gleeverse big bang!
Title: I Absolutely Love Her When She Smiles
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 620 words
Summary: Tony winning actress Rachel Berry comes back to Lima for a visit with her favorite teacher. Future fic!
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He's typing out the notes for the next day's lesson, tapping his foot on the floor as he hums along to the song the New Directions are going to be singing during the assembly the next day, and he hears someone come into the room. Looking up, he expects to see a student, which is technically what he should still think of her as, but his eyes widen at the sight of her.
It's only been three short years since she graduated, he looks remarkably unchanged, but she looks like a completely different person. Her hair is shoulder length and curled, her eyes are wide and bright with none of the craziness they held when she was a teenager, her nose, though still big as ever, seems to fit her face more, and he realizes she's lost some of the baby fat in her cheeks. She looks like her mother, but prettier, more delicate and feminine, and he snaps his mouth shut as she comes to lean against his desk.
"Rachel!" he says warmly, gesturing for her to pull up a chair. "What are you doing back in Lima? I would have thought a big actress like you would never come back to small town Ohio." She smiles and shrugs her shoulder up a little, dragging a chair close to his desk and sitting.
"We had a few weeks off before the show officially opens and I came to visit my dads," she explains. "And I wanted to come see you and how you're doing! You look great, Mr. Schue."
"So do you," he says, and he feels slightly dirty for thinking she looks better than great. "You know, we all knew you would end up on Broadway someday." She looks modest, but proud, smiling sheepishly.
"I was rather obnoxious, always running my mouth off about being a star, wasn't I?" He hesitates before nodding a little, and she laughs. "Yeah, I know. I'm surprised that everyone didn't revolt against me and vote me out of glee club or something."
"I wouldn't have let that happen," he says immediately. "You were -- are -- too talented to not let that shine. You've always been a star. I knew that the first time I ever saw you." Her face is red, but her eyes are sparkling, and he can see the traces of the teenage girl who had such a crush on him in her eyes. This time, the idea doesn't make him want to push her away. It makes him want to fuel the flame, and he looks away, his eyes fixing on a spot across the room so he doesn't have inappropriate thoughts about a former student.
"Listen, Mr. Schue --"
"Will," he blurts out before he can help himself. "You can call me Will now, Rachel. I'm not your teacher anymore."
"Will," she says, his name sounding perfect coming from her. "I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to go get dinner with me at Breadstix or something." He looks back at her, and he knows it's not just a student asking her old teacher out as friends.
"Like a date?" he asks, swallowing hard.
"Like a date," she confirms. "You're not my teacher anymore, and I don't think it's crossing any kind of lines, and you don't have to say yes, of course, and I prob --"
"Rachel," he interrupts, placing a hand over hers. She looks at it for a second, then back up to him. "I would absolutely love to go out on a date with you." He saw the smile she wore when she accepted her first Tony, but he swears the smile she wears now is even brighter than that one, and nothing in the whole world has ever made him feel better.
Title: Little Miss Innocent, Sugar Me
Rating: PG, PG-13 if you squint!
Wordcount: 590 words
Summary: According to Kurt, every gay man needs to know how to bake, so he makes it his responsibility to teach Blaine.
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"Hand me the sugar, will you?"
"Bossy, bossy," he says, and he clicks his tongue as he hands the canister over to Kurt, who rolls his eyes and bumps his hip against the other's.
"You wanted to learn to bake, didn't you?" His voice is sassy and he even looks sassy, his hand on one hip, his ruffley apron tied around him, and Blaine can't help but chuckle.
"Actually, you said, 'Every gay man needs to know how to bake cupcakes' and then you dragged me into the kitchen when I would have been perfectly content never knowing what the difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon was --" Kurt gasps, and he's not sure whether it's in mock or real horror. "-- And you know, spending the day on the couch making out until your dad gets back." The other man's eyes widen, and as he opens his mouth, presumably to change his mind, Blaine wags his finger back and forth just as sassily as Kurt might. "Uh uh, we're too far in to go back now. What's next?"
"Eggs," he sighs, and his lower lip sticks out as he grabs the eggs out of the fridge, expertly tapping them on the edge of the bowl and breaking them perfectly, and he starts mixing them together with the other ingredients. Blaine, however, still has different ideas and when he's sure Kurt is engrossed in stirring, he takes a handful of flour and casually blows it into his face, and he's laughing, though he feels bad, but the look on Kurt's face is worth it.
"I cannot believe you just did that, Blaine Anderson!" Blaine is doubled over laughing now, he can't help himself, and so he doesn't expect the retaliation of flour poured into his perfectly gelled hair. He gasps loudly and Kurt looks proud of himself, and the two seem to be on their way to a full fledged kitchen war, but then they have their lips on each others and they can't stop, and it's even better than making out on the couch, and Blaine's legs feel weak and then --
"Kurt, I -- OH!" The shock in Burt's voice is apparent as the two fly apart, cheeks red, and Burt looks at the ceiling, where Blaine can see he's pretending to be interested in a speck of dust.
"Hi, Dad. We were just baking," he says in a rush, and he leans against the counter, completely embarrassed, his face redder than Blaine has ever seen it.
"Uh huh," he says, unconvinced. "Yeah, I used to 'bake' like that too. Listen, I'm going to go watch some tv, but save that stuff for when your dad's not in the other room, huh?" He's practically running out of the room, and Blaine wants to apologize, but he can't because Kurt just looks so darn cute, and he's actually almost glad it happened.
"So what next?" he asks cheerfully, and Kurt looks at him like he's crazy, waiting a moment before he says, "Oil. We need oil now." He heads toward the cupboard to grab that, and Blaine is pulling him close and his eyes widen and he starts to shake his hands wildly, as if to say, 'HELLO, DIDN'T YOU HEAR MY DAD?! KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS!' But Blaine simply kisses the tip of his nose, smiling as he leans against the counter, and Kurt is flustered but happy, and when he walks back to the bowl, he's the only one who can hear, "I love you, you cute little spaz" whispered into his ear.
Title: A Good Excuse To Be A Bad Influence on You
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 876 words
Summary: Rachel finds herself in the middle of a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven.
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After the disaster that came from a party at her house, Rachel is wary to ever go to a party again. But Finn invites her, and he's got that smile on his face telling her it's going to be fun, and she can't help but say yes. She vaguely realizes that this is peer pressure, but she doesn't have to drink even if everyone else is. After all, she does have her standards.
A drink ends up pressed into her hand, she thinks by Puckerman, who is already laughing way too loud and kissing Lauren much too inappropriately every time she gets a glimpse of him, and she sips it, never wanting to get the way she did during that assembly again. She ends up leaning against the wall, watching everyone have a good time, and then she hears it. She doesn't know who suggests it, but the words set fear into her heart.
"Let's play Seven Minutes in Heaven!!"
She isn't one for being randomly paired up in a closet with someone, but Brittany is already scribbling names onto a sheet of paper and tearing them into strips, tossing them into a bowl that has seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Someone is yelling out the rules loudly, that it's like Mr. Schue's magic hat, where no matter gender or sexual preference or relationship status, you have to go into the spare room with whoever's name you pull. The same loud voice, who she thinks is Puck again, yells over and over, "Whatever you do in the room is your choice! BUT WE'LL BE LISTENING AT THE DOOR!" Which sounds ominous and she sips her drink a little faster.
The first pairing is Tina and Puck, who both laugh and go into the room, and when they come out, Tina's hair is disheveled, but Rachel's convinced it's just for laughs because they're still giggling, and Puck kisses her cheek sweetly, which surprises her. The next is Mike and Finn and everyone 'oooohs' really loudly, while the two pretend it's a big deal, and everyone can hear them discussing football when they press their ears to the door anyway. Then it's Santana's turn, and she eagerly dips her hand into the bowl, pulling out the paper and reading it, her eyes narrowing until they're nothing but slits.
"Berry."
Everyone's eyes are on Rachel, who hasn't connected the scenario in her head yet, and she chokes on her drink, wanting to melt through the floor. "Me?" she squeaks, and Santana rolls her eyes and yanks her into the room, closing the door to the same loud chorus of 'ooooohs'. She feels herself being pushed down onto the small couch in the room and she feels like her brain is moving about ten seconds too slow, and she's opening her mouth to tell Santana that they might not have anything to talk about, but they can be civil to each other for seven minutes at least, when she feels Santana's lips press to hers. Hard.
She's got her arms wrapped around Rachel, and she's kissing her with everything she can, and Rachel can feel her tongue running along her own lips, trying to gain access to her mouth, and when she squeaks in surprise, her tongue slips in and touches hers, and instead of being disgusted, she's actually kind of turned on because Santana seems to want this so much, more than Finn ever wanted to kiss her, and it shocks her because she's always assumed the other girl hated her, but then she realizes maybe it was something else this whole time, and she feels crazy when Santana's hand touches her chest through her sweater.
If it were anyone else, anytime else, she would push them away, but for some reason, she's into this moment and she responds, inexperiencedly groping back, and they're twisted together on the couch, and Rachel wishes this moment would never end because nothing has ever felt so right, and she's never even considered being a lesbian or bi or anything like that, but she feels like she was meant to press together with Santana, and --
They hear the knock on the door, indicating that time is up, and Santana springs back, smoothing her hair down and wiping her lips, and she doesn't seem all that drunk to Rachel when she walks to the door, stumbling out like she's tipsy, and she insists in that bitchy voice of hers that that was 'the worst seven minutes of her life, and oh god, could someone just put her out of her misery having to be so close to Berry' and everyone's laughing, and Rachel knows they all think nothing happened and that their disheveled clothes are a joke, so she smiles too, but inside everything is going crazy and her mind is reeling, and when she looks at Santana, all she gets is a wink and a discreet 'call me' hand signal flashed at her. Along with a flash of her bra, and Rachel somehow knows that means there's more to come if she calls.
The next day, Rachel sits on her bed, debating with herself before she hits send on her phone. It only rings once before she hears the familiar voice.
"Took you long enough, Berry." Then she laughs. "You horndog."
Title: I Could Be Your Fag Hag and You Could Be My Gay
Rating: R for language and naughty talk
Wordcount: 334 words
Summary: Santana feels that, as Blaine's best friend, she is entitled to know everything about his relationship.
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"So tell me," she says, leaning over the table, her cup of coffee clutched tightly in her hand. He leans forward too, both scared and interested in what she has to say, and he raises an eyebrow. "You and Kurt are fucking, right?"
"Santana!" he leans back, exasperated but smiling, and she laughs, setting her cup down and folding her arms across her chest. "You can't just ask me those kind of things! That's our business, not yours!"
"Uh huh," she says sarcastically. "I know what be's going down with the two of you." Another smirk. "Actually...."
"No, please don't finish that sentence," he begs, and he laughs, shaking his head. "Is it in the rules that the fag hag has to know everything?" She nods, completely seriously, her ponytail bobbing up and down as she sips her coffee.
"Oh, totally," she responds enthusiastically. "You've got to tell me when it happens, where it happens, what happens, who's doing what ...." She sizes him up, squinting her eyes at him, then she nods. "Yeah, you're totally the top. Am I right?" He rolls his eyes, though secretly he enjoys it, before nodding. She laughs, no, make that cackles, and claps her hands together. "I KNEW IT! Okay, spill, Anderson. Give me the dirty details."
"You want to know everything?" he asks skeptically, and she nods enthusiastically. He laughs again, and puts his head in his hands. "Oh god, Kurt's going to kill me for this."
"Yeah, yeah," she says in a bored tone, then leans forward, head resting on her hands. "So was it good, or was it all sloppy?"
Second only to spending all his time with Kurt, Blaine's favorite part of transferring to McKinley is the acquisition of his brand new best friend. Even if she won't let his private life stay private. But what were best friends for then, if you couldn't share all the juicy details of your life? He takes a deep breath before he spills his guts, a smile on his face the whole time.
