Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, it's characters, or Jesse St. James' ultra sexiness. (Damn it)
Summary: If you thought Lionel Ritchie was the joining force that first brought them together, think again. An evolution of Rachel and Jesse's 'not-quite' relationship, leading up to that fateful moment in the music store.
Pairing: St. Berry. Fresh and juicy.
Rating may change as story progresses.
Author's Note: I thought about how it was supremely possible that our favourite pair may have "somewhat" known each other before the music store duet. Laced with humour, teen-stalker-like tendencies, espionage and sexual tension... I hope you guys enjoy my first multi-chaptered St. Berry piece. Reviews are love.
WHEN RACHEL MET JESSE
Rachel Berry was not a stalker.
At least that was what she told herself whenever she oh-so-innocently "found her laptop turned on at Jesse St. James' Facebook profile without her knowing how it got there" every so often.
Right.
Well, she was sure she wasn't just some crazed, neurotic fangirl of his.
Okay, she wasn't anymore.
Perhaps starting at the beginning would help. Because the concept of "self-explanatory" with Rachel never really served anyone much good. At least not to anyone who actually cared enough to understand what her deal was.
"Are you s-s-sure this is a good idea?" came a meek voice from behind as Rachel trudged forwards down the hallway.
She looked over to the source. "Tina, I know that little run-in back there doesn't quite qualify as a confidence booster on our part, but rest assured, I am one hundred percent positive that..."
"The girl heaved out half her lunch and what seemed to be partially digested steroid pills, Berry," Kurt interjected, his voice dull as he referred to Andrea Cohen, whom they left outside to continue her throwing up.
"Yeah, forget 'confidence booster'. That was straight outta some crazy Eli Roth twisticality," Mercedes joined in, raising an eyebrow as she peered across from Kurt to the brunette ingénue.
Rachel huffed, furrowing her brow. "First of all, that is not a word," knowing full well her glee club teammate knew which one, she uttered pointedly to Mercedes, who shot her an exasperated stare. They stopped by the double doors of the auditorium. "Secondly, if we want Dakota Stanley, we can't let a little stress-induced regurgitation scare us off," she continued, her voice escalating a pitch as they made their way into the hall.
Quinn rolled her eyes. She didn't know which one she despised more... "genuinely bubbly man-hands" or this "faux-cheery desperado".
"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!"
And positions, then BAM! Head bow.
Rachel let out a long drawn breath. The one she had been holding in ever since she watched them shuffle on stage, clad in their signature blue and black ensemble.
The colours her bruised ego was at the moment.
She jumped a little in her seat at the voice on the far end of the stage.
"GET OFF MY STAGE!" a tiny man barked and Rachel could swear she saw a vein bulging in his forehead, even from as far away as she was sitting. Vocal Adrenaline got the message and began to run off the said stage.
"ST. JAMES! YOU STAY!" he pointed a demanding finger to a figure that slowed his steps to a stop before making his way back to centre stage. Rachel went back to not breathing.
Jesse-freakin-St. James.
To think she was excited over a fatigued Andrea Cohen, unceremoniously heaving her guts out...
"This is Jesse St. James! Holy mother of..."
"Yes, sir?" his deep voice boomed, interrupting Rachel's internal hyperventilation. To say that she knew who he was simply by reputation would be putting it lightly...
"AS CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM, MAYBE YOU OUGHT TO KNOW THAT YOU PEOPLE SUCKED MORE THAN A TIJUANA WHORE!"
"That's right. Jesse St. James, captain of only the best show choir in the area, lead the team to multiple national championships and... wait, what? Sucked? WHORE?" Rachel's thoughts trailed off as her head snapped in the direction of the choreographer.
Jesse stood there, feet apart, hands behind his back and stared straight ahead. Militant.
"No kidding, sir," the captain answered, his voice resonating with the same power as it did before. Only this time, one could clearly sense the sarcasm laced within.
Raising her eyebrows, Rachel found herself leaning forward in her seat whilst placing her hands on the seat in front.
"TWENTY, ST. JAMES!"
Without a shred of hesitation or further attitude, the guy dropped down on his hands and insteps, doing what he was ordered to do.
Rachel stared at him in fascination. She watched his biceps ripple and work as he began his push-ups, pumping up and down quickly as if he did this on daily rotation. Her eyes trailed to his wavy, brown hair, which seemed to appear tousled from slaving all afternoon. She couldn't see his face properly, seeing as she was seated so far at the back of the auditorium along with her teammates (right, she almost forgot about them).
Not that she hadn't seen his pictures before... but, she really wanted to observe him up close. Before she knew it, he had clambered to his feet and resumed his original position. His broad shoulders rose and fell rapidly from the work out directly after the work out.
"This guy's an android. Right, that would explain everything," Rachel thought to herself in awe. He was so... impressive. And he had barely said two sentences in her presence. She mentally slapped herself for getting so worked up.
"NOW STOP SWEATING ALL OVER MY STAGE AND BEAT IT!"
Even from her position, Rachel could make out the smirk on his face as he began to saunter off stage. She felt her heart swell traitorously just a little. She was, after all, in the presence of a fellow superstar-in-training. The experience was overwhelming her a little and "Oh crap!"
He was looking over in her direction.
Without really thinking, Rachel sunk lower in her seat. And in just that split second, his gaze had absent-mindedly wandered over to her before he disappeared from sight completely.
"Earth to super spaz?" Santana's irritated voice suddenly became coherent to the dazed brunette. Rachel automatically stood up, turning quickly to face the rest.
"Dakota's leaving. It would be nice to actually make something of this little visit," Quinn drawled, obviously bothered by the fact that Vocal Adrenaline were insanely out of this world. Sure, she may not give two rats' asses about New Directions... but, it hurt her pride that VA were so much more better than them. And it hurt her ego that she felt like she was on the losing team. Embarassing, much?
"Right," Rachel mumbled as they began to shuffle out to the aisle.
"Wipe that flush off your face, Berry," Kurt uttered softly, appearing beside her.
"What?" eyebrows raised, she snorted at the effeminate, young boy's snarky tone.
"St. Sexy over there is definitely GQ-cover material. But being hot and bothered for the sworn enemy is so cliché," was all he replied before walking off to the rest of the group at the front.
Rachel said nothing in return as she felt a secret smile creep onto her already warm face.
Author's Note: And so it begins... Don't forget to review! ;)