olaf47: (Santana)
[personal profile] olaf47
Title: Cupid is fucking irresponsible (1/4)
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairing: Noah Puckerman, Santana Lopez, Puck/Rachel, Santana/Rachel, Santana/Puck, Santana/Rachel/Puck
Rating: R for language, discussions of sex
Spoilers: None.
Summary: She and Rachel at least tolerate each other now, Puck knows that much.
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. The words are.
A/N: Written for this prompt at the drabble meme. Part 1 of at least 4. Title from poet Rudy Francisco.

Puck’s trying to convince Santana that Rachel should come with them to a pumpkin patch.

Yeah, he knows that sounds ridiculous, but he and Santana went every year back in Lima. Even the year everyone had just found out Quinn was pregnant, had just found out that he had gotten Quinn pregnant, he and Santana went to a pumpkin patch. She barely looked at him—except when she stuffed a handful of fallen leaves down the back of his shirt and laughed until she couldn’t breathe—but she went with him. Then she moved to New York for college, and he tried St. Louis for a while, tried LA, and this is the first October they’ve been together again. They’ve got to go to a pumpkin patch.

And, yeah, it’s always been their thing, just the two of them. But he’s got a thing for Rachel and when he mentioned getting a pumpkin, she had basically squealed. He invited her and she immediately agreed, but now he has to convince Santana it’s not going to kill her.

“Rachel’s cool, you know?” he says for the umpteenth time.

Santana doesn’t even respond. She and Rachel at least tolerate each other now, Puck knows that much. But last time they all hung out over at Sam and Mike’s, the girls barely even looked at each other. And now he’s at Santana’s apartment, basically begging her, and she’s just sipping black coffee and reading her calculus notes.

“Look, I like her. So if you could just fucking deal for a few hours, that’d be great,” Puck snaps.

“Yeah, I know you like her, Puckerman,” Santana says darkly, glancing at him over the glasses she only wears when she studies.

He rolls his eyes. “Rachel’s hot and all, and she can totally make out for like, hours—”

He has more to say—about how she’s more than that, how she’s interesting and smart and driven and he likes that about her—but Santana cuts him off with, “I know.”

It takes him a minute to process.


“Honestly, Puck,” she says. “How do you even know that? Never in my life have I known you to be able to make out much longer than eight minutes without trying to get clothes off.”

He’s offended enough to forget momentarily that she may have just admitted to making out with Rachel. “Well, maybe she’s just not as easy as you are.”

Santana laughs. “Oh, trust me, she is.”

“Okay, wait. Seriously. What?”

A smirk curls at the edges of her mouth. He knows that smirk. It’s her smug smirk not her “I’m dicking you” smirk.

“I thought you hated Rachel.”

She gives him the same look she gave him in fifth grade when he wasn’t 100% sure what a blowjob was. He knows her face well enough that saying it is unnecessary, though she does anyway: “Do try to keep up, would you?”

He’s quiet for a minute, but this seriously does not compute. “You really don’t hate Rachel?”

“Yeah,” she rolls her eyes. “I go down on her because I hate her.”

“You go down on Rachel?!”

He’s glad she decided to study at her apartment today, because he wouldn’t have been able to keep his voice down, no matter if there were people around. It’s just that he hasn’t even gotten below the fucking bra.

“Are you asking in a ‘fuck, that’s hot’ kind of way or a ‘how could you do that to me’ kind of way?” she asks, turning a page of her notes. “Because if you love her or whatever, I’ll step aside. I’m a fucking gentleman.”

Most of him salivates at the thought of the two of them. Still, though, there’s this twist in his chest that he can’t figure out. He’d chalk it up to his feelings for Rachel, except he can’t decide which girl he’s more jealous of.

“You have to actually love her though,” Santana says, and she finally fucking puts her notebook down so Puck can at least pretend she’s taking this seriously. “I’m not bowing out just because you’re all blue balled about her.”

He’s caught between a scoff because she’s so obviously not taking this seriously and a laugh because he can appreciate a good one-liner, even if it’s at his expense.

When he finally does come up with a response, though, his voice is quiet. “What are we supposed to do—shake on it and may the best man win or something?”

“I’ve already won,” she says. “On this couch. And that chair you’re sitting in. And—”

“Fucking Christ, Santana,” he says, leaping to his feet.

When he thinks about it, though, he’s also fucked Santana on this chair. It was good. He wonders if some furniture is designed specifically for sex. To be honest, once they figured out the whole giving each other orgasms thing, every bed Santana has ever had seemed like it was made for sex.

He gets distracted for a minute, thinking about the bed she has now. She’d wanted a California king, but he’d convinced her that shit was expensive, plus, she’s way too short to need an extra long bed. She’d gotten a regular king, and still looked totally tiny when she was in the middle of it. One day she called him to “help with a leaky faucet” and he arrived to her in bed wearing hot pink lingerie. He can remember exactly what she looked like.

“Have you even rounded second base with her?” Santana says. “I mean, yeah, the days after we fuck she has a hard time looking at me without blushing, but she’s not the prude she was in high school. Follow my example and fucking tap that already.”

Puck’s still picturing her in the hot pink lingerie, but as she talks about Rachel, she appears in his mind, next to her, wearing the same lingerie, just in black. He almost moans.

“How about we both win?” he says before he can stop himself.

Santana’s eyes spark the way they always have when she’s thinking of something that’s going to get him in trouble. “You’re a fucking genius.”

He almost says it wasn’t a serious suggestion, but he shuts up quick. If God wants to give him a threesome, he’s not going to stand in the way.

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