words slipping even further away from him. So he tries to laugh but it comes out too loud and he probably looks like a psycho about now.
But she brushes it off.
“Hey, I’m having a little party at my place tonight. Come?”
He spaced then twitched. “Yeah, definitely! That’d be awesome.” Sam grinned, he liked the idea of seeing Rachel outside of school and glee and it happened so rarely.
“It’s just the glee club really since, well, they’re really the only people I know. And Finn would never ask his friends to a glee thing. Or a party of mine.” She still smiled but Sam could hear it, see it - the insecurity and loneliness, maybe resentment?
“I would,” he blurted. At her startled expression he quickly tried to cover up. “Love to come. I’d love to go the your party.” He cleared his throat -again- and nods with a lax smile, hoping to appear nonchalant but most likely utterly failing.
She laughed and Sam didn’t mind if he was making a complete fool of himself.
“Well alright, I’ll see you later than? You can come over around 7 or 8 or whenever really.” She gives him a little wave as she turns to leave.
“Cool!” he called out, a bit too enthusiastic maybe.
‘Calm down man. It’s just a party. A glee club party. She’d invite everyone so it’s not like she thought of you specially or anything. Be cool. She’s with Finn. Leave it.’ His mental pep-talk didn’t do much to calm his jitters, as if their little interaction had caused a overflow of adrenaline to run through him.
“So I’m not the only one who thinks she’s hot, ey?”
Jumping for the second time, he spun to see Santana leaning against the lockers looking… smug? Predatory? Condescending? All of the above?
“Huh?”
She scoffed, rolled her eyes, and pushed off of the lockers to inch closer. “You wants on Berry. And don’t deny it, Lips, you’re a terrible liar.”
His grip tightened on his notebook and, with wide eyes, he scrambled for a response.
She held up a hand and his mouth snapped shut. “You want her, I know it and that stalker’s guidebook to Berryland? Pathetic and creepy. So I suggest not to make a fool of yourself, but since I know you are,” Her finger jabbing into his chest, she leans in close and he’s pretty damn terrified. “Game. On.” And she walked away. Or more like strutted.
He was so confused and scared and still excited about later. But he took a moment to process everything and realized that Santana was basically saying he had a chance with Rachel. Well, maybe that she herself had a chance with Rachel but didn’t that mean that Finn and Rachel may not be meant for each other? That others saw flaws in their ‘true love’? He might actually have a chance? And he had noticed Rachel brought several batches of vegan chocolate cookies this week and had been viciously chopping down on some celery just yesterday…
He flips open his notebook and fishes a pen out of his pocket. Pen cap help between his teeth, he writes: ‘Santana into Rachel. Told me ‘game on’ - means their might be a chance for me?’
‘Party tonight. BE COOL.’
Curling up with her favorite book, Rachel settled into the quiet of the apartment. She rarely got some quiet time to herself. Always running about trying to rehearse and practice and better herself to achieve her dreams. And when she did have some downtime, her other half was usually around, which she didn’t mind of course, but still meant little time just by herself. It was nice. And she was glad to finally have some more time to do some reading.
People may not believe it or expect it, but Rachel loved sci-fi and fantasy. She read all sorts of literature yes, but this genre had a special place in her heart. Loving the adventure and fantastical elements, the other worldly creatures and catastrophes - it was all just so thrilling and enthralling to her.
So she sat curled into the corner of her couch and read of dragons living in harmony with people, dangers in the sky, and a dash of romance. She adored them; these stories and characters and romances. This particular couple, she was very fond of and she was finally getting to read more of them. So long away from the book and instantly she was drawn back in. She was smiling and rereading passages, taking her time with the material-
“Earth to Rachel!” Rachel’s head jerked up to find Santana standing in front of her. “I’ve been stomping all over the place and you haven’t shushed me once. Must be a good book.” Santana dropped into the other side of the couch casually.
Rachel stared a moment, coming back to the world, then blurted with a bank expression, “We have to make love on a beach. Or in a patch of ferns.”
Santana just raised a confused, if interested, brow.
“Stop freaking out, you’re freaking me out.”
“I’m not freaking out, I’m simply trying to take care of you.”
“I’ve got a sore throat not a severed limb for Christ’s sake! I can walk on my own, eat on my own, and I can certainly go to the bathroom on my own!”
She whimpers. The diva actually whimpers. Santana sighs.
“I’m fine. I swear, just let me breathe.”
Rachel’s eyes are down and she swears she can see her trembling.
“God Rahel, I’m the one who’s sick here, not you. What’s wrong with you!?”
A mumble.
“Speak up, Berry.”
“You have such a lovely voice.” It was spoken so softly yet so honestly that Santana had no idea how to respond. Or where the statement came from to begin with. So she just stared until the girl glanced up at her. “I just… I don’t want anything to happen that could damage it and you are of course more that your singing voice -you are very talented in numerous areas, Santana- but, well… It’s rather selfish really. I’d miss singing with you terribly and simply listening to you and-“
“Whoa whoa! Hold up. Who said I’d lose my voice? what the hell are you rambling on about?”
A pause faltered through the air, Rachel shifted to her other foot, and Santana remembered.
“It’s just a sore throat. People get sore throats all the time.” She stepped forward and placed a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “I promise me and my voice will be fine. You’ll have your excellent duet partner around for a while yet.” She gave the shoulder a squeeze and smiled a tiny but genuine smile. She couldn’t help how the girl’s concern pleased her.
She was given a smile in return and she turned to head out of the living room. “And by the way, I’ve already had my tonsils removed.”
Berry, the freakin’ vegan. Cucumbers are to be used for facial treatments not soup. Like, what the hell was this stuff? Garlic, onions, lemon juice, yogurt? That’s it. She’s going to hurl. Before the night’s through, she will lose her latest meal(which was an actual meal). Shit shit shit. How wrong is this? Ruining perfectly good cucumbers… Rachel better thank me big time for making this abomination for her.
i had an attraction
You can’t ground spiderman
“You let her eat all of her Halloween candy.” It’s a statement. Rachel is too shocked because her precocious four year old has scaled the kitchen counters, the dining table, and a bookshelf that is (thankfully) anchored to the wall. She is currently jumping from the rug at the front door to the wood floor.
“Not ALL of it. She left the lollipops because she likes to savour them.”
“Santana.” Rachel blinks and stares at her child who is making her way down the hall, galloping like she’s on a horse. “You deal with it.” Rachel spins on her heel and stalks away from the inevitable mess.
—-
“RACH!” Rachel bolts out of the back room in her robe. The image of their daughter sprawled on the floor of the kitchen with a head wound flashes behind her eyes. But when she reaches the living room she sees her daughter’s masked face poking around the door frame to their laundry room.
“Hanna baby?”
“MOMMY! SPIDERMAN!”
“Right. Spiderman? What’re you up to?”
“Fightin’ crime.”
“And… what’s the crime?”
“BEDTIME!”
“She can’t get down…” Santana walks around the corner wiping her palms on her jeans. “She climbed on top of the washer and then managed to get onto the shelves above it. Now she’s stuck and won’t admit it.”
“Spiderman doesn’t get stuck, mama.” Hanna says it matter of factly.
“Okay Spiderman. How about I carry you to the kitchen and we can have a glass of water.”
“Uhm… okay…” Hanna flexes her fingers against the door frame and makes a small desperate sound. Rachel rushes over and grabs her just as she lets go of the wall. She goes limp as soon as Rachel puts her on her hip and doesn’t make a fuss when she’s given a sippy cup of water instead of a real cup. She just pushes the plastic Spiderman mask up and takes a drink, head nodding slightly as Rachel carries her back to her bedroom.
