So this is a set of twenty-one kisses between members of New Directions (and Jacob). The pairings were randomly generated by computer, and if this gets a good enough response, I'll do another set of girl/girl and guy/guy kisses. Also, Kurt was put in the category of 'girls' because I love him and want him to be happy =) All the quotes were found on the internet. If you want to know who said them, look it up. I'm lazy.

The most eloquent silence
that of two mouths meeting in a kiss.


Kiss me and you will see how important I am.

Santana was a slut. Every sane person at McKinley High knew that.

But very few saw past that. Past her cold, bitchy exterior and into her soft, broken, still sort of bitchy interior.

Mike was one of those few.

When she offered to make out with him in exchange for a ride to the mall, he whole-heartedly agreed – he was a sixteen-year-old boy after all. But five minutes into their face-sucking session and he was pushing her away, telling her that that was good enough payment for the short commute to the mall and that he needed to get home.

But Santana didn't stop. She kept going and going, kisses and panting, until they were both stripped to their underwear in Mike's backseat. She nibbled at his neck, tugging at his hair.

"Wait- Santana, wait- Stop!" Mike pushed the Cheerio back, trying to calm his breathing. She stared at him incredulously, a sad gleam in her eye. "Just…slow down, San. I really do need to get home. And aren't you meeting Brittany?"

Santana said nothing, only stared at her clothes dejectedly. Without her uniform she looked so thin, so small. She was just a little girl, really. A sad, lonely little girl.

Mike cupped her face with one hand, pressing his lips against hers gently and slowly. They broke apart, and Santana looked absolutely flabbergasted.

"Let's take things slowly, okay? I'll pick you up tomorrow night at eight. Movie and dinner sound good?"


Never a lip is curved with pain that can't be kissed into smile again.

These days it seemed like the entire glee club walked in a pack. They entered the lunchroom together and left it together. They walked to and from glee practice in a herd, chatting warily as they passed jersey-clad Neanderthals. They even tended to hang out on the weekends as a sort of cult ever since Kurt and Mercedes had been slushied in the mall. They were a family – a protective, paranoid family.

And since these excursions were led by none other than Finn "Long Legs" Hudson, the other members of New Directions had difficulties keeping up, especially Artie and Quinn.

While his upper-arm strength was impressive, it wasn't enough to keep Artie in stride with Frankenteen and his band of athletes. And ever since his less-than-amicable break-up with Tina (one of many to come, he would later find out due to the on-again, off-again nature of the couple), he didn't have anyone who was willing to push him around for more than five minutes.

Luckily for him, Quinn Fabray was ready to pop. Her baby was due in a few weeks, and with each Friday outing she was getting slower and slower.

They started to learn more about each other, started to become friends as the pack raced behind Finn. He let her vent forever about Finn and Puck and Santana and Coach Sylvester and her parents and maternity wear and cravings until she was blue in the face, and she let him touch her stomach, let him marvel in the wonder that was a new life.

It was during one of these moments, where Artie held her hand as she paused to rest her aching feet and the group left them even farther behind and she let his hand travel to her belly (it absolutely fascinated him) that they kissed. Quinn covered his hand with both of her own and leaned down as best she could, pressing her lips gently to his. He kissed back softly, rubbing her swollen stomach with his thumb as she tangled a hand in his hair.

They broke it off quickly, both teens blushing and grinning, then continued walking, not even trying to catch up with the rest of the group.


I have found men who didn't know how to kiss. I've always found time to teach them.

It was in fifth grade when Brittany learned that she really, really liked kissing. First she kissed Finn, 'cause he was really nice and shared his cupcake with her. Then she kissed Mike after he told her she was pretty. She even kissed Noah every so often 'cause he was really, really cute. Brittany just liked to kiss people.

Once she got to middle school, she was already a pro. Every boy she made out with was clumsy and nervous, and Brittany found it exhilarating. For once, she was smart about something.

Matt was one of those boys. She set her sights on him when he joined the football team in seventh grade, and didn't rest until he asked her to the school dance.

They entered the dark gym, entranced by the loud, rhythmic beating of the music. Brittany grabbed Matt by the hand and pulled him into the middle of the mingling prepubescent bodies, the scent of sweat and newly-raging hormones overwhelming the quiet boy. Brittany pushed her body up against his, loving the way he blushed and awkwardly pushed back, eyes lighting up as he experienced this new, arousing feeling.

Brittany wrapped her arms around his neck, crashing her lips against Matt's. He was so fresh, so new, so unknowing, and Brittany – she knew everything. She knew how to drive boys wild, she knew how to turn them to mush in her hands, she knew how to control them with the touch of her lips.

Though Brittany would only ever vaguely remember that night once she joined glee club many years later (and, really, she couldn't even remember her own middle name), Matt would never forget his first kiss. It had been so exciting, so fresh, so terrifying.

Girls were never the same after that.


Her lips on his could tell him better than all her stumbling words.

It had been almost a year since Tina admitted to faking her stutter, and Artie was still gradually trying to forgive her. He mostly did, and he most certainly loved her, but sometimes there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that still wanted to hate her.

But now, as she stood before him in nothing but her black-lace panties, face flushing and breathing ragged, it's all that Artie can think about. Not so much the fake stutter, but the shy, insecure girl who had faked one in the first place. Without her fashion and her makeup, Tina is still his little stutterfly.

"I-I-I h-hope- I-I mean, d-do you l-like it? I-I-I mean, is it o-o-okay? I-I-I mean-"

Her voice is quavering with nerves, her tone desperate for approval. Artie just smiles and pulls her onto his lap, silencing her with a kiss.

Her lips move feverously against his, bruising them with her want, her need, her love. She was so eloquent without words, and Artie could have sworn he was feeling every emotion she was, just through her kisses.

She pulled back, resting her forehead against his. Artie smiled, pecking her on the nose.

"It's perfect. You're perfect."


You may conquer with the sword,but you are conquered by a kiss.

She may have been head Cheerio, but Mike wasn't afraid of Quinn. She used her sharp wit and cold looks to control the student body, but it didn't work on a certain football player. Sure, she was Quinn Fabray, Cheerio and president of the Celibacy Club, prettiest girl to ever grace McKinley's halls, and a bitch to boot, but to Mike she was just Quinnie, the girl he played with on the monkey bars when they were kids.

He saw past the ice-queen shell, to the little girl with pigtails and dirt on her face. He knew that she hated being mean to those undeserving of her wrath. He knew she needed that control, needed that power. He knew she was insecure and unhappy. He knew her.

So when she insulted his intelligence, calling him a Neaderthal and an idiot, he didn't feel hurt. He didn't insult her back or storm off or cry like a little girl, no. He kissed her.

Suddenly, she was Quinnie again, breathless from chasing frogs, shaking from the cold of making a snowman, staring in wonder at the giant tree Mike climbed all by himself. There was no cheerleading, there was no popularity, no status to maintain, no world to lead, no classmates to terrorize. There was just Mike and Quinn.

She ran down the hallway, pigtails flouncing, pink dress stained by the mud pile she fell in, and all Mike could do was watch as Quinnie was once again locked up by Quinn Fabray.


Everybody winds up kissing the wrong person goodnight.

Everything was so wrong. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

Finn wasn't supposed to lose his virginity in such a blasé manner (he didn't even know what blasé meant! Kurt just used it a lot, and it sounded right). No, Finn was supposed to lose it to someone like Rachel, or…Quinn. Hell, he would have rather lost it to Kurt, and Kurt creeped him out a little. At least Kurt cared about him.

But Santana – it didn't matter to her. She'd done it a million times, with a million other guys whose names she could barely remember. Finn was just another goal crossed off her list.

She mumbled something about wanting a cheeseburger, and Finn sighed.

"Hey, let's go. I want food," Santana said, gripping his shoulder. The football player nodded, swallowing loudly. The cheerleader rolled her eyes, kissing Finn roughly and seductively.

"Come on. I'm hungry." She stood up, pulling her pants on. Finn followed, eyes on the floor. There was a gnawing, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, and Finn wondered why he felt so dirty and guilty.

"I'll right. Let's go," he said, pulling on his jacket. She kissed him again, a bored expression on her face. Everything was so wrong, everything was so cold.

Finn just closed his eyes and shut the door behind them, wondering if the pain in his gut would ever go away.


Kissing is like drinking salted water. You drink, and your thirst increases.

"Hey, Britt," Mike greeted, wrapping his arm around the Cheerio's shoulder. She smiled at him, leaning into his hug as they walked down the hallway.

"Brittany! Hurry up!" Santana called from down the hall. Brittany pulled away from Mike, pecking him on the lips before running after her friend. Mike put his hands to his lips, relishing the electric tingle that seemed to encase them.

He couldn't pay attention in fifth period. By sixth he was drawing doodles of those soft, pink lips, licking his own non-stop. In seventh he didn't even bother to get his book out; he had a window-side seat, and there was no way he'd be able to concentrate today.

Eighth period came, and Mike didn't show up for class. Instead, he knocked on Mrs. Samson's door, telling her that Brittany was needed in Coach Sylvester's office. Brittany rose to her feet, looking baffled (but then again, when didn't she look baffled?) and followed Mike into the hall, smiling at him.

That smile remained as he pushed her back against the lockers, hands on her hips. He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing uneven.

"I've been thinking about that kiss since lunch," he said, closing his eyes for a second. "And it's been driving me wild."

Brittany still looked baffled, but grinned wider. Mike couldn't hold back anymore – he needed another kiss. His mouth connected with hers, and the football player felt like a junkie getting another fix of heroin, a little kid getting another cookie. Him and her, it felt so right.

The blonde girl laughed slightly as Mike pulled away, panting. "What am I going to do with you?"

Mike winked. "Whatever you want, babe."

She looked excited, and as he pulled her close again, she whispered, "Maybe Mom will let me keep you as a pet."


Lord! I wonder what fool it was that first invented kissing.

Tina felt dirty. Dirty and gross and desperate and lonely. As Jacob's saliva-covered lips met hers, she wondered why she did this to herself. Why she couldn't just stop with the stutter and grow a pair and make friends. She wasn't hideous or mean or obnoxious; surely someone could like her?

But here she was, releasing her frustration and loneliness and anger in yet another hook-up with Jacob Ben Israel, creep extraordinaire. When did she stoop so low? When did she become so alone?

Is there anyone out there to love me?



A kiss may ruin a human life.

Kurt scowled at the greasy boy in front of him, biting back the long list of insults he was accumulating about Jacob's appearance. For once, his fashion advice would have to wait.

"How much do I have to cough up to keep you quiet?" He asked, tapping his foot impatiently. Jacob grinned his awkward, creepy smile, rubbing his hands together.

"Oh, I don't accept bribes, Hummel." Kurt huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest to quell the nagging dread building quietly within him.

"Then what can I do to possibly get you to not run the story about Sam?" He asked, chewing on his tongue slightly. He knew where this was going. He knew that nothing good would come from this. Years of extensive therapy would probably be needed, but anything for Sam.

Jacob rushed forward, pushing his chapped lips against Kurt's. Kurt tensed, but didn't fight back. Their teeth clashed painfully, and Jacob's tongue was begging for entrance.

Was protecting Sam's sexuality worth this torture? Jacob's breath smelled like tuna and breath mints, and Kurt could only imagine what it tasted like on the inside. But Sam wasn't ready for anyone but Kurt to know his secret, and Kurt Hummel was not one to tell secrets.

So here he was, with Jacob's slimy tongue shoved down his throat, wishing he were dead. But Sam was worth it – Kurt loved that boy more than he would ever know.

"Kurt?" A soft voice called out, and the two boys turned to see Sam at the other end of the hallway, staring at them with wide eyes. "Oh, sorry. I'll just go."

And Kurt wanted to cry. He had accepted the fact that Finn would never love him – that boy was straighter than a ruler. But Sam was gay. Sam had come to him when he was coming to terms with that. Sam had confided all of his little secrets in Kurt and Kurt had kept them all.

But it didn't matter that they were the only gay kids at McKinley High. Sam would never love him.


Words are a wonderful form of communication, but they will never replacekissesand punches

When Noah Puckerman, stud extraordinaire, found Asian Girl sitting in the choir room, crying, he was ready to high-tail it out of there. He didn't do comforting and all that crap. He was Puckzilla, panty connoisseur, and crying chicks made him uncomfortable.

But she was Artie's girl, and Puck had taken a liking to Wheel-chair Boy, so Puckzilla swallowed his pride and sat next to Goth Chick awkwardly.

"You okay, Stutterfly?" He asked, before realizing she was nursing her hand. "You hurt?"

Original Asian nodded, gasping for a breath. "T-t-t-they s-shoved Kurt i-into me a-a-and I ran into th-the lockers. Kurt's in the b-b-bathroom, washing the b-b-blood off h-his face a-a-and I-I just didn't…want…to b-be alone, s-so I came here, w-w-where it's safe."

Puck, for reasons unknown to him, felt guilty. "Where's Artie?"

Goth Asian Stutter Girl (he really needed to stop with the nicknames) hiccupped. "A-at guitar l-l-lessons. B-but don't tell him, p-p-please. H-h-he'll go after Azimio himself, a-a-and that w-wont end w-well."

A fresh bout of tears ran down her face, smudging her dark eyeliner and mascara and whatever crap girls put on their faces. Puck sighed, and (though he would deny it later) wiped Asian's wet cheeks, wondering what else he was supposed to do. He shrugged, and leaned it, pecking her lips softly.

The blubbering stopped, and Stutterfly stared at him, eyes wide. She didn't look so upset anymore, so Puck felt very accomplished.

"Cheer up, Goth Girl. And go to the nurse. That swelling doesn't look too hot," he said as he left the room, grinning wickedly.

The next day Tina came to school with a bandaged hand and a very upset boyfriend. He couldn't understand why she wouldn't tell him who hurt her, and Kurt was sworn to silence.

"Come on, Tee! I wont do anything…illegal." He pleaded, frustration building as they walked to lunch.

They both stopped as they saw Azimio limping down the hall, his face bruised and expression terrified. He sped up at the sight of Tina, diverting his eyes. Artie just gawked in amazement, but Tina searched the crowded hall until she found Puck leaning against a locker, grinning.

As Artie unloaded his books into his locker, Tina approached the football player, smiling shyly.

"Thanks, Noah," She said, blushing slightly.

"Eh, no problem…Tina."


Kiss me out of desire, but not consolation.

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold up, boy." Mercedes held up her hands, scowling. "This ain't because Tina just broke up with you, right?"

Artie nodded, and Mercedes could see right through his lie. "I really like you, Mercedes."

But he didn't. He never would. But Mercedes lowered her mouth to his anyways, and finally knew how Kurt felt. Every kiss with Artie was like every moment Kurt spent mooning over Finn: useless, futile, desperate. No matter what they did, they would never win.

But for now she would indulge herself, ignoring the fact that she was a hypocrite, that this would hurt so much in the end. Maybe, like Kurt, she was just a masochist.


You must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss...

"Why would you want to kiss me?" Jacob asked, fidgeting in the empty hallway. Brittany just smiled vaguely.

"Because I've kissed almost every other guy at school, and I want a perfect record," She said matter-of-factly, clasping her hands together. "Please?"

"Well, okay," Jacob replied, smiling like a child on Christmas. The blonde Cheerio bent down and molded her lips to his, kneading them together in a way that made the bespectacled boy moan with pleasure. She knotted her hands into his kinky hair, either not noticing or not caring at the amount of grease it held. He let his hands roam freely, from the tall girl's waist all the way up her shirt until he almost reached-

"Oops, I've got to go. My sister has ballet on Tuesdays and I have to go pick her up. Bye, Jacob. Thanks for helping my record!" Brittany flounced off, smiling proudly.

Jacob just stood by his locker, absolutely shocked and utterly confused. He really didn't understand girls at all.


A man's kiss is his signature.

Sure, he's rude, abrasive, and the father of Quinn's baby, but Puck had charm and Mercedes was kind of, sort of, really desperate for a boyfriend. So when he asked, she accepted, if not reluctantly, and that was that: they were an item.

Mercedes had never kissed a boy, not really. Artie had kissed her on the cheek before, and Kurt gave her almost-daily chaste little kisses, just quick little pecks on the lips to show his affection for his best friend, but those didn't count. Not at all.

And Puck, well, he had kissed half the girls in school at least. Like a dog marking where it's been, Puck's kisses were like badges sewn onto the clothes of those "lucky" girls. Getting a kiss from Noah Puckerman was practically a right of passage for any girl who wanted to be someone.

So when he did finally kiss her, it wasn't romantic. He just pressed her up against her locker one day and jammed his tongue down her throat for a minute before walking away. Tina stared in shock and Kurt looked repulsed and Artie pretended to barf, but Mercedes couldn't care less. She was marked now, a Cheerio who'd kissed Noah Puckerman.

Mercedes Jones was finally somebody.


'Twas not my lips you kissed but my soul

The night Beth was adopted Quinn and Puck sat in the back of his pickup truck, morosely silent. They already missed their baby, but neither had the courage to say it. They had to be strong and move on.

Puck held her hand and took a swig of his beer, and Quinn was shocked to see tears in her boyfriend's eyes. He loved that baby, his little girl, his Beth, and maybe, just maybe, he loved Quinn too.

She said nothing (they yelled too much in the past for words to be necessary) and curled up against his chest, wiping the tears from his face. He set down his beer and lowered his face to hers, kissing Quinn softly, gently, with so much love that it almost seemed to patch the hole in their lives where Beth had been.

They pulled apart and continue watching the night sky, feeling like their daughter was still theirs, even if only for that moment.


Kissing is a means of getting two people so close together that they can't see anything wrong with each other

Kurt hated Puck. He was vile, rude, and had a nasty tendency to throw him into dumpsters. He was stupid, violent, and completely self-centered. Kurt often dreamed of magically growing a couple feet and gaining muscle mass so he could pummel Noah Puckerman to the ground, but in the end Kurt knew he just couldn't pull off the body-builder look.

That didn't stop him from hating Puck.

Puck thought Kurt was obnoxious. He was fag, always mooning over Finn like a puppy and dressing in gay outfits that, honestly, made Puck very, very uncomfortable. He was snobby, bitchy, and sang like a girl. All-in-all, Kurt was a girl, without the boobs to ogle at.

But the moment that they kissed, on a dare one night after they both lost a bet to Matt (and were incredibly drunk), something changed. Suddenly, they couldn't remember why they hated each other; they just knew they didn't want to anymore. When they kissed, everything just seemed so right.

But once the magic was over, and they pulled apart, Puck made a jibe about needing to puke.

Kurt actually did.


Stolen kisses are always sweetest

Kurt looked cute today.

Normally, Mike would have slapped himself for thinking like that, but now he just sort of accepted it.

Yeah, he liked Kurt. But Kurt was, like, in love with Finn, and this really hot freshman Cheerio kept flirting with Mike, so he wasn't really in the mood to ask Kurt out.

But he still thought he was cute.

So perhaps it was temporary insanity when Mike kissed him.

It wasn't anything showy – just a quick peck on the lips as he passed him in the deserted hallway. Kurt just stared at him, taken aback and blushing heavily. Mike just shrugged, grinning cheekily.

"You look nice today. See you in glee."


The only thing worth stealing is a kiss from a sleeping child

Brittany, in Finn's opinion, was like a small child. And in a small, sad way, she made him think of baby Drizzle. She was blonde and pretty, like Finn had always dreamt Drizzle to look like, and while she had indeed made her way around the school, there was something innocent about her.

So when she fell asleep on Kurt's bed after practicing some new dance, Finn couldn't help himself. Drizzle – sorry, Beth – was gone, and she wasn't even his, but those fatherly instincts didn't just go away. And maybe he sort of had a crush on Brittany – she had been his first kiss in sixth grade; that kind of thing stick with you.

Kurt knew that look in his stepbrother's eye and excused himself to get some water upstairs. Brittany shifted in her sleep, smiling slightly as her hair splayed out on Kurt's pillow.

Afraid Kurt would be back soon, Finn leaned in quickly, pecking the sleeping girl's lips softly. There were no fireworks, no magic spell broken. She didn't even wake up.

But there was something comforting in that kiss. He would have to have Kurt explain it to him later.


A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.

Brittany really hated when Artie used big words.

Sure, both Kurt and Rachel did that a lot too, as did her teachers, but they usually explained what those words meant when she was confused, or, in Rachel's case, Brittany just didn't care enough to try to understand.

But when Artie used big words, like metaphysics and onomatopoeia and crescendo, he didn't notice her blank stare. He would just ramble on in his adorable voice, and Brittany would feel completely lost.

And Brittany hated to feel all lost and stupid when Artie was concerned, because Artie was cool and kind of, sort of cute, and nice to Brittany, most of the time. But he never explained what he was saying, that frustrated Brittany.

So one day, when Artie was going on about something called the string theory or something equally weird, Brittany kissed him. His blathering stopped immediately, and Brittany smiled, happy for the stunned silence between them. Artie tasted like root beer and didn't yell at her and now she had kissed every straight guy at school, so Brittany felt accomplished.

And really, Artie was much cuter when he was the one who looked confused.


Kisses are like tears, the only real ones are the ones you can't hold back

All Kurt wanted for his birthday was his first kiss (and that Coach scarf he had been eyeing for a month now). Sure, Brittany had been his first kiss, but she was a girl, and he was – for those who were blind and/or stupid – gay. What he wanted, more than anything, was a kiss with a boy.

He told this to Mercedes, who just gave him that sad look that told him that a) she pitied him and his useless fantasies, and b) she and Tina and possibly Quinn would be splitting the cost of that Coach scarf because he was just so pathetic today.

But, as Kurt should have realized by now, Mercedes was not exactly the best at keeping secrets. So when she told Quinn about Kurt's wish, the blonde girl decided she would get Kurt what he really, truly wanted (plus, she was broke and couldn't pitch in for that scarf).

She approached Mike first. Puck, an obvious first choice for her, was widely known for his homophobic tendencies, and Quinn was smart enough to leave him off of her list. Mike listened politely to her proposal, but turned her down. I'm dating someone right now, he told her. Sorry.

Matt was the next choice. But he just shook his head and smiled sadly at his friend. Sorry, Q. Kurt's a cool guy, but I'm just not comfortable kissing another dude. Ask Artie, maybe?

But Artie and Tina had just gotten back together, and, while they were friends, Artie and Kurt were not on the best of terms. Something about the fashionista's constant irritation with Artie's suspenders and stubborn resistance to trips to the mall.

She thought about asking Jacob, but decided that Kurt had higher standards than that. And the thought of talking to that creep just made her all sorts of uncomfortable.

Quinn was walking down the hall, wondering if she could bribe/scare a freshman to do it when it hit her. Finn and Kurt were walking down the hall, talking about something (rather, Kurt was talking, Finn was looking confused). She had known for a while that Kurt had a thing for Finn – it was obvious – but the way Finn looked down on Kurt in awe and respect was new to the ex-cheerleader.

It was almost too perfect.

Approaching her ex-boyfriend was awkward, to say the least, but at least he was willing to hear her out when she said it was about Kurt. He seemed a little freaked out when she first mentioned the word kiss, but relaxed when she said that Kurt had never kissed a guy, and it was (almost) all he wanted for his birthday. Finn agreed, and his expression was unreadable to Quinn, but she'd take what she could get.

Mercedes held a small party for Kurt, inviting all of the gleeks to her house for veggie pizza and karaoke. Mike, Matt, and Artie stared at Quinn at random intervals, all silently asking the same question: Did you find someone?

The party was fun, and as the kids drifted out the door, one by one, Quinn asked Kurt if he'd talk with her in the hallway for a second. She told him she wanted to give him his gift now, so she could see his reaction. He nodded, smiling sadly as she said it was something he'd been wanting for a while. At her command he closed his eyes, waiting patiently for his present.

With a wave of her hand, Finn came out from the next room, and Quinn gave them some space, smiling giddily. Finn leaned down, careful not to alert Kurt of his presence, and pressed his lips to the smaller boy's gently. He cupped Kurt's soft face with his hands, and the femme boy gasped, eyes springing open to find Finn kissing him. He glanced over Finn's shoulder, spotting Quinn grinning at him, and nearly cried with happiness.

Finn broke the kiss off, giving Kurt that stupid, adorable grin of his before kissing him again, wrapping his large arms around the small boy's body. Quinn left them in peace, wondering if there was any cake left.


A kiss is the shortest distance between two.

Finn wasn't sure how it happened, really. They were arguing, again, because Rachel had offended Kurt in some way and blah, blah, blah, that was somehow Finn's fault. He liked Rachel, he really did, but she could be grating and obsessive and Kurt was his stepbrother, practically, and brothers support each other and Rachel knew this, so he really didn't see why Mercedes was mad at him.

Of course, it didn't help that he wasn't really paying attention to what she's saying. Kurt had always said that Mercedes was the most beautiful person he knew; Finn saw that now. She was dark and curvy and strong and so unlike the other girls he knew. And, hey, she got along with Kurt, and Finn decided that Kurt had good taste in friends.

So somehow, someway, his lips were on hers, hands tangling into her perfectly styled curls. They didn't really have much in common, and Mercedes really liked to yell at Finn a lot, but this moment, this kiss, was something they could share.


Lips that taste of tears, they say, are the best for kissing

He didn't really know why he had been in the parking lot after school that day. There was no glee practice, and basketball season was over. So why he was still at school was somewhat of a mystery. But in retrospect, Matt didn't really care.

Coming 'round a corner he saw a small, crumpled figure on the ground, and he was afraid Karofsky and Azimio had found another victim. Was it Kurt again? Or perhaps Artie or Tina? As he jogged towards the student, he realized it was Rachel. Upon closer examination he realized she was sobbing and covered in egg yolks, but seemingly unhurt. His heart slowed down and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Rachel?" He asked quietly, and she looked up, eyes puffy and red. Without another word (that seemed to be Matt's style, anyways) he pulled her up and led her to the empty locker rooms. Matt sat her down on a bench, then walked over to the sink, dampening one of the towels that was laying around. He sat next to her, straddling the bench, and began to wipe the yolk and tears from her face with the towel.

Rachel didn't say anything (maybe she took a leaf out of Matt's book). Instead, she calmed down her sobs, until the tears no longer mixed with the yolk that Matt has missed. She took his hand as he tried to clear the egg from her hair and pulled the football player close, gratefully placing her lips against his.

To him, Rachel's lips tasted like tears and cherry lipstick. It wasn't an unpleasant taste; no, the salty tang of the tears balanced nicely with the sickening taste of artificial cherry. Though Matt wished no more pain upon the girl (a pointless wish for anyone who knew the drama queen), he decided he could really get used to that taste.