acontrollist | A Twisted Up Frown, Disguised As A Smile

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A Twisted Up Frown, Disguised As A Smile

Rachel isn't one to make impulsive decisions. She usually takes as long as possible to think things through, weighing the pros and cons of each outcome.

She obviously didn't do that tonight, since she's standing in Sam Evan's doorway, a bottle of vodka in her hand.

Honestly, she doesn't know what else to do. Ever since she hung up that picture that Sam drew of her a month ago, she and Bradley have been doing nothing but fighting (and having makeup sex, but that's neither here nor there). Tonight was the worst though. There was screaming, name calling (whore was thrown both ways) and one of her favorite crystal vases is still sitting in 3 pieces on her kitchen counter. It probably didn't help matters that as soon as Bradley had left ("Where are you going?! We're not finished talking about this!" "Out. Don't wait up.") Rachel did the only thing she could think of, which was calling Sam, who'd told her to just come over.

She's not even sure how the vodka came into play, but getting drunk sounds really good right now.

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By perfect timing Rachel calls Sam up when he's about to leave his apartment to meet Rachel's understudy for a date. They're not boyfriend and girlfriend or anything but they've gone out a few times over the past month and she's proven to be a great distraction from a crush he might have on his new best friend. (That means you, Rachel Berry.)

Of course, when he hears how upset Rachel sounds down the phone he drops everything for her without even thinking about it. He insists Rachel come see him because she sounds like she needs a hug or something and he rings up Amy and cancels their date, says something important has come up which it has because Rachel has become someone very important to him lately.

He's a little dressed up, wearing a nice shirt and pants when he answers the door to her... and a bottle of vodka.

"That bad, huh?"

"He called me a whore." She hiccups, stepping into the apartment and sinking down onto his couch. His place is familiar by now. Between coming to him after all of the fights and just hanging out (because he really has become her closest friend. It's like they just picked up right where they left off after prom night Junior year), she's here almost all the time. But Rachel Berry has always been good at ignoring things that she didn't want to see, and among those things is the fact that she loves being around Sam. Misses him when they're not together. And more than a friend should, probably.

The bottle's already been opened, but she hasn't taken more than a few swallows. She opens it again and takes another long swig, holding the bottle out to him.

"He what?" He shuts the door after her a little harder than necessary because he's that mad at Bradley for calling her that, taking a seat next to her on the couch.

"Do you want me to kick his ass?" Because he's more than willing to do it. When she offers the bottle to him, he wonders if drinking is such a good idea right now but she probably needs a friend to get drunk with and bitch about her boyfriend, so he takes the bottle from her and swallows down a gulp of vodka, wincing slightly afterwards. "You're so not a whore..."

"As great as that sounds, it would only result in me being boyfriendless and you being in jail." She takes it back after he's taking a drink, pressing it back to her lips to pull from it. "Well that's not what he said."

"...He doesn't like you, you know." She says a few minutes later. She hasn't eaten since lunch and it's almost 8, so she's a little fuzzy in the head.

"Maybe you being boyfriendless wouldn't be such a bad thing," he mutters under his breath, mostly to himself.

"...I know he doesn't." The bottle is back in his hand, feeling warmer with every mouthful of alcohol he intakes. "I don't want how he feels about me to jeopardize what we have..." His arm comes around her and rubs her back comfortingly. "Who cares what he said. It's not true."

"No, never." She tucks herself against his chest, legs folded underneath her as she leans against him. She reaches across his chest to take another long drink. "You're. The bestest thing." She nods at nothing in particular, handing the bottle back. His hand on her back makes her sigh and relax back against it, content. "Maybe I am. Kinda."

The more he drinks, the easier it is to swallow the alcohol down, like drinking water after working out. And the more he drinks, the more affectionate he becomes towards her, tracing his fingers up and down her spine, something he's never done with Amy, something he's done with past girlfriends when they're laying in bed naked after sex.

"Shut up." His tone is as soft as his touch. "You're not even a little bit. Don't even think about arguing with me on this."

"'M a little bit." She takes another drink, running her free hand along the flat plane of his stomach with her free hand. "'Cause. You're not my boyfriend. But I like that...'s not very nice." She says matter-of-factly, waggling a finger in the...general direction of his face.

He can feel her touching his abs through his shirt and it leaves his stomach fluttering a little bit. His eyes turn a little cross-eyed at the finger being pointed at him and he bumps his nose against it affectionately because alcohol turns him into an even bigger dork. "I don't understand what you're saying... What do you like?"

She giggles and hums, nuzzling her face against the crook of his neck. "All of it." She says, pressing back against his hand. Sitting up a little, she leaves the bottle between his thighs and sticks both hands into his hair, giggling. "Soooft."

He hasn't even realized what he's doing with his hands. His fingers have a mind of their own right now as they map an invisible path on her back. "So's your face," he says as he feels her tickle his neck. "I use ladies shampoo, don't tell anyone," he adds, whispering theatrically.

"Works." She nods, then she spots his lips and drops a hand down, poking his lip. "Soooft." She giggles again, wrapping her arms around his neck. Something occurs to her then as she sits there, leaning against him, faces inches apart. "Sam? How come Bradley's not as nice as you?"

"Thank the chapstick," he smiles after she pokes his mouth, a private joke of their since she'd bought him chapstick back in high school.

He's just had another sip of the vodka nestled between his thighs and puts the bottle down clumsily on the coffee table when Rachel's arms encircle his neck like a scarf, her face suddenly very close.

"I dunno..." He shrugs at her. "I'd never call you a whore."

"Whores like boys other than their boyfriends." She points out. Dropping her forehead against his, she pouts a little, moving to straddle him. She pulls back long enough to take another drink before dropping her forehead back against his. "Am I pretty, Sam?"

"You like boys other than your boyfriend?" he replies cluelessly, having not yet figured out she might be talking about him. Alcohol makes him a little slow... and then suddenly he's sitting back against the couch with her straddling his lap. His hands move of their own accord, clutching at her hips, and with their foreheads touching he has no choice but to stare into her eyes and get lost in them.

"I could draw you a thousand times," he drunkenly rambles, "and never be able to capture just how beautiful you are on paper." And the picture he'd given her a month ago was a pretty stunning interpretation of her.

"I like you. 'Cause. You're nice to me. And you think I'm pretty." She slides her hands down along his chest. "Bradley doesn't think I'm pretty. You're pre-...boys. Are not pretty. You. Are handsome."

"I think you're a lot of things." A lot of nice things that would take all evening to list. "I'm abulous," he smirks at her.

"You have abs." She nods. Then, after a moment of silence, she says. "Sam. I'm going to kiss you."

"Okay," he answers quickly without actually registering what she just said. Then... "Wait, what?" He blinks at her.

Too late. She leans in and kisses him, hands still tangled in his hair.

"Rach--" he starts, but yes, it's entirely too late. If he were a sober he might have stopped it, but with the alcohol in his system he does nothing but reciprocate, kissing her back with growing enthusiasm while he cups her hips in his hands.

She winds her arms tight around his neck, wasting no time opening her mouth to his and licking her way inside. He tastes like vodka, but so does she so she really doesn't care.

So he's sure Rachel tastes better when she hasn't been drinking straight vodka with him, but it's what she's doing with her mouth that matters. In a matter of seconds she proves she's as talented at kissing as she is at singing. His hands are no longer on her hips but on her butt instead, palming her ass.

This is nothing like he had in mind earlier when he invited Rachel over to comfort her. But that doesn't mean he hasn't though about it.

Rachel's talented at a lot of things. Like gasping loud against Sam's mouth and grinding her ass back against the hands there. She fucking loves that. "Sam..." She whimpers his name, grinding down against him and tugging at his hair.

He thought maybe this would just be some drunken making out and they could laugh about it in the morning and forget it ever happened. But she's grinded against his crotch enough to give him an erection and he forgot how horny vodka makes him. He can tell she likes the attention to her butt so he squeezes her cheeks with his fingers and moans, "Rachel..."

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