Getting It Right - Going Off Script
A boy who kills cannot love,
A boy who kills has no heart.
And he's the boy who gets your love
And gets your heart!
Very smart, Maria, very smart!
Jesse frowned to himself as he scribbled a quick addendum on the sheet music beside him, before going back to his almost unintelligible notes.
She still wasn't angry or urgent enough. Biting back a sigh of frustration, he glanced up and squinted at the Latina on stage critically. This song was full of raw bitterness and grief, enraged resentment practically snarling through every line, and yet Santana seemed too concerned with making it showy and polished. Like she wanted to showcase her voice rather than the character, without realising she could do both.
Jesse tapped his pen against the script in exasperation. Had she even seen the play? This was perhaps the most emotionally explosive number in the entire musical, and she needed to match the menacing strikes of the melody with equal feeling. Anita was lashing out in fury, hurt and confusion throughout this song, every note spitting with tension. He had no doubt Santana could pull off such a fiery performance, and yet she wasn't showing what she was capable of with this rather restrained rendition. Somewhat surprising given the formidable reputation of the cheerleader.
She certainly needed sharper diction on her final reprimands. It was essential the climax was built properly with those lines in order to stoke the desperation of Maria's rejoinder. As if taking her cue from his thoughts, Rachel's voice abruptly pierced the air with a classical vibrato that was rich with hope and innocence. Jesse felt a smile rise unbidden to his lips, the stress momentarily easing from his shoulders, as his attention was once more consumed by the absurdly talented girl before him.
He watched as she reached out to Santana in entreaty, the two players moving around each other in sharp circles that made the crimson and white of their dresses flutter about their knees. Her hair was pulled back in soft waves that framed her face, the rounded pitch of her voice and wide gaze of her eyes all accentuating her youth and naivety that were so suited for this role. She really did excel at playing the corruptible innocent, he noted with a smirk.
They were coming into the duelling duet section of the number, and Jesse leaned forward in his seat with concentration. This had been a contentious point in prior rehearsals. Artie had been all for ditching it entirely, citing the creative choice in the original movie, arguing that it hindered the pace and flow of the scene.
Their director had said it was too difficult to arrange the composition, to get their voices to blend without fighting over each other. Their vocal coach had strongly disagreed, and been adamant about sharing his superior opinions on the matter. Emma and Beiste had steered well clear of the artistic dispute, opting for a diplomatic silence and leaving the two boys to hash it out.
Jesse had insisted it was worth the extra effort and that he could get it to work. The operetta overlaps were the linchpin of the number – the crux of the fight and the height of emotions for both characters. It was true to the original production and the best way to lead into Maria's part. The whole thing was just more powerful.
Rachel had agreed with him of course. 'Theatre is all about pushing yourself creatively, not taking the easy way out. We should do everything we can to get the very best from the performance'. Eventually, in the face of intractable stubbornness from the pair of them, Artie had grudgingly agreed to do it their way but had muttered that it was on their heads.
It had been stressful and hard work, but it had paid off.
Jesse only had two small points to note down when the verses were done, otherwise impressed at how it had come together. He settled back in his chair, enjoying the satisfaction of being proved right once again. Just went to show that the rewards were always worth taking the risk.
The tempo slowed and the music softened into a lingering melody of yearning, as Rachel took centre stage for Maria's heartfelt solo. Jesse couldn't help the swell of pride that warmed his chest as she stepped into the spotlight that was her natural radiance. He watched the way she tipped her face up, as if seeking out the sun, the lyrics as instinctive as breath upon her lips.
He observed how she took care to balance her focus between the audience and Santana, imploring for understanding and acceptance from them both. She clasped her fingers together over her stomach, eyes closed in concentration that she managed to pass off as characterisation. There was an almost operatic quality to her performance, as she built the growing plea of the song through a dynamic that changed from soft and almost delicate to bold and powerful, playing with the push and pull back of longing in her voice to beautiful effect.
'I Have A Love' was a tough number for anyone who wasn't a first soprano, and he had seen how determinedly Rachel had sought to rise to the personal challenge, how much effort she had put into reaching that pitch as smoothly as she could. She was kneeling at Santana's feet now, the folds of her dress pooling around her like a carpet of snow. Reluctantly, Jesse dropped his gaze and closed his eyes, forcing himself to listen to her voice in critical isolation.
There was no denying that she sounded incredible, the improvement clear even in just these past weeks, but it still wasn't quite there yet. The higher she got, the tighter the notes were, restricting the resonance of her chest voice. He knew she had the range, but she hadn't practised enough in high soprano to have properly developed those muscles yet. She was also mixing classic and contemporary styles for some reason, though she was stronger on contemporary.
He opened his eyes with a quiet sigh and dutifully added to his notes for later. He doubted most people would be able to tell (they were preparing to play to an audience of friends and parents after all, not a panel of judges), and she was more than accomplished enough to steal the show already. However, he knew she would still eagerly soak up any further feedback and advice that would help her improve on an already stellar performance, ever striving for perfection as she was. She was too much like him to not resent the critiques somewhat, but she would never ignore them.
As the number drew to a soulful close, there was a burst of enthusiastic applause from the two teachers beside him. Jesse let out a weary breath at their insistence on celebrating every number in every rehearsal, but he didn't begrudge Rachel her admiration. Still, he had a lot he wanted to get through tonight and it was a delay he could do without.
Artie had been off school sick today so naturally Jesse had stepped up to selflessly take over the mantle of director, and he was determined to make the most of it. With Sectionals and the winter break, the show was now only one week away and rehearsals had started again in earnest. While most of the emphasis at this point was on polishing up transitions, practising choreography and tweaking vocals here and there, Jesse still harboured concerns over some aspects of the storytelling and was keen to work on them while he had the undisputed authority.
When the adults had finished gushing and the girls finished preening, he stood up and called everyone to attention once more. People immediately began to filter across the stage at his instructions, assuming positions and following his direction with surprisingly little resistance. He saw Quinn catch his eye with a subtle eyebrow, the smirk on her lips clearly suggesting that she thought he was enjoying being in command a little too much. He threw her an almost invisible wink before resuming the task of imparting the benefit of his insight on the waiting cast.
After rehearsing the opening group routine twice more (with his amendments), he proceeded to call Rachel and Blaine back onto the stage. Out of all his notes, Jesse had reservations about the Somewhere number the most, and particularly the emotionally charged scene that preceded it, which was why they were going to run it as many times as it took tonight until he was satisfied.
It just didn't make sense to him. Rachel was perhaps the most expressive person he'd ever met; she wore her heart on her sleeve with a stubborn pride he'd never understood, laying her vulnerabilities bare to the world to the extent of her own detriment. She felt everything so deeply, cared too much. And yet here she was pulling back, playing it safe and slick, letting the technical power of her voice drive the songs rather than experiencing the emotion. She could bring so much to this role, but for whatever reason she wasn't allowing herself to cross that line. It was a low-level concern that bothered him with several aspects of her performance but nowhere was her unusual reticence more obvious than in the post-Rumble confrontation, and he was determined to finally crack the curious paradox.
Jesse shook his head to himself as they finished yet another tame run through of the lovers' fight, rubbing his temple in an attempt to gather his patience.
"You're still too timid," he sighed, interrupting the scene with a wave of his hand.
He saw Rachel cross her arms as she turned to face him, the same tightly controlled irritation he felt mirrored in her own body. Blaine opened his mouth to comment but Jesse ignored him, his sharp azure gaze fixed on his leading lady as he walked over.
"Every movement is hesitant, almost shy. You barely touch him, it's all fluttering lashes and coy pull backs. Yes, Maria is inexperienced but she's also a bold, impulsive young woman exploring her sensuality. She throws herself head long into this new sensation, its what makes them fall so deep, so fast." He gestured towards her in frustration. "You're too tentative, where's all your passion gone?"
Rachel drew back her shoulders with indignation, lifting her chin stubbornly at the rebuke.
"She's just discovered he's murdered her brother," she said stiffly, and he could tell she was making a concerted effort to remain objective. "I don't think she'd be running into his arms for a passionate embrace."
"No, you're right." Jesse stepped closer but spoke softer, watching the spark of her eyes flicker and glow in the heat of the challenge. "She wants to hate him, to hurt him, she's not sure she can ever forgive him. She wants nothing more than to push him out of her life and spend the rest of her days seeking absolution for her heart's betrayal. But she doesn't. She can't. She still loves him, she still wants him, and she hates herself for that. And all that anger, all that confusion, all that yearning, it has to go somewhere."
He saw her hesitate as she processed his words, her gaze searching over his face as her jaw worked around words that wouldn't come. She wanted to argue but she couldn't disagree with his claims. He could see the conflict flit across her expression; artistic integrity fighting with schoolgirl pride. Rachel didn't like conceding to others on principle, and especially not to him, determined as she was to prove her own future star-power credentials.
"This scene needs to drive home the inevitable tragedy of their love. It's full of grief, longing and desperation, one last stolen reprieve before the outside world breaks their bubble for good."
"I know but – "
"Start over."
Rachel glared hard as he stepped back to the sidelines again, still standing close enough to keep a watchful eye on her performance. She knew he was pushing her extra hard, holding her to higher standards than her co-stars, and somewhere deep down under the aggravation and bullishness... she was grateful for it. Some secret part of her was quietly thrilled at the attention, at the knowledge that someone was finally pushing her to be the very best she could be. Still, she wasn't about to be overly gracious about it.
Rolling her eyes for good measure, she moved back to her starting position and took a deep breath, settling her focus with professional determination. When she saw Blaine enter from stage right, she was fully back in character and ready to spring into action.
"No!" she shouted sharply, jumping up from the bed frame and running towards him. "No, don't come in! Get out! You promised you would stop it!"
Blaine barely got a chance to react to her small form barrelling into him, before they were called to a halt again. Breaking apart with a sigh, the two leads turned towards their director once more who was striding towards them with a look of barely restrained exasperation.
"No good. It's still too controlled – it feels too scripted and managed."
His eyes bored into Rachel's in pointed accusation and she felt her temper begin to bite back under the pressure. Jesse didn't react to her mutinous expression, concerned only with ravaging her characterisation with all his brutal lack of tact.
"You're still holding back, pulling everything in. If you don't allow yourself to feel the full depths of your emotions, how do you expect the audience to?"
"I don't know what more you expect me to do," she shot back impatiently. "There's a danger of going overwrought and falling into overacting."
"True, but you've still got to commit fully to the moment or it will just come across as staged and unnatural." He frowned, running a distracted hand through his hair as he thought. "If the emotion comes from a real place then you can afford to push things further."
Blaine opened his mouth to venture an opinion, but was cut off by Rachel's retort as she continued to argue with their coach, both seemingly completely oblivious to his presence. He glanced between them awkwardly, feeling as if he was somehow intruding and not sure how to best diffuse the situation.
"Artie had no problems with this scene before! Stop picking fights just to assert some authority!"
Jesse scowled. "Stop refusing to try just because you're afraid to step outside your comfort zone!"
"Afraid?!"
"Yes," he snapped, drawing close enough to see the amber tints of her blazing eyes and doing his best to ignore the rosy flush that was creeping into her cheeks. "This whole scene is about surrender. To fate, to passion, to despair. Maria is giving in to what she can't control or even truly understand. You can't express that if you don't allow yourself to let go."
He watched her huff and narrow her eyes but before she could form a response, Jesse signalled Blaine to step aside and ordered her to start the scene again, taking his place to better critique her performance. She clearly didn't think much of him standing in, but he didn't much care. She wanted to prove she could match her acting to the emotional power of her vocals – well, now it was time to prove it.
Rachel's heart was beating too fast to be healthy, and she almost feared she was on the verge of another panic attack, but her mind was clear enough to recognise the gauntlet that had just been thrown down. His piercing eyes swept over her like a searchlight, his stance arrogant and goading, and she set her jaw in a resolve she didn't entirely feel. Her insides felt tight and hot, every conflicted and unruly emotion she had bridled straining against the reigns of her control. She instinctively went to pull them back down but upon recognising the fear that drove the impulse, she immediately stopped, refusing to prove his point for him.
Sensing her trepidation, Jesse ducked his head and caught her gaze with a hard stare, his voice lowering almost gently with the demand. "Use it. All the resentment, all the hurt, all the rage. Hate me like you should."
'You have to let it in.'
He was riling her on purpose, applying pressure in all the right places until she relented, until she could see no one else but him and feel nothing but turmoil. They were still stood so close. Rachel felt a shudder wrack her body as the tomb finally caved in and all the tormented ghosts came bursting forth to wreak fresh havoc.
He wanted her to feel something real, something still raw. So be it.
"Get out!"
Lashing out blindly, she shoved his chest with more force than she intended, catching herself by surprise but suddenly unwilling to pull her punches. Not any more. She felt him tense against her palms but hold his ground, almost like he had been braced for it.
"No! No! No!" she yelled the familiar lines with a new sense of anguish, balling her hands up in his shirt, digging her nails into his skin through the thin fabric. "You promised! You promised you would stop it!"
"I tried." She heard him recite Blaine's lines with far more commitment than she had expected. "I tried – "
"Liar!" she cried, loud enough to make the surrounding cast start in shock but she didn't even notice. "You promised...and… and instead you murdered him! You murdered me!"
Her voice cracked and broke, her eyes burned, her body shaking violently with each tearful accusation.
"KILLER!" she screamed through her sobs, trembling so hard she couldn't bring herself to raise her head to meet his face. Her fists were starting ache as she pounded them against his ribs relentlessly, paying no heed to the rules of stage fighting. She could feel him stiffen under the rain of her blows, but he didn't visibly flinch or recoil from her attack, quietly absorbing her rage and pain. "Killer! Killer! Killer!"
Rachel drew in a ragged breath, and the rush of oxygen was enough to bring her somewhat back to her senses. She was shocked to find real tears in her eyes as she opened them again. She quickly lowered her gaze, her fingers loosening in his shirt as she heaved a theatrical wail and prepared for her cue to drop the ground in exhaustion.
Yet she found she couldn't. At some point during her tirade, Jesse's arms had come to wrap around her, holding her upright and locking her hands between their torsos. She could feel his heart beating almost as hard as her own, his breath strong and quick under her palms, and she suddenly feared that she'd gone too far, hurt him too much. And yet his grip was fierce as he held her to him, his hand tucked into her hair as she pressed her face against his collarbone.
"I'm going to the cops."
She heard him speak the familiar lines almost through a daze. They were apparently running this to the end now, neither able to break the protection of performance, to pull back from the roles they had stepped into. She felt him move his hand to her chin, his fingers firm as he forced her face up to look at him. She sucked in a teary gasp, playing to their watching audience, even as she struggled to clear the moisture from her vision, blinking rapidly as she reluctantly met his gaze. She almost faltered at his expression; the haunted shadow in his eyes as they delved into hers, the pained clench of his jaw.
"I just wanted to see your face one last time."
Rachel frowned at the grieving intimacy in his voice, the tenderness with which he looked at her, and could only think that he had decided to fully embrace the method acting ethos.
He pulled away on cue, releasing her from his embrace and stepping back.
"No..." Rachel shook her head, reaching out to grasp the tips of his fingers, tugging him back to her. She spoke her lines with just the right balance of despair and longing. "If you let them take you from me... how can I forgive you for that?"
"Tell me what you want," he urged in a pitch-perfect note of soft desperation as they drew close again. "Anything."
Rachel fought down the shiver she could feel raking up her spine. "Stay... Stay with me. H-Hold me."
He placed his hands on either side of her neck, thumbs grazing her cheeks. "Forever," he uttered, with only the barest hint of a smile to betray his character. Rachel saw it, and felt the panic begin to rise. She could hear the faintest rustle of movement from the rest of the cast around them, but no-one spoke, no-one dared break the spell. No-one would save her.
Jesse could see the apprehension flutter in her eyes. She knew what came next in the scene, and she could end it right here if she chose to. All she had to do was break contact. But she didn't. She held his gaze stubbornly, an almost defiant tilt to her chin, as if she was waiting for him to blink first.
He smirked to himself. She should really know better than to call his bluff.
He moved in slowly, almost as if he were giving her every opportunity to fold, to turn her head away, to spurn – but she refused to give him the satisfaction. Rachel would prove she was a professional. She had kissed Blaine multiple times already in the name of art after all, this was no different. This time, she would show him just how good an actor she was.
Yet as her eyes flickered down to trace the shape of his mouth, as her belly throbbed at the skim of his breath on her face, as her pulse drummed a frantic warning in her veins, she felt her resolve start to waver. When his lips finally brushed over hers, warm and soft and teasing, Rachel realised too late the fatal mistake she had made.
Her brow scrunched as if in pain as every tactile memory she thought she had banished abruptly came crashing back through her body, flooding her with a physicality so intense that it nearly shook her where she stood. The onslaught of sensation jolted into her heart like a lightning strike, igniting the ash and embers there that should have long since burned out.
A warm flush stole over her skin at the assured command of his touch, one that had her responding in kind despite herself, the dangerous rush of instinct rekindling far too easily between them. She thought she felt him smile for the barest second but before she could even think about pulling away, Jesse firmed his hold on her face and bit gently into her lower lip, deepening the kiss and causing her to swallow a soft moan.
Rachel was dimly aware of the crowd of students and teachers that surrounded them, the boundary they were recklessly close to crossing, unsure of the repercussions they were toying with. The fact remained that this was still a high school play, no matter how emotionally fraught the scene, and there was no denying that the heated assault of his mouth on hers was anything but chaste.
She forced her hands to stay at his waist, clenching at the hem of his shirt with a vice like grip, as if that would somehow make the sin of her lips less damning. It was too much. The heady taste of him, the demanding pressure and urge to surrender, the familiar hum of pleasure she could feel building in her throat – for one terrifying moment, all the interceding months seemed to fall away and it was as if they had never stopped.
Rachel suddenly wanted to hit him again in sheer frustration. There was a reason she had worked so hard to forget!
Meanwhile Miss. Pillsbury and Coach Beiste were shifting awkwardly in their seats, unconvinced as to the appropriateness of the turn this rehearsal had taken. Educational propriety seemed to dictate they intervene... but then again, this was musical theatre and not really their remit. Both staff members felt rather out of their element and not too sure where to look. Finally, Coach Beiste settled for clearing her throat loudly.
The sudden sound seemed to puncture the almost reverent hush that had fallen over the stage and its players – though the couple at the centre of attention took slightly longer to break character. People began to move and mutter again, fervent whispers rippling out through the circle of teens as the sparks of gossip caught like wildfire.
Kurt sidled up to Blaine, both boys having watched the unfolding drama with an almost enraptured focus. Blaine's expression was a mixture of professional study and personal concern as he observed the familiar scene from a fresh perspective. Somehow he doubted he would ever be able to replicate that kind of intimate intensity with his fellow lead, no matter how much he committed to the role.
"Star-crossed indeed," his boyfriend commented in an undertone.
Kurt had to say there were not a lot of straight couples who could give him a genuine tingle, but damned if he wasn't the smallest bit turned on watching these two. Glancing about his fellow students, he had a feeling he wasn't the only one getting a little hot and bothered either. Now that was what he called a powerful stage chemistry; too real to be faked.
Finally the two players broke apart from each other and Kurt frowned slightly as he caught the way Rachel followed the retreat of Jesse's mouth for a moment, unconsciously chasing his touch, before she snapped her eyes open and seemed to come back to herself.
(Maybe he should re-think that 'stage' qualification.)
Blaine glanced over and the two boys exchanged a look, the flicker of suspicion passing unspoken between them. Kurt could see his own apprehension echoed in Blaine's face, and it did nothing to assuage his sense of misgiving.
It seemed that perhaps things between Rachel and Jesse were not quite as done and dusted as they had all thought.
Rachel blinked as the scene broke around them, dropping her rudely right back into the shattered aftermath of her surroundings. Jesse's eyes held hers captive for the longest heartbeat, dark and brewing with an ever threatening storm, one she wasn't sure she could keep outrunning forever.
"Better," he decreed at last. Before she could react, he withdrew his hands from her face almost brusquely, his tone all business once again as he waved Blaine back over. "I have some notes."
She was suddenly acutely aware of the multitude of gazes that surrounded them, burning into her already overheated flesh. Rachel could feel her co-star trying to catch her eye as he walked up to join them and she hastily composed a neutral expression, hoping against hope that her lack of breath had gone unnoticed, gripped as she was by a flashback that Jesse must have known he was invoking.
As much as she wished she didn't, Rachel could still recall every detail of their first kiss even after all this time, and the sensations were returning thick and fast in the echo of his words.
The laughter and sly flirting as they spun around her bedroom to the spirited melody of their duet, the enticement of his voice even as it rivalled hers for dominance, the way she danced away from his smouldering looks and teasing hands, his long frame leaning over her in temptation… until he finally caught her under the thinnest of guises, one that still made her blush shyly.
Suppressing a shiver, she quickly dug her nails into her palm to break the memory. The painful sting helped ground her, but did nothing for the ache that wrenched her stomach into knots of apprehension. For the truth was that as much as she feared his heat, Rachel knew only too well that Jesse could be just as wounding when he went slow and gentle, achingly so.
She felt herself staring at his back as he turned away like she was nothing more than an afterthought, suddenly feeling infuriated beyond belief. How could he be so unaffected while she felt like she had just been put through a laundry wringer?
Idiot, she scolded herself immediately. What else did she expect? No matter how hard she tried, her show face would never be a match for his. Jesse had always held an emotional mastery that allowed him to remain in control, never giving away more than he had to, while she was left desperately attempting to call back the wild horses that had already bolted.
It took her longer than it should have to realise that rehearsal was still ongoing, and that she was expected to continue into the next number with her rightful Tony restored to her side.
After a beat of hesitation that was undetectable to everyone except one, Rachel picked up her cue and launched into the haunting notes of 'Somewhere', cloaking herself in the protection of Maria's pain like it was a blanket of chainmail.
/o/
"Hey, lover."
He smiled and glanced up at the sultry greeting. Classes had ended a few hours ago, and he wondered where she had been keeping herself in order to intrude upon his late working hours. There had been no Glee practice tonight, everyone was too concentrated on the final preparations for the musical, which was also why he currently lingered in the shadowed auditorium she had found him in.
"Hey, trouble."
She chuckled and he abandoned his work to watch as she leant back against the seats in front of him, her slender legs crossing seductively under the short hem of her gypsy dress. She appraised him quietly for a moment, amusement plucking at the corner of her mouth in a secret tease.
"That was quite a move you pulled off the other day. I'm sure you realise that it's all anyone has been talking about." A vulpine smile edged across her lips. "In fact, I would say it's quite possibly the most discussed and dissected stage kiss since that fiasco at Nationals."
"I might be flattered if that wasn't such a low bar to surpass."
She wasn't fooled by his nonchalance, well aware of the perverse thrill he got out of manipulating their school's gossip mill as effortlessly as he did. He was too much of a drama queen for his own good. She rolled her eyes.
"You certainly have a uniquely intense 'hands-on' directing style."
"I take my artistic responsibilities very seriously."
"Somehow I can't see Artie following your shining example."
"Let's hope not."
Quinn grinned and shook her head, reluctant admiration sparkling in her gaze at the sheer audacity of it all. "I'm honestly surprised she let you get away with it."
The smirk he gave her was downright Machiavellian.
"Never underestimate Rachel's stubbornness."
In truth, he hadn't actually planned on taking it that far, but the scene had been going so well and it was an opportunity he simply couldn't pass up. No one could fault his commitment after all. It was almost too easy. He had been aware of the dangerous line they were treading, the risk he was taking, but Jesse had never met a dare he didn't answer in full.
Possibly not his smartest move in retrospect, he thought wryly, as he recalled just how difficult it had been to pull away from her again. To see the lost look in her eyes, the conflict and confusion that would no doubt coalesce into fresh resentment, another abuse of trust she would hold against him. Yet he had to admit, he hadn't been expecting quite that level of reciprocation to his little gambit. If she had been trying to prove a point, she certainly succeeded – though whether it was the point she had intended, was another matter. Either way, the taste of her lips had lingered with unforgiving clarity, and getting through the rest of that rehearsal had been rather challenging to say the least.
Quinn was eyeing him with a calculating gaze, her head tilted in some private consideration.
"It was certainly a bold play," she said at last, her tone thoughtful and probing.
Jesse shrugged in acknowledgement, the facade of casualness falling short of his usual impeccable standards.
"But perhaps a foolish one," he muttered under his breath.
He dropped his gaze to the papers that sat under his idle hand, the reams of notes and dry jargon that he had tried so hard to bury himself under. Anything to stop his mind from dwelling on the physical sensations that particular kiss had scorched into his body.
Memory was one thing, softened and sanitised by time, but now the ache was a living, breathing entity that prowled through his bones and bayed in his blood. The dulled pang of hunger that he had learned to live with for so long, was now sharp and brutal once more, snapping its jaw in frustration at the very real and recent reminder of what it starved for. The elusive indulgence he had stolen, had left a riled and restless craving in its wake. And it almost unnerved him.
Jesse gave a mirthless huff. He really was a masochist.
He was drawn abruptly from his angst-ridden thoughts by the feel of a warm and pliable form sliding gracefully onto his lap. He looked up, objections struggling to form in his mind, even as his hands wrapped around the familiar curves by force of habit. He caught only a glimpse of soft gold and twinkling green, before her mouth found his with an almost tentative touch.
He moved without thinking, his body crying out for the comfort it had been offered so willingly. He delved into her mouth before his mind could voice a protest, the instinct almost a compulsion, his fingers winding though the fine, fair thread of her hair and keeping her close. She responded quickly to his breach of weakness, kissing him back with equal abandon.
"I'm not distracting you, am I?" she inquired coyly when they broke apart, skimming her lips over his cheek to nip lightly at his earlobe.
"Yes actually," he murmured against her neck, a knowing smile in his voice, "and I thank you for it."
Quinn laughed softly as she pulled back, shifting to straddle his hips, while he took the opportunity to slide the notes he had been writing up from the technical rehearsal off to the side. Her fingers traced his chin for a moment before he leaned up and swiftly claimed her mouth again, dragging her down into a hard kiss that spoke to a deep, frustrated desire for relief.
His hands trailed over her spine, and she shivered through the light fabric of her dress as she felt his fingers grasp at her waist before settling on her thighs with an almost painful hold. She tensed against him as his palms grazed the bare skin of her legs, and heard a husky groan rise from his throat at the increased pressure. Quinn dropped her arms from around his neck, stroking down his stomach and reaching between them to tug on his belt, but paused at the touch of his hand.
She looked up to find him watching her through a half lidded gaze, one that barely concealed the crash of urges that warred there. His breathing was strained but his grip was steady as he deftly caught her fingers and halted their path, gently but firmly moving them to higher ground.
He raised a wry eyebrow, the low words warm against her face.
"I thought we agreed we weren't going to do this any more?"
"We did," she conceded with a playful pout, drawing the pad of her thumb across his lips. "But you're rather good at it, and I figured – why break up an effective partnership."
"Quinn, you know I –"
"Yeah I know," she dismissed, a little impatiently. "Don't worry. If you want to be the champion of lost causes, go nuts. But why deny yourself a little harmless pleasure in the meantime? I mean, I can think of worse ways to release all that pent up frustration."
Pressing close, she dropped a light kiss to the base of his throat, brushing her mouth over his neck before moving up to his jaw, smirking against his skin as she felt his hand clench in her dress in a betrayal of restraint. "Unless of course," she baited with a teasing smile, "you're not enjoying yourself?"
What Quinn didn't say... was that she kinda missed him.
Not in an achy-breaky-heart way or anything, but she had to admit that it'd been nice having a confidant and ally again, however unorthodox it was. He'd been keeping his distance since his fight with Rachel before Sectionals, and there was no denying the days felt a little longer and lonelier now. Plus she wasn't lying either. Their little foray into casual physicality had been more than mildly pleasurable, and she certainly wasn't adverse to keeping that particular door open. She was only human, after all.
She could feel the sharp edge in his kiss when his mouth caught hers again, the surrender to reckless desperation that was over almost as quickly as it began. A frustrated exhale brushed her lips as she felt him break contact again, albeit very reluctantly.
"Except it's not harmless," he muttered with some effort, as if the truth of his words pained him.
He dropped his chin and closed his eyes with a grimace, familiar bitterness etched into his expression. It was a moment before he spoke again, during which time she suspected he was doggedly rebuilding the walls of his willpower; submitting to misplaced guilt to control the more selfish impulses of his nature.
"There's a fine line between provoking a reaction and deliberately hurting her," he said at last. His face was turned away, frowning at thoughts only he could see. His chest heaved under her palm, a wretched sigh that vibrated through her body like the opening note of a mourning dirge. "And I think I crossed it."
"Hardly for the first time."
A shadow moved over his face, tightening his features and darkening his eyes with a cascade of memories she wasn't privilege to, even as he answered her observation with sullen silence. Quinn sat back with a resigned look, brow furrowing softly as she considered the boy in front of her.
"I did warn you," she pointed out, almost gently.
He scowled at the unwelcome reminder, but his heart wasn't in it and he soon looked away with a deep breath, slumping a little lower in his seat. Poor boy looked utterly miserable. Quinn rolled her eyes to herself.
As much as a repeat performance of that night would have been desirable, she did reluctantly understand that it just wasn't an option for him any more. And while it was unclear what would come next, it seemed that she was too involved to quit the game now. The former Cheerio shook her head in bemusement. She'd had fair warning, but even so, she still hadn't expected things to turn out quite this way. She hadn't expected to care.
"Look, we pushed her as far as we can and it still didn't crack that prison chain." Quinn spoke bluntly but not unkindly, the cut green glass of her eyes sharp with something like curious concern. "Why are you still here? To steal kisses under the veil of amateur dramatics? Do you think flagellating yourself is an atonement that will be appreciated?"
"I tried running before," he said, his tone somehow flat and despondent at the same time. "That didn't work either. The least I can do is try. See this year out and hope it's enough to finally move on - for better or worse."
She sighed, examining him with an almost sympathetic gaze. "You really love her, don't you?"
He made a small strangled noise that could have once been a laugh. Like the hysterics of an inmate who still had enough clarity to realise that they were now stuck in the asylum forever. He rested his forehead on her exposed collarbone with a muffled groan.
"It'll be the death of me."
Quinn touched a hand to his ruffled hair, smiling sadly as she felt his broken breath against her skin. It was painfully obvious that there was a line he wouldn't cross now, but that didn't mean they couldn't still enjoy the race to the finish.
"Well, if you insist on torturing and denying yourself, I suppose the least I can do is offer a little comfort. No reason we all should suffer alone."
The lot of them were stuck in the McKinley loony bin together for a bit longer yet after all. If the relief of a little human touch was all she could give him, then she'd offer it gladly. Quinn mentally grimaced at her own thoughts. She was getting soft.
Jesse raised his head and met her eyes carefully, searching her gaze for confirmation of the unspoken caveat of this new agreement. He seemed assured by whatever he found in her face, his features slowly relaxing into that sly smirk she recognised well.
"Who knew you were such a soul of generosity. The patron saint of hopeless pilgrims."
"Hmm," she agreed, her lips twitching in a mutual grin. "Of course, even sainthood has a price."
"Is that so? Well, I'm sure I can scrape together a little donation."
Quinn laughed, wrapping her fingers around his shirt collar as she breathed the words against his jawbone. "Now who's the generous one?"
He raised an eyebrow in amusement, his hand lifting to stroke her neck. "Some things are best enjoyed in moderation."
"Perhaps. But you know what they say misery loves... "
The rest of her sentence was lost in the warm press of her mouth on his and Jesse couldn't help but whole heartedly agree with the unfinished sentiment.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a soft warning echoed in that familiar silky voice, dark eyes flashing with an authority that had never tolerated undue provocation. Tightening his grip on the girl in his lap, Jesse deepened the kiss with a surge of wilful rebellion, feeling almost high with the rush of defiance. Fuck Shelby and her demands. He wasn't hers to control and coerce any more.
He felt Quinn pull back just enough to break the kiss, slightly breathless at the sudden fierceness of his hold.
"Not having second thoughts are you?" she teased, laying a calming palm against his chest in point.
"Sorry," he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair in an effort to hide the tension that bubbled through him. He gave a grim chuckle. "My head's a bit all over the place still."
Yeah, no kidding. Quinn eyed him shrewdly for a moment before gently uncoiling herself and dropping into the seat beside him. He sighed but let her go, a rueful smile tightening his lips as he watched her settle herself cross legged on the worn velvet. She lifted her head and met his gaze with a mischievous glint.
"You know, in all the furore about your kiss, I almost forgot to tell you the other piece of New Directions gossip."
He gave her a look that indicated he really wasn't in the mood to hear about the petty politics and relationship drama of her team right now, but she shushed him with a raised hand.
"No, trust me, you'll appreciate this."
"Okay then, dazzle me."
She grinned widely, clearly extremely amused by whatever titbit she was about to impart.
"So apparently, Mr. Schue has decided on his best man for the wedding. And it's none other than our own favourite man-child, Finn Hudson."
Jesse blinked blankly for a moment, unable to process any thought in response except for: What. The. Actual. Fuck. He stared at her for an incredulous beat, before they both abruptly burst out laughing. Wasn't that just the utterly absurd cherry on the cake of their incestuous little family.
"Well," he remarked dryly, catching Quinn's eye again after they'd both calmed down. "That's not at all creepy and inappropriate. Am I the only one who increasingly suspects that Schuester escaped from an unfinished episode of 'How To Catch A Predator'?"
Quinn smacked his arm, even as she succumbed to another fit of laughter.
/o/
"Can we talk?"
Rachel jerked up in surprise as her boyfriend's imposing form suddenly materialised beside her locker, hating the way her heart twinged with guilt at the sound of his voice. She had no reason to feel guilty! Except, maybe, for avoiding him for most of the day. But then again, she'd been avoiding pretty much everyone. She quickly covered her slip with a perky smile, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.
"Of course," she assured needlessly, before turning back to stuff the last of her textbooks into her bag. "It's just I've got vocal training tonight and I need to get home and have a rushed dinner first. Can I call you after class?"
"I'd rather speak now, it won't take long."
Forcing herself to meet his face properly, Rachel felt a lead weight of worry sink through her chest at his unusually solemn expression. She managed to nod, mutely following his lead as he led them into an empty classroom just next to the school doors, the same doors that she had so nearly escaped through tonight without having to have this awkward conversation. She should have just left the textbooks.
Stepping just inside the doorway, she barely had time to turn around to face him before he spoke.
"Is it true?"
It was probably futile to play dumb, the whole student body seemed to be talking about it, but she might try anyway. Adjusting the bag straps over her shoulders, she plastered a benign smile on her face, keeping her tone light and innocent, desperate to side-step the whole sorry affair.
"Is what true?"
Finn's expression was oddly blank, though she could see the pinch of anger at the corner of his mouth.
"Did he kiss you?"
Well at least he got the emphasis the right way around. She most certainly didn't initiate it. But you didn't break it either. Rachel shook her head, more to dislodge the reprimanding voice but also in answer to his rhetorical question.
"No! I mean... well, yes... but it was for the play! We were rehearsing!"
God, she never thought she'd use a line like that in real life.
Finn looked equally unconvinced at her weak excuse, as true as it might be. Though she suspected Jesse could have been giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and her boyfriend would still challenge his motives. Rachel stepped forward and grasped his hand, holding tight to his large fingers as she cycled through all the justifications that she had been working on all day.
"Okay, it was stupid to go along with it, but it didn't mean anything. It was just a stage kiss – just like with Blaine!"
Rachel inwardly winced even as she said it, knowing there was no way she could convince herself, let alone Finn, that a kiss with her gay best friend was anything like a kiss with her notorious ex. Grinding her teeth together, she mentally cursed Jesse again for the hundredth time since that damned rehearsal had ended. What the hell had he been playing at, pulling a stunt like that? What the hell had she been thinking to even let it get that far?
Finn was staring down at their hands, making no move to pull away but not returning the squeeze of her fingers either.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he said at last, still not looking up at her face, though the reproach in his tone broke through loud and clear. "Why did I have to hear it from some guys on the football team?"
Rachel opened her mouth soundlessly before quickly shutting it again, finding that words alone just weren't enough to appease the wretchedness that filled her. Stepping closer she raised her other hand to his cheek, silently begging him to meet her eyes, to see just how sorry she was. "I-I should have, I'm sorry. But it really didn't mean anything and I didn't want to upset you over nothing!"
"Nothing," Finn repeated humourlessly. She saw his jaw clench with familiar resentment and reflexively tightened her hold on him. Rachel knew just how deep his animosity with Jesse ran, fuelling an already mistrustful and antagonistic relationship between the two members of the club. The last thing they needed was another Babygate throw down. It frustrated her no end that this rivalry just wouldn't die. She'd picked him. How many times did she have to remind Finn of that?
To her surprise, the fight seemed to abruptly deflate out of him.
"It's never 'nothing' when it comes to that jerk. I don't know exactly what's going on – "
"Nothing is going on!" she interrupted frantically, missing the ironic quirk of his lips at her choice of words.
Finn raised his head, bitter sadness lining his eyes as they finally met hers. "Rach, everyone in the club is practically choking on the tension between you two."
" I – "
"It's okay," he cut her off somewhat roughly, looking very much like everything was decidedly not okay, but he pushed on regardless and Rachel suspected this was something he had decided to say long before he sought her out at her locker. "I don't blame you," he said, leaving it implicit as to who he most definitely did blame. "But it needs to stop. And I think the only way that's going to happen is if we... we take a break."
Rachel felt the air go out of her lungs, her hands falling away from him as she backed up a step, retreating from the implication of his words.
"W-What are you saying?"
He was... breaking up with her? Again?
Finn sighed deeply, as if he was as pained at the prospect as her. "I think you need to take some time. Put things to rest." He shrugged a little, his shoulders heavy. "I'm pissed off about Quinn and Jesse too. But you seem, I dunno, kinda heartbroken about it."
"That's not – "
"Look, I think I need a little space too. To figure out how we get past this."
"Why can't we do that together?" she demanded, desperate to keep her last tether to certainty intact. He just couldn't cut her adrift like this! Rachel felt blind-sided by the truck of old fears and insecurities that crashed into her, hurling her backwards into a past she thought she had finally left behind.
He was eyeing her with a rare look of determination, his mind made up. "Because I want my girlfriend back, and you need to find her again."
"I'm still... me," she almost whispered, unwilling to admit just how truly lost she felt.
"Rachel, no matter what you say, that kiss is a problem. Maybe you should think about that too. When you figure out how you feel about everything, when you're ready to put us first again, we can talk."
Rachel could only stand and stare, frozen in place and at a loss for words for one of only a handful of times in her short life. She watched unblinkingly as her (ex) boyfriend slowly turned around and walked out the classroom, leaving her alone with her shock.
What the hell? He thought she wasn't putting them first? That was all she had ever done! She had chosen him time and time again, had returned to his side over and over – hadn't she proved herself enough? And now what? He wanted her to somehow magic away all her unresolved feelings on her own, repackage herself in a neat and tidy girlfriend bundle with no messy loose ends, and then he might consider taking her back? Was her love really so much of a burden? Was she worth so little effort?
Angrily, Rachel swiped away the warm, wet tracks that had sprung from her eyes without permission. What an absolute fucking mess. He wanted to take a break? What did that even mean? A teary laugh escaped her at the random realisation that somehow she had ended up in a similar plot arc to her TV namesake. How was that for dramatic irony.
Rachel had no idea where this left her and Finn or where she went from here. But she was damn sure whose fault it all was. Her knuckles cracked in her fists, a dangerous gleam entering her eyes, as her confused distress settled on a rightful target.
She was going to kill that smug bastard.
~o~
