Disclaimer: I own nothing except the Mac in which I wrote this on…
AN: As thrilled as I am to have Jesse St. James back on Glee, they've made him a total tool who flunked out of college. I had to attempt to give him some of his badassness back. And so this was born… Tell me whatcha think.
Mind Over Matter.
-xx-
It's been a few days since Prom, and Jesse St. James is finally completely back in Rachel Berry's good graces.
She's gotten him a gig as New Directions' very own Show Choir Whisperer –Schuester's still pathetic enough to grab whatever bone's thrown his way.
Sure, he's still surprised that she didn't dramatically storm after him when he and Dim Hudson had gotten kicked out, or that her powerful rendition of 'Jar of Hearts' wasn't directed towards him –what was it about Hudson, anyways? He was a first-class oaf, so why the fuck did everyone think he walked on water?
It doesn't matter either way –it's he who's lying in her bed now, waiting for her to finish changing.
No –he hasn't tapped that yet, but he'll get there. He may be back because he flunked out of college, but that doesn't take away from the fact that he's also back for her. Rachel Berry's…well, she's his musical soulmate.
He gets up and starts looks at her desk, a particular music sheet grabbing his attention. She's back in the bedroom now, watching him with curious eyes.
"Queen?" Jesse questions as he reaches for a music sheet tucked between one of her books, "I'd have thought you'd sworn off on all things Freddie Mercury."
"Oh. That." Rachel starts, reaching for it, "I got it for Noah."
"Puckerman?" he asks skeptically.
"Yes." Rachel nods, "He wanted to serenade Lauren Zizes. Though it turns out 'Fat Bottomed Girls' was a terribly inappropriate song choice." She says, shaking her head. "But I certainly appreciated his performance."
"Hm." Jessed licks his lips in surprise. When he'd been a member of New Directions he'd found the group to be one whole pathetic entity. None had star potential.
Mercedes only served to wail at the end of every song.
Quinn's voice lacked power.
Satan's voice was always either an octave too high or an octave too low.
The Asian had no commanding presence.
Brittany, Shaft and the Other Asian were barely adequate dancing props.
Wheels was just a sad white-rapper wannabe.
Puckerman didn't seem to give a fuck either way.
Kurt couldn't carry as the male lead.
And Finn, aka the human flagpole, couldn't do anything at all.
He's yet to hear the newbies –Zizes and Fish Lips or whatever his nickname is– but he's certain they won't be any more talented the rest of the lot.
Then there's their mindless mentor, Will Schuester –the man seems to be hypocrisy personified, always preaching a lot of shit about equality and everyone being a star in their own right, but openly tolerating the bullying that goes on right in front of his face.
Their only saving grace is (and always has been) Rachel. For the life of him, he just can't understand why someone with her talent and potential is willing to debase herself by associating with such a pack of useless losers.
And sure, maybe he shouldn't be keeping such low expectations now that he's actually supposed to coach them, but whatever. Tact's always just an excuse for not saying true stuff, and none of them deserve any sympathy from him.
Of course he doesn't tell Rachel that. Instead, "I didn't know Puckerman could actually sing."
Rachel's brown eyes rose to meet his, "Yes. We performed a duet a little while back, and he's done a wonderful Billy Joel and Bob Marley. Noah's actually quite the talented performer –at least when he bothers to try. And usually when there's a girl involved. He serenaded me with 'Sweet Caroline', Mercedes with 'The Lady is a Tramp', Quinn with 'Beth', and now Lauren –though, like I said, that one really didn't go over well."
"Color me surprised." He grins at her, "Maybe New Directions can take the National title. With you as their star lead, of course."
At this, her cheeks blush a light red and he winks at her. She's his endgame after all –he wants her back and he'll get her back. It'll be gravy.
-xx-
Glee Club practice with New Directions is barely bearable.
They're all useless.
And they still aren't listening to his clearly superior ideas. But he'll get the band of merry losers the National title if it kills him –he may have lost the scholarship he worked for four years to get, but he'll get a fifth National title. (If only to prove that he's still Jesse-fucking-St. James.)
"I've arranged the selection," he explains to Rachel and Brad over by the piano, "I've already run it by Puckerman and he's fine with it."
Rachel furrows her brow, "But that part's supposed to be Finn's…" The ferocity that usually accompanies her tone whenever someone tries to purloin her role as Finn's duet partner is long gone, and that brings him satisfaction.
Yes, but Hudson can't match you –Puckerman at least tries to keeps up, he thinks. "I actually think Puckerman can pull off these harmonies with you. Do you mind?"
Rachel starts to shake her head 'no' when Finn palpably clears his throat in a way that's sadly transparent, "I mind." He pouts like a dissatisfied child.
"But do you matter?" Jesse's eyes never leave Rachel's, a perfect smirk tugs the corners of his lips. He hears Hudson slam his music sheets down and storm out of the choir room. Deplorable. Even his attempt at being dramatic falls flat.
When Rachel brings a hand to cover up her mouth in an attempt to suppress a giggle, his smirk widens.
Shit, even Brad –who's usually apathetic at best about all the goings on of the glee club– chuckles at the sight.
Schuester stumps his way towards Jesse –because whenever Finn's inane feelings get hurt he jumps up like a mamma bear defending her useless cub.
What is that, anyways? Tacky displacement because his sham of marriage failed to give him the son he so desperately craved and he needs an adequate replacement? Or is it some twisted transference because Hudson reminds him of himself when he was in high school?
(Oh, yeah. Psych, he'd aced.)
"Jesse," Will's tone is harsh, meant to be threatening or something, "A word?"
Jesse only finds it amusing –the whole group is joke. "'Floccinaucinihilipilification'. All yours, Boss." His smirk blows up into a full-on grin. Completely ignoring Schuester's vexed stare, he extends a hand to Rachel, "Shall we, Beautiful?"
"We shall," she grabs it and smiles –Jesse always has the ability of making her feel like the center of the universe (if only because he usually insists on ignoring everyone else), and she loves him for it. "Later, Mr. Schue."
Will stands there looking ridiculously slack-jawed.
There is something akin to defiance in her tone –she knows Jesse's just made him look ridiculous, but she doesn't care.
-xx-
He's at his house (and he figures it's rightfully his now that his parents are officially divorced and off on opposites ends of the country, ignoring him so profusely that they aren't even aware that he's been kicked out of UCLA and back home) strewn across his bed when Rachel walks in –she's taken to doing that lately, completely abandoning the habit of knocking.
"I know we're supposed to meet up later, but I just had this urge," Rachel starts as she sits on the edge of his bed, her tone indicating that she wants to talk.
Jesse smirks –it's all too easy. "Well, I'm all for satisfying urges." He says, pulling her warm body closer to his. She doesn't even try to resist –it's the simple wildfire attraction between them. It's useless to deny it. Her body responds to his. She can feel his breath on her lips. "Rachel," he says urgently before planting his lips on hers. She tastes familiar, like vanilla gum and berry lip-gloss.
Then Rachel pulls away, her hands resting lightly on Jesse's strong back. She sits on the bed, knitting her perfectly manicured fingers together in her lap. "I don't think I can do this."
"C'mon," Jesse tugs at her chin, drops a few calculated kisses along the curve of her neck, his hands roaming up those way-too-short skirts she always wears.
But Rachel slaps his hands away, "No! Look, Jesse, they're all going to hate me when they see that I have all the solos for Nationals. I don't want them to thinks it's because you and I are together. Quinn already has enough ammo to make me miserable. I don't want to put myself at odds with anyone else… They're my friends."
Jesse rolls his eyes in frustration (also takes note that Rachel's singled out Quinn as the one who makes her miserable), "God, are you even listening to yourself? Those ignoramuses are not your friends. They don't give a fuck about you; they're just using you for your talent. No, not only that –they're using you and giving you crap about it, making you feel bad for being cut above them."
"I-I-I can't believe you just said that…" Rachel stutters, shakes her head, "It's not like that at all." It's a whisper because she doesn't even believe it.
He sees the hurt in her eyes, but presses on –he's not just being cruel for the sake of it, he has a point: "Most people are raised to believe that they are just as good as the next person. Well, that's bullshit. It doesn't apply to us –you and I, we are better."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Gotta be cruel to kind," he says, walks towards her. Then dropping a kiss on her cheek, whispers in her ear: "Love hurts, babe," So does the truth. "But I do care about you."
He walks out because he's yet to take a shower, and Rachel processes things better when she's not crowded so he'll give her her space for now.
-xx-
She's not at rehearsal the next day.
Just as well, she doesn't need it.
These amateurs, however, need all the damn practice they can get.
They make it through the day without any bloodshed (because Finn now physically harms people with his dancing –if it can even be called that) or tears (because they're all as sensitive to criticism as PMS-ing teenager), and that in and of itself is a small victory.
"Fabray," calls out Jesse as he looks over some papers, "Hang back." He glances up to find that half of the glee club has halted to glance between him and Quinn. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, "I'm sorry, is there more than one Fabray here? The rest of you are dismissed –go practice, seeing as you could all use it."
Quinn walks towards him tentatively, "Stop torturing Rachel." Jesse orders –simple and to the point.
The blonde tosses her hair over her shoulder, "Thought you were back to coach us, St. James. Didn't know you'd be playing White Knight for Man-Hands, too."
"It doesn't show that you're better than her. It just makes you look weak and pathetic. I'd have thought Quinn Fabray would be above that."
The blonde shakes her head, "Why are you even bothering?" she questions, "Think if we make friends I'll back off her?"
Jesse rolls his eyes –why the fuck does he even bother indeed. "Because you may not have what it takes to make it to Broadway, but the girl who ranked me in the top 5 'Glist' last year did have potential. You can do better than getting a nine to five as real state agent, and marrying a mechanic. And you can do better than Finn Hudson."
Everyone can do better than Finn Hudson.
"But if you can't see something more for yourself, well…" he shakes his head, "then you really are a pathetic Lima Loser. And there's no saving you."
Jesse notes that she stubbornly fights back the crocodile tears that start to pool in the corner of her eyes. Good, he thinks, Barbie still has some fight in her.
"Think about it. See you around, Fabray."
He's not sure why he did it –maybe because he wants Rachel to be a little less miserable while she's still stuck in high school with these people. Maybe because he thinks it's a waste to let Barbie become another victim of Ohio after she managed to beat all the odds and recover from her very own episode of Sixteen & Pregnant.
Or maybe all that time with Rachel has just made him more sensitive.
Whatever.
-xx-
She's not talking to him.
She's mad–no, she's furious. How dare he tell her that the members of New Directions are not her friends?
(She ignores the little voice in the back of her head that whispers that maybe he is right.)
She also ignores him all throughout rehearsal.
But they're still the last two people left in the choir room when he finally approaches her as she's walking out.
"Hey –wait up!" All of a sudden Jesse's adorable head of curly hair and irresistible, glittering navy-blue eyes swim in front of her. He leans in and kisses her right on the mouth. Hello.
Her hand shoots up to slap him –and they both grin at the drama of it all.
"I'm sorry I–"
He pulls her closer, presses a finger to her lips. "Don't apologize." He instructs her as if it's a vital life lesson (which it is to him). "I'm not going to apologize for telling you the truth. I love you enough to do that, and I'm not taking it back." She's the one person he wants to tell the truth to. He hates lying to her.
"Well, I realize now that, while you may have lacked tact or any kind sensitivity when you so bluntly shattered my illusions of having formed lasting friendships with my fellow glee clubbers
He leans in and kisses her again, effectively cutting her off. "You really are more of a drama queen than I am." He grins, brushing a few strands of loose hair behind her left ear.
This time she doesn't shy away and blush like she'd have done before. Instead, she grins right back at him defiantly, "You love it."
He kisses her one more time.
Yeah. He loves it (her).
-xx-
They're at his place watching Funny Girl for the umpteenth time, and she's rambling on about Fanny Brice as per usual, but the she stops, turns to look at him: "You're quiet. Are you okay?"
He gives her a charmingly endearing look, "I'm happy." He declares automatically, "It's unfamiliar."
Usually, most of what he says is carefully spun bullshit especially crafted to get him what he wants. And what he's saying right now is crap, too –he's been booted out of college, his parents are on the verge of cutting him off, and he's back (this time coaching) the world's most pitiful glee club– none of those are on the list of things that make him happy.
But maybe he's a little happy, anyways.
Rachel makes him a little lighter.
Fuck, he thinks, I'm going soft.
-xx-
Jesse's made it out of the one-star hick town before, and he'll most definitely do it again. One way or another.
He's certain of it.
This time he's taking Rachel with him.
(They will have it all.)