"Wait, hold up. Berry is a Slytherin?" Santana raises an eyebrow. "I don't even have a smart-ass line in response to that one."
Rachel lifts her chin. "I'm sure everyone is feeling devastated that you don't have a pithy comment like, 'Wanky,' to share with us, Santana, but yes. I am a Slytherin. And therefore I'm in this performance group."
Santana examines her nails and sighs. "Whatever. This is the dumbest group competition idea Mr. Schue's ever had, anyway." She lets her gaze flick up and across the room to where Brittany's sitting with the Ravenclaws.
"Maybe if you hadn't made so many derogatory comments about Dalton being 'Gay Hogwarts,' Mr. Schue wouldn't have starting thinking along these lines," Rachel scolds. She actually makes air-quotes around "gay Hogwarts."
"Riiiiiiight. Anyway, ladies, I expect us to crush the competition. So let's get to it." Zizes leans back in her chair and folds her arms. "You two will do the bulk of the singing, so let's hear your ideas."
"No, I want Berry to prove this is where she belongs." Santana pulls out her phone. "There's got to be an online quiz you can take."
"There's no time for this. You know Mr. Schue told anyone who was on the fence to divide up so the teams would be even, so even if Slytherin were my secondary house - which it is not - it wouldn't matter. I'm on this team." Rachel huffs. "Now, we're supposed to do something thematically related to our house, so I suggest a mash-up of 'Snake Handlin' Man' with—"
Santana cuts Rachel off. "First off, that's stupid. Songs literally about snakes? We should be singing songs about ambition, and craftiness, and backstabbing. And second, you are not primarily a Slytherin. You don't have a ruthless bone in your body." Muggle-net finally loads up the Sorting Hat quiz, and Santana jabs her phone at Rachel's face.
Rachel shoves the phone away. "Have you not been listening for the last two years? I have said repeatedly that I'd do anything to get my big break, as long as it doesn't involve nudity or cruelty to animals. But since that's not ruthless enough for you, Santana, perhaps I should make an exception."
"Yeah?" Santana sneers. "Finn's kind of a big dumb animal. Why don't you go be cruel to him?"
"Enough." Zizes stands up and steps between them. "Up. Follow me."
Mr. Schue doesn't even notice as they leave the room, of course. Zizes takes them down the hall to the AV room, where she parks Rachel and Santana in the most boring cubicle Santana's ever seen. White walls, beige carpet, no furniture. Zizes brings in a light on a stand and sets it up in one corner, then a second light for the corner across from it. Rachel eyes them, nods once, and moves slightly to the left.
Sure enough, when Zizes turns the lights on, Rachel's perfectly centered in their beams. Santana suppresses an eyeroll.
Zizes comes back into the room again, pulling the door shut and closing the blinds on the window. She pulls a camera out of the bag that's slung over her shoulder. "All right, time to prove yourselves. You wanna be taken seriously as Slytherins? Show me how much you want it."
"The acoustics in this room are not ideal, but I'm sure I can rise to the occasion," Rachel says, preening.
"No, not singing," Zizes says slowly. "And not cruelty to animals, either."
Santana slow claps. "You're going to make Berry get naked? That's—"
"You're both going to get naked." Zizes leans back against the wall, adjusting her camera lens. "You want proof that we're all Slytherins? Let's get ruthless. Let's get ambitious. Let's get no-holds-barred, balls-to-the-wall, hell-bent—"
"We get it, Lauren." Rachel's chin is up and her hands are already reaching for the buttons on her demure cardigan sweater. Santana has to hand it to her - girl knows how to rise to a challenge.
"Berry, I get. But why am I getting naked here?" Santana asks. She tries to focus her death glare on Zizes, but damn it's hard to concentrate when Rachel's sliding her sweater off her arms and reaching for the zipper on her skirt. Was there something in the water today? Is this the weirdest sex dream Santana's ever had?
Rachel stops. "Because you can't make a sex tape with just one person, Santana," she says impatiently. "Isn't it obvious? Lauren's a Slytherin because she's ambitious and willing to do almost anything for the right price, including espionage." Rachel flushes, for some reason. "In this case, she's willing to put up with this Glee competition in order to get a sex tape featuring me that she will later be able to hold over me when I'm famous."
"Got it in one." Zizes flashes a thumbs up at Rachel.
"And I am proving myself to be Slytherin as well, by my willingness to ruthlessly overcome even my own boundaries and mine the depths of my own resources in my quest for greatness. Of course, my gifts in leadership and ambition are common knowledge." Rachel lets her skirt drop to the floor. It only takes her a moment to strip off her shirt, and then she's standing before Santana in her bra and tights.
Santana feels faint. "So what does that make me, a cunning linguist?" she snaps. Shit, why did she say that?
Rachel looks triumphant. "I knew I was right about your Sapphic inclinations!" She does some kind of shimmy thing that she totally stole from Hummel, which makes her boobs jiggle appealingly. Santana can't tell if she feels sick or turned on. That's probably a bad sign.
She turns to Zizes. "That camera better stay off, or I will ends you."
Zizes smirks. "Just get to it, Lopez."
"Fine, whatever. But my clothes stay on." Santana decides she's going to tackle this whole sex tape business like a boss. If she plays it right, she'll have blackmail on Rachel and Zizes. Filming minors has to be illegal. Zizes won't be able to resist turning the camera on, and then Santana will have her.
Kissing Rachel is surprisingly easy. Her lips are almost as nice as Brittany's, and when Santana slips her some tongue Rachel goes for it. Santana doesn't actually want to turn this into a real sex tape, so she rests her fingers on the outside of Rachel's bra and thumbs at her nipple through the fabric.
Rachel gasps a little into Santana's mouth, breaking their kiss enough to moan a soft, "Oh." She leans forward, into Santana's hand, and Santana smirks and turns her hand until she can pinch Rachel's nipple with two fingers.
Suddenly Rachel's stepped back, and there's just cold air in front of Santana. "What the fuck?"
"There's no sexy way to do this," Rachel says, wiggling out of her tights. And oh. That's what she's doing, why she stepped back.
Santana can feel her mouth dropping open. She shakes her head, trying to get herself back under control. "Berry. We are not making an actual sex tape." Santana turns to look, and sure enough Zizes has her finger on the power button of the camera.
"It's off," Zizes admits. "I got nothing."
"And nothing's all you're getting," Santana snarls. She grabs Rachel's hand and shoves past Zizes, out of the AV room.
"Santana! I am wearing nothing but a bra and panties, in case you haven't noticed," Rachel whines.
Oh, Santana's noticed. "We'll tell everyone you're rehearsing for a second production of Rocky Horror," she says as she tows Rachel into the nearest girls' bathroom. "Come on."
They crowd into a stall - not the handicap one, although Rachel heads for it and Santana has to hiss, "Don't be so obvious," at her - and Santana shoves Rachel against the wall. "You are too stupid to be left unsupervised," she growls, "honestly, Berry—"
"My name is Rachel," Rachel interrupts, "and you didn't think I was stupid a minute ago."
"I fucking did," Santana insists, "you and your ridiculous ego and your competitive drive and your stupid nipples and your face." Way to finish strong, Santana, she thinks. But it doesn't matter, because Rachel's face is so close, and Rachel's kissing her again.
This kiss is better, because Santana's not driving it and there's no camera to keep an eye on, and worse because Rachel keeps trying to get her hands up to frame Santana's face or some shit like that. Santana pulls Rachel's hands down to her sides, pressing them against her hips. Rachel doesn't exactly take the hint, but she does confine herself to putting her hands on Santana's waist, fingers brushing the skin just above her jeans.
Since Santana's hands are down near there already, she slides the tips of her fingers into Rachel's panties and waits, teasing, for Rachel to tell her it's okay.
"Yes, yes," Rachel pants, stroking Santana's back.
The next kiss is mostly to shut Rachel up; getting caught going at it in the bathroom isn't as bad as a sex tape, but it's still not good, and Rachel apparently has no self-preservation skills at all. She can't make much noise with Santana's tongue gliding over hers though, and even when Santana pulls back to nip at Rachel's lip, Rachel is still preoccupied enough that she only makes a small sound.
Santana shifts her weight so she's off-center to Rachel, and now the angle's right for her left hand to slip into Rachel's panties, fingers brushing through her pubic hair until the pad of Santana's finger is on Rachel's clit. She feels different from Brittany, which, duh, but it's still a thrill to do this with someone new. Santana lets her finger rub over the raised nub of Rachel's clit, and Rachel's hips buck. Yeah, this isn't going to take long.
She'll never admit it, but Santana's surprised and pleased when Rachel lifts her thigh forward to press into Santana's crotch. It's thoughtful and hot at the same time, and between the pressure of Rachel's thigh and the convenient seam of Santana's jeans, they might both get to finish at the same time. Santana's circling Rachel's clit, dipping further down to Rachel's vaj to slick up her finger, but not actually sliding inside her. Damn these tight panties.
They really need to hurry - even Mr. Schue will notice if they're gone too long, and they need time to clean up and get Rachel's clothes back - but Santana doesn't want to let Rachel know she's rushing. She wants Rachel to come because she's just. That. Good. On a whim she curves her hand, bending her finger until the tip is between Rachel's vaj and her clit. And then Santana writes. S. A. N.
Rachel's got her mouth on the side of Santana's throat, and if she's trying to give Santana a hickey then the girl needs some serious training. But it feels good, Rachel's mouth and Santana's hips pushing against Rachel's thigh and Santana's finger writing her fucking name on Rachel Berry's clit. T. A. N.
She feels hot, tense, like an arrow drawn back in a bow, and Santana writes the last A and presses her finger harder as Rachel shudders and gasps. It takes a few twists of Santana's hips to get the pressure just right, but then she's coming too, biting her lip to keep quiet.
Santana moves away from Rachel, not far but as far as the stall will allow, far enough to let Rachel straighten her panties. "I'll go get your clothes," Santana says. "Stay here and wait for me."
There's no one in the bathroom, but when Santana opens the door to the hall she finds Zizes there, Rachel's stuff in a neat pile in her arms. "Wanky," Zizes drawls.
"You have no idea," Rachel says from behind Santana.
"Seriously, how are you a Slytherin, I'm going to have to do all the subtle secrecy shit," Santana grumbles as she grabs Rachel's clothes and shoves them at her, pushing them both back into the bathroom.
"I will need someone to watch my back during my meteoric rise to fame," Rachel says seriously.
And if Santana kisses her, again, to shut her up, again, well. She's just demonstrating her resourcefulness and cunning in a different way.