Chapter Text
Act I: With Every Great Romantic Plot There’s a Remarkable Leading Actor
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Rachel realised, with a startling clarity, that she was in love with Santana Lopez.
It wasn’t like she’d had enough encounters with the Cheerio to really gauge the depth of her feelings, so perhaps that’s why they were quietened. Being brought up with two fathers meant that she’d always been open to the possibility of dating women, and had considered herself bisexual until proven wrong.
It came as a great surprise that Santana was the one to...affirm her sexuality. It was absurd. To think a week ago she’d had a rather poor opinion of the girl.
But it all became so clear one Wednesday morning when she was shoved to the side by some jock, probably Karofsky (it might’ve been by accident, he was rather lumbering) from an elbow, with quite some force, knocking into her shoulder. Before she could crash into the lockers, something that always jarred her a little and had her afraid it’d knock off the balance of her vocal chords and she’d lose her voice, hands were clasping her shoulders and holding her upright.
A part of her was elated at the thought of a romantic save, perhaps it was Finn and they’d fall in love all over again. But the hands were dainty, not large and calloused, and as she looked up through her bangs she saw Santana.
“You alright there, Berry? Almost had a great fall.” Rachel was quite certain Santana was alluding to the nursery rhyme of Humpty Dumpty and suggesting she was an egg, but there was this slight concern in her eyes as she levelled her, grip still on her shoulders.
“I-I’m fine.” One often loses eloquence when struck by love. The poetry comes afterwards. First, the vocabulary needs to be stripped right from your tongue, as with the air in your lungs, and when you’re dwelling on this at night, then come the metaphors.
Santana just gave her a strange look, letting her arms fall back to her sides before meandering off down the hallway, high ponytail swishing as she walked.
Oh! Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service.
Standing still as the students of McKinley passed by her, Rachel was seeing Santana for the first time, and it was definitely love at first sight.
How the universe had such a strange way of making people fall in love. Not long ago they were bickering in the choir room, rivals; an outside perspective might say. Perhaps their tension had translated into chemistry.
Come glee club, she’d written three sonnets just in her mind, the words etched into her heart as she stared at Santana in the front row, twirling a strand of her hair, dark as the soul of one who’s love was lost and never found, taken by a fiendish hand. Who’s heart was torn from their chest and crushed beneath betrayal and rejection.
No, she had to change that one to something more cheerful.
As dark as the midnight sky- no, an overused cliché. Even Rachel had limits.
As dark as the raspy, rich vocals of a jazz singer in the heart of New York, 1920s, tucked in an up and coming jazz bar, with cool, blue accents highlighting the bar and warm lighting. Oh, how Rachel longed to stare into her eyes, to see how much of her soul they refl-
“Rachel.”
Snapping out of her love induced haze, she realised the glee club were all watching her expectantly, and she was openly staring at Santana’s shoulder. At least that wasn’t entirely obvious.
“What?”
“I asked everyone’s ideas on regionals and...you didn’t say anything.” When had Mr Schue entered the room? Huh, love had her distracted.
“I’m sorry, I was finding the perfect simile.” Somebody snorted, and there were a few chuckles, but Rachel gave another glance at Santana and her striking features before allowing glee mode to overtake her. Love would never stifle her ambitions.
“I left my similes on all night once and they burned their house down.”
“I think we should sing purely love songs for regionals.” Rachel strutted towards the middle of the choir room, a list of love songs in her back pocket, ignoring Brittany altogether. “Here’s why.”
•••
So, the dilemma was that Santana Lopez clearly didn’t care all that much for Rachel. However, she’d hardly been welcoming to the cheerleader. Perhaps it was a two way street, just...Santana was meaner.
Of course there was the enemies to lovers trope. The rivalry instilled into them by the McKinley caste system could be something of a Romeo and Juliet story - just less tragic. There was some hope for Rachel. The girl wasn’t straight if her relationship with Brittany was any indicator, and she had some suspicions that it wasn’t merely sex, and also that she was hiding herself behind this facade of sexuality and popularity.
She tried almost too hard to flaunt any male relationships she’d had. It wouldn’t be surprising if she was exclusively into women. So, that placed Rachel into a smaller pool of people. Even smaller in Lima, Ohio. She’d take a guess that Santana hadn’t had any experiences with girls beyond Brittany.
Perhaps sex could be her weapon. Rachel wasn’t keen on the idea of using sexuality as power, the furthest Finn had gotten was second base, but she could make some sacrifices to, in the least, garner the girls attention. The way she’d done with Finn.
Romance took passion. She needed to light the spark, an instigator, to get them on the right path.
Soon enough they’d be caught up in a star-crossed lovers, sweeping romance; the cheerleader and the broadway star. One weighed down by popularity, the other ambition. The sapphic nature only made it more unique.
She didn’t know how she hadn’t seen this before.
Firstly, she’d have to get herself closer to Santana in a friendly sense. Perhaps with accidental encounters and spontaneous conversations. A way for them to find similarities and friendship with one another, defying expectations, and eventually being swept away by romance.
That’s exactly what she planned Friday afternoon. The opportunity had arisen when she saw Santana walking alone, down the empty McKinley hallways, presumably late to class. It’d cost her being late to calculus, but she was sure the teacher would let her off on one count of tardiness. It’d be the first of the year. (The first of her entire high school career).
Waiting behind the corner, she rushed around it when Santana’s footsteps were close enough, and knocked into her. Dropping her books strategically on the ground as Santana’s stayed clutched in her grasp, she let out a faux gasp and watched as the Latina instinctively prepared to go all “snix mode” (as the girl herself had called it) before realising it was Rachel. Her scowl remained, but she softened slightly. “Watch where you’re going, Hobbit.”
“I’m sorry, I was rounding the corner and didn’t see you,” She pushed her hair behind her ear, crouching down to start lifting her books and sheet music.
Santana reluctantly leant down to help, grumbling something beneath her breath.
“Thank you,” Rachel mumbled quietly, swooning under the consideration.
“Amy Whinehouse? Mhm,” Santana let out an appraised hum as she saw the sheet music Rachel had printed out purely for this encounter, looking up at the girl.
Rachel had planned this too, because she’d strategically placed her blouse so that her cleavage peaked out the tiniest bit as she bent over, right in Santana’s line of sight.
“I wanted to...experiment a little. Broaden my horizons,” She supplied, stressing the fourth word of the sentence.
“Right,” Santana cleared her throat, that must’ve been a good sign, as she rushed to pick everything up, standing quite abruptly. “Well, it’s a good choice. You performing it in glee?”
Rachel rose too, pulling at the edge of her skirt and tilting her head at the Cheerio. “Oh, I’m not sure. I don’t know if I have the voice for her style of music.”
“You have the voice for any style of music, Berry, I wouldn’t worry about that.”
She couldn’t help the blush, even if it was mostly true. Hearing a compliment from the Latina was foreign, but entirely welcome.
“Well, you’d probably be much better with this song,” Leaning into Santana’s space a little, she took the book and the music she’d picked up for her, brushing a finger against her hand in a way that seemed unintentional.
“This ones totally your style,” Santana offered, before seeming to remember herself. “I mean, you could try to do it better than me.”
“Is that a challenge?” Rachel raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on her face.
“Well, yeah. A huge challenge, I’m sure. I doubt you could do it,” She shrugged, running a hand through her ponytail in a self assured way, almost arrogant. Rachel found it unbelievably attractive.
“Do I sense a diva off?”
“No way. I know how awesome I am, I don’t need a diva off to tell me that. But, still, you could try,” Santana walked passed her then, effectively ending the encounter. “Anyway, Berry, I’ve gotta get to AP chemistry. See ya.”
It took her a couple of minutes to compose herself before she could head over to her lesson. She barely registered the fact that Santana was in AP classes. A whole plethora of poetic words about intelligence washed over her. The teacher was surprised by how late she was (considering she’d probably never been late to his lesson). Rachel just whispered about a “girls emergency”, effectively thwarting any reprimand from him.
•••
That’s how she found herself in front of the glee club the next week, shuffling sheet music about by the piano and waiting to perform. She’d thought about asking Santana to sing the song with her, but that would’ve been extremely forward. The cheerleader probably would’ve laughed, or even insulted her. They weren’t there. Yet.
Still, she’d caught the girls attention, because Santana’s eyes were mostly on her as she sang ‘Love Is A Losing Game.’ Usually she’d glance up on an odd high note or at the bridge, interest piqued slightly by Rachel’s sheer vocal abilities and the natural talent she had of moving people. But the rest of the time she would glance around the room and pick at her nails with an arm crossed over her chest, slumped in her seat.
Today, however, she was watching intently.
It was a moving song. Rachel put emotion in all of her performances, but with this one, she latched onto her newfound romantic feelings towards Santana and expressed them without actually expressing them. It wasn’t like she was setting up a stool right in front of her and singing. But she’d occasionally meet her eyes.
The club would probably assume she was singing about her lost love with Finn. But this performance was for Santana. She must’ve recognised that to some extent, considering they’d talked about it. But Rachel doubted she knew the true intent behind it.
It must’ve been even more exceptional than her other performances, because the glee club reacted with enthusiasm once she’d finished, clapping and cheering loudly. She even saw Kurt wipe at his lashline a couple of times.
“Well, guys. I think we’ve got a contender for a solo at Regionals.”
Santana was smiling, clapping along with the others, but as she passed her, she muttered a quiet, “You definitely won.” It was like a secret between them. It sent a thrill up her spine.
“But...you didn’t sing too?”
“You would’ve won anyway.” Rachel thought it was quite a big thing, Santana admitting that somebody was better than her.
“Thanks, Santana.”
•••
Rachel considered slipping a poem into Santana’s locker, but she must’ve had hundreds of admirers. She probably wouldn’t be the first. Instead, she stared at her across the hall from her own locker, rocking back and forth on her toes and hoping to catch the girls eyes. To no avail. They were occupied by her locker, and Brittany beside her.
Being in love, although rather painful in a way that took a toll on her heart, was enriching. The passion she felt had translated into her voice and dance, into the poems she’d managed to scribble down between classes and in the evening when there was nobody to peak over her shoulder.
She was creatively inspired, and Santana Lopez was an excellent muse.
From a physical, potentially shallow, standpoint; she was gorgeous. The personification of beauty and passion. Fire. Despite her sharp mouth, her voice was nothing like Rachel had ever heard, a raspiness and timber to it that was overwhelmingly seductive and beguiling. Rachel felt a newfound sexuality within her that she hadn’t quite felt with Finn. Yes, sometimes he made her feel a little hot, if she really focused her efforts on locating her arousal when they were being intimate. But Santana, Rachel didn’t have to think to feel all sorts of desires. She didn’t even have to touch her. Just sing, or dance, or answer a question in their shared English class about a book they were studying with all the depth and knowledge of somebody who knew what they were talking about, and there was a fire lit in her stomach.
It was new and it was electrifying. It wouldn’t be long before she burst at the seams and just told Santana how she felt. She’d always gone after what she’d wanted. Now she knew she had to take a little care, no matter how badly she wanted to lay all her cards on the table. A single heart at a time.
Beyond that, Santana was elusive. A mystery. And what better muse than one that was hard to unpick and held everybody at arms length. Almost everybody.
Rachel liked to think she was a perceptive person, and she’d noticed the bond that Santana and Brittany shared went beyond that of a standard best friendship. There’d been a shift lately, all at the introduction of a set of wheels, no doubt. Brittany dating Artie had been a surprise for everybody, but to Santana, it must’ve been something more. And as Rachel watched her smile at Brittany, a forced quality to it that differed from her usual ear splitting grin, she knew then how they could find some common ground.
Heartbreak.
•••
“Santana.”
“Yes, Hobbit?” Despite the name calling, she slowed her pace to allow Rachel to catch up. She liked to think Santana was better at displaying kindness through her actions, rather than her words.
“With Valentines coming up, I’d like for us to sing a duet together.” That had the girl stopping completely.
“You want to sing a song for Valentines with me?” Her tone was incredulous, bordering on a scoff.
“Well, no, but it can be inspired by Valentine’s Day.”
“And why would I sing a duet with you, about love?” Santana raised an eyebrow as she continued walking, leading Rachel outside of the school building.
“Well, we’re both single, right? And...I’m still pretty caught up on Finn. As you know, I wouldn’t have ended our relationship, but circumstances-“
“Yeah, you cheating on him with Puck. Which, by the why, I should’ve beat your ass for.” The threat was empty, but Rachel still clutched her books a little tighter to her chest.
“Everybody knows that you and Puck aren’t exclusive. You don’t have a claim over him, Santana.”
“Well you and Finn were exclusive, and you kissed another guy anyway.”
“That is besides the point.”
“Okay, but I don’t know how us being single means we have to sing a gay song together.” They’d reached Santana’s car, a surprisingly modern, sleek model that Rachel couldn’t discern from the emblem (she’d never been particularly versed in the world of automobiles).
“Whilst I resent your displeased tone surrounding the implications of a “gay song”, what with having two homosexual fathers, it wouldn’t be a love song.”
“Then...what?” The confusion was evident in her furrowed brows as her hand rested on the car handle, as if waiting to make an escape.
“It could be about our hatred for love. Whilst I don’t hate love, music is a mode of expression for feelings, and often enhanced feelings. It could be a way of expressing how it sucks that Valentine’s Day is around the corner, and whilst a lot of the members of glee are shacked up, we’re not.”
“I don’t know,” She said, suspicious, but humoured her a little longer, “What song?”
“We could figure that out together. I have some ideas, but the final decision will be unanimous.”
“Let me think about it.”
Rachel found that to be quite a success, considering Santana hadn’t made fun of her nor shut down the idea immediately.
She wasn’t particularly known for her patience. You might go so far as to say that nobody would describe Rachel as patient, but immediately refute the idea that she was. Yet, sometimes you had to play the long game, and she was willing, if not a little frustrated about it, to do such a thing.
After all, things done well and with a care, exempt themselves from fear.