Author's Note: Holy shit hi. I never thought I'd come back to this story after tons and tons of writer's block. I actually wrote the chapter below a loong time ago so that explains some of the old pop culture references. For some reason, I just never posted this. I guess I just wasn't happy with it? But I feel like stories like this are the most fun when I just let them...go? So, I recently found this chapter and finally felt like this should go out in the world. Two years later. Who knows if I'll ever return to this again (I probably will in another year when I randomly find it again). Anyways, enjoy?
Everything was totally chill at first.
Jersey Shore helped us get our drink on to the max. If Mike flashed his abs? Take a drink. Get an eye full of Deena's tits? Take a drink. Every time you caught sight of Snooki's panties? Take a drink. That by the way, was the fastest route to Boozeville, population: every fucking body. Bitch is the devil, I swear. But like, in a good way.
After a while, Berry suggested we turn down all the lights and watch that Streisand movie—you know the one, Funny Face or whatever the fuck. That didn't go too well.
"Berry, I swear to God. If that CD comes anywhere near my DVD player I will break it in half and use the jagged edges to shave your eyebrows off."
Britt decided on Step Up 2 which actually worked for a while.
"It's like—" Berry hiccupped, "it's like, West Side Story…meets a Missy Elliot video."
Brittany leaned forward on my bed, squinting at the TV. "That guy looks just like Mike Chang."
I stared at the screen, my cup empty and crumbled in my hand.
"Are these two gonna fuck or what?"
"Rachel stop rolling your eyes at Santana," Brittany said.
Berry spun around from her spot on the floor to gawk at her.
"How did you—"
"Drinking," Britt tapped her fingers over her cup, "gives me a seventh sense."
Berry cocked her head. "What's your sixth?"
"Being able to tell if Santana's wearing underwear or not."
My body went rigid and my cheeks warm.
Rachel's gaze volleyed between us.
"Don't even think about it, Berry."
My eyes burned into her face, daring her to even fucking a—
Brittany smiled. "Barely."
Okay, yeah. So that was true, and?
Eventually we settled on a Tarantino movie: Pulp Fiction. I didn't expect it to hold Rachel's attention much at all but by the time Uma Thurman and John Travolta were twisting, her eyes had glazed and were sweeping thoroughly over the screen.
She sat up after a minute and turned her body in towards me on the floor.
"I want that."
My eyes dropped away from the screen and slipped down to hers. Britts had unbraided her hair, leaving it in loosely untamed waves. I kind of liked it like that. It looked pretty.
"Want what?" I asked.
"What Mia has." She gestured to an incredibly high Uma doing an incredibly bad job at "The Twist".
I stopped. Was Rachel Berry asking me to get her high?
"Santana keeps her weed in the converse box under her bed," Brittany yawned from above, clearly reading my mind.
Rachel snapped her head up to my bed.
"What? No.I, I didn't mean that," she said. "I meant I want a Vincent Vega."
"Wait, who?" I asked, feeling slower than usual now that the vodka had claimed me. Booze goggles officially on.
Berry pointed to the screen now with Travolta in the bathroom. Oh right, Travolta. Of course. She'd paid attention to this movie after all.
"I want someone to do whatever I want with. It's his job to show her a good time. I want the Vincent to my Mia!"
Just then Uma's character, Mia, overdosed on screen. Berry was far too hyped to notice now though.
"Girls, this is our last year together," Berry said. Her hands squeezed together in front of her as though the sheer pressure of it would somehow make us really believe what she was saying. "And frankly, I've missed so much of the high school experience what with handing out blankets to the homeless, volunteering at the local animal shelter, singing at nursing homes, and reading to underprivileged children in Lima Heights Adjacent despite their persistent threats to 'go upside my dome'. I just want one day, one time, where I can just do something without anyone telling me I can't."
Her eyes were closed, hands glued together like in a prayer. I roused her again with my foot.
"So? What'd you have in mind?"
"Oh..." Rachel bit her lip. "I don't know. There's so many things I haven't tried."
"Skinny dipping," came from the top of my bed.
A pleasant little rose color gradually formed over Berry's cheeks.
"I don't think I can."
"Come on, Rachel. You've got to get used to it eventually," Brittany pressed. "Being naked is like, the best thing ever. It's like wearing clothes but instead of having accessories like scarves and gloves, there's freckles and apple shaped birthmarks."
Rachel shook her head. I peeked over her to see the screen. Getaway taxis. Boxing. Hm. I turned back to what Rachel was saying. It's a full on argument between them now.
"I am confident, Brittany. I wore a leather cat suit for Finn two years ago!"
"Rachel," Brittany said. "You wear a bathing suit in the showers after gym."
I snorted. "What is up with that, Berry?"
She huffed and crossed her arms, stating in a lofty tone, "I'm very cautious about public hygiene areas. There is a vast amount of bacteria in those stalls. Not to mention dead skin, oils, nasal secretion—"
"Talk less, drink more."
I shoved my drink at her and watched with mild horror as she took three large gulps that should have been humanely impossible for a girl her size. The cup was tossed back to me, completely drained.
And this is how I knew things were about to go to hell. Rachel Berry, President of the Celibacy club, Student Body President Candidate, and Glee captain...burped.
"I'll do it," she finally said. "But only up to my under—" hiccup, "—garments."
Brittany's face brightened. "That'll do. Let's go."
The blonde bounded off the bed and pulled the brunette up with her. It surprised me that I hadn't had any say in this entire matter. Maybe I didn't care? Maybe I didn't mind? Alls I know is that it took Berry to get downstairs to finally start looking concerned.
"Isn't it like, fifty degrees outside?"
"Two words," Brittany said. "Heated."
I sighed and pretended I hadn't heard her say that.
My first priority was getting the fire pit inside of the gazebo by the pool going. I wasn't about to freeze to death while trying to be Berry's Vincent Vega. Was I her Vega? I don't know. Maybe Britts and I both were.
I took advantage of this opportunity because it's not everyday Berry removes the stick up her ass and decides to do something spontaneous let alone possibly sexual if the situation ever called for it. I wasn't calling for it, if that's what you're thinking.
Britts had no problem stripping down. She left her clothes in a pile on the couch inside the gazebo. Her Thundercats underwear were the cutest thing about her ensemble and I swear, even Berry looked to get a view of those awesome back muscles.
I pulled my tank over my head and dropped it next to Britt's clothes. Shorts followed and soon I was bare footing it to the deck of the pool, hoping like hell one of my creepy ass neighbors wouldn't get too curious.
Brittany, already chin deep in the pool, beckoned me with her fingers. Her eyes were darker than they usually are sober. It excited me for a number of reasons.
I took to the middle of the pool and slid my body all the way in. Fan-fucking-tastic in comparison to the cold. Britts arms were on me in record time pulling me out into the center. Berry stood by on the edge, looking ever skittish.
"Show us what you're working with, Berry," I said with a smirk on my lips.
"It's just us, Rachel. No one else is going to see you," Brittany assured, and then leaned into my ear, "no cameras this time, right?"
"Why the hell would I upload pictures?" I whispered to her as she kicked for the both of us. "The only person that would crank over them is Jew Fr..."
If it wasn't for Britt holding me, I would have gone under for sure.
"Damn," Britts and I said at once.
I looked at her, she looked at me. We looked at Rachel.
It was simple really, predictable even. White cotton: typical Berry. But what laid underneath that white cotton made my temperature crawl and spread through the water around us.
The cleavage, the valley, the everything of her chest looked amazing. Her skin tone was even throughout and so, so smooth. But it wasn't over. Her fingers flitted to the button of her jeans. Pop, zip, shuffle.
Skin. Bare thighs. The tautness was there. And skin. Beautifully unblemished skin. Virginal.
Berry's eyes were shut the entire time and now she stood stock still, hands at her sides, biting her lip before us.
It was matchable to a sheep tripping into a lion's field of vision. It was game over. And I knew exactly what I wanted to do before I graduated.
"How am I doing so far?" Rachel's voice shook as well as her body.
"Awesome. Get in. Your nipples are saying hi to me," Brittany said.
Rachel blushed so red you'd have thought she swallowed a Christmas tree light. She followed her feet toward the pool in a slight waver. A rod of panic hit me at the sight. She didn't look well enough to swim.
"Slow down there, Berry."
I swam to the 4th feet where she'd managed to put her legs in.
"You should probably keep close to the edge. I don't want you to drown," I told her honestly. "My dad says if he has to pay out of the nose for one more freak party accident, he's not paying my car note, so..." I shrugged.
Berry waved me off and slid down into the water. I didn't miss her white knuckled grip on the edge though. I actually kind of worried. As much of a bitch that I am, I didn't want her to hurt herself. Especially not now. That would be a waste of a perfectly good set of tits.
It didn't matter though because a second later, Berry took it upon herself to cling to my back like a fucking koala bear.
"Rachel..." I rasped out, "let...go a little. You're...choking..."
"Ohmygod I'm so sorry!"
She loosened her grip and kept her hands on my shoulders.
"Christ, Berry. I try to go all Baywatch for you and this is what I get?"
"I'm sorry," she went on.
"Stop. Apologizing. I'm kidding."
"Are my hands okay?" Her breath cooled the back of my neck.
I cocked an eyebrow. "A little lower, you're still kind of hurting me."
Her hands moved down past the front of my shoulders.
"Sometimes I don't realize my own strength. I do about an hour of kickboxing after school every da—"
She did as instructed. And gasped.
"Stop that," she scolded me as I laughed. "Anymore of those antics and I will be forced to find a new Baywatch partner."
"Berry I don't think you understand the full gist of your situation," I said. The water grew deeper. "This here's the Titanic. I go down, you go down."
I rocked backwards until I heard her squeal. There was nothing for her to do but hold on tighter.
"Don't you dare dunk me, Santana Lopez!"
"Who wants to play Marco Polo?" Brittany casually floated by on her back.
"I think that's sort of out of the question with the ninety pounds of dead weight clinging to my back," I said dryly.
"You just don't want to lose."
I twisted my head to the side to view Berry's face. "Excuse me?"
"Meet me in the fourth feet." Her tone was serious.
She untangled herself from me and backstroked away, going under a few times but nothing to actually worry about.
"How the hell are we supposed to play this in such a small body of water?" I asked Britt.
She shrugged. "I don't know. Wanna make out while she's calling us?"
I thought about it.
"Why the hell not?"
Marco Polo didn't go as planned. Brittany kept replacing "Polo" with her real name followed by "bitch". Booze Berry nearly drowned when she wandered into five feet and I simply slipped out of the pool while her eyes were still closed to get more drinks. After Berry realized this, she gave up and swam to shore for a drink that she took back into the pool with her and Brittany.
I watched a splash fight break out between the two of them. While Berry rocked out small and harmless waves, Brittany's emulated little typhoons that made Berry sputter water. After each attack, she'd peer inside of her cup to be sure it hadn't been compromised, and then drink a little faster to make sure it never did.
Berry swam over to where I sat on the edge.
"Heyyy girlfriend," she drawled, peering up at me with blown eyes.
"You are so fucked," I laughed but it quickly died off into something more serious. My eyes ran down her wet body. I took a sip of my drink.
"You know what's weird?" she asked. Her gaze reached the sky. I looked up there too, found nothing but a swimming pool of constellations, and looked back down. Water clung to her breasts and trickled all the way down.
"What?" I asked, not really asking.
Her eyes shifted back down to mine. "I haven't thought of Finn all night."
My eyebrows raised. "Is that so?"
Rachel's dimples showed when she smiled. "It's so."
I smiled back. Beyond her, Brittany was practicing her crip walk in the three feet. I smiled at that too.
Rachel moved in closer to my submerged legs and wrapped her arms around them for support.
My hand reached out at its own accord to push heavy hair back behind her shoulder. I let my fingers linger in a loose hold on her neck.
She tilted her head.
"Next time you come here, I want real skinny dipping. You hear me?"
And before she could answer, Rachel wrenched herself up onto the deck and puked.
Well isn't that cute.
We all sat around the fire pit, clothed, throws draping our shoulders, and cups of water in our hands. Brittany stroked Rachel's back in small circles.
"Your hair looks like Hermione Granger's before they allowed flat irons at Hogwarts."
Rachel's hands flew up self-consciously to her curls.
Rachel fixed me with a hot glare.
"Oh don't go getting all shy on us now, Dorothy. We've gotten further with you than Finn Hudson has ever dreamed of."
"That's not true."
"Oh really?" I quirked an eyebrow and sat a little straighter. "Tell me then, Rachel. How far have you gone?"
She squirmed next to Brittany on the couch, eyes shifting around the gazebo to the floor, her feet, and back to me.
"It's really none of your business," she said, chin slightly lifted to emphasize this superiority she assumed she so rightfully had. It was things like that that got her slushied in the first place.
"Half Pint. You're sitting here half naked in my backyard. I think I'm more than a little inclined to make this my business."
The hostility deflated a little. She hugged her knees to her chest and watched the blue flames climbing out of the fire pit.
"Look Berry. Alls I'm sayin' is that for a body," I cleared my throat, "like yours, a lot should be going on." She didn't appear to be listening well. "I mean, you've only been with like three guys and I'm pretty sure Jesse St. Ass Goblin is flaming so—"
"He is not!" Water sloshed out of her cup with the motion of her hand.
"Simmer down, Jewbacca. It was just an observation."
Rachel hunched her shoulders and huffed. She stared moodily into the fire again.
"Do you guys know anything about me other than what you've made up or heard?" Rachel's gazed shifted between us.
Brittany appeared pensive and then, "Not really."
"Great," she mumbled.
"Let's play the truth game then. Everyone has to tell something they've never told anyone before."
"I don't like this game," I said immediately. Knowing Brittany, she'd say something exceptionally embarrassing about me. "You can only talk about yourself."
"Okay," Rachel agreed, nodding slowly. "But only if I'm allowed more lemonade."
"Fuck no. Do you see that puke over there?" I pointed to the deck. "Our maid, Consuela, is going to have to come tomorrow and clean that up. I've just now built a rapport with her because I found out she's not the one stealing the maxi dresses out of my closet. She's going to be pissed."
Brittany lifted a finger. "That was me."
I rolled my eyes. "I figured."
"I promise I'll be good. Please?"
A pink pouted lip and big brown eyes brought me to my feet.
I left the gazebo and paused by the deck to pick up a stray cup when I heard Brittany.
"So is your sink really broken or what because I think Santana wants to—"
"Hey Britt?" I called innocently. "Would you mind helping me in the kitchen?"
"Sure thing, Santana!" she called back to me and then I heard her voice drop to say, "Santana's a really good plumber."
"Okay this one's pretty serious guys."
Brittany and I leaned forward, hanging off of Berry's every word.
"I used to…I used to be in love with Mr. Shue."
"That's your truth?"
"Rachel we've known that for like, years. Isn't that a lock of his hair in your locker? I've seen it," Brittany said. She glanced at me and back to Rachel, "not that me and Santana have broken into your locker before."
Rachel stared between us with a hand over her heart and mouth agape. "Do you understand how long I've tortured myself with that secret? That was huge."
I shook my head continuously. "Fucking. Irrelevant."
"You look thirsty. Have another drink." Britt refilled her cup with more vodka lemonade.
"I'm not fluent in Spanish," I said. Berry looked at me with lifted brows. "Most of what I know comes from watching Go Diego Go with my cousins, rewinding Pitbull songs and listening to my Abuela curse out my dad."
Berry nodded to herself. "I noticed your accents were a little off at times."
I cut my eyes at her. "Just shut up and go, Gayberry."
She tucked her knees to her chest and mumbled something under her breath.
"What was that?" I asked.
She glanced at me briefly then stared at her drink.
"I said I've Google mapped Barbra Streisand's house and had Jacob photo shop my picture into her front yard," she said. "I…I keep the picture in my pillowcase."
"What's JBI getting out of it?" Britt asked.
Berry cleared her throat and looked towards the pool. "I'd…I'd rather not say."
I bit my lip to keep a chuckle in.
"So…last year I stole Coach Beiste's underwear and tried to make a banana hammock out of them," Britt said in a rush. "It didn't work though. I still need one more pair."
Berry and I glanced at each other blankly then turned our attention back to Britt.
"That's, that's very resourceful of you, Brittany."
"Totally, Britt Britt. Good job."
"Thanks guys," Brittany said with a grin. "The hunt continues."
I broke out into a smile when she started fist pumping the air.
"I have another truth," Berry spoke up. She appeared smaller than normal under the throw I provided her. More vulnerable. "I'm…tired. Tired of always tip toeing around Finn's feelings."
No one said anything. I don't think Berry expected us to.
"I'm just so…angry, I guess," she said. "I mean, here I am, offering something as special as my virginity—something that I'll never get back—and he has nerve to be offended by my, my reasons?"
She dragged a finger under each eye and shook her head.
"Call him, Berry," the words came out faster than I could think them.
"For what?" she asked. "To tell him how much of an asshole he is? God that felt good." She laughed. "I never really get to curse much in my house. My dads, they have a curse jar."
"My parents tried that once," I said. "Just once."
"What happened?" she asked.
"I broke into it and bought me a new pair of shoes."
I smiled at her until she laughed. That warm, happy to be here, kind of laugh.
"Fuck it," she said and then giggled. "I'm going to call Finn and I'm going to tell him he's an asshole."
Berry pulled her phone from her jeans and scrolled it. She took a swig of her drink and pressed the dial button.
We waited. A lot.
"Hey," Rachel started softly into the phone but when I made eye contact with her she remembered why she had called. "No, just let me talk, okay? I'm upset with you and how you've treated this whole thing." She looked to me and back down to fire pit. "You were extremely insensitive. I trusted you with everything, Finn and you completely just embarrassed me. You're—I think you're being a complete asshole in this situation. That's all I had to say."
A long pause occurred and then—
"Rachel, are you drunk?"
"Mike?" Everyone said at the same time.
"Santana? Brittany? Is that you?"
"Michael, Finn's not with you, is he?" Berry asked into the phone.
"…No? Should he be?" he replied.
Rachel put her head in her hands. "Mike, I am so sorry. Oh and I just wanted to applaud you for your new found vocal talent in glee club. Perhaps we could find time to schedule a little duet practice, if Tina allows it in glee club, of course."
"Tina's still in glee club?" Brittany asked me.
"Actually, what are your plans for this evening, Michael? Would Tina kill you if you made your way over to Santana's house? Two members of the Troubletones have kidnapped me and I am in dire need of some New Directions support."
"Uh, sure. I can be there. Next 30 minutes, okay?"
"B.Y.O.B., Asian F. No booze, no entry."
"I'll figure something out, Santana."
"Bye, Mike! Brittany said into the phone.
Britt and I both looked at Rachel.
"What? It's a well-rounded circle now," Berry replied.
Just what we all fucking need.