Hellloooo allll! Anyone still with me on this one? I sure hope so. First of all, I'd like to apologize for taking so long to update. I was busy with school, then a bunch of personal stuff happened so I wasn't really in the most jovial of moods to write a lot. But everything seems to have calmed and BOOM! inspiration. I thought of this little nugget yesterday and just had to write it down. So if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry. Hope you enjoy.

And as always, please review :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. And yes I believe Netflix will still exist like 8 years from now. I picture it holding all of the old movies from nowadays. Sort of like VHS now.

Chapter 7: who has a season pass on their DVR/Who controls the Netflix queue

"So how's the missus doing?" Rachel looks up from her script at the fair skinned man sitting on the loveseat across from the couch she's on. Today is Rachel's day off. The first full one since New Year's nearly 2 months ago. And since Santana had to work, she decided to call up her best gay guy friend for brunch and some much needed TLC at her apartment. Nestled in the corner of the living room sofa in grey sweatpants, a pink camisole with a messy ponytail on her head, Rachel answers, "She's doing pretty good. She's been tired lately because of this big murder trial she's been working on but besides that, she's great."

"Oh I heard about that trial. Some mafia guy trying to get off for murder, right?" Kurt asks getting up and walking carefully, past the various piles of clothing, papers, books and other miscellaneous items on the floor, to the kitchen.

"I believe so."

"And she's trying to prove that he did?" He opens the fridge, grabs a water bottle, closes the fridge and returns to the loveseat in the living room.

"Yes. Crazy huh? But she knows this case in and out. So I'm sure she'll do fine."

"Yeah. But if there's anyone out there that dares to take on one of New York's most notorious gang lords, it's Snix." Rachel puts the script down on the seat cushion next to her and grins.

"Snix, huh? Haven't heard that one in while. Not since the last time when we were back in Lima visiting her parents and then that night we were…and then…she was…and I said-"she stops herself and after looking aimlessly about the room, smirks.

"You're blushing," Kurt points out. Slapping her hands on her face to cover her increasingly burning cheeks, Rachel turns her away.

"No I'm not," she lies.

"Yes you are." He pauses and his eyes get big before closing and throwing his head back dramatically. "Ew. I just got it." Rachel just smiles and starts to laugh. "How many times have I told you not to mention your sexual relations with Satan?"

"I didn't mention it. You just assumed that's what I was smiling about."

"Oh please. Like it would be anything else. I really don't need to know what goes down in your bedroom."

"Usually Santana," Rachel says under her breath.

"What was that?" Kurt asks quickly.

"Nothing."

"Well anyway, I don't want to know about anything that happens in the bedroom. Or the living room. Or the kitchen or anywhere else you two horny women decide to defile each other." Rachel continues to laugh.

"Fine. Fine. I won't ever mention-"

"Or imply."

"Or imply anything to do with my AMAZING, mind-blowing sex life with my amazingly talented and brilliantly dexterous fiancé while you're around," Rachel says with a wicked grin.

"You did that on purpose," Kurt complains, holding his stomach, faking sickness.

"Yup. Sure did."

"Not fair. Whatever. But that's all I ask."

"You can be such prude sometimes."

"Look. Just because I don't want to know doesn't make me a prude. You have been spending too much time with Satan."

"Well she is my fiancé. And we have been together for 6 sum years so you'd assume some of our quirks and eccentricities would rub off on each other."

"And I'm sure you both like the rubbing off on each other part." Rachel burst out laughing.

"See, that was you that time." Kurt rolls his eyes and gets up from the seat again.

"Whatever little star. I'm hungry again. Got anything to eat in this place?"

"You were in the refrigerator earlier. Shouldn't you know?" Rachel picks up her script for Rent and starts reading over her lines for Maureen again. There's only one week left until the opening night and even though she had her lines memorized about a week after she got the original script, the director decided to make some last minute changes that she still has yet to memorize.

"Yes. I was but all I saw were Coronas-"

"Santana's."

"I figured. But there's also some apples. Some soy milk and some regular milk." Rachel giggles.

"Don't even want to go back down that road." Rachel stops and grins again. "Although that little fight did end quite nicely."

"Oh. My. God," Kurt says rolling his eyes again. He then trudges through the mass on the floor again on his way to the kitchen. "You two are ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love," Rachel comments, feeling the usual flutter in her stomach when thinking about her fiancé. It's that heart pounding, body warming, smile inducing feelings that comes along with the intense pull in her stomach when she realizes that Santana isn't actually near her.

God she misses Santana.

#####

Later in the evening, after the pair got lunch from Rachel's favorite vegan restaurant, the pair returned to her condo for some wine and crash time on the couch.

"So, do you want to watch something?" Kurt asks picking up the remote control from the end table next to the sofa. Rachel, on the opposite end of the sofa, grabs her glass of Chardonnay, swirls it around a bit but before taking a sip, "Sure. But I don't want to watch anything in particular so you pick something."

"Okay. So how about we just watch some TV until your lady love gets here and kicks me out?"

"She won't kick you out."

"Yes. She will. She always does. But it's alright. I still have that Dolce bag of hers at my house she left last week so she better tread lightly," Kurt threatens.

"I'll be sure to inform her."

"Will do. Now do you have anything saved on your DVR or Netflix? Because I don't feel like dealing with commercials right now."

"I'm not sure." Rachel takes a sip. " 'Tana usually saves stuff considering she's the one who watches the most TV. I just watch DVDs mostly."

"So if I look at this, it will be like taking a peek into Satan's head?" Rachel nods.

"I guess. Basically," she says.

"Interesting." Kurt puts his thumb on the Netflix button on the remote but before pressing it, he looks over at Rachel with a perfectly manicured eyebrow raised. "Before I start scrolling through Santana's entertainment archive, or what I will call 'Santana's box', should I be concerned?" Rachel looks at him trying to spot any playfulness in his face but he's dead serious. Which makes her laugh.

"No Kurt. I'm pretty sure it's safe," she reassures with at smile.

"Well this is Satan we're talking about. She can be a bit of a pervert at times." Rachel grimaces but smiles.

"You're right. You should probably proceed with caution."

"Okay. Because I don't know about you sapphic lovers. There might be the seasons of the L word or something like that."

"We have all of the DVDs in our bedroom so no need for Netflix on that one," Rachel says grinning. Kurt glares at her.

"Sad." Rachel chuckles. "Just sad. Anyway, let's take a look."

Turning on the TV and opening the Netflix queue, Kurt instantly starts laughing. "What?" Rachel asks, looking over at the laughing man. Instead of answering, he just keeps laughing. Like that head thrown back, eyes watering, knee slapping, room echoing kind of laughter. "What the hell is so damn funny?"

"Wh-who wo-wo-would've guessed," he says in between laughs.

"Who would've guessed what?" Rachel inquires.

"Jersey Shore reruns?" he continues scrolling down the page. "All of the Real Housewives series?"

"Santana like reality shows," Rachel admits with a shrug. "Well, not all of them but most of them."

"All the Harry Potter and Star Wars movies?" Kurt looks at her incredulously.

"She likes sci-fi. Apparently she and her dad used to watch the Star Wars series when she was a kid." Rachel explains. "Anymore questions?"

"Just one more little miss explanation lady. Explain why Santana has an assortment of musicals in her Netflix queue?"

"What?" Rachel puts her glass down on the floor and leans forward to get a closer look. Kurt is right. Chicago. Rent. West Side Story. Grease. The Wiz. The Wizard of Oz. Hairspray. Dreamgirls. Sparkle. There are so many musicals saved that she's pretty sure it almost puts her collection to shame.

"Judging by your expression, I'm guessing you didn't know about this treasure trove of musical films?" Kurt ask continuing to scroll, revealing musical after musical after musical.

"Not one clue," Rachel says, eyes still glued to the moving TV screen.

"Well it looks like your future permanent plus 1 is a secret musical junkie," Kurt comments.

"That explains why when I was running lines for Rent, she barely looked at the script. Now I've seen that movie a bunch of times but she's rarely been with me." She thinks back to a few nights ago when she and Santana were reviewing the party scene with Rachel as Maureen and Santana as Joanne.

"Oh this is glorious. I'm so going to have to tease her about this one." This tears Rachel's attention away from the TV screen.

"Oh please no," she begs. "With the stress of planning our wedding and with the case and everything, she really doesn't need you badgering her about this."

"But why not?" Kurt whines. "She always gets on us for liking musicals and musical theater and yet she secretly loves them? This is black mailing gold."

"You like to stay on her bad side, don't you?"

"I'm as big of a bitch as she is. So yes." Kurt says, flipping his neatly quaffed hair.

"Well," but before Rachel can finish her statement, the pair hears the sounds of keys at the front door.

"She's he-e-e-e-reeee," Kurt says like the girl from Poltergeist.

"Shut up!" Rachel warns. And sure enough, a tired looking Santana appears through the door. Briefcase in one hand, navy blue suit jacket in the other, Santana barely lifts her head to see the pair sitting on the couch in the room. "Ba-a-a-aby," she whines kicking off her Louis Vuitton pumps against the door and dropping both the jacket and briefcase on the floor. "Baby, where are you?"

"Right here sweetie," Rachel says, getting up from the couch and walking to the door to meet her fiancé.

"Oh Rach. I had the day from hell," Santana groans, resting her head on Rachel's shoulder.

"Aww." The shorter woman puts her hands on Santana's shoulders, gently massaging the tight muscles. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No. Not really. I just want you to make me feel better." She turns her head slightly and starts placing gentle kisses on Rachel's neck. Rachel, totally forgetting about her guest, melts into Santana's warm, sweet smelling body. Kurt, looking slightly embarrassed by the sight in front of him, eyes Rachel for some help out of this awkward situation.

"Uh…uh…San…oh God," she finds it very hard to focus on speaking with hot lips burning marking into her neck, hitting the particular spots that Santana knows drives her wild.

"Mmmmm," Santana mumbles, the vibrations on Rachel's neck sending chills down her spine and warm moisture straight to her center. "Um…uh…" she tries again but when Santana slides her camisole off her left shoulder and starts to nibble on her collar bone, Rachel loses it. Kurt or no Kurt, she wants Santana. And she wants her now.

Sensing a NC-17 scene developing, Kurt gets up from the couch and clears his throat.

No response.

Just the sound of wet kisses moving on bare flesh and moans saying that whatever Santana is doing; she is doing it well.

Okay, next and final attempt.

"Okay, I guess that's my queue," he yells loud enough for both the women to pull away quickly, flushed and panting.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Santana shouts, turning to spot the smug faced man standing uncomfortably in her living room. "Hummel? What the fuck are you doing in my place?"

"Well I was spending a nice, quiet evening in with my best friend until yo-"

"I'm sorry," she interrupts. "Did you think that me asking meant that I really cared?"

"Well,"

"Get the hell out."

"Santana!" Rachel says.

"What?" Santana asks shrugging her shoulders.

"Be nice," Rachel commands.

"Too late to be nice." Directing her attention back to Kurt. "Now get the fuck out of my crib Lady Hummel afores I ends you cause I gots to be getting' my macks on with my woman."

"And here I thought law school would have improved your vocabulary."

"Oh it has. And I would like your arrogant, pretentious, pompous, outré ass out of my condo." Kurt looks at her wide eyed, stunned by her diction. Rachel looks at the smirking Latina, equally stunned but definitely 100 times more turned on. "You see Pixie Prince, just because I choose not to use it all the time, doesn't mean I don't got it."

"Dually noted."

"Kurt?" Rachel says, walking to the coat hanger by the door.

"Yeah Rach."

"Get out," she commands, taking his suit jacket off of the coat rack and tossing it to him. Kurt catches it with his chest.

"Well then. Later lady," he slings his suit jacket over his forearm, picks up his Civil War style hat and walks to the door. "And the tramp," he says before exiting.

As soon as the door closes, Rachel grabs Santana by the back of her neck and pulls her into a toe-curling, mind wiping, lascivious kiss.

"You have any idea how much I love when you use that Grade A vocabulary?" Rachel husks as they pull apart.

"Of course I do." Santana whispers in her ear before taking hold of the lobe in between her teeth and gently tugging. Rachel shivers and pulls Santana into another bruising kiss that leaves them both flushed and panting. "Why do you think I use it so often?"

"Well don't stop. So you said you had one hell of a day?" Rachel asks undoing the buttons on Santana's white blouse, one by one; teasingly slow. Santana watches as the smaller woman's fingers make their way down her torso. Eyes dark and mouth dry, she answers, "Yeah. I did say something like that."

"Are you still tired?" Rachel finishes undoing the buttons and pushes the shirt off of Santana's shoulders, revealing the black bra underneath.

"Not so much now," Santana says, biting her bottom lip, as Rachel takes her hand and starts to lead her to their bedroom.

"Well good because you're in for one hell of a night."

"Oh sweet baby Jesus."