AN/Disclaimer: I love the riot of St. Berry-ness that is the Change the World Challenge - everyone has written such amazing stuff (and I will be re-reading them all tomorrow night while ignoring the monstrosity of an episode that is set to air, thankyouverymuch). It took me FOREVER to figure out what to write for this, because inspiration was just not striking - then I was in New York with some friends over the weekend, and we went to Ellen's Stardust Diner (which I had not been to in FOREVER) and one of my girls insisted on blowing a kiss to the Eugene O'Neill (because that is basically sacred ground), and this came out of that.
So, this is set several years in the future, as Rachel, Jesse, Kurt and Blaine are all in New York trying to "make it." As always, they're not mine. Although I do enjoy kidnapping them all briefly, since we all treat them so much better than RIB does :)
Dream On
She sighs wearily as she hears the faint creak the old door makes when someone pushes it open. She looks up from the table she's wiping off to tell whoever it is that they're closed - then smiles, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten, when she sees her boyfriend standing there. "Jesse!"
He smiles back at her, leaning in for a kiss when she abandons what she's doing momentarily and scoots over to greet him. "Hello, you."
"I thought you were heading straight home after intermission?" she says, turning back to cleaning. "Or did you need a little more Mary Poppins in your life?"
Jesse groans, dropping into a chair and propping his long legs up on the seat across from him. "Like I would willingly sit through 'Let's Go Fly a Kite' one more time," he scoffs. "I just got off half an hour ago. Someone didn't show up, so I stayed to help sort things out in the box office after the show. We could use the extra money." He pauses, then laughs. "Besides, when I was getting ready to head out earlier today, Kurt was running around the apartment going on about making dinner because it's the only night Blaine has off this week. I doubt the two of them will mind if we're home late."
"Or ever," she laughs. "I guess if we play our cards right, we wind up with the leftovers."
"Thank God." He drops his chin into his hands as he watches her. "I'm too tired to cook, and you would burn the place down."
"I resent that," she scolds mildly. "What wore you out tonight - all those old ladies have a hard time finding their seats?"
"Oh yeah, mob scene," he teases back. "What did you sing today?"
"'Take Me Or Leave Me' with Dani, too many Top 40 hits customers were requesting with Rem and Ed, and, of course, Barbra."
"Always Barbra with you." He smiles. "Sounds like a good night."
"It was." She pauses. "Although I had to change once because we had a family of six in the back booth and the little boy spilled ice cream on my uniform when I was clearing their plates."
"At least you get paid to sing," he reminds her.
"At least you get to spend your night in the theater," she snips back.
It's a long-standing argument between them, one neither particularly cares about winning anymore.
They fall into comfortable silence for a moment as she continues to straighten up - the only other people in the building the two dishwashers she can hear bickering in the back, hidden from sight. Jesse suddenly blurts out, "I got a call from that director today."
Her hands tense on the stack of menus she's putting back into their slot at the front counter. Almost in the same instant, she reminds herself to relax and keep her voice light as she responds, "Yeah?"
"I have an audition next week, for that new show - about the lawyers?" He pauses a beat, reading her, then adds, "It's only Off-Broadway."
"Jesse, that's great." Finishing at the counter, she goes over and tugs on his arm until he twists in his seat so she can hug him, dropping a kiss in his hair because for once, she's taller than him. "You'll be fantastic."
She means it, she genuinely means it. But it's hard not to be a little tiny bit - okay, a lot - jealous.
She goes to move away, but he keeps her in place with a no-nonsense flexing of his hand on her waist.
"Rachel. Let's talk about this."
She smiles brightly. "What's to talk about? This is a good thing."
"Drop the showface, Rach," he says softly. "You're a wonderful actress. But you can't hide from me."
"Have I mentioned lately that it's incredibly annoying that you can do that?" He smirks and she sighs, swiping the hair back from her face. "This is a good thing. I am happy for you," she insists. "You have to know that. But I graduated in May and I'm just spinning my wheels and working doubles. I haven't even gotten an audition in six weeks. I can never shake the feeling that this is supposed to be us, that we're supposed to be breaking in together."
"Things don't always work out that nicely," he says gently. "You know we're both going to make it. But statistically speaking, the odds of us breaking through at exactly the same time, or being cast in the same show, are pretty low. You can't stress over it."
"It's just that some director is going to snatch you up - it's going to happen, it's not like I need to stroke your ego - and I'm never going to catch up to you."
"You will," he says firmly. "And I'll be right there waiting."
"Thank you." She kisses his forehead again, then tugs him up out of his seat. "Come on. I'm all set here. Let's see if we can score those leftovers. There might even be a glass of wine with your name on it - you deserve to celebrate."
"Nothing's happened yet," he reminds her, holding the door open after she pulls her coat on.
"Still." She shivers a little when the November air hits her and Jesse tugs her closer, putting an arm around her as he suddenly quickens their pace.
"Jesse." She balks when he attempts to turn them right at the corner two blocks down instead of left. "The subway is the other way."
"Just come with me a second." He hustles her across the street and down 49th. The box offices have long closed down for the night, the crowds of earlier that evening have pretty much cleared out.
He stops under the awning in front of the Ambassador and she smiles, remembering when they first came to the city and all four of them spent the entire first week running around to stare up at the lights on all their favorite theaters, like kids looking at Christmas lights. Breaking into the Gershwin with Kurt notwithstanding, it's one of the times she's felt the closest to her dreams.
He smiles up at the lights, too, then squeezes her hand as he points to the Eugene O'Neill across the street. "One day, it's going to be our names on that marquee."
"Yours, maybe," she says, as lightly as she can muster. "A lot sooner than you think, Jesse. You're going to be fantastic next week."
"Rachel stop it, he insists, tugging gently on her hand. "You cannot get so worked up about this. We're going to rule this place someday, you know that, right?"
"Yeah, yeah," she grumbles. "Jesse St. James, king of Broadway. And his girlfriend, the singing waitress."
She ducks her head to dig in her pocket for her MetroCard, then squeals when he suddenly lunges to grab her around the waist, twirling around and around on the sidewalk. Her protests turn into helpless laughter as all the lights become a blur. She stumbles dizzily when he finally sets her back on her feet; he grins and backs her up against the front window of the theater lobby, the glass cool against her back as she clutches at him to keep her balance, unable to stop laughing. The few people across the street don't even glance at the total spectacle the young lovers are creating. This is New York, after all.
"If I were the king, you'd be my queen," he says, all traces of playfulness suddenly gone as he looks into her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
She blushes and tries to avert her gaze, but he won't let her, keeping his hand in place on her hair. "What if someday you figure out that I'm just some girl with a decent voice and big dreams?" she asks in a small voice.
"You are so much more than that," he insists, kissing her sweetly in that way that makes her toes curl. "You are my dream."
"So," he prompts, releasing her and turning her - she's a little breathless - back toward the theater. "Think about it with me. Our names are on that marquee for some brilliant performance."
She smiles over her shoulder at him. "Well, we'll originate roles in a groundbreaking new musical - something that's heartbreaking, but hopeful, and that people won't be able to stop talking about. The critics adore it, and the audience does, too."
"Everyone will go on and on about how much chemistry we have on stage," Jesse adds, then winks at her. "What they don't know is that I'm dragging you back to your dressing room to ravish you during every intermission, because we're that blown away by each other, too."
She slaps his chest gently. "Jesse! This is Broadway, show some respect."
"Fine," he smirks. "We'll both win Tonys first time out, of course. We'll have to find a new spot for Kurt's prize signed Vogue covers, because the statues are going front and center on the living room shelf."
"The lines to the stage door will stretch all the way to there," she adds, pointing back down the block. "But we'll take time to talk to all of them, because we were them once."
He slides his arms back around her waist, drawing her close to face him again. "This isn't a fantasy, Rachel. This is an inevitability."
"Recycled line, St. James," she murmurs, reaching up to twine her arms around his neck.
"But still very true," he whispers, a moment before his lips claim hers again. It's the middle of the night in Manhattan, but she swears the universe is full of sunlight.
It still amazes her, even after knowing him for several years, how he always knows what she needs - whether it's that moment of levity, or reassurance that her dreams are within reach, or a reminder that he loves her.
"I wish I could change all of this for you," he says when they break apart for air, bodies still pressed together. "Make everyone see how much you deserve to shine. Make it easier."
"You already have," she says quietly, rolling up on tiptoes to peck him on the cheek. She reluctantly untangles herself from him, grabbing his hand. "Come on."
"Where we heading?"
"We're going home. We're having that glass of wine. And then I'm going to run lines with you."
He groans. "Rachel. It's already after midnight. And the audition isn't til next week."
"It's never too early to plan your strategy!" she insists, quickening their pace as she tugs him along. "We're going to make sure you amaze them."
"You amaze me. Rachel." He pulls on her arm, getting her to slow down for a second. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine." She smiles at him, looking over his shoulder at all the bright lights. "Like you said ... it's an inevitability."