A/N: Prompt from apathyempathy, who provided Samchelpez and the first paragraph. Thanks!

 *

Sam felt guilty the instant his eyes lingered on Santana as she bent down to pick up her fallen textbook. He felt guilty, that is, until he caught Rachel doing the very same thing without the slightest hint of regret. If anything… He studied his girlfriend… She looked a little proud.

So he caught her before she left the choir room. “Hey,” he whispered, brushing his lips along her ear, “There something you want to tell me?”

“Sam…” Rachel smiled, a hand coming up to thread through the hair at his nape, pushing up on her tiptoes to reciprocate the kiss to her ear, “I’ve already told you that I’m planning on clearing my weekend to better spend it with you.” Moving her lips along his jaw, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders when he kissed her hungrily.

“Okay,” Sam nodded, “No, I’m very happy to hear that.” He smiled, hands curling around her hips, “I just… Don’t hate me?”

Her brows furrowing, Rachel nodded. “I…’ll give you the benefit of the doubt?”

Nodding again, Sam walked them backwards, retaking his seat he’d stood up from to stop his girlfriend. Pulling Rachel down onto his lap, he smiled lopsidedly, locking his hands back around her waist. “Rache…”

“Yes?”

“You…” Sam sighed. There was no point in trying to be vague. Leaning back against the chair, he tried to put the most neutral expression on his face, “…Look at Santana?”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “I… Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she smiled innocently, bending forward to brush her nose along Sam’s.

“Yes you do.” Raising his eyebrows, Sam frowned slightly at his girlfriend. “I’m not stupid, Rache.”

Rachel’s brow furrowed. “I know that. I never said you were.” Touching Sam’s face, she rubbed her thumb along his cheek. “Sam… What is this about?”

“Santana,” he repeated plainly.

“What about her?”

Sam studied her eyes and face, breathing in slowly, equally as slowly letting it out between his teeth. “Rache…” he sighed, shaking his head slightly and tightening his grip on her waist before smoothing down, along her lower back, “You’re attracted to Santana.”

Rachel’s face went white, then red, her body freezing on Sam’s legs. “What?” she whispered, sitting back to stare at him, already shaking her head, “Sam, I’m not cheating on you.”

“And I never said you were.” Smiling slightly, lopsidedly, Sam settled his arms around her waist. “Rache. I never said you were.”

“Then… Then what?”

Sam sighed, managing to do so without seeming like he was making any concessions. “You’re attracted to her,” he repeated. “Don’t try to deny it,” he continued, smiling consciously, allowing again, “I may be pretty, but I ain’t dumb.”

“I…” Rachel’s words died in her throat, her body tensing even more on Sam’s lap, “I don’t…”

Sam shushed her, pulling her into a slow, firm kiss. “Rachel. Aren’t you curious at all why I’m saying this?”

“Maybe…?” Rachel whispered, shoulders wavering in a small shrug, hands sliding back to curl around his ears, her fingers tangling through his hair, “But I don’t know… I’m not sure…” Her teeth worried her lower lip, forehead pressing into his, “I don’t know if I want to hear this…”

“Why?”

Rachel lowered her eyes, not answering.

Sam studied her. “Rachel…” he lowered his voice, stroking her lower back supportively, “Are you… Wait. Do you…” He shook his head, kissing her again, enfolding her securely in his arms, “Are you afraid I’m going to leave you?

“Or,” he continued before she could say anything, “Are you afraid things can change?”

“…Will change,” Rachel corrected quietly, avoiding his eyes as her arms dropped to rest against his chest. “I just. I love you, Sam. I don’t need anyone else. Do…” Her eyes rose, finally, meeting his again, “Do you?”

Sam kissed her softly, reaffirmingly, his arm sweeping up and down her back. “No, promise. I just.” One corner of his lips quirked up. “It’s obvious you’re attracted to her. And, to be honest, I still am too.”

Though she didn’t look surprised, Rachel let out a deep breath, nodding slowly. Her hands flexed in his hair, spasming before falling to rest on his shoulders, her body lowering to relax into his; her cheek brushed against his neck, and she slipped her arms around his chest, “Sam, I… There’s something I have to tell you.”

The tone of her voice made Sam’s heart trip, a slight frown rising to his lips a second later. He stroked her back, “Yeah?”

“Before… Before I got together with you, I…” Rachel shifted, sighing, fingers coming up to grasp his shirt.

Sam nodded.

“…Slept with Santana.”

New story is up~

Title: Blinding Hot, Flashing Lights
Author: Me (purrpickle)
Chapter: 1/?
Word Count: 1,000+
Rating: M
Pairing: Rachel/Santana, Rachel/Sam, Rachel/Sam/Santana
Summary: Rachel knows she should call her girlfriend, get herself out of there, turn her drunken state into something more acceptable. She knows she should turn away. Should give herself a chance to laugh about this later, only barely tinged with a shadow of guilt. Should be responsible. Should do the right thing. Instead, her chin drops in a disjointed nod. 
A/N: Based off of a prompt from an anon; Samchelpez: Sam is a stripper in Kentucky, and Rachel finds him. She likes what she sees, and they wind up having sex… Until Rachel’s girlfriend Santana calls. Thanks!
A/N2: Yes, this has been posted on here before, but I finally got around to posting it on ffnet now. This is for collection on tumblr purposes.

Link here: Blinding Hot, Flashing Lights

The club is dark, dangerous. Too many flashing lights, too full drinks, and Rachel’s just this side of drunk that means she’s not as in control as she’d like to be. 

Tina is laughing in her ear, Lauren and Kitty yelling out excited and free compliments at the stage and the mohawked man rolling his abs who looks almost too much like Puck. But he doesn’t look too much like Puck that it’s off-putting so Rachel finds herself tossing a ten on stage as well. He’s not the best looking man she’s seen yet, but he’s definitely up there, and she finds herself nodding along with Tina’s assertions that she’d gladly get up on him. It’s all in good fun, she knows, so what’s the harm?

And, suddenly, the mohawked man is off, the loud and somewhat annoying announcer saying something about White Chocolate. It sounds familiar, and Rachel chances a glance around the club, blinking her bleary eyes as she realizes maybe the reason why she’s felt like she’s been here before is because she has. That thought, however, is swept away as a tall, well-built blond jumps through the curtains.

He’s devastatingly sexy, even more so than when they were teens, and Rachel can’t look away.

“Is that - ?” Tina horse squeals in her ear, snatching up Rachel’s hand.

Rachel wants to nod, thinks she does, but actually doesn’t because her full attention is on a man she hasn’t seen in years.

“Well, damn,” Lauren looks over the rim of her glasses, lips curling up, “I went after the wrong footballer after all.”

It’s Kitty who’s the first to throw a bill at him. “Sam! White Chocolate!” she yells loudly, waving, “Come ‘ere!”

Those unforgettable lips part in a blinding smile as Sam dances his way over to them, no hint of the panic and surprise Rachel had seen those years ago as he tears his shirt away. His fingers flirt with his pants, and Rachel’s gaze is drawn down as she realizes that this time Sam’s dance won’t end even after he’s recognized them. She sits up, swallows, fingers suddenly sweaty around the bills still in her hand. To make up for the fact she doesn’t know if she wants to smile or say something, she takes a long draught of her drink.

It’s the lights and the dangerous atmosphere of the club, she tells herself.

Sam’s eyes sparkle in the spotlight, the glitter glinting on his abs and arms and chest just accenting how much he’s gotten even sexier. How much he’s further perfected his ab rolls and pelvic thrusts. How he’s perfected… Everything. With a whoop and a money shower courtesy of Tina and Lauren, he performs the same tearing away of his pants as his shirt had gone, and Rachel’s eyes snap down. 

He’s…

Rachel pushes her hand out, practically vibrating as she waits for Sam to come to her. He’s smoother about taking her money now, fingers slipping along hers as he leaves just enough to warrant a personal tucking into his barely-there underwear later in his routine. She knows that’s what he’s offering because he winks at her as he pulls back, throwing his arms up in the air and turning around, swinging his hips to give the group a perfect look at his ass.

“Damn,” Kitty whisper-shouts, the four of them watching as he makes his way to the other side of the stage, “I don’t remember him ever being this - “

“It’s been five years,” Rachel cuts her off, not sure why she does, or why her voice is as husky or pointed as it is. This, seeing Sam, it’s too overwhelming. 

She knows she should call Santana, maybe so they can laugh about it or just make her feel better, to make the pounding of her heart due to someone else entirely. She should. 

Her drink trembles in her hand, her tongue swiping her lips, a too audible gasp leaving her as he turns back. Advancing on the group, pausing to give his attention to Kitty and Lauren and Tina in turn, Rachel knows it’s just to keep up appearances because as soon as he’s reached Rachel, he kneels down on the stage, placing his hand on the table top to support himself as he leans forward. “Rachel…” he breathes into her ear, rough and slightly out of breath, the heat from his body branding into her skin even as he makes it seem like it’s part of his routine - and who says it isn’t? Who says it’s just for Rachel herself, to make her shake and feel faint, to make her legs push together to try to get rid of the awareness erupting inside of her? But, “Rachel…” he finishes whispering, hand closing around hers to draw her hand to his hip and toned abs, sliding it down to the waistband of his thong, “La Quinta, room 18.” 

When he pulls back, making her fingers slip out of his underwear, stroking his burning and sweaty skin as her hand falls away, the twenty safely in his possession, Rachel finds herself staring dumbly at him. His eyes are dark, just as dangerous as the club is, and the corner of his lips quirk up.

He’s waiting.

Tina’s laughing in her ear again, practically draping herself across her shoulders, Lauren and Kitty yelling out suggestive comments again, but Sam keeps his eyes on hers as he goes back to the middle of the stage as the music starts to come to an end.

Rachel knows she should call her girlfriend, get herself out of there, turn her drunken state into something more acceptable.

Rachel knows she should turn away. Should give herself a chance to laugh about this later, only barely tinged with a shadow of guilt. Should be responsible. Should do the right thing…

Instead, her chin drops in a disjointed nod, eyes burning her message into Sam’s because her body can’t move enough to give him any clearer of an answer.

Sam’s smile is blinding, hot, teasing in what is promises.

Knocking back the rest of her drink, Rachel runs her hand through her hair and tries to pretend that she hadn’t just promised someone who wasn’t her girlfriend a night of sex by dropping into the comfort of her friends’ excited chatter. She laughs. She nods. She plays along. And as she does, she slowly, secretly, pulls her phone out of her purse. A heartbeat passes, and she presses down on the power button.

The club is dark, dangerous. Too many flashing lights, too full drinks, and Rachel’s just this side of drunk that means she’s not as in control as she’d like to be. 

In alphabetical order by ship.

Under the Read More are 27 stories containing Artchel, Brittana, Brittberry, Fabang, Faberrittana, Faberry, Fapezberry, Fritters, Pierceman, Puckleberry, Quinncedes, Quinntana, Quitt, Samchelpez, Santina, Santinchel, Tike, Tikeberry, Tinchel, and Other.

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A/N: First paragraph supplied by ApathyEmpathy. Not finished, but there does need to be more Samchelpez around, be it romantic or platonic. :D

*

Sam felt guilty the instant his eyes lingered on Santana as she bent down to pick up her fallen textbook. He felt guilty, that is, until he caught Rachel doing the very same thing without the slightest hint of regret. If anything… He studied his girlfriend… She looked a little proud.

So he caught her before she left the choir room. “Hey,” he whispered, brushing his lips along her ear, “There something you want to tell me?”

“Sam…” Rachel smiled, a hand coming up to thread through the hair at his nape, pushing up on her tiptoes to reciprocate the kiss to her ear, “I’ve already told you that I’m planning on clearing my weekend to better spend it with you.” Moving her lips along his jaw, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders when he kissed her hungrily.

“Okay,” Sam nodded, “No, I’m very happy to hear that.” He smiled, hands curling around her hips, “I just… Don’t hate me?”

Her brows furrowing, Rachel nodded. “I…’ll give you the benefit of the doubt?”

Nodding again, Sam walked them backwards, retaking his seat he’d stood up from to stop his girlfriend. Pulling Rachel down onto his lap, he smiled lopsidedly, locking his hands back around her waist. “Rache…”

“Yes?”

“You…” Sam sighed. There was no point in trying to be vague. Leaning back against the chair, he tried to put the most neutral expression on his face, “…Look at Santana?”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “I… Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she smiled innocently, bending forward to brush her nose along Sam’s.

“Yes you do.” Raising his eyebrows, Sam frowned slightly at his girlfriend. “I’m not stupid, Rache.”

Rachel’s brow furrowed. “I know that. I never said you were.” Touching Sam’s face, she rubbed her thumb along his cheek. “Sam… What is this about?”

“Santana,” he repeated plainly.

“What about her?”

Sam studied her eyes and face, breathing in slowly, equally as slowly letting it out between his teeth. “Rache…” he sighed, shaking his head slightly and tightening his grip on her waist before smoothing down, along her lower back, “You’re attracted to Santana.”

Rachel’s face went white, then red, her body freezing on Sam’s legs. “What?” she whispered, sitting back to stare at him, already shaking her head, “Sam, I’m not cheating on you.”

“And I never said you were.” Smiling slightly, lopsidedly, Sam settled his arms around her waist. “Rache. I never said you were.”

“Then… Then what?”

Sam sighed, managing to do so without seeming like he was making any concessions. “You’re attracted to her,” he repeated. “Don’t try to deny it,” he continued, smiling consciously, allowing again, “I may be pretty, but I ain’t dumb.”

“I…” Rachel’s words died in her throat, her body tensing even more on Sam’s lap, “I don’t…”

Sam shushed her, pulling her into a slow, firm kiss. “Rachel. Aren’t you curious at all why I’m saying this?”

“Maybe…?” Rachel whispered, shoulders wavering in a small shrug, hands sliding back to curl around his ears, her fingers tangling through his hair, “But I don’t know… I’m not sure…” Her teeth worried her lower lip, forehead pressing into his, “I don’t know if I want to hear this…”

“Why?”

Rachel lowered her eyes, not answering.

Sam studied her. “Rachel…” he lowered his voice, stroking her lower back supportively, “Are you… Wait. Do you…” He shook his head, kissing her again, enfolding her securely in his arms, “Are you afraid I’m going to leave you?

“Or,” he continued before she could say anything, “Are you afraid things can change?”

“…Will change,” Rachel corrected quietly, avoiding his eyes as her arms tightened around him.

((to be continued))

“What will they call him?”

“Sam?” Santana shrugged, too involved with her nails, “Like I care.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “I know you don’t care,” she huffed, “But I’m still asking.”

Looking away from her emery board, Santana frowned at Rachel. “Hobbit,” she scowled, “Why do you even care? It’s just a stupid stripper name.”

Rachel’s jaw worked. “Santana,” she started, indignant, “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“What’s there to get?” Finally meeting Rachel’s gaze head-on, Santana scowled at her. “Sam’s gorgeous. He’s stripping. Yeah, so? What does it matter, his stripper name? He’s still ours, ain’t he?”

“Oh my god,” Rachel snapped, “I love you both!”

Santana and Sam froze.

“Wait…” Sam stuttered, Santana finishing for him, “What did you say?”

A hand to the bridge of her nose, Rachel took a ginger seat on the edge of the bench. “Please,” she gentled her voice, “Can you – can you both please just… Listen?

“I never meant for this to happen,” she continued, “For both of you… For me to…”

Sam met Santana’s eyes. “Rachel…?”

Santana swallowed. “Berry?”

Watching the two sit down on either side of her, Rachel managed a small smile. “Both of you,” she whispered.

“Are you sure about this?”

Santana met Rachel’s eyes. “Yes.”

“And it’s not just for me?” Rachel’s lower lip trembled.

Sighing affectionately, Santana kissed Rachel’s forehead, encircling her waist with her hands. “Rache, baby,” she whispered, pressing her lips against Rachel’s, “I love you.”

“And I love you,” Rachel started.

Santana interrupted her, “Sam’s a hot piece of meat no matter how you look at him, okay? I’ve been on that trouty mouth. Now.” Turning, she rapped on Sam’s hotel door, “We’re good.

“Guppy Lips!” she smirked when he answered, “Gonna let us in?”

“I… Okay…” Sam stepped back. “Sure.”

Oh no, you are still awake. Let me tell you a bedtime story:

Rachel was trying to hold it together, working on her last nerve. She loved her kids, she really, really loved them. But sometimes… seven year old twins could be a handful. Luke was a neverending ball of energy and since it was raining, he couldn’t play in the garden, not even in the treehouse, because there was a leak. He was running all around the house, trying to set up a blanket fort, but changing his mind where to set up camp. And Rachel didn’t have time to concentrate on him, because she had to bake 10 dozens muffins for the bakesale Leia’s soccer team was doing tomorrow (Leia had a letter explaining everything, but her daughter sometimes forgot to forward messages on time).

And now someone knocked on the front door frantically.

For a moment Rachel was surprised standing opposite Santana. She didn’t even know she was in town. And now she was standing on her porch, soaking wet, with a crooked smile on her face.

“Surprise.” She held up a bottle of wine and waited for Rachel to invite her in. Luke tackled her immediately and Leia gave up her spot watching the dough to give her favourite aunt a hug.

Rachel tried to explain what she was doing, but before she could start apologizing for not being a model-host right now, Santana scooped the kids up and showed them how a real blanket fort was done. She had practice. She had to stay in hotels so much when touring with her band and when she felt particularly lonely, she would grab the sheets and pillows and built herself a fort to hide in, comforting herself (she left out the part where Jack Daniels often would accompany her or how she looked up very adult stuff on her laptop if nobody was there for some Skype).

Sam came finally home, coaching the high school football team was at a critical stage right now, his team was on the way winning the State Championship. Rachel was finally taking the last of the muffins out of the oven when Sam stepped up from behind, embracing her and placing a kiss on her neck.

They found Santana in their living room inside the fort. Luke and Leia fast asleep on either side of her (or well, half on her), still reading them a story. Sam took his kids and made them ready for bed and Rachel took their place, cuddling her friend and both enjoyed the quiet comfort.

“I needed a break and wanted to go home. But somehow I ended up here, you know.” Santana whispered.

Rachel wiggled a bit closer. “You are always welcome here and you know it.”

A/N: This Samchel/Pezberry/Samchelpez idea just came to me, and I’m sharing it with you because. Ooh, assume there’s a snarky Kurt hanging out as well.

*

Everyone fully expected Sam and Rachel to get together by the time high school ended. Rachel and Sam expected it too. But it never was the right time, and it never happened.

And now, a year later, Sam is knocking on Rachel’s apartment door, finally ready to take that step he wished he had years ago.

Except it’s Santana who opens the door.