AN: Yeah, I know it's been like three months since I updated. Sorry. I'm going to try to get this finished before NaNoWriMo starts, but if I don't you're gonna have to wait until December for more. :/ At least this chapter is the longest yet!

Disclaimer: Yadda yadda this isn't mine and I just like to play with the characters something about FOX and RIB owning everything.

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Jazz:

Any chance I'll get to see you tonight? :)

Santana looked up from her phone and sighed. They were back at the hotel now, the girls in their room, the boys in theirs. Rachel was half-heartedly trying to convince everyone to work, the garishly bright rhyming dictionary Mr. Schue had given her being used to gesture emphatically. Unless the girl got distracted in the next few hours, there was no way she was getting out.

Santana:

It depends. What were you thinking of?

Jaz:

Thought I might show you a good old-fashioned New York night on the town.

A coy smile was drawn to her lips.

Santana:

Is that all you're planning on showing me?

Jazz:

Well, I was kinda hoping you'd show me yours.

The giggle she let out was enough to get the attention of the girls in the room, and before she could type out her answer, Britt was reaching for her phone.

"Who're you talking to, San?" Brittany asked, looking surprised when Santana pulled her phone out of reach.

"Nobody." Was her instinctive, tense, and stupidresponse.

"Oh, now we have to know." Said Kurt, who had clearly been listening in. She shot him a It's none of your business look and he shot a I know you're up to something look right back.

"It's really not important," she said, trying to brush it off. "Who wants to write a song?"

"I do!" Rachel lit up at the idea of getting something done.

"Fantastic!" Santana replied, managing to keep most of the sarcasm out of her voice. "So I was thinking, what if we went a little crazy? I've thought up a couple of rhymes with the word 'orange'…"

Rachel gave her a strange look, and immediately paged through her book to prove that no, nothing rhymed with orange. Santana grinned like a cat. It was worth a little work to distract everyone from her-

"Well, if you won't tell us…" Brittany's voice startled her, but not as much as the sudden movement toward her, the blonde hair flying past, the nimble fingers darting at her phone.

"Britt!" Santana yelled, as the phone flew out of her hand and across the room, skittering under one of the armchairs.

"…we'll just have to take it from you!" Brittany finished, and she dove towards the chair. Thinking on her feet as only Santana could, she grabbed a pillow off the bed and hit Brittany with it, knocking her over sideways.

All hell broke loose.

Really, she should've known it would happen. Brittany screamed in delight, and immediately jumped onto the bed closest to her, a pillow somehow already gripped tightly in her hands. Tina grinned, reaching for her own weapon. Rachel sat there looking disapproving, Quinn hesitated a moment, but gave in almost immediately, Lauren gave a scary, predatory look at the girls before joining the fray, and Kurt- well, by the time she glanced at Kurt, he'd already carefully removed and folded his jacket. By the time he'd finished unlacing his boots, Brittany had already given her a good smack over the head, making her see stars.

"Oh, it is on." She growled, and she went tearing off after Britt, who grinned like she'd won the lottery, and leapt from one bed to the other.

Feathers were flying everywhere, girls were screaming, and in the chaos, Santana seemed to be the only one who noticed Rachel sneaking out of the room, dressed uncharacteristically well. She looked around. No, the rest of the girls were too busy making an absolute mess of their hotel room to pay attention to Berry's disappearance. Huh.

Placing herself in a strategic place on the bed, it was only a second before Tina hit her hard with a pillow, and she purposefully flew straight off and onto the floor- right next to the armchair her phone had slid under. It wasn't hard to grab it, then wait for the right moment.

All of the girls ganged up on Kurt, piling on top of him on the bed and ticking him. As he gave a particularly loud shriek, Santana closed the door behind her. Her phone buzzed. Crap. Three unread messages.

Jazz:

What, I made you speechless with my sexy innuendo?

Jazz:

Or, you know, we could just get a couple drinks. No pressure. Sorry.

Jazz:

Santana?

Santana:

Sorry, Jazz. Snooping friends turned into a pillowfight. I just got away.

Jazz:

Sounds nice. Why wasn't I invited?

Santana:

I figured we'd have time to do all kinds of stuff in bed tonight. Though I don't know how high on our list pillowfighting will be.

Jazz:

That depends on what you call pillowfighting. ;)

Stepping out into the brisk, bright New York air, she read Jazz's words and tingled in anticipation. She wondered what it would be like to sleep with a girl who wasn't Britt. And then she felt guilty for thinking about Britt. She pushed it away.

Santana:

Is now close enough to tonight for me to see you?

That felt a bit more desperate than she was used to being. Whatever. This was just one night in a city she wouldn't be in again for a long time. As long as she got her freak on, who cared with Jazz thought of her?

I do. She thought, but she pushed that away. Feelings made it worse. She knew that already.

Jazz:

Now?

Jazz:

Of course. It's a bit early to start going out though. Which of the sights have you seen so far? I'll be your tourguide.

She typed as she walked, wanting to get off the block their hotel was on- just in case someone looked out a window or Mr. Schue decided to show up.

Santana:

I've got Times Square and Central Park under my belt- that's it.

Jazz:

I bet you've got more under your belt than that.

Santana:

Damn, you're a flirt.

Jazz:

Only when the girl is worth it.

Jazz was like the butch version of herself. It was refreshing. She practically knew what she would say before she said it- because Santana would say the exact same thing.

Jazz:

So, what do you say? Want to go ice skating in Rockefeller?

Santana:

Well, there's a first time for everything.

Jazz:

You've never been ice skating? That settles it. I'm out the door. See you there?

For some reason, the fact that Jazz was taking her lack of ice skating so personally made Santana feel special. The smile that had been playing on her lips through the entire conversation widened.

Santana:

Sounds perfect.

Oh. Wait.

Santana:

But, um… How do I get there?

She could practically hear Jazz's laugh from here, loud and full. Jazz poked fun at her as she sent directions, but Santana didn't care. She walked with a spring in her step, and in less than ten minutes she was there.

Santana scanned the plaza, and Jazz was nowhere to be seen. But no worries, she probably wasn't as close as New Directions' hotel was. So Santana leaned against a short wall, letting the sun kiss her skin. Her eyes slid shut, the light making colorful patterns on her eyelids.

Everything just smelled different there. Everything smelled different. So many people, packed in so close, breathing the air together, one voice with the cab's horns, with the voices of the city. She felt like she was inside of one big, thriving something. She could feel the people around her, could feel that something, that person that was the city, so near her body she could swear it was real.

Hands touched her hips and she opened her eyes with a shock, jumping half out of her skin. Opening her mouth to curse at Jazz, it was caught in a deep, lingering kiss.

Oh.

Oh.

Jazz's lips were softer than any boy's she'd ever felt. But they were direct, and purposeful, and Santana found herself melting under the girl, molding into her body, letting her head be tipped back, Jazz's fingertips pressing into the back of her neck and her hip the only things keeping her standing up as their tongues slipped together.

And then Jazz stepped back, and her eyes were dark. They were saying things, those eyes.

Woah. Santana breathed, wondering when she stopped doing that. She looked at Jazz, the smile on her face and the chill air starting to clear her head.

And then she noticed. Nobody, not a single person in the entire plaza, was staring at them. She had never so much as linked pinkies with Brittany without everyone in their vicinity noticing, judging.

"I love this city." She said, and there it was- Jazz's laugh, rumbling into Santana's abdomen.

"Come on." Jazz simply said, and grabbed Santana's hand, pulling her down towards the entrance to the ice rink.

"Oh, I will." Santana murmured.

She rather enjoyed the look of amazement that Jazz shot at her.

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"Most of the time when you hear about people ice skating for the first time late in life, either they're amazing naturals or they're absolutely horrible," Santana said, as she made her way around the rink for the tenth time in half an hour. "But do you ever hear about them just- kinda being okay? No, you don't." She answered before Jazz could answer. Jazz, who was skating backwards in front of her, smiling bemusedly at her slow progress.

"You've only fallen twice." Jazz pointed out helpfully.

"I'm a Cherrio. I'm athletic and flexible and I don't get tired. Why the hell is this so hard?"

"A cheerio?"

Of course. Everyone in Lima knew what being a Cheerio meant. Everyone in the damn town was obsessed with their loser football team, and all associated with it. But here in the big apple…

"A cheerleader," Santana informed Jazz, unable to keep a bit of pride out of her voice. If she hadn't been trying to make a good impression, she'd be in full-tilt 'better than thou' attitude. "We won Nationals six years in a row."

"Damn," Jazz raised an eyebrow, skating forwards, getting as close to Santana as possible without knocking her over. She leaned over, her lips grazing Santana's earlobe, her breath so hot in contrast to the ice. "So you're bendy, huh? Good to know." And she skated away, leaving Santana to wobble on suddenly useless legs.

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When Jazz insisted that no cheesy New York date was complete without seeing the Empire State Building, Santana insisted that she'd only go if they took a cab.

When Jazz pointed out that it would only take ten minutes on the F line and would be cheaper, Santana pointed out that it was a little awkward, making out on the subway.

"Oh like it wouldn't be awkward making out in a taxi."

"Oh like you've never done it." Santana sniped back, smiling and drawing patterns on Jazz's hand so she'd know she wasn't annoyed, sitting on a bench in the dying sunlight.

"Well, yeah," Jazz admitted. "everyone has."

"Maybe I want to be everyone too." Santana pouted.

"You're enough just by yourself, sweetheart." Jazz said, laughing at the look on Santana's face and standing up to grab a taxi.

She could get used to being called 'sweetheart'.

And getting her way.

"You know, I think I like you." Santana informed the girl as she slid into the cab, the driver smiling at them as he asked where they were heading.

"Empire state building." Jazz informed him, her hand resting on Santana's leg without a thought.

"On vacation?" The driver asked, with an accent Santana couldn't quite figure out.

"She is," She answered, gesturing at Jazz before she could say anything. "And she just insists on being shown around. I've never actually bothered to go, of course," She assured him, and she really does fit the part of New Yorker, if she does say so herself. "But you know how it is." and she grinned innocently at Jazz, who didn't even bother to respond.

Instead, Jazz leaned in, and Santana leaned closer, and their lips met. This kiss was instantly intense. They touched, and Santana was being taken. She moaned a little into Jazz's mouth. They slid until they were almost horizontal across the seats, every inch between their bodies feeling too far. But Jazz kept herself suspended above Santana, and she pulled back from that first kiss, smiled mischievously at her, and leaned down to kiss her again.

"You do anything more than this, I'm changing you extra," The cab driver called into the back, and Santana laughed a little wildly. "You've got three minutes until we get there." he added.

"We'd better make the most of it." Santana whispered, and she kissed Jazz.

A small part of her brain marveled at where she was right now- making out with a hot girl in a cab was not something she'd planned on when she left- and she smiled against Jazz's lips.

The best thing about this was that she could feel Jazz's body. The girl was using her hands to keep her propped up, one hand on the seat beside Santana, one above her head on the door. But she didn't have to do that. Her hands were free to wander, and they did. Jazz's body was so warm, her arms strong and firm, her waist soft and smooth. She gripped into the other girl's back, could feel it moving under her fingers.

She realized that her body was pushing upwards, wanting to bridge the gap between them, wanting to be closer. Her fingers were reaching again, and a hand moved to Jazz's chest, because Santana just wanted to feel her, and then-

Yes, she was moaning again. Because the feeling of Jazz's breast, her nipple hard beneath Santana's hand? Her brain was screaming I'm a lesbian I'm a lesbian I'm a lesbian in conformation of all the things she'd been wondering for what felt like so long. She couldn't breathe.

"Alright, we're here." the driver called back. Jazz pulled back to her own seat, and Santana got out of the taxi, trying to act like nothing major had just happened. That she hadn't just had her entire identity confirmed, like her world wasn't spinning and her lungs had stopped working.

"Thank you." Jazz said to the taxi driver, leaning through the passenger window to pay him.

"I saw your girlfriend cop a feel. That's an extra five." was his only reply.

"Sorry." Santana muttered when Jazz had paid the man and turned toward her.

"It's worth it." was all Jazz said, and Santana was mesmerized at how her lips were a little bit swollen, a little bit pinker than they had been minutes ago.

Jazz grabbed her hand, and pulled her towards the building.

Oh. Of course there was a line.

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By the time they got through the line and got to the top of the building, the sky was almost dark. The horizon was blood-red, orange, pink. The rest of the sky was beginning to show stars.

"Damn." Was all Santana could say, walking closer to the full glass window in front of her.

"Yeah." Jazz said. Her face was lit by the dying sun, kind of glowing.

"Your city is-" Santana searched for the right word. Beautiful never seemed to capture what she meant. "-hermosa."

The surprised look on Jazz's face shouldn't have been attractive, but it was. "You speak Spanish?" She asked.

"Si. Estoy, SantanaRivera puedo harblr español." Her voice accentuated her name so heavily the people walking below them on the street could probably hear her sarcasm.

"Well, I didn't know. I didn't assume anything about you." Jazz defended herself. And huh. Her eyes were dark, like they were after they'd first kissed. Santana could practically hear her body buzzing next to her.

"Te gusta?"

"What?" Jazz asked, bemused.

"You like it?" Santana repeated.

"Muy bien" Jazz answered, her accent the most atrocious thing Santana had every heard. And then she added a growling sound, rolling her r's in a way that was clearly supposed to be sexy.

Santana laughed so loudly that people stared.

"What? I'm not alluring?"

"You're adorable." Santana offered.

"I guess I can settle for that." Jazz said quietly, and as they turned to face the city again, she draped an arm across Santana's shoulders.

Night had fallen. They watched the glittering city.

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The music was loud and the lights were bright and they were dancing so close, so dirty, that if Jazz had a dick they'd pretty much be doing it on the dancefloor. They were a little buzzed, but Santana felt intoxicated- by the city, by the club, by the girl enveloping her whole awareness. Her skin was on fire. Her eyes were closed. Her skirt was riding up and her feet were sore but she hardly noticed. Because Jazz was everywhere.

"I want to go back to your place." She murmured into Jazz's ear. She thought the girl nodded, but she wasn't quite sure. She was a bit distracted by the hands slipping down past her back, the teeth gently scraping at her neck.

"Let's go then." Jazz said, taking Santana's hand and making her way off the dancefloor as the next song started. So apparently she had heard.

Santana was sweaty. They got her yellow half jacket from coatcheck, but as they stepped outside, it stayed folded over her arm. She pulled her hair over one shoulder, away from her neck. The music in the club pounded behind them, people walked past them. What time was it? This city that never slept was seeming more and more perfect for her as time went on.

Jazz hailed the cab.

"Where to, ladies?" The driver asked. Jazz gave some address, in "the village". Santana smiled.

"Thank you," she said to Jazz, as their driver took off into traffic. "I've had such an amazing time tonight."

"It's not over yet." Jazz replied, and Santana wanted her to talk forever. Her voice was so smooth and suggestive and it felt so good in her ears.

"I know." She replied.

They sat in silence for a little while.

"You're welcome." Jazz said simply. She ran her thumb over Santana's hand. Santana reminded herself to breathe.

They got to Jazz's apartment.

The building was brick, taller than those around it but shorter than the buildings Santana had been surrounded by so far. This street was different than the others. She still knew she was in the city, could feel the energy bouncing off the walls and flying through the air. But it was just slightly calmer- chiller. Slightly relaxed. She couldn't see much around her in the semi-darkness, but it was less intimidating here. She liked it.

"You'll have to excuse the tiny-ness of my apartment," Jazz said as she unlocked the door. She opened the door wide, letting Santana walk through first. "It's New York," she defended. "You take what you can get."

But if she hadn't pointed it out, Santana probably wouldn't have noticed the size. It was small, yes. An open kitchen, dining room, and living room shared the main room, a small table, a small couch, and a laptop hooked up to speakers packed in together, a bike leaning against the wall. There was one door.

"Bedroom?" She asked, and then flushed a little. That wasn't exactly what she meant to say.

"So impatient," Jazz laughed. "Do you want anything to drink?" She asked, walking into the kitchen area and getting herself a glass of water.

It was in that moment that Santana was struck with just exactly what was going on. Yeah, she slept with people. She was well aware of how to take care of herself, how to get what she wanted, how to leave.

But it wasn't like there was much of a bar scene in Lima, Ohio. She didn't hook up with people unless they walked the halls of McKinley together. She didn't sleep with people who had their own apartments. They waited for the parents to go out for dinner, they parked the car and moved to the back seat. This… this was actually new for her. And now she was nervous.

"Water sounds great." was all she said. She watched Jazz get a glass, her shirt pulled up, her stomach stretched taught. She leaned against a counter, took the cup, and tried to calm herself.

"So why are you in New York?" Jazz asked, taking a drink of water.

"Why not?" Santana asked, deciding to take the mysterious route. The route where she didn't reveal that she was still in high school.

Luckily, Jazz didn't press it. She smiled and put down her glass, walking closer and closer to Santana.

"I'm glad you're here." She said. Her voice was so low, so quiet. Santana shivered a little.

"Yeah, me…" Santana started, but then they mouths were so close, and she decided that kissing her was a much better use for her mouth than talking.

God, she loved kissing Jazz. She just kept getting closer, even when there wasn't any more room and the counter was cutting into Santana's back. All she knew was that she wanted more, she wanted these clothes to be off- and she tugged at Jazz's shirt, and Jazz let her take it off, let her explore the skin exposed. And her dress was around her waist and they were kissing so intensely and-

"Bedroom." Santana said, for the second time that night. And-

"Bedroom." Jazz agreed.

The door shut decidedly behind them.