Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters and I am making no money writing this. It's just for fun. Title and summary taken from "Feel Good Drag" by Anberlin.
Beta: None! There are probably a million and a half mistakes.
Note: Written following some encouragement from a friend on LiveJournal. She also wrote an AMAZING response to the same glee_kink_meme prompt, and you can find a link to her fic at this oneshot on my LJ. I am a bit nervous about this for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that I wrote half of it/edited all of it with a migraine. Please, read and tell me what you think! Seriously, comments absolutely make my day.
There was a particular gold necklace that Rachel always, always wore to big performances. It was a gift from her grandfather (God rest his soul) for her bat mitzvah.
It was also missing.
Rachel had gotten all the way back to the school before she realized it was gone. She was washing her hands (it was a long bus trip and she'd had a lot of water) when she saw her bare neck in the bathroom mirror.
In the excitement and heartbreak of the day, it was no surprise that something like this had happened. She really should have known, should have expected it. This had been one of the worst days of her life, she thought, images of Jesse and Shelby and that stupid fucking trophy coming to mind.
For a moment, she allowed herself just one sob. She felt like she was on the end of her fucking rope and it was fraying in her grip more and more every second. What had she gained today? Nothing.
Well, unless Finn's little 'declaration' counted. Which, Rachel couldn't even think about it. There was a certain sick feeling she got when he told her that. She didn't love him back, couldn't even fathom it. All she thought about at night was the boy in the pink shirt that had stolen her heart. He still had it, and even after everything, she wasn't sure she wanted it back from him.
Her hand flew to her bare neck, and she suddenly felt even more driven to find it. She wouldn't lose anything else today. She was determined.
She looked in the bathroom, the hallway, and finally all over the bus. It was nowhere to be found. There was only one place left that she had any hope of finding it.
The theater…that was an hour and a half away.
Damn it.
. . .
Jesse had lost everything that ever mattered to him in this place. All he could think about was the beautiful face, distinctive nose and all, that would never smile at him again. Today had been the final straw, the last nail in the coffin; he could feel it in his bones.
He let his legs steadily swing over the edge of the stage, back and forth and back again, black and white patent leather wingtips glinting in the low light.
He'd paid a hundred dollars to a night janitor to leave a side door open for him, and he only left the theater long enough to grab a bottle of gin from his father's liquor cabinet. The medicinal liquor slid down his throat in a rush as he took another swig from the bottle. He'd had enough by this point that it almost tasted like candy, if he concentrated hard enough.
His fate was sealed already, today. Vocal Adrenaline would now go on to win the national championship. Then, come August, he would leave for UCLA. In four years, he'd have a degree and start working in television or film or on a stage. He'd like to do theatre, but that was her thing, and he might cross paths with the star she's certain to become. That was a risk he wasn't sure he was willing to take. Even thinking about her caused this unfamiliar pain to bloom up in his chest.
He didn't want to see Rachel again. Ever. He couldn't bear to see her look at him like the monster he was. He'd not only traded love, but killed it. And for what? A championship he'd already won three times over? A scholarship he didn't need?
Tomorrow he would be back to himself: Jesse St. James, shining star. But tonight he needed to feel like the failure he was.
He heard a door slam in the distance and hoped it was the cops coming to bust him for breaking and entering. Anything to distract him from the all-consuming thoughts of Rachel Berry.
. . .
The unlocked side door was the one break Rachel managed to get. She took it as a sign from her grandfather. Perhaps, he was leading her back to her necklace and it would be even luckier from now on…
She walked further into the dark theater and started to feel a little (okay, a lot) nervous. What if that door had been unlocked for a reason? What if there was something going on here, like a drug deal or a mob hit? What if there was a madman loose, waiting to kill her?
The place was a lot different than it had been just a few hours prior; shadows of all shapes and sizes lurking everywhere.
Rachel quickly navigated the dark hallways back to the room New Directions had been assigned earlier in the day. Seeing the bag of pork rinds Noah had smuggled in for Quinn in the trashcan by the door, she knew she was in the right place.
Flipping on the light, she couldn't help but think finding her necklace would be so much easier if she had someone to help her look. But she had no one left, no one that cared.
She'd been looking for 20 minutes when she started to really lose hope. Jamming her hands in between the cushions of the sofa, she thought for sure that it was gone forever. But as she was leaving, the heel of her shoe caught on something.
It was her necklace.
At least one thing had gone right today, she thought bitterly as she walked back to the side door she'd used to enter the dark theater.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a sign pointing toward the stage, and she stopped. A lot had happened on that stage.
For a second, she thought she would just go back to her car and drive home. It was already so late, after all. But she just knew she couldn't do that.
She had to go to the stage, say goodbye to this awful place, and try to put everything and everyone it reminded her of behind her.
. . .
Jesse tried not to think about the flash of gold that caught his eye during his performance, but his thoughts kept going there. For a split second, he'd allowed himself to be distracted by it. The performance hadn't suffered, though, and Vocal Adrenaline was on their way to Nationals.
He almost wished it had ruined his performance. Maybe then she'd realize how much she had meant to him.
. . .
Rachel took a deep breath, stepping up to the same set of doors she'd stood before earlier that day.
On the other side of the door, there was an aisle which would lead her to the stage. Maybe she'd finally be able leave her feelings behind on that stage and just move on. That was all she wanted…just to be able to move on.
She pushed against the door, took a step, and froze.
"Oh my-"
. . .
Jesse looked up sharply, hearing the strangled, broken whisper from the back of the quiet theater.
She was standing there, at the top of the aisle, still.
Jesse looked down at the gin bottle to see how much he'd consumed, hoping it was enough that this was some image conjured up by his own mind. When he looked back up, she was gone, and he took another swig of Bombay.
. . .
No, no, no, no, no. No.
She could not believe he was here. She couldn't handle this.
She was determined to go back to her car, back to Lima, back to her life, and just forget about him.
Then she stopped, almost gone, her hand on the handle of the side door. She turned around and went back.
She had an opportunity here and now, one that she would probably never have again. She could tell him what he did, how he hurt her. She could completely rip him apart for playing with her like he did.
This time, she burst through the door and charged down the aisle.
. . .
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
It was settled. Rachel was definitely not a figment of his imagination. She was real, and madder than he'd ever seen her before.
"Is this some kind of trick question?" he asked, calmly lifting the bottle to his lips.
That just seemed to make her angrier, if that was possible.
"No! You're not allowed to be the dick anymore! You've done quite enough of that," she sneered standing in front of the first row of seats, hands firmly on her hips.
"Okay," he shrugged, taking another gulp of gin.
"What's the matter with you?" she asked, looking uncomfortable, a fraction of the fight gone from her tone.
Jesse stared at the heavy red curtain to his right for a moment, pursing his lips, before he finally said, "I hate the entire world right now."
. . .
He hated the world right now? Jesse St. James, who had literally been lifted onto the shoulders of his teammates not even six hours ago?
Motherfucker.
"You self-indulgent son of a bitch," Rachel accused in disbelief. "What right do you have to hate the world? Trophy not big enough for you?"
"Something like that," he muttered darkly. "What the fuck are you doing here, Rachel? It's past your bedtime."
That was the absolute last straw for her. She stormed up the steps of the stage, marched over to Jesse, and towered over him, barely restraining herself from kicking him.
"I…hate…you," she told him, her voice deadly calm with an undercurrent of something tremendously painful.
. . .
"I know," Jesse shrugged.
"You have everything!" she ranted. "The championship, the adoration of your teammates, a full-ride scholarsh-"
"I don't have you," he countered, meeting her eyes for the first time.
"And whose fault is that?"
"Oh, it's mine," Jesse said, standing in front of her. "But it's also yours."
"Me? I didn't make you egg me."
"No, but it was never going to work with us, Rachel," he emphasized, practically yelling at her. "There were three people in our fucking relationship every second of every day."
"I don't-"
"You do know what I'm talking about," he growled, slowly advancing toward her. "You know," he whispered, just inches away from her.
. . .
Rachel's eyes stung with the truth of what he was saying.
But still. He fucking egged her.
"Don't try to make this all my fault," she spat.
She knew he was talking about more than just the Run, Joey, Run fiasco. He was talking about every lingering look she sent Finn's way. He was talking about the fact that she went into the relationship for no better reason than he did.
They kind of deserved each other after all, she realized. But she was still unable to admit that out loud or even, really, to herself.
"If you were so miserable with me, why did you stay? It couldn't have just been…her plan."
. . .
"I allowed myself to be captivated," Jesse admitted bitterly.
She had real power over him, and she hadn't even realized it. It was the first time Jesse ever truly let another person affect him like she did, and it had driven him to do things even he didn't realize he was capable of.
. . .
Rachel's shoulders tightened after Jesse's last statement. It felt like an accusation. It was almost as if he believed that she had set out to hurt him from the beginning, when in fact he was the one that had done worst of the wrongs in their relationship.
"Like I can even believe anything you say," she whispered, what was left of her heart stuttering in her chest.
He smiled in response to that, but it wasn't the smile that used to belong to her. It wasn't the way he'd smiled at her on their dates, or how he'd looked at her as they walked up and down the halls at school together. Instead, it was the same way he'd smiled at Finn every chance he got. That told her how far they'd come, how much their relationship had changed in just a couple of weeks.
"Maybe you can't believe me, but you still want to," he stated arrogantly.
She told Mr. Schue that she wanted Jesse to be eaten by a lion. Standing on the stage with him, she wished again that one would materialize before her and execute a swift and just punishment.
"I'm so glad I never slept with you," she told him around a humorless laugh.
"Are you really?" Jesse countered, eyes darkening as he ran them over her body, gold headband to tanned calves.
"Yes," she said, swallowing hard, trying to ignore the way he was looking at her dress.
. . .
He wanted to rip the dress off her body. That dress, as good as it looked on her, was tainted. He was tired of looking at that fucking reminder of her little duet with Hudson.
"Looks like I'm not the only liar. I think you did want to have sex with me," Jesse said, stepping closer to her, invading her personal space. "I think you still do," he whispered.
. . .
Rachel worked very hard to keep her body completely, perfectly still. She fought against the urge to lean into him. She tried not to think about the shiver and the heat that she'd felt from his warm breath against her ear.
She still hated him. Nothing was going to change that, but…she missed him, too.
She took the bottle from his right hand and took a hefty sip from it, wincing as the taste of the gin hit her tongue.
"Tell me you don't want me, Rachel." His lips brushed against her ear and she let out a sigh, but said nothing.
. . .
Jesse bent his head to kiss her, and she tasted like the same gin he'd been drinking for the past two hours, but she also tasted like Rachel, oranges and honey.
He expected her to shove him off and storm out of the theater, leaving him to wallow in solitude once again.
That didn't happen.
There was some shoving from her…but there was also gripping and pulling and her tongue entering his mouth.
. . .
Rachel barely even registered what she was doing until Jesse was lifting her up to set her atop a closed piano backstage.
She didn't know what had come over her, but she curled her leg around his hip and urged him closer.
He was back in her arms, kissing her again, and she just wanted that to last for as long as it could. For that she hated him and herself.
. . .
Jesse's hand slid up Rachel's thigh, pushing her dress up around her waist. The black and gold material of her skirt and the black tulle beneath it bunched between them as he surged forward to kiss her again.
He was kissing Rachel's neck when she grabbed the suspenders he was wearing and slipped them off his shoulders. That made him pause.
"Are you sure?" he asked, hands gripping her waist tightly. He wouldn't be accused of doing this against her will.
. . .
All she wanted was one more moment. She wanted one more kiss. But one more was never enough.
She needed him closer, as close as possible, and she hated him for that.
"Yes," she hissed at him through gritted teeth. She needed to do this to put him and the mess of their relationship behind her.
. . .
That one word was all he needed to hear.
A month ago, he would have stopped to make sure that she was absolutely certain. He would have gone slow and been epically romantic. But that was then and this is now, he thought bitterly.
Jesse's fingers were at her center, rubbing her clit through her panties. He moved the scrap of fabric aside and slid two fingers in and out of her until she was coming, grinding against his hand, and digging her fingernails into his shoulders.
He was leaving her behind tonight, and this was just something he needed to do.
The way she was holding him so closely and tightly made him think maybe she needed this, too.
. . .
Her panties were gone, thrown somewhere on the expanse of stage behind Jesse. The top of her dress was pulled down, the halter strap ripped off on one side.
This was really happening to her, and Rachel found herself wanting it way more than she should. She didn't even stop to think about the fact that this wasn't how it was supposed to happen, or that this wasn't who it was supposed to be with.
She popped the button on his trousers, and he lowered the zipper.
. . .
"Last chance," he breathed into the crook of her neck, pushing his slacks and boxers down.
If she didn't push him away now, tell him no, he wasn't going to stop.
She hated him already, but what he was about to do would seal the deal. She'd never forgive him for taking her virginity against a piano in a dark theater.
He slowly thrust into Rachel for the first time, and he felt every single one of her muscles stiffen in response.
Time and distance would heal the pain from the egging, but not this, not ever.
. . .
It hurt. It hurt so much, and Rachel desperately reminded herself to breathe. She forced air in and out of her lungs, gripping Jesse's hot pink shirtsleeves, waiting for the good part.
This is not what she thought she would be doing tonight.
. . .
Jesse was more considerate, not thrusting as hard or fast, than he would have been otherwise.
He adjusted the angle slightly and moved his hand up to cover her breast. That was when he heard her moan and felt her tighten her legs around his waist.
Jesse smiled into her neck and started to move a little faster.
. . .
The good started faster than she expected from the amount of pain she felt on his first thrust. It still hurt, but it was starting to feel good enough that she didn't care. His cock was hot and hard, hitting her just right and dragging across her clit.
Rachel pulled at his hair and forced his face up from where he was trying to mark her. She met his eyes for a second, both of them flushed, sweating, and gasping for air.
When she kissed him, she didn't want to hate him anymore. Just the same, it felt like a betrayal when he kissed her back, because she knew he didn't feel the same way.
. . .
He knew he wasn't being as loving and gentle as a girl deserved for her first time, but he must have been doing something right, because Rachel came again. This time, it wasn't his fingers her walls were pulsing around.
She was so tight, so hot, so wet. Jesse couldn't hold off any longer and he thrust into her one last time, coming deep inside her. He barely managed to restrain himself from sinking his teeth into her neck.
Rachel exhaled shakily in his ear and when he looked over, he expected she would be crying. She wasn't, but she refused to meet his eyes.
. . .
Rachel zipped her dress back up and then found her underwear and carefully slipped them on, feeling Jesse watching her every move.
She slowly descended the stairs next to the stage, and grabbed her car keys from where she'd dropped them.
When she started up the aisle, shame hit her like a ton of bricks and all she wanted was to be at home so she could take a scalding hot shower. Tears were streaming down her face by the time she reached the door to the lobby, and that's when she heard it.
"I'll miss you."
. . .
Jesse watched Rachel stop and stiffen when he said that, and he knew she'd heard him. There was no other acknowledgment, though. And he didn't expect that there would be.
He'd see her again, that much he was sure of. Who knew what would happen then.
. . .
Rachel pulled into her driveway, and looked in her rearview mirror to make sure that her face was dry and that the mark on her neck was covered by her hair.
She took a deep breath and opened her door. Swinging her legs out and planting her feet on the driveway, she took another breath before standing. Wincing a bit at the movement, she made a note to keep that under control in front of her dads.
Walking through the door, she was ambushed by her fathers with hugs and kisses and a million questions about where she'd been.
"I lost my necklace, and I went back to the theater to look for it," she told them. She wasn't lying, she reminded herself. That iswhy she went back.
"Oh, pumpkin. Why didn't you tell us that beforehand?"
She almost started crying with the way he was brushing her hair over her shoulder. They thought she was still their innocent little girl, but she knew different.
"I was just really upset about it, and you know how focused I get."
"Yeah." They were both nodding, and Rachel knew she was home free.
"I think I just need to go to bed. I just want to forget this day ever happened."
They both kissed her on the forehead and Rachel started to slowly make her way up the stairs to her room.
. . .
She was lying in bed that night, showered and cleaned up, thinking about the things she'd lost that day. She lost the competition, her necklace, and Jesse.
There wouldn't be another chance for the competition. Glee Club was being canceled. She found her necklace, though. It was safely tucked away in her jewelry box for the next time she needed a little extra luck.
Jesse remained a question mark. Were they really done for good? As far as the immediate future was concerned, the answer was yes. He was moving to California, and had done some unforgivable things to her.
But what would happen in two years? Five years? Ten?
Rachel didn't know. He felt like a big part of her life, and she couldn't help but look at their first meeting as one of those once in a lifetime moments.
She used the sleeve of her pink pajamas to wipe away some of the tears falling from her eyes.
In the morning she would have to move on like this night never happened and she couldn't tell how she felt about that.
Let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!