A/N: Here's a new St. Berry story! I got the idea randomly and then sort of ran with it. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter One

She ran into him at Neiman Marcus. He was standing beside a table of ties that were displayed more for art than actual viewing. She watched as he tried unsuccessfully to pull one out. He gave the tie a hearty jerk and it came free of the masses, but not before trailing a good five or six ties with it onto the ground. She laughed despite herself, covering her hand with her mouth. He heard her laugh and glanced up, eyes widening when they met hers.

Her legs took her over to the table of their own accord. He made some lame of-all-the-department-stores joke, and she smirked as she crouched down and helped him pick up the ties. Her hand brushed his when they reached for the same tie and she pulled back quickly, standing up.

"Thanks for the help," Jesse said, laying the ties back on the table. He glanced at the salesperson that was watching them with a steely glare. "Although I'm pretty sure they're going to have a picture of me in the back with a strict no-service-policy."

Rachel followed his gaze and smirked. "I can't believe you're here," she said, gaze returning to him. "And that I ran into you. Talk about random."

He laughed. "It is, isn't?"

Rachel adjusted her purse on her shoulder. "What are you doing in New York?"

"What any other hopeful theater kid is doing in New York," he returned easily. "Congratulations, by the way. I heard about Funny Girl."

"Thank you," Rachel said.

"I wasn't surprised, of course. You were born to play Fanny Brice."

She felt herself flush, just as she always did at his compliments. There was something about him that had always disarmed her, for better or worse, and time had done little to dull his effect on her.

"So, what about you? Are you working on anything in particular?"

He shrugged. "Just the usual auditioning."

She thought of the boy she'd known at McKinley, and how he was so sure of everything. This man in front of her was entirely different. The trademark arrogance was absent, and she couldn't decide if she missed it or not.

"Hey, are you doing anything right now?" he asked suddenly.

"Right now? Um, no. Just, you know, shopping. But I can put that on hold."

He grinned. "Are you in the mood for some coffee?"

She nodded, grabbing at the strap of her purse. "Yeah. Coffee sounds good."

That chance run-in was two weeks ago, and Rachel and Jesse had fallen into a fairly comfortable routine of "running into" each other all around the city. They ran into each other for lunch one day. They ran into each other at a museum another day. He happened to show up outside of the Eugene O'Neil theater after her rehearsal, and since neither had eaten dinner it only made sense that they stop by her favorite falafel place down the street. And at that dinner they both realized that they'd somehow fallen into a friendship.

"Wait, so you guys are friends?" Kurt asked, sitting at the kitchen table while Rachel cooked some french toast for breakfast. "You and Jesse St. James are friends."

"Yes, that's what I said," she returned methodically, flipping the french toast. "We're friends."

"But you were never friends," Kurt pointed out. He paused to take a sip of coffee and then continued. "You were boyfriend and girlfriend. And then you were enemies. And then you were whatever the hell you were junior year-"

"That was all before," Rachel interrupted, sliding the French toast onto a plate. "Yes, we have a complicated past, but things are different now. We were young and full of drama-"

"You're still full of drama," Kurt intoned. She gave him a look as she set a plate in front of him. "Oh come on, you almost killed Santana last night for putting your Evita CD in the Phantom case."

"That's because CDs belong in their actual cases, not just the closest empty one," Rachel said, sitting down across from him.

"I'm just saying you should be careful," Kurt said. "You don't always make the best decisions when it comes to Jesse."

"We're just friends," Rachel said. "What sort of decisions do you think I'll be making?"

"Friendship is just the first step to something more," Blaine said, walking out of Kurt's bedroom. Rachel frowned and said, "I'm regretting letting you stay with us."

Blaine walked past her to the coffee machine and patted her shoulder. "Kurt and I thought we were just friends."

"Kurt also wanted to get in your pants the moment he saw you." She glanced over at Kurt and added, "No offense."

"None taken," he returned easily over the rim of his coffee cup. He turned his gaze to his fiancé and said, "She's right. I did want to get in your pants the moment I saw you. But –" he returned his attention to Rachel, "- you were the exact same way with Jesse."

"I was not," Rachel said. "I was using him to make Finn jealous." She darkened a bit at the mention of Finn, but then quickly added, "Jesse and I are completely different than you and Blaine."

Kurt scrunched his eyebrows together and said, "Um…rival schools. He joins New Directions because of you – granted that was a lie, but I personally think you were an ulterior motive. Ridiculous musical chemistry. You're basically Blaine and I."

"Don't be ridiculous," she said airly, although her stomach was heavy with the truth of what he had just said. On paper, they did sound surprisingly like Kurt and Blaine. But that was just ridiculous. Blaine and Kurt were in love. They were going to get married. Her and Jesse…it was completely different.

"Well, I can't exactly go ahead and de-friend him in life," Rachel finally said, shoving a forkful of French toast into her mouth. Through a full mouth she said, "So, you're just going to have to deal with it."

"Oh, I'll deal with it just fine," Kurt said. He paused for a moment and then said, "It's the fiery Latina roommate you're going to have to worry about."

Rachel frowned. "We can't just not tell her?"

"Roommates don't have secrets. We made that pact, remember?" he said slowly, giving her a meaningful look that made her frown. She remembered the pact. She also remembered the empty bottle of wine and searing hangover.

"We made that pact with an entire bottle of wine. Wine-induced pacts do not count!"

"She's going to find out anyway," Kurt said. "And if you don't tell her, she'll just end up making a whole big deal out of it. And, it's not a big deal, right?"

"Right."

He leadingly began, "I mean, if it's more than friends, than yeah, you'd have something to worry about. But just friends…"

"Fine, I'll tell her. It's no big deal, okay?"

Kurt smirked. "Okay."

Rachel really didn't understand why she had to go around announcing her and Jesse's friendship. Sure, they had a history. And it was one her friends had to live through. And then live through her complaining about. But, seriously, she was a grown woman. She was allowed to choose her friends without anyone's opinion.

Surprisingly, Santana had no opinion.

"Whatever," she said, shrugging as she stepped past Rachel toward the kitchen. They were at work and Rachel told Santana about her and Jesse's friendship during their break.

"Hold on, whatever?" Rachel said, turning on her heel and following Santana into the kitchen. "That's all you have to say?"

Santana tied her apron behind her waist and turned to Rachel, hands plants on her waist. "Okay, contrary to what you think, Berry, the world does not revolve around you and whatever weirdos you decide to hang out with. If you want to be friends with St. James, then be friends with him. I really don't give a crap."

"Oh, okay," Rachel said, not realizing until then just how much she had been dreading Santana's reaction. "That's…good. That's very good."

"Of course, if you two start sucking face it's going to have to be a strictly in-your-room-thing. I really don't want to walk in on that. You and your gigolo was bad enough."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'm going back to work now."

Jesse showed up at the end of her shift. He walked into the diner, hands stuffed in the pockets of his black pea coat. Santana caught his eye and wiggled her fingers at him before disappearing into the kitchen. Rachel walked over, easy smile in place as she said, "I thought you said you had a work thing tonight."

They had previous plans for dinner, but he'd called to say that something came up and they'd rescheduled.

"Yeah, there's been a change of plans," he said. "Are you free?"

"Yeah," she said. "Let me just get my stuff."

He nodded and she walked into the backroom where the lockers were. She quickly grabbed her purse and coat and walked back out into the restaurant. He had sat down at one of the booths and was looking through the menu. His face was serious, as if he were reading some piece of literature, and she smirked as she sidled up to the table.

"Do you find our menu interesting?"

"All of the food is named after Broadway stars or shows," he said in a tone of disbelief.

She laughed. "Yeah. That's sort of the point of the diner."

He pointed at the menu and said, "There's a dish called Spring-Rolls Awakening."

She held back laughter and told him, "Yeah, they're not that good. Although the peanut dipping sauce is amazing."

"I can't believe I've never been to this place," he said, shaking his head as he placed the menu back in the napkin holder moonlight as a menu-keeper at the side of the table.

"We can stay here if you want," she suggested.

"No, it's fine. You've probably eaten here a hundred times," Jesse said, beginning to stand.

"No, I hardly ever eat here," she told him. "I pretty much just do my shift and leave. I don't mind staying. I've always wanted to try the Sutton Foster Fajitas."

He grinned. "Alright, we'll eat here."

The Sutton Foster Fajitas ended up being just as good as Rachel heard. She ate nearly her entire plate, and leaned back in the booth with her hand on her belly. "I can't believe I ate all of that. I think there was enough food there for a family of four."

Jesse laughed. "I have to say, I'm impressed. You really went to town on those fajitas. I don't think I've seen such determination since your Nationals performance."

"They were good fajitas. How about your Man of La Mancha Burger?"

"It's good," he said. "I'd never think to put avocado on a burger. Now, I can't imagine one without it!"

Rachel nodded heartily. "It's one of our bestsellers."

"I can see why," Jesse said noncommitally. "Anwyay, I actually came here tonight to ask you something."

She felt her stomach twist as she thought of her conversation with Kurt and Blaine that morning. But they were wrong, she reminded herself. Pushing away all thoughts of the prior conversation, she set her most neutral face and said, "What's up?"

"There's a gas leak in my building. They just found it last night, and they want all of us out of the building while they're checking it out. Is there any chance I could stay at your place for a few days?"

She blinked rapidly, trying to come up with an answer. Of all the things she thought Jesse would ask her, temporarily moving in had not made even the top five.

"Um, I'd have to talk to Kurt and Santana first-"

"Of course," Jesse said immediately. "And I'd pitch in for the few days I'm there. I'd buy my own food. Do the dishes. That sort of thing."

She nodded blindly and said, "Yeah, let me just talk to them. It should be fine, though. I mean, it's only a few days, right? A few days can't hurt."

While part of Rachel secretly hoped Kurt and Santana would have some trouble with Jesse staying with them, neither cared. As long as it was just for a few days, both of them said it was completely fine. Rachel took this as further proof that him crashing on their couch wasn't a big deal, but there was still a part of her that felt marginally uncomfortable.

But she had given Jesse a tentative yes, contingent on Kurt and Santana's approval. And with their approval, there really was nothing stopping Rachel from calling Jesse and telling him he was more than welcome to their couch for a few days.

He showed up later that afternoon with a suitcase and a few bags. She'd taken a few blankets from her bedroom and had them stacked on the side of the couch. She told him that she had more if she needed them, and he laughed and told her that there were enough blankets there for subzero temperatures.

"I just want you to be comfortable," she said.

"I'll be fine."

"You're here," Santana said, strolling out of her bedroom.

"Hi Santana," Jesse said with an easy grin that the Latina did not return. "How are you?"

"Good, so some ground rules for you using our couch. Fold up those blankets every morning. If you finish the coffee in the morning, I will crazy murder you in your sleep. Oh, and, if you want to bring a girl back here, think again and go to her place. Understood?"

"Understood," Jesse said, smile faltering. "So, what exactly does 'crazy murdering' entail?"

Santana grinned evilly and said, "I'd rather leave it a vague threat right now. Packs more of a terrifying punch."

"Okay then," Rachel said loudly, taking a hold of Jesse's arm and steering him toward the kitchen. "So, how about a little tour of the apartment?"

"She's more terrifying than I remember," Jesse said in a low voice.

"I'm really sorry about that," she returned in like. "She's just…yeah. Anyway, this is the kitchen. It's where we do our eating and I attempt to my cooking."

Jesse smirked. "Good to know."

She pointed at the doors on the other side of the room and said, "That first door is my bedroom. The next one is Santana's-"

"Which you don't enter under any circumstances," Santana added.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Jesse returned.

"And, um, the last one is Kurt and Blaine. The bathroom is over there. And, that's about it."

Jesse nodded, grinning down at her. "That was a very thorough tour. Thank you."

She smiled a bit. "It's not much, but it's home."

"It's great," he said genuinely. "And thank you again for letting me stay. I don't know what I would have done if you guys had said no."

"You don't have other friends?" Santana said. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Santana," Rachel hissed under her breath. For someone who had been so fine with him moving in, Santana was being remarkably uncivil.

"I have other friends," Jesse returned calmly. "But they all live in shoebox apartments that can barely hold them."

Rachel's phone buzzed and she pulled it from her pocket, swearing under her breath when she saw her director's name flashing on the screen.

"Crap, I'm late for rehearsal," Rachel said. "I'll be back around dinnertime."

"Alright," Jesse said.

Rachel went to leave, but then turned back and said, "Don't kill each other, okay?"

Santana sent Rachel a chesire grin and said, "I make no promises."

It was a long rehearsal that was peppered with too many mistakes on Rachel's part. She was distracted from all the Jesse stuff happening at her apartment and she kept missing her cues. She was relieved to step inside of her apartment and have some time to sort through everything happening in her life before the next rehearsal.

She stepped into the apartment and immediately recognized the pleasant aroma of a homemade meal. Jesse stood at the stove while Kurt and Blaine sat at the kitchen table, carrying on a casual conversation with the cook. He turned around and Rachel gaped at the apron tied around his waist. Jesse misread her expression and said, "You don't mind that I'm cooking, right?"

"No," she said immediately, shaking her head as she stripped off her coat. She tossed it on the couch. "What are you making?"

"Parmesan eggplant with pasta," Jesse said. "It's one of my specialties."

"I still can't believe you cook," Rachel said, stepping beside him at the stove. "It seems like such a non-Jesse-St-James thing to do."

He smirked. "I took some classes when I first moved down here. I ended up really loving them."

"It smells amazing," Blaine said.

"It really does," Rachel agreed.

"Well, I hope it tastes amazing, too. It'll be done soon."

"Great," Rachel said. "Do I have time to change before dinner?"

Jesse nodded and she walked over to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She could hear the boys begin talking again, the conversation lazy and comfortable. She changed out of her rehearsal clothes to a pair of leggings and oversized sweater. Glancing in the mirror she pulled her hair up in a high bun and then shook it out again. She did that two more times before settling on her hair loose around her shoulders and walking back out into the kitchen. Everyone else was already seated at the table, Jesse placing the pan of eggplant parmesan in the middle of the table.

Never one to wait on ceremony, Santana dug into the food energetically. She took a bite of the eggplant parmesan and chewed thoughtfully. After swallowing she said, "Alright, St. James, if you keep cooking like this you can stay as long as you want."

He laughed. "Thanks Santana."

"This is really amazing," Blaine agreed. "What is in the breading? It's so flavorful."

Rachel watched Jesse recite the ingredient list of the breading while peppering in some cooking tips on how he got it so crispy. He felt her gaze and glanced over at her with a soft grin.

"Sorry, sometimes I go a little Iron Chef on people."

"So, what else can you make?" Santana asked, leaning forward. "Do you do desserts? Cupcakes? Cakes? Cake pops?"

Rachel watched Santana continue to ramble off foods and mumbled, "She's never going to let him leave this kitchen."

BBBBB

They all spent the night together after dinner watching bad reality TV and guessing which show they'd be most likely to end up on. Rachel was pegged as the quiet-but-secretly-crazy housewife on The Real Housewives of New York. Jesse was relegated to some indie reality show airing only online. Kurt chose Project Runway and Blaine created his own show where people battled over who wore bow ties the best. Everyone decided that Santana would land on the Bad Girls Club. Santana agreed.

Eventually sleep called to them and they all padded over to their respective rooms. Rachel changed into her pajamas and then paused as she climbed into bed. She glanced at her closed door, and after a moment of hesitation walked over and opened it, moving out into the living room. Jesse was stretched out on the couch with two pillows wedged under his head.

"Do you have enough covers and stuff?" she asked, hands clasped behind her back.

He raised himself up on to his forearms and said, "I do, thanks. This is the best outfitted couch in all of New York."

Rachel smirked. "We try. Well, good night. I'll see you in the morning."

She had already turned toward her room when she heard him call back, "Sweet dreams, Rachel."

A/N: Do you guys like this? I hope you do, because I have LOTS of ideas for this one! There are many, many roommate shenanigans on the horizon for the New York crew. If you would like to see this continued, please review!