Surprises
Title: Surprises
Pairing: Santana/Rachel
Rating: PG
Length: ~1000
Summary: Rachel lands her first TV role.
Author's Note #1: Set in the same 'verse as Moods but it's not 100% necessary to read it. I've got a couple other stories in this 'verse either in progress or in queue. I should probably figure out a name for it?
Author's Note #2: This was actually originally a Brittana prompt on one of the memes, I think. I don't know. And I apologize for any inaccuracy in the TV show description.
Preceded by:
Moods
New York City had been good to Santana and Rachel, the taller half of the pair always said. Rachel argued with her because of the time she got appendicitis and had to miss the chance to meet her idol but Santana was always there to remind her that she did eventually get to meet Barbra at the Tony Awards. Where Rachel was nominated. The shorter brunette would just scoff and say she would’ve rather had a more intimate setting.
Rachel was on Broadway. Santana was starting her third year residency at St. Luke’s in their emergency department. In other words, life was awesome.
When Rachel literally bounced into the apartment one night and on top of her girlfriend, Santana didn’t complain even though she’d just come off of a fifteen hour shift at the hospital. Rachel was frisky and they hadn’t had time in a while and the shorter brunette seemed pretty enthusiastic so the Latina figured she had a really good show that night. She’d have to make a double run to Starbucks the next day but she didn’t care.
A few months later Rachel handed the Latina a piece of paper with a date written on it.
“I need you to take that day off,” Rachel said with a grin. “Or at least make sure you don’t get a night shift. I need you home from nine thirty until eleven fifteen, at least.”
Santana shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do, babe.”
She had to trade a few shifts and promise a few favors but she managed to get the day shift and was off work in plenty of time to be home when Rachel asked her to. Rachel was buzzing around the apartment all day long cooking and cleaning. She cleaned the television screen three times and checked the cable box every hour on the hour. Santana even overheard a phone conversation the star was having with the cable company, ensuring that the programming would remain the same that night and there would be no interruptions.
At nine fifty, Rachel dragged Santana to the couch in the living room with the spread of finger foods she had put out on the coffee table. She took the Latina’s phone away and shut it off as well as her own. She also put a “do not disturb” sign on their apartment door. Santana was confused, to say the least. But she’d learned not to ask questions anymore.
“This is a momentous occasion, Santana,” Rachel said as she turned the TV on and made sure it was on CBS. “This is the day that my face gets viewed by no less than twelve million people.”
Santana furrowed her eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”
“Just watch!” Rachel pointed excitedly to the TV where the opening scene for CSI: New York was playing.
About fifteen minutes and two dead women into the episode, just after the first commercial break, the shorter brunette gasped and pointed to the screen.
“Don’t blink!”
Santana kept her eyes glued to the screen.
”What do we have?” Mac Taylor inquired to the on-scene officer.
The two men walked from the street down an alley where there were more officers and yellow caution tape hung up and Detective Don Flack was kneeling next to the body.
“Victim is a female, looks to be about mid twenties, she was found by waste management about an hour ago. No ID,” the officer said.
Mac knelt down next to the body and turned the woman’s chin.
Santana gasped and clutched onto Rachel’s shoulder.
“Th-that’s you!” the Latina gasped. “What the…Rachel!?”
“Shhhh! Watch!” the brunette bounced.
Mac rubbed his forehead as he looked down at the body.
“Strangulation, judging by the bruises on the neck,” Don said. “And there’s this,” he held pointed to the left wrist where a circle brand was burned into the skin.
“Third one this week,” Mac sighed.
The flashback scene came on, it was the unidentified woman struggling against a man in the dark alley. The man had his hands around her neck and she was pressed against the alley wall, flailing and struggling. It cut to her body on the ground and the man pressing a red hot brand to her left wrist.
Santana started hyperventilating.
“Santana?”
“Wh-what the hell, Rachel!? Why didn’t you w-warn me?!”
The Latina jumped off the couch and ran to the kitchen where she retched in the sink. A small hand was on her back a moment later.
“I…wanted to surprise you. I shot it a few months ago when they were on location.”
Santana splashed cold water on her face and let out a quiet sob as she hung her head. “I’m s-sorry…it’s just…that’s like…really hard to watch.”
“I didn’t know it would have that strong of an effect. It’s not real, Santana.”
“I know it’s not real!” The Latina snapped her head up and looked into Rachel’s big brown eyes. “But…but you were really good and…the thought that it could happen…God, just…don’t do that to me again, okay?!”
Rachel nodded and wrapped her arms around Santana’s waist and pulled her in. “I’m so sorry baby,” the diva cooed to her distraught girlfriend. “Those were the only scenes, okay? I’m fine, everything is fine.”
Santana hugged around Rachel’s shoulders and held on tight and let the tears slip down onto the shorter girl’s shirt.
“Te amo,” Santana whispered softly.
“I love you, too.”
Santana bought Rachel a can of mace and a taser gun and for weeks she didn’t let the brunette go walking anywhere without her. New York City had been good to them. It turned Santana a little softer but fiercely protective and Rachel just smiled and let her be protective because it meant Santana held her a little tighter and kissed her a little deeper and she wasn’t going to argue with that.
Next: Whipped
Pairing: Santana/Rachel
Rating: PG
Length: ~1000
Summary: Rachel lands her first TV role.
Author's Note #1: Set in the same 'verse as Moods but it's not 100% necessary to read it. I've got a couple other stories in this 'verse either in progress or in queue. I should probably figure out a name for it?
Author's Note #2: This was actually originally a Brittana prompt on one of the memes, I think. I don't know. And I apologize for any inaccuracy in the TV show description.
Preceded by:
Moods
New York City had been good to Santana and Rachel, the taller half of the pair always said. Rachel argued with her because of the time she got appendicitis and had to miss the chance to meet her idol but Santana was always there to remind her that she did eventually get to meet Barbra at the Tony Awards. Where Rachel was nominated. The shorter brunette would just scoff and say she would’ve rather had a more intimate setting.
Rachel was on Broadway. Santana was starting her third year residency at St. Luke’s in their emergency department. In other words, life was awesome.
When Rachel literally bounced into the apartment one night and on top of her girlfriend, Santana didn’t complain even though she’d just come off of a fifteen hour shift at the hospital. Rachel was frisky and they hadn’t had time in a while and the shorter brunette seemed pretty enthusiastic so the Latina figured she had a really good show that night. She’d have to make a double run to Starbucks the next day but she didn’t care.
A few months later Rachel handed the Latina a piece of paper with a date written on it.
“I need you to take that day off,” Rachel said with a grin. “Or at least make sure you don’t get a night shift. I need you home from nine thirty until eleven fifteen, at least.”
Santana shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do, babe.”
She had to trade a few shifts and promise a few favors but she managed to get the day shift and was off work in plenty of time to be home when Rachel asked her to. Rachel was buzzing around the apartment all day long cooking and cleaning. She cleaned the television screen three times and checked the cable box every hour on the hour. Santana even overheard a phone conversation the star was having with the cable company, ensuring that the programming would remain the same that night and there would be no interruptions.
At nine fifty, Rachel dragged Santana to the couch in the living room with the spread of finger foods she had put out on the coffee table. She took the Latina’s phone away and shut it off as well as her own. She also put a “do not disturb” sign on their apartment door. Santana was confused, to say the least. But she’d learned not to ask questions anymore.
“This is a momentous occasion, Santana,” Rachel said as she turned the TV on and made sure it was on CBS. “This is the day that my face gets viewed by no less than twelve million people.”
Santana furrowed her eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”
“Just watch!” Rachel pointed excitedly to the TV where the opening scene for CSI: New York was playing.
About fifteen minutes and two dead women into the episode, just after the first commercial break, the shorter brunette gasped and pointed to the screen.
“Don’t blink!”
Santana kept her eyes glued to the screen.
”What do we have?” Mac Taylor inquired to the on-scene officer.
The two men walked from the street down an alley where there were more officers and yellow caution tape hung up and Detective Don Flack was kneeling next to the body.
“Victim is a female, looks to be about mid twenties, she was found by waste management about an hour ago. No ID,” the officer said.
Mac knelt down next to the body and turned the woman’s chin.
Santana gasped and clutched onto Rachel’s shoulder.
“Th-that’s you!” the Latina gasped. “What the…Rachel!?”
“Shhhh! Watch!” the brunette bounced.
Mac rubbed his forehead as he looked down at the body.
“Strangulation, judging by the bruises on the neck,” Don said. “And there’s this,” he held pointed to the left wrist where a circle brand was burned into the skin.
“Third one this week,” Mac sighed.
The flashback scene came on, it was the unidentified woman struggling against a man in the dark alley. The man had his hands around her neck and she was pressed against the alley wall, flailing and struggling. It cut to her body on the ground and the man pressing a red hot brand to her left wrist.
Santana started hyperventilating.
“Santana?”
“Wh-what the hell, Rachel!? Why didn’t you w-warn me?!”
The Latina jumped off the couch and ran to the kitchen where she retched in the sink. A small hand was on her back a moment later.
“I…wanted to surprise you. I shot it a few months ago when they were on location.”
Santana splashed cold water on her face and let out a quiet sob as she hung her head. “I’m s-sorry…it’s just…that’s like…really hard to watch.”
“I didn’t know it would have that strong of an effect. It’s not real, Santana.”
“I know it’s not real!” The Latina snapped her head up and looked into Rachel’s big brown eyes. “But…but you were really good and…the thought that it could happen…God, just…don’t do that to me again, okay?!”
Rachel nodded and wrapped her arms around Santana’s waist and pulled her in. “I’m so sorry baby,” the diva cooed to her distraught girlfriend. “Those were the only scenes, okay? I’m fine, everything is fine.”
Santana hugged around Rachel’s shoulders and held on tight and let the tears slip down onto the shorter girl’s shirt.
“Te amo,” Santana whispered softly.
“I love you, too.”
Santana bought Rachel a can of mace and a taser gun and for weeks she didn’t let the brunette go walking anywhere without her. New York City had been good to them. It turned Santana a little softer but fiercely protective and Rachel just smiled and let her be protective because it meant Santana held her a little tighter and kissed her a little deeper and she wasn’t going to argue with that.
Next: Whipped