I hate relationship drama, especially with older couples, so even this fairly normal theme isn't going to take on the usual "you're stealing my man/woman!" type of conflict. I hope it's believable for you!
The next chapter up will be perspective, and it's only going to be one part instead of two, so maybe that'll come up sooner than usual.
jealousy (his)
"I didn't get the part."
"Oh, Jesse, I'm sorry."
He sinks into their couch and curls forwards, his elbows resting on his knees, instead of leaning back as he usually does. Rachel sits next to him and rubs his back. They sit in silence.
"Did you hear about Dick Tracy?" he asks, straightening. Her hand slides off his back and she rearranges her shirt unnecessarily.
"I'm in the final two in consideration," she says.
The side of his lip quirks up slightly and he nods. "You know who the other one is?"
"Olivia George."
His smile widens a little as he turns to face her. "Please, there's no way she's getting that role," he says, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. His arm stretches over her shoulder and her hand comes up to rest against his chest.
She smiles at his confidence in her, then stares at him seriously. "Are you OK?"
He shrugs stiffly and she sighs, pulling away from him.
"You're not always going to get something."
"You're doing fine," he says petulantly, crossing his arms. He knows he's being immature, but this is the third role he's lost in the same time she's landed two.
"I love doing this," she counters. "And I don't mind waiting between roles because I know I'm just going to get better by the next audition."
He bristles at this. "Are you implying - "
"It's nothing to do with what you don't have, Jesse," she says patiently, resting her hand on his knee. "The only way I got through my hell of a high school was by feeling like this, by trying this hard. You never had to do that."
Maybe she has a point. Still. He frowns as he stares out the window from his seat on the couch. She gets up and walks to the kitchen.
"It's just disappointing," he confesses finally, heavily.
She steps out and leans against the door ledge, a bottle of water in her hand. "I know." She leaves it at that and he glances up at her gratefully. They watch each other quietly.
"At least you have a great job," she says after a while, moving back to her seat. "Your students adore you."
He smiles. He can't disagree with that. And he loves teaching - music and performance comes so easily to him that being able to encourage others to feel the same way is exciting and fun, and always interesting.
He takes the bottle from her when she offers it, drinks from it, and puts it on the coffee table. Then he reaches for her.
"I was thinking about maybe taking in more students," he says conversationally.
She smiles at him. "I'm happy if you are," she says softly.
jealousy (hers)
They're invited to a post-Grammy part for no real reason (neither of them are involved in any way) - casual only, which makes it more fun. Less than an hour into the party, the middle of the room is cleared off completely in favour of a dance floor when someone brings up a dance competition. There are talented dancers in the room who take the competition very seriously, and Jesse is one of them. He asks her to dance with him, and she refuses. (Rachel Berry sings. Dancing is merely something she gets done on the side to remain competitive on Broadway.)
(She isn't as good as him at dancing, she knows.)
She avoids his gaze when he raises his eyebrow at her knowingly, and shuffles off to the side. She watches him flit around the room, trying to find someone he's practiced with. She should be watching the dancers on the floor, as they truly are incredible, but she can't help staring at him suspiciously. She stiffens when she realises he's found one of his more attractive students in the crowd, and turns her gaze steadfastly away from both of them. She keeps watching the other dancers instead.
When the fourth duo finishes and she looks away, he's walking up to her, and she's barely able to stop glowering as he tugs her towards him.
"All right, that's it," he says, leaning down to pull the heels off her feet, and drags her to the makeshift dance floor.
He doesn't wait for musical cues or a new track to start, simply throws himself into what's already playing. She only follows - spins when he flicks his wrist lightly, eases the weight from one side of her body to the other when he half-lifts her.
As the beat speeds up, she becomes less aware of what she's doing, instead paying attention to what he's doing so she can respond to him. Her steps become quicker, sliding into a familiar pattern of movements that she's seen him rehearse many times before, only faster than that. She's inexperienced (she doesn't practice this routine) and her actions are imprecise, but every time his fingers glide past exposed skin she tingles. Heat surges through her, and more than a few times she automatically pulls herself toward him to prolong his touch. Their eyes never stray from each other's, and with this gaze he pushes her on, encouraging her.
She knows how to play for an audience - she knows that this almost tangible need, drawing them closer together than necessary, puts on a far more engaging show than the clinical perfection of the dancers before her.
As the music starts lifting to meet its climax, she lifts herself to her toes to reduce the distance between their bodies, and he pulls her closer to him, meeting her neatly.
"You're wearing your shorts, right?" he whispers. Before she can answer him (yes), his hand slides up her thigh under her dress, balancing her as he dips her almost perpendicular to the ground. One of her legs bends gracefully, her toes curving towards the floor, but the other lifts easily, straightening perfectly by his shoulder.
She barely hears the music reaching its height and stopping. Her eyes stay on his as she breathes heavily. He's used to the exertion, but under her hand, on top of his chest, she can feel even his heart beating a little faster than usual. She smiles at him slightly.
"You're not the best dancer," he says, smiling, shaking his head, "but you're my favourite partner."
She pushes herself up just a little so she can kiss him. He pulls her upright while kissing her back. Only a few seconds after he pulls away, after her ears have stopped ringing and she's no longer distracted by her breathing or his heartbeat, does she hear the crowd cheering for them loudly. The applause doesn't fade for a long time.
He grins at her smugly. She smacks his shoulder.