Bus ride

Mmhm. A dreamy alternate universe in which Mr. Shue is not basically a good and decent person.

We'll also further bend the rules of time and space by saying that this is on a somehow pre-pregnancy occasion in which Quinn and Finn are still together.

Also that getting the bus was not such a big deal, and the whole gang's riding home on a late night from a performance.

And we'll say this is before the ballad episode, too.

No hatin', now.

Will checked his watch. They were going to be getting in late from this show. He frisked his curly blonde man fro with his long fingers and leaned his temple against the foggy bus window. Mercedes and Kurt's laughter rose and fell from the very back of the bus. The muffled warble of Lady Gaga spilled out of Brittany's too-loud earbud as she dozed lazily on Santana's shoulder, three seats behind Will and across the aisle.

Rachel sat alone, two seats behind Finn and Quinn, re-reading Michael Shurtleff's Audition by a pink, double-A battery book light. The two heads silhouetted a few seats in front of her leaned together. They laughed softly. Quinn turned in to nuzzle her nose into Finn's neck, and he moaned.

Rachel's face went hot and red. She tried to focus and ended up reading the same sentence seven times, word by word, until it finally grew distorted with tears. She turned off the light and flipped the book closed. She hugged her stomach and leaned her forehead against the seat in front of her. Over the low growl of the bus engine and the wind of the highway, Mercedes and Kurt's voices began to grow louder. They were singing "Telephone."

Rachel leaned her head out into the aisle.

"You guys! Could you tone it down a little? I have a test tomorrow and I need to get some sleep on the ride," she snapped. Mercedes took out an ear bud as Kurt continued throwing his hands up in the air and singing.

"Honey, if you can't take the heat, you need to get out of the diner. 'Cause we're poisonin' this whole joint!" Mercedes cried. Kurt laughed and pushed her shoulder.

Rachel snatched up her book and stormed out into the aisle. She sprinted deftly down the length of the bus, deliberately not looking in the seat where Quinn and Finn sat. The Asian, the Other Asian, and Wheels were all whispering around the middle of the bus. She didn't want to be near anybody. She finally arrived at the front. The costumes and equipment took up most of the seats surrounding Will.

"You okay, Rachel? Something going on back there?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Shue. I'm just a little edgy. I need to get some sleep. Can I just sit up here until we get home?"

"Sure you can."

Will scooted toward the cold, metallic bus wall. He tensed a little as Rachel slid her warmth in beside him. She leaned back low, propping her knees up against the back of the seat in front of them. She smoothed her skirt over her thighs, crossed her arms and closed her eyes.

Will watched the street lights flicking over her smooth face. Those expressive brown brows. That wide pink mouth. Her face looked so soft and benign, with no evidence of that striking voice within. Or the fierce, complicated emotions behind it. Will smiled. He knew about all the things she was wanting right now. He'd been through all of it before.

"You did good today, Rachel," he said.

"Thanks," she said. There was a faint jolt at the corner of her mouth, that difficult suppression of a smile.

Will paused for a moment.

"You sure there's nothing going on back there? I know there are two voices I haven't heard in a while."

Rachel opened her eyes and wrinkled her nose at him.

"Well, I don't think they're doing anything illegal," she said. She crossed her arms tighter in frustration.

Will sighed. He weighed his next words, then delivered them softly:

"Rachel, I know I'm probably the last person you want to here this kind of thing from, but you really shouldn't worry. I have no doubt you're going to win the best things in life. And anything that's passing you by right now . . . well, you probably don't really need it, anyway."

Rachel's eyes smiled up at him in surprise.

"Thanks, Mr. Shue," she whispered. She patted the back of his hand in the darkness of the seat.

His other hand closed around hers for a moment, and she looked across the bus, out the other window to hide her smile. Her face went hot and her heart pounded in her chest.

"If you ever need a hand with anything," he whispered, "I'm always here to help."

Rachel bit her lip. She massaged his hand softly between her fingers, measuring its feel, its dimensions. She leaned her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes again, sliding Will's hand to her thigh. His forefinger traced the hem of her skirt. She parted her legs slightly as he slid it down and made long, slow, tantalizing strokes between her thighs. He grew hard at their incredible softness. He could feel her leg muscles clench slightly beneath his touch.

"Are you alright with this?" he asked.

"I'd only be upset if you stopped now," she whispered almost soundlessly.

"What do you need?"

He ran a finger tantalizingly close to the inner lining of her underwear. He could feel her warmth and her dampness from sheer proximity.

"This," she said firmly, nodding. And he slid his finger softly up inside of her. He stroked her inside and out, slowly and deliberately. She grasped his thumb, slid her hand up to his inner bicep, then reached down to clutch what was else was swelling desperately in the darkness. At that moment, a bump in the road fueled Will's groan at the impact of her touch, and he coughed a little to cover it up. He glanced over his shoulder, but there were no other eyes to meet his. Nobody could even notice what went on below the seat. Rachel fumbled with his pants until she finally held his hard flesh in her hand.

And as the bus flew down the highway, Rachel and Will shifted and rustled delicately in the darkness.