Author's notes: The Rachel Berry in my Rachel-Will stories is not the same person as depicted in Glee (at least as of 1/1/11). She's not a virgin, having had a long sexual affair with Finn and/or sex at summer theater camps (referred to in one story as a "cesspool of sexual depravity" but probably no worse than many Baptist church camps). As a result, she's confident, self-possessed, not in the least insecure, and well aware of her talent, looks, and brains. She has a higher IQ and more talent than Will, and is his psychological equal. She is always the aggressor, and he is the more vulnerable in the relationship.

To see an affair between a high school girl and a teacher depicted realistically and seriously in a movie, watch not Election, but The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, featuring one of the greatest characterizations in cinematic history by the wonderful Maggie Smith, who won an Oscar for the eponymous role.

…

On an autumn Monday in her junior year, Rachel Berry came into the choir room after school and found Mr. Schue studying some scores. "Hello, Mr. Schuester," she said. He looked up and smiled, but his mind was racing.

"Mr. Schuester?" She always calls me "Mr. Schue." She always says "Hi," never "hello." Something's up. Rachel chooses every word she speaks very carefully. This means something. But what? Is the crush back? Is it irony? What's "irony?" Is she testing me? Why? How? I have to be very careful here. On my guard.

"Hi, Rachel. Why the formality?"

"I've decided that calling you by a shortened version of your family name is overly familiar and doesn't accord you the respect you deserve."

I knew it! Something is up. She's lying through her teeth. And she's wearing tight jeans. Where's the short skirt? Where's the schoolgirl? Don't play the adult with me, missy! I'm on to you.

"I'm used to 'Mr. Schue.' It's what I've been called for years. But I'm not going to make an issue of it, especially not with you."

"Why especially not with me?"

"We've worked closely together for a year. You're almost co-director of glee. You're my star. I know I can always count on you. But what's in a name? Call me whatever makes you feel most comfortable."

But not "Will." Please don't call me "Will." And all those things I just said about her, it's true, all of it. But just because it's true doesn't mean I should say it. She's oddly beautiful. She's sexy. Am I going to say that too? No! Be very careful here.

"Okay, Mr. Schuester. One of the reasons I've chosen to address you more formally today is because I've come to ask you to be my…"

Boyfriend? Lover? Fiancé? Husband? What? What?

"vocal and interpretive coach. I'd like to begin by getting your help with Funny Girl. I heard my mom sing it and I thought I'd give it a try."

So that's it. She thinks I may have made out with Shelby. She's setting up some elaborate trap to get proof to justify vengeance. It's 'Hamlet' and I've killed her father. It's 'The Graduate' and I've had Mrs. Robinson and now her daughter wants me. Or I want her daughter. Or both. She won't get away with it. I'll be careful.

"I've asked Brad to accompany. Ah, here he is."

For the next half hour, Rachel sang Funny Girl, first through, then in sections with Will making suggestions regarding phrasing, breath control, and tempi, trying to make her sound more like the ingenue that Fanny Brice was while preserving the tonal beauty of the legato line. When she sang it complete at the end, they all agreed her performance had markedly improved. Brad left, and Rachel addressed Will.

"You were wonderful. You helped me so much. Now I'm just sorry I didn't come to you before when I was working on songs outside glee. Maybe we can do this again sometime. Would that be okay?"

"Of course. I'm glad I could help, Rachel. Remember me when you accept your first Grammy."

Rachel laughed, touched for an instant the back of his hand that was resting on the piano, said, "That was sweet. Your support means everything to me. Thanks again, Mr. Schuester," and left.

She's hugged me, but never touched me in any other way before. What's she up to? Why did it give me a chill?

She showed up again with Brad on Tuesday, to work on Maybe This Time. Will was glad to see her. He had her slow the tempo considerably, lost the cynical, world-weary, nasal tone that April had brought to it, and had Rachel beaming with satisfaction at the great improvement in her interpretation. Her touch of his hand doubled to two seconds, his chill doubled to twenty.

Wednesday, Rachel, but no Brad. "Hello, Mr. Schuester. Would you have time to work with me for a bit on the harmonies of Hello? You're the only one I know who can keep up with me on it. I want to improve my duet skills. I need to learn to listen to my partner and adjust on the spot."

Yeah, G-spot. Does she think I'm that naïve? She broke up with Finn. How horny is she? Do I still have that condom in my wallet? Am I insane? I need a chaperone, stat! Who can I get? Emma? No. That could end up in a threesome or murder. Sue? She'll encourage Rachel and take videos. Figgins? He'll shut down glee. Any of the glee kids? Every single one of them will want in on the action to get me or Rachel or both. Shit! I'm screwed.

"Okay, Rachel. It'll be harder without the piano, but that will sharpen our ears. Acafellas certainly did that for me. Why don't you sit over there and I'll stay here at the piano and play a chord from time to time."

Rachel's indulgent smile said, "Oh Will, are you afraid of me? I won't hurt you." She came up to the piano bench, said, "Please scoot over, Mr. Schuester. I only have one copy of the music this time. We'll have to share."

Perfume. Shampoo. Rachel. Bare elbows must not bump. No contact of any kind. Above all, don't kiss her. Not anywhere. Breathe normally.

"That was great, Mr. Schuester. Better than with Jesse, better than Endless Love, if you'll forgive me mentioning what was once a sore subject for both of us that I hope we've gotten past. Thanks so much again." She swiveled 180º on the bench, rose by putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing off.

Jesus. That chill went down my spine through my balls to my toes.

On the way home, Will stopped by The Gap and bought a shirt, for no particular reason. He wore it the next day. Rachel didn't show up in the choir room after school.

Fuck.