“Some Rules are Meant to be Broken” – GLEE (Pezberry)

[delovelys]

Hi all! I’ve been working on this fic for a few days now and I’m pretty happy with where it’s currently going. If you aren’t familiar with Rachel, Santana, or Glee in general, that’s perfectly fine; you don’t really need to be to follow the story! For those of you who are, this takes place sometime during season four after Santana has moved to NY and if he-who-shall-never-be-named (Brody) had never existed, simply because… he sucks. I recently had this vividly adorable daydream of Rachel coming down with a horrible cold and Santana – who is secretly in love with her – has to pretend to be repulsed by it when all she really wants to do is cuddle and kiss her until she feels better.

I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~

PART I

You’re not supposed to fall in love with your roommate, okay? You’re just not. It’s one of those unspoken rules that everybody knows about. Santana’s seen all the cheesy rom-coms; she’s read all the horribly depressing stories in the trashy magazines Kurt keeps updated on the coffee table. It’s something she’d originally never really thought twice about, especially after moving in with Ladies Fabulous, but she knew something was up the first time she caught herself staring at Rachel a little too long.

And to be honest, she’s pretty fucking spooked by it. Rachel’s the kind of person who Santana’s never particularly enjoyed the company of, especially when it’s just the two of them. During high school, she made sure that Rachel was well aware of how repulsed she was by her personality whenever she got the chance. The side comments, the crude remarks – they weren’t used as some sort of mechanism to keep her feelings for the smaller girl underground because she simply didn’t have those feelings back then. If she did, it sure took her a while to realize them.

Also, it’s pretty hard to fall in love with someone who keeps a color-coordinated chore chart on the fridge, and paints color-by-number pictures of kittens in her spare time, and doesn’t allow any junk food in the loft, even if it’s sugar-free soda. But somehow, Santana’s done it.

Anyways, she tries not to think about it too often. It consumed her thoughts at first, the self-denial and self-questioning, but Santana’s always been one to push her feelings under the rug to deal with later. It’s quite a skill, and she’ll tell you so herself; she’s had plenty of past experience. She thinks she’s at the point where she’s accepted her feelings for Rachel, for whatever they are, but she’s not ready to deal with them yet. She wouldn’t know where to start. What if Rachel laughs in her face? What if Rachel tells all of their mutual friends? Or worse, what if Rachel immediately turns her down?

When Kurt told the two of them at dinner one night that he was planning on going back to Lima to try and salvage the remainder of his previous relationship with Blaine, she didn’t really care about what he had to say. Her eyes were too entranced on Rachel’s fingers, fiddling with the fork in her right hand, and the way her soft lips curled into a smile whenever Kurt had something funny to say.

Santana eventually came up with a plan; the longer she spent outside of the apartment, the longer she spent away from Rachel, which limited the possibility of Santana’s feelings developing any further.

Santana comes home fairly early a few evenings after Kurt leaves, knowing full well that Rachel planned on spending the night out with some of her NYADA friends. As she strides over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water, she hears a slight rustling from the right side of the loft. She freezes in her tracks, carefully and quietly shutting the fridge door.

“Um, hello?” Santana questions out loud, her eyebrows pulling together irritably as she listens for any further noise. As if on cue, another, somewhat louder rustling noise occurs and Santana rolls her eyes. Can’t a girl have a quiet night at home without having to deal with calling the police?

“If you’re hoping to steal something that works, I don’t suggest taking any of the half-empty acne treatment bottles from the bathroom. If you saw my pizza-face roommate, you’d understand.”

“Sadtada, is that you?”

Santana can feel almost all the color drain from her face as the rustling noise turns into the sweet, delicate voice of Rachel. Without thinking, she immediately walks over to the other side of the loft, pulling the curtain back to witness Rachel’s limp form curled up underneath a pile of blankets on her bed. She has a book propped open in her lap next to a near-empty box of tissues, and she has this ridiculously huge sweatshirt on, and her nose is tinged bright red around the edges of her nostrils.

Santana has to bite her tongue to keep from telling the other girl how cute she thinks she looks.

“I sidcerely hope you wered’t - *sniff* - talkig about be,” Rachel says, somewhat amused. Santana’s about to tell her that she was actually talking about Kurt, which wouldn’t be a lie, before she catches onto Rachel’s extremely congested tone.

“Jesus Christ, Rachel, what the hell kind of plague did you catch?” Santana asks, wrinkling her nose in an attempt to feign disgust, crossing her arms over her chest.

“The worst kide,” Rachel mutters. “I hab - *sniff* - I hab… Ahhh… AhhPTCHIIeew! AhtCHHiiEWw! Ugh, excuse be.”

Santana waits patiently as the other girl draws a tissue from the box in her lap, folding it around her nose with both hands and emptying her nose in a series of long, gurgling blows. She sighs once she’s done, almost as if she’s so relieved to be able to breathe through her nose again, if only for a moment.

(That’s enough to make Santana want to hug Rachel tight, possibly even drop a kiss on top of her head, but she’s not going to think about that right now.)

“Adyways, like I was sayig - *sniff* - I habed’t beed feelig good all day. You would’be knowd that if you were hobe at all today.”

Santana shakes her head, almost in disbelief. Rachel never gets sick.

“I must say, Berry, you’re handling this surprisingly well. What happened to the Rachel who throws temper tantrums when things don’t go her way?” She smirks a little and sits down on the end of the bed, mindful of the huge pile of soggy-looking tissues to her left.

“You’re probably expecting me to wait on you hand and foot; I know how your mind works. You can pretend all you want, but all that bullshit you’ve built up since the day you were pushed out of your surrogate mother’s uterus and into the soon-to-be-disappointed arms of your gay fathers about how the world revolves around you is never gonna go away.”

“Doe, it’s okay, Sadtada, really.” Rachel presses her lips together as Santana raises an eyebrow in shock.

“It is?”

Rachel nods, pinching her nose in the crumpled tissue she has in her hand to keep any of the thin mucus in her nose from oozing out. “Positive. I’d rather you go watch TV or sobethig thad bake fud of by Rudolph dose.”

Santana smiles tightly, trying to look somewhat relieved. To be honest, the idea of taking care of the smaller girl all night sounds way better than any episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians she has recorded on the DVR. She’s always had a caretaker’s instinct – her abuela always said so. She can’t just tell Rachel that, though.

“Again: I’m pleasantly surprised,” the Latina finally says, clapping her hands together as she stands up. She looks over her shoulder as she gets up to leave the room. “Don’t get your snot all over your pillowcase; it’s my turn to do laundry this week.”

Rachel lets out a stuffy-sounding laugh and nods again before Santana goes out into the living room. The sound of her heels clicking against the hardwood floor is interrupted by another round of wet sneezes from the right side of the loft.

“Ahhh-ATTCHhieeww! AptCHIIieeww!”

Santana sighs as she plops down on the couch, a loud, wet sound filling the apartment as Rachel once again blows her nose from her bedroom. She’s going to have a hard time falling asleep tonight, and it’s all because the girl she’s in love with is sneezing her head off twenty feet away from her and she can’t do anything to stop it.

~~~~~

I hope that was somewhat decent. I’m sorry if this chapter was a little boring to you; there was a lot of background information that needed to be covered! Now that that’s out of the way, there should be a lot more sneezy and sniffly Rachel in the next part, that is, if there are people out there who want me to continue.

[BootyBurgers]

I loved it! It was adorably sweet I'd love to see more!

[wannablessedbe]

aaahhhh so cute!!! I honestly never thought much about pezberry till this season; but recently all those sweet duets they've been doing have definitely caught my imagination. love the concept here, and very happy to see someone else writing a glee girl ship here at all! definitely keep going

[24Me]

Amazing! Love love love it! Do continue, please? :)

[Yuuki]

wow its rare to see a pezberry story *O*

I am glad someone is doing one :3

[delovelys]

Hi everyone! Thanks for all the positive feedback! It’s definitely a nice way to be welcomed to the forum. This chapter is a little shorter than the first but it contains lots more sneezes! I had a lot of fun writing it so I hope y’all enjoy.

~~~~~

PART II

The thing that jolts Santana out of her sleep is a loud crash.

And by ‘jolts’, she literally means ‘jolts’. She actually jumps, a barely-audible shriek leaving her lips as she sits up. It doesn’t take long for her to wake up completely, and, albeit a little disoriented, she stands up from the couch and stretches quietly. A sharp pain enters her neck as she looks around the loft.

“Cheap-ass pillows,” she grumbles to herself as she massages the kink in her neck, just before her eyes meet Rachel’s across the loft. The tiny brunette is bent down on her knees in the kitchen area, a small pout set in her lips as she picks up what appears to be broken pieces of glass with her bare hands, reaching up to place them on the table. She looks completely pathetic, Santana thinks, and while she would normally make Rachel clean the mess up herself… the poor girl’s sick.

Maybe it’s not so bad if Rachel doesn’t think she’s a horrible person, she realizes.

“Rachel, hey, hey,” Santana mutters, approaching the other girl and slowing her pace as she grows warier of the shards of glass on the hardwood. “What the hell are you doing? It’s…” She looks over her shoulder at the huge, antique clock Kurt spent a bogus amount of money on across the loft. “It’s two in the morning.”

“I – I was bakig tea,” Rachel stammers, her voice noticeably hoarser since the last time she spoke to Santana, “and I wedt to go fill up by bug with hot water - *sniff* - ad I dropped it. Ahhh-ATTCHhhIIEW! ApttCHIieeww!”

Santana feels a slight pain rise in her chest as Rachel’s tiny fingers continue to pick up pieces of glass from the floor, bringing one of her hands back to wipe her wrist against the underside of her nose.

She sighs and shakes her head. “You shouldn’t be touching glass with your bare hands, y’know. I’m sure the last thing you want to do while you’re sick is end up with a huge gash.”

“It’s dot that sharp,” Rachel says stubbornly. “I cad do it.”

Santana bites her bottom lip, bringing up her arms to cross over her chest. “Rachel –”

“AhhPTCHIIeeww!” The smaller girl sniffles desperately, pinching her nostrils between her thumb and index finger as her nose becomes completely filled with liquid discharge. “AhttCHHiiEWw! Ugh... - *sniff* - ApttCHhhiiEW!”

Santana bends down immediately to where Rachel is propped on her knees against the floor, picking up a napkin from the kitchen table on her way down. It’s not the most ideal substitute for a tissue because of how scratchy and thin the material is, but judging from the glistening underside of Rachel’s pink nose, she needs it pretty badly.

“Here,” the Latina says as she shoves the napkin into Rachel’s hands. “Let me do this. There’s a broom in the corner over there; will you grab it for me?”

Rachel walks a few feet over to the corner of the loft and picks up the broom without saying a word, seemingly too tired to question Santana’s random stint of kindness. As she places the broom in the other girl’s hands, she quickly brings her other elbow up to shield her face.

“AptCHIIieeww!” Rachel practically falls into the nearest chair at the kitchen table, nearest to where Santana’s cleaning up the remaining shards of glass, giving her nose an exhausted swipe with the napkin she has in her hand.

“Damn, Berry,” Santana says with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood a little. “Bless you.”

The brunette grabs another flimsy napkin and buries her nose in it, attempting to get rid of the thin mucus inside with one long, noisy blow, at which Santana winces.

“I’b glad you fide this so abusig,” Rachel says finally, rubbing her nose up and down in the soggy napkin to lessen the possibility of another sneeze. Santana can’t help but laugh.

“Believe it or not, Sick Rachel is way less fun to make fun of than Normal Rachel because at least Normal Rachel has enough energy to think of witty comebacks.” She wrinkles her nose. “But the way you talk is pretty funny.”

She smiles slightly, but she looks a little forlorn. “I doe. I dod’t - *sniff* - doe how to bake it stop.”

“Have you taken any medicine?” Santana asks as she sweeps the last of the broken mug into the trash can, eyeing the other girl out of the corner of her eye.

“I took whateber was id the bedicide cabidet that’s supposed to get rid of codgestiod. Ahhh… AhtCHHiiEewww!”

“Sounds like it’s really worked.” She rolls her eyes as Rachel blows her nose again, visibly dampening the cheap napkin with the clear mucus leaking from her nose. She sighs, placing her hand against the other girl’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go back to bed? I’ll bring you your tea.”

“You’re dot goig to put sobethig id it, are you?” Rachel asks.

Santana raises an eyebrow, a little taken aback. Is she really that horrible of a person to Rachel for her to think that she would put something awful in her drink when she’s sick?

“You know, Rachel, thinking of brand new ways to torture you isn’t the only thing I do in my free time. I always sort of left that up to Quinn back in high school. You’re obviously not feeling well, so go lay down, okay?” She turns her back to Rachel as she grabs another mug from the cabinet above the sink, trying not to let Rachel’s words offend her too much.

It’s silent. The only sound that can be heard is Rachel’s congested sniffles, which come to a halt after a few seconds. Just when Santana’s certain that she’s retreated back to her bedroom, she feels a pair of thin, warm arms snake around her waist. When she looks over, Rachel’s leaned into her side, her head ducked against her shoulder. Santana cautiously brings up her arm to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her in just a little closer.

She has to remind herself to breathe properly so Rachel doesn’t think – or possibly even know – that her heart is palpitating.

“Thadks, Sadtada,” she whispers a little while later, letting Santana out of her embrace and smiling weakly up at her. “I owe you big time.”

Santana can only nod, her mouth parted although she is unable to speak. When she’s finally mustered up the courage to tell Rachel she doesn’t owe her anything, a curtain flutters across the loft and Rachel’s in her bedroom.

[4000tacobells]

Super cute, I'm really loving this! I've never given this pair much thought before now, but I think I'm liking the dynamic. It's like diva-overload but in a good way ♥

[BootyBurgers]

Adorable! I'd love to see another part!

[delovelys]

thank you both so much! and I can see where you're coming from, 4000tacobells! It's been extreme diva overload pretty much since the start of season five which is why I wanted this story to be set in season four. they weren't out to get each other back then, at least not as much.

also, I should have another part up by Sunday night. I'm not sure how many parts this will end up having, but I vow to finish it by the end of the month!