A/N: Pointless fluff set at Nationals. Consider this a pre-emptive strike against whatever crap we have to put up with this week (although it will not possible be able to top last year's in terms of cringe-worthiness).
Loose sequel to 'We Found Love.' It's set in the same universe, anyway (Rachel and Jesse got back together, it's her senior year at McKinley, he's coaching Vocal Adrenaline).
Disclaimer: Not mine, nothing to see here, move along.
All's Fair in Love and War
They're professionals, and they've been very good about behaving and focusing on their own teams - really. Between everyone getting their bearings in the city and competition paperwork and last-minute rehearsing, they've barely even seen each other since the plane touched down in New York. But they've both got an hour to spare the morning of the competition (they're both early risers), so he offers to buy her breakfast - they both have to eat, obviously.
"You know, you're really failing at this whole chaperoning thing," she says as they stand in line at the bagel place down the block from the hotel. "Leaving them unattended in the hotel like that."
Jesse laughs. "You forget two things. One, we've had our set list down for months - I didn't leave them unattended back there to write songs." He pokes her playfully in the ribs, and she slaps his chest. "Two, I'm a lot more intimidating than Schuester. They're not leaving those rooms."
She raises an eyebrow. "Even if they've figured out that we're down the hall from them? Think they'll be able to resist the temptation of a funkification?"
Most of the show choirs at Nationals are in the same hotel because it's a convenient distance from the competition space and there was a group discount. As luck would have it, New Directions and Vocal Adrenaline were also on the same flight from Akron to JFK two days ago. It took exactly half an hour of that flight being delayed before Jesse's male lead, Aaron, and Noah were at each other's throats in the middle of the waiting area. Rachel and Jesse had to drag the two apart. Rachel - who enlisted Santana and Quinn to help, as both are more than capable of intimidating Noah into behaving - is slightly exasperated that she had to step in instead of Mr. Schue, but he was a little distracted, having invited Miss Pillsbury along - officially to chaperone, but she's sure it's just an excuse for the two of them to make moony eyes at each other all weekend.
Jesse rolls his eyes. "After the little incident in the airport, I let them know in no uncertain terms that any more incidents with the competition would result in running laps around Central Park for six hours - and then they'd be allowed on stage if they could still walk after that. What about your team? They're not going to fall apart without you there to keep them in line for an hour?"
She giggles. "We rehearsed for three hours last night. Most of them are still asleep. Even so, I don't think any of them are stupid enough to actually wander off on the morning of the competition." She thinks over that statement for a moment, then shrugs. "At least we had a set list before we got on the plane this year."
Granted, not particularly long before they got on the plane, which is why she can't begrudge Jesse's good-natured snort. "I did what I could!" she protests. "At least my team has some fun every now and then instead of being run through tyrannical intimidation."
Jesse smirks at her. "Tyrannical intimidation, huh? I am pretty frightening."
"Only to everyone else. I know you're a big softy."
"And you're the only one who's allowed to know. It's a good thing I'm a great actor."
"And it's a good thing for you that I'm trustworthy. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone you have a Care Bear in your suitcase for good luck."
She smiles angelically when he whips around to face her. "You wouldn't."
"What EXACTLY is my compliance worth to you, Jesse?"
He bends over to whisper in her ear, and, conscious of the crowded shop, she fights to keep the blush off her face at his suggestion.
They take their coffee to go, because the line was that long and they truly don't have that much time. As they're standing at the street corner waiting for the light to turn, he taps the side of his cardboard cup against hers. When she eyes him curiously, he grins. "Consider this our last good-luck toast. Nervous?"
"Kind of," she admits.
She really shouldn't have given him the opening. "I remember when I used to get nervous," he tells her smarmily.
"Be serious!" she protests. "I'm allowed to be nervous, you already have four of these, and this is my last chance."
"If this were an individual competition, you'd have four and then some," he says, and she blushes at the absolute sincerity in his voice. "If New Directions wins this weekend, they'll have you to thank. If they lose, I'm absolutely certain it will be in spite of, not because of, you."
She doesn't know how to find the words to thank him - it's still such a heady feeling when he shows her the full strength of his belief in her. So she reaches up to find his hand where his arm is looped around her shoulders, squeezing it gently. He squeezes back, and the light in his eyes tells her that he gets it - gets her.
"Well, at least we know one of us has no reason to be nervous," she says. "You've done an amazing job with them, Jesse - I saw what a mess they were last year after Shelby left, and then I saw them at Regionals. To turn things back around like that in your first year coaching? I'm really proud of you."
"Thank you. But, I have plenty of reason to be nervous because the best performer here this weekend is on someone else's team," he counters. "I wish you were on mine."
She smiles up at him a little shyly again. "Well, we're a team where it counts, right? When we come back to this city in a few months - it'll be for real and for good, not for some high school competition."
She can tell he loves the sound of that by the big grin he gives her - not a showface smile. It stays affixed on his face as the light changes and they hurry back across the street - caught in the middle of the jostle of people rushing in all directions in their city.
He stops in the lobby of the hotel outside the bank of elevators. "You go on up," he suggests. "I need to make a few quick phone calls before getting the team together."
"Wait, you're forgetting something," she says. He raises his eyebrows. "How about a good-luck kiss from my boyfriend?" she suggests cheekily.
He smirks. "Only if I can get one from my girlfriend."
The elevator is dinging behind her, so she expects a chaste kiss and a hug before she goes to wake her teammates up for a morning run-through. Before she can react, though, he backs her in to the elevator that's just opened, presses the button to close the doors before anyone else can appear, and has her against the back wall of the compartment, claiming her mouth before the doors have even slid fully shut.
When she remembers how to breathe and form words again, she just laughs.
"You realize this could constitute sleeping with the enemy?"
"No, that's what you'll be doing if you lose our bet."
"Jesse St. James!"
"Oh, no. You don't get to feign innocence. It was your idea."
Before she can protest, he ducks his head to possessively kiss her again, catching the little whimper she makes in the back of her throat as she clutches him.
He's still smirking at her when they're forced to come up for air - although she feels a little smug herself as she notes that he's breathless, too.
"Just thought you deserved the real 'Superman of kisses' at Nationals this year," he tosses out, in typically cocky fashion.
She scowls in response, although part of her is secretly pleased that they're at a point in their relationship - secure enough in each other - that he can joke about it. Guilt will probably never let her feel the same way, though. "Would you not bring that up?"
He frowns a little as the elevator dings again and begins to slide to a stop at their floor. "You don't still feel guilty about that, do you? Because we've been over and through it, and you've apologized far more times than necessary."
"'Don't feel guilty,'" she teases. "Says the guy who still gives me that LOOK every time he sees someone crack an egg." He huffs out an impatient breath and grins sheepishly at her, conceding the point.
"You know, I think we have time to do a little apartment hunting Sunday morning before we all fly back to Ohio," he offers, changing the subject.
"Really?" She grins, backing out the elevator doors as they finally open. "In that case ... I'd like to propose another wager?"
"Oh, yeah?"
She grins. "When I beat you this weekend, my trophy's getting the place of honor in the living room!"
She ducks under his arm and takes off down the hall in the direction of her room, then fights to muffle a squeal of laughter when he almost immediately catches up and grabs her by the waist to swing her around.
" 'When,' Rachel?" 'When?' "
"What can I say? This feels like my year."
"Well, there's one key flaw in your plan," he says in mock indignation. She struggles to stop laughing long enough to listen.
"If your Nationals trophy gets the place of honor ... then WHERE are we going to put the Tonys?"
She's still grinning foolishly five minutes later when she quietly lets herself into the room most of the New Directions girls are sharing at the other end of the hall - although she does have the good graces to blush when Quinn shoots her a knowing smirk.
"Please, Berry," Santana grumbles from where she's still half asleep - Brittany sitting up next to her in her cat-patterned pajamas, blinking sleepily. "We all know you're hopelessly in love with him, but I don't need to hear any of the disgusting details at 7 a.m. Throwing up on stage once in my high school career was enough."
Rachel just laughs before skipping across the room to shake Tina, who sleeps like the dead, awake, hoping some of her energy is contagious.
It's funny. The plain truth of the situation is that she just began the day of her most important performance to date with the coach of her team's chief rivals. And yet, contradictory as it might seem, that hour has left her feeling more relaxed and eager to take on the day than anything else she can think of. His calm support of her - unwavering even in this unusual situation - makes her feel like she can handle anything - and she wonders if he feels the same right now.
Either way, the nervous butterflies that were in her stomach this morning are gone. Maybe because she knows she's already a winner, and that the future is so much more than today.
Not that she isn't going to enjoy taking her best shot at beating him. He'll make it worth her while.