A/N: So first I accidentally delete all my stories in trying to edit them after realizing that my pretty little ampersand line-breaks didn't actually transfer, leaving the whole story kind of just... smooshed together, and then I wake up and realize what happened. I clearly need more practice at again. That said, thank you so much for bearing with me and my line-break fail, and I will miss all of the reviews I got from all of you that I deleted so dearly ;_; you are all so wonderful and nice and it's great to know people are enjoying your stuff. So thank you! And again, I apologize. This has to get annoying if you're getting constant notifications 3

Finn was such a bonehead. It was a pity, really, that lying wasn't more profitable for Rachel Berry.

Rachel had become a machine. He'd know, of all people- he'd been carefully charting every single action ever since Nationals 2011 had hit him like a brick and Hudson had taken the upper hand.

Around 5:30am Rachel Berry got up out of bed, taking off her sleeping mask to replace it with a cold one to reduce puffy eyes as she worked the elliptical for an hour. It barely fit into her crammed studio, but Rachel was nothing if not dedicated. It had always been her most admirable quality, to him.

Once that was done, she would shoot a text to Hulkboy, who had taken on a position working in Burt Hummel's shop as an auto-mechanic. Patiently waiting for a reply that typically didn't arrive until well after 8 o'clock (one of the many reasons that Rachel had, somewhat begrudgingly, scheduled her first class at 9:30 instead of 8:00), she would serve herself a glass of soy milk alongside homemade vegan pancakes, and eat breakfast on her own.

After that, she warmed up her voice, her legs, and the rest of her gorgeous body until the clock struck 8:30, prompting her to get dressed, brush her teeth, and head out the door for the subway.

It took her twenty minutes to arrive at Tisch and head to her performance class with ten minutes to spare to suck up to the teacher. It was apparently also enough time for the Tool to write back a half-hearted message, always doing his best to miss the key words love, admire, proud, kiss, hug, adore, gorgeous, stunning, beautiful, incredible, and miss.

Rachel had stopped smiling upon seeing them. It was a start.

For years now, he'd been every bit the devoted half-boyfriend. There was nothing official about his title- she'd certainly had very little say in it- but Jesse St. James was nothing if not a good performer.

The difficulty had laid in the role of loser and second-best, not the way he needed to behave himself around her. Subtlety had never been his forte, but determination had won out in the end. He was ready and willing to do anything to win back the girl of his dreams, even if it meant patience.

Jesse had enrolled in Julliard. A school focused on performance was what he truly needed much more than a supposedly "well-rounded education."

More importantly, he was only 12 minutes away from Rachel by subway.

Jesse St. James had never been someone who prided himself on the personal virtues of patience.

Jesse had moved back home, accepting a position as the Vocal AdrenalineAssistant Director after Rachel had taken back Oaf Man. He'd well surpassed his goal to save up enough money to comfortably live in New York for a year at the end of the semester, when he was offered the Lead Director position, Goolsby actually having physically abused two of the students. As Goolsby was forced into an Anger Management program, Jesse accepted his new position under the condition of a steep salary increase.

When they agreed to his demands, Jesse watched his dreams grow before him.

Juilliard opened their arms to Jesse St. James, loaded with grants, a beautiful apartment in Chelsea, and an audition as Billy Flynn in Chicago.

The world had re-accepted him up at the top. He'd quit his position as Director of Vocal Adrenaline, and life returned back to normal, all as it had been meant to be.

Something was still missing.

Every night that Rachel went out drinking with her friends, a mysterious benefactor had paid for her drinks in advance. The fact that he had always disappeared by the time she found out wasn't left up to chance.

By the time summer was over in Ohio, Jesse had figured out the game. He knew where she went on a regular basis just to feel at home, he knew that she had monthly spells of crying fits, likely caused by PMS, likely exacerbated by the Amazon, and he knew that she debated between chocolate soy milk and regular soy milk every time she went to the grocery store.

Soy milk won every time, guilt getting the better of her.

The dress she'd picked to attend her and Lofty's Homecoming was stunning. The dark blue she wore looked like it belonged on a red carpet right alongside her. Grasshopper Legs had completely messed up the color of the corsage, naturally, and still she pulled it off beautifully.

When she lost her virginity that night amongst nothing but pink sheets, teddy bears, and floral frills, Jesse almost blew his cover, crying for the first time since the Eggpocalypse.

He drove home in the rain that finally broke free from the clouds around midnight, fast enough that he started hydroplaning. His Range Rover stayed trapped in the ditch beside the narrow country road until well the next morning, when Jesse finally cared enough to call someone for help.

Tisch already had a grueling schedule, and Jesse knew that once Rachel was cast as the lead in Last Five Years, things could only go from bad to worse.

So he pulled some strings.

The first night of her rehearsals, one he had, in particular, taken off of his own, Jesse found himself sitting approximately five booths away from her spot at the bar. They were in a chic, rather upscale SoHo nightclub, Rachel nursing a White Russian.

Her friends were late.

Half an hour later, still focused intently on her phone, Jesse realized that she wasn't attempting to direct her friends to the trendy bar; instead, she was texting Beanstalk.

Ordering another whiskey manhattan for himself, Jesse watched intently as tears rolled down Rachel's eyes.

That asshole.

It was the first time Jesse dared to bite the bullet again.

By the time her second White Russian arrived from her mysterious benefactor, bearing a distinctive note, Jesse had left the bar, already cursing himself.

he never deserved you, anyway.

Admitting that Jesse had a problem had not been difficult. Doing something about it, on the other hand, had been.

No one thought there was anything wrong with him; his family didn't know, his friends from Vocal Adrenaline were regularly kept up with, his friends at Juilliard and his costars in Chicagowent out with him on an- at least- weekly basis, and other than that, Jesse was simply a hard-working theatre student without a lot of free time.

It wasn't unusual. Why was it wrong to be obsessed with Rachel Berry?

Jesse had never been a failure. He succeeded, even if it meant years of practice. Ninety-nine percent of the time he was an instant success at whatever he attempted, and the remaining one percent was pure determination.

When Jesse St. James wanted something, nothing would get in his way. Not even Yao Ming.

Just like he had expected, Rachel returned to the same bar the following week. And the next, and the one after the next, always without company.

Each time, there were complimentary drinks, but never any notes.

The fact that Rachel Berry had a studio ten floors above ground was inconvenient.

The fact that her bedroom was right by the fire escape was as miraculously lucky as it was unplanned.

It was surprisingly warm for November, and Rachel had opened the window to her bedroom. Knowing her schedule, she'd be headed to bed in less than half an hour, which meant that, if nothing else, he'd get to be near her.

It was almost intimate.

He hadn't expected to overhear her conversation with the Beanstalk.

"I don't know what you want to hear," she sighed, sounding almost to the point of crying. "This is really important to me. I thought you were okay with me coming here. Nothing is ever going to be as important to me as my dream. Not even you. I belonghere. Why can't you accept that?"

There was a long pause, presumably filled by Tall, Dark, and Obnoxious' voice, and finally, Rachel once more.

"I'm sorry. I need to go rehearse before bed. And if you can't understand that, then I don't know why I'm even still with you."

From that point forward, Rachel ceased to take his calls.

The following Tuesday, her White Russian arrived in front of her accompanied by another note.

that's better.

Jesse only lived approximately five blocks away from Rachel. Despite the longer trip up to Juilliard, being closer to her was more than worth it, and, as such, he'd made it an almost nightly ritual to listen to Rachel rehearse before bed, as she had taken to leaving the window open on most days despite the chill out. She always had liked falling asleep with the room colder than most people preferred it, needing the comfort of a blanket to wrap around her no matter what the weather was like outside.

Tonight was different.

It had been about a month since her and Frankenteen's breakup. For once, Rachel's dulcet tones did not lilt through the window as expected. She'd already finished brushing her teeth for precisely three minutes and gone through her facial care routine, so he wasn't sure what the issue was. Leaning over to take a peek through her window, he caught a glimpse of her sitting in her bed in nothing but her underwear, and felt his breath catch in his throat as he shot back from the window, leaning his head back against the cool brick.

The second the first gasped ohreached his ear, Jesse closed his eyes.

Listening to her sing was one thing. Listening to her masturbate was an entirely different situation. This was wrong. He hadn't been invited to be privy to her vice, and she certainly didn't know he was listening.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to move, his pants tenting uncomfortably.

"Oh god- Jesse-"

Jesse's eyes shot open with a jolt, a trembling hand running through his hair. Had he heard that right?

His name. She was moaning hisname.

"Ah, Jesse, please-"

Swallowing hard, he squeezed his eyes shut. Did she know that it was him, delivering her the notes? Had she figured it out? Did she really want him, too? Or had she simply kept him in mind all this time.

The same shaky hand slipped down his front as he bit down on his bottom lip to keep from crying out loud, his hand gently rubbing down his length through the fabric of his jeans, becoming more furious and desperate in its urgency with every single time she moaned his name a little louder.

When she finally came with a cry, he found himself following shortly after, coming all over the insides of his pants, shame getting the better of him as it seemed to wash over his entire person. He waited an obligatory half hour until he knew she would be asleep and wouldn't hear him climbing down the fire escape, feeling disgusting, pathetic, and, for the first time in years, wanted.

When he finally decided to send her the message from his bed, he couldn't decide whether he was thrilled or just being foolish.

I miss you, too.

On the opening night of one of her shows, he finally heard back from her.

I'm surrounded by flowers, chocolates, and cards. I think you went a little overboard this time ;)

Can't let tonight's Queen think she's any less amazing than she really is, right?

Are you here?

Wouldn't dream of being anywhere else

Got any plans for after the show?

I do now.

Okay :) Wait for me outside the side door. I'll come for you.

Rachel?

Yes?

Sing for me tonight.

Like I wasn't planning on it already.

He could feel his stomach churning into knots. He hadn't felt this excited about a single show in years, let alone a person, Rachel aside.

He was going to get the love of his life back.

By the time Rachel came out from the side door, people had already recognized him, begging for autographs where they could, Jesse playing every bit the part of the Good Sport while he waited for his princess to come out.

When he did finally see her, it was another half hour before they left her alone and she finally hooked her arm in his. It felt amazing, even after she'd shot him countless sweet glances as her signature became slightly sloppier with each one. He couldn't get enough of her.

Walking down Broadway, arm in arm, they were quiet for a long while.

"Feels incredible," she whispered, grinning up at him.

"That's because you wereincredible."

"It's been you this whole time?"

"Yes."

"I can't believe you had that kind of patience."

She had no idea.

"Jesse, I love it. It's so... Art Nouveau. I had no idea we lived so close together!"

"Funny how that works," he smiled, taking off her coat and hanging it up beside his. He couldn't get over how much he liked seeing them side-by-side in the first place. Escaping into his kitchen, he opened the wine cabinet, pulling out a particularly fine wine from Rachel's favorite winery.

"Care for some?" he asked, holding up the bottle for her to see from her vantage point on the couch. "We do need to celebrate your big debut!"

"Absolutely," she grinned, kicking off her heels and slipping her feet under her. "I can't believe you remembered."

"Rachel, I wasn't kidding when I said that you were my only regret. Losing you..." Handing her a glass, he frowned, placing the bottle on the table for both of them to share.

"I should have never treated you like that either, though. I thought I had some stupid chance at making Finn... want to come live in New York City and support me in my dream."

"Rachel," he stopped her as he took his seat beside her, placing his glass down onto the table. "I've waited years to get you back. And now you're here, and... we can conquer the city together. All I ask is that you promise me you'll give me another shot. For good this time. Tomorrow you'll wake up in my arms, we'll go into the kitchen, I'll make us vegan pancakes, and I'll have some Darjeeling while you'll have chocolate soy milk. Then we'll go back to bed and stay there, guilt-free for the rest of the afternoon until we go crazy and/or have to go to rehearsal."

"Jesse, I'd love to," she whispered, looking up at him. Big eyes, lips slightly parted- he'd never been more in love with her than he was right now.

Taking her own glass out of her hand, he set it down on the table alongside his, leaning in to kiss her.

Rachel still tasted like blueberries and honey when he kissed her, her skin echoing every bit of what he remembered. Kissing down her body was beyond magical, getting to taste every last bit of her.

She was delicious.

He didn't even try silencing her moans when he licked at her nipples, her clit, her entrance, instead doing his best to make her louder.

Let his neighbors complain. He couldn't have cared less. He had Rachel Berry in his bed, screaming, coming apart, moaning hisname. He'd never heard anything sweeter.

Only when she begged did he consider returning to surface level, letting her guide him to her entrance. She had just come, and she was unbelievably tight, and he moved as gently as he could without coming apart inside of her.

Speeding up as she commanded it- harder, faster, deeper- Jesse, please!- he did his best to force himself to slow intermittently in order to last longer for her.

He could only practice restraint for so long with Rachel Berry underneath him, above him, in front of him.

Finally, he insisted he see her look at him, hair cascading down around her face, and he pushed up into her with a final protest.

Hearing the way she kept saying Jesseover and over again sent him over the edge completely, a strangled cry escaping him as her own walls contracted around him, biting his lip to keep from screaming too loudly.

When she laid herself on top of him, he simply held her.

They didn't have anywhere to be for a while, after all.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."