Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"IF WE JUST STAY REALLY QUIET, we won't have to move," JJ whispered, playing with Santana's hair while she was laying on him, and his arms were wrapped around her.
"JJ," Santana whispered back, "We are literally lying on the Chateau porch WITH the Pogues."
"Yeah but when shit's peaceful and we move..." JJ slurred his words a little, "Shits not peaceful?"
Santana tried her best not to laugh but it turned into a cackle. She looked down at her top, "Am I high or am I one move from a nip slip?"
"Both," JJ replied, softly shaking his head as he pulled up her bra — the two continuing to laugh into oblivion.
Santana pulled JJ's hands in front of her and started playing with his rings, "Dude, who the fuck let us get high right now?"
"Amen to that," JJ chuckled, missing the point — he was too distracted by Santana twirling his rings around his fingers. He ended up taking one of them off, causing Santana frown, "Hey, I was quite enjoying myself there."
Though she couldn't see it, he was smiling from ear to ear as he slipped the ring onto her pointer finger, "I think it looks better on you."
"Obviously it would," Santana hummed, grabbing his hands again. JJ wouldn't admit but he practically melted, grinning harder — if that was even possible.
Their moment of bliss was mildly disrupted when Sarah Cameron walked around the back, clearly on a mission.
"Shouldn't you be on Figure Eight with your little group of polo players?" John B glared at Sarah, slouching in his single couch seat. He plastered a conveniently sarcastic smile across his face, "Or did you break up with Topper?"
"We're just friends," Sarah met him with the same kind of smile, "I mean, it seems like you've got a lot of friends too John B."
"All right, what're you doing here?" He finally sat up and Sarah replied in an instant, "I'm here for Pope... I think I found the island room."
"Are we talking like mai tai's and... actually, what the fuck else would an island room ensue?" Santana finally sat up, intrigued although her thoughts were crushed. Pope rolled his eyes, "On the key, there was a riddle. Something about an island room."
"How did I miss this?" Santana pouted.
"Dunno," JJ shrugged, "It might have something to do with your family skipping town and dad blowing up in to flames but I don't know. I'm just spitballing here."
"Sometimes I have these deep thoughts Maybank," Santana sighed, "And I can't decide if when you speak I want to roundhouse kick you in the face or protect it for our children's genetics."
"That's why they're genetics San," Pope scoffed, "It's basically predetermined."
"I'm being hyperbolic Einstein. But that's okay because all you're really saying is that I should roundhouse kick him in the face."
