Getting It Right - Best Laid Plans
The coach was crying again.
Jesse turned his head in an effort to conceal his disgust, mentally rolling his eyes at the lack of professionalism he was forced to contend with on a daily basis. Unfortunately that only brought his gaze to fall over his two other so-called co-directors. Emma was beaming like an enraptured child to his left and Artie looked like he was sucking on a lemon his lips were pursed so tight, nodding his head every so often as he regarded the players in front of them. Sighing under his breath, Jesse wondered again just what exactly had qualified any of these amateurs for this position in the first place. Don't get him wrong, the arts were fundamentally all about stirring powerful emotions, but there was a time and a place for it. How did these guys expect to offer any constructive criticism and draw the best out of their cast when they were awed beyond words by every single performance?
Casting off the frustrated thoughts with a shake of his head and drawing his attention back to the rehearsal that they were currently in the middle of working on, Jesse settled back in his chair with a contemplative frown. Rachel was belting out the lyrics pitch perfect as ever, embellishing her performance with all the trademark Broadway gestures, leaving Blaine in her shadow somewhat. While some of it was just experience playing in her favour, she was close to toeing over the threshold of scene stealing. Not that he could really fault her for that, it would be rather hypocritical of him after all, and yet it was a line you had to learn to tread carefully in the professional world. While he would be content to watch her perform for hours, most of their fellow peers wouldn't take kindly to being dazzled by someone else's spotlight, no matter how radiant it was.
Yet there was something else missing. Their voices were both strong and worked well together, but it was almost like they were singing two separate melodies that happened to harmonise by accident every now and then. There was a lack of interaction and the intimacy which any true duet required. They were all hitting all the notes, though their projection needed some work, but it all was too… sweet. There was something very FOX network, teen-soap-drama about it all. All teeth and no bite.
To his surprise, it was an observation that was apparently shared by someone else.
"Can I be honest?" Artie cut in when the vanilla rated version of 'Tonight' came to an end a few mintues later. "This song is about sexual awakening, as is the entire musical." He gestured to their leading stars with a wave of his hand. "You two lack passion. Have either of you two actually…?"
Jesse had never seen two adults exit a room as quickly as Pillsbury and Beiste did at that randomly spouted question. This school really was so repressed it was unbelievable. Rachel and Blaine were clearly thrown by the sudden probe into their privacy, stumbling over words and excuses before finally confirming the obvious, Rachel studiously avoiding Jesse's gaze as she did.
"Look," Artie began, puffing out his chest with an over-inflated air of authority, one that was frankly vastly outmatched by the boy sitting beside him. "As your friend, I support your strange aversion to fun. But, as your director, I'm concerned."
"I'm sorry, what do you mean?"
Jesse couldn't help the smile on his lips as Rachel stiffened with objection, her expression stubborn and earnest at the same time, never one to take a criticism lying down. She really was infuriatingly gorgeous when she was digging her heels in over an artistic dispute.
"Well, how do you expect to convey the human experience to an audience when you haven't even opened yourself up to one of humanity's most basic and primal ones?"
Rachel opened her mouth and then closed it, looking for all the world like she was actually considering taking such an absurd piece of advice to heart. Jesse raised an eyebrow, unable to believe what Artie was trying to seriously endorse. Was he really suggesting that you were incapable of being a convincing actor if you were a virgin? Man, there was a ridiculously ignorant and flawed piece of reasoning if ever he heard one. It sounded more like a sleazy come-on line than any form of directorial insight.
"Depends how far you want to take method acting," Jesse interjected. "Personally, I think it's overrated." He lifted his shoulders dismissively, his tone cool and detached. "Anyone can have sex. It takes a whole other talent to draw the rest of the world into a private love story and make it compelling."
He saw Rachel and Blaine exchange a look and could only hope that they had better sense than to fall for this shit their director was trying to feed them. Their performance may be lacking, but certainly not for the ludicrous reason Artie was citing. Jesse frowned. Rachel had more passion than any other person he'd ever known – she could set hearts on fire and bring an audience to their knees and feet respectively with the depth of her emotion. It might need channelled and directed more concisely, but she was more than capable of making each story her own.
Yet she was holding back, and he didn't know why.
"Still," Artie spoke up from beside him, addressing Rachel and Blaine once more. "It couldn't hurt."
"Beg to differ," Jesse murmured under his breath.
/o/
He didn't mean to watch them, he really didn't.
They were talking beside one of her campaign posters, Rachel smiling warmly in her excitement while Finn just looked at her with that vacant dopey grin of his, as if permanently bemused by the situation he found himself in. Jesse clenched his jaw so hard it hurt but couldn't quite bring himself to turn away. It was becoming increasingly painful to witness any interaction between them, and for more than one reason. They were so mismatched as a couple, it was incomprehensible. Rachel was a comet of dazzling potential, lighting up the sky as she raced through the stars and towards her future – why she had chosen to tie herself down to a dead lump of rock, one with no hope of ever keeping up with her, Jesse would never know. He had never believed in the theory of opposites attracting and how she wasn't bored stupid by more than one minute in her boyfriend's company, he honestly couldn't fathom.
As he watched, Rachel leaned up on her tip toes and pressed her lips to Finn's in a lingering kiss, seeming to almost catch her boyfriend off guard with the impulse, although he was certainly quick to embrace it. Jesse's brow darkened and he snapped his gaze away, closing his eyes for the barest second but unable to block out the thoughts that taunted him, the sweet torture of an endless might-have-been.
She was standing with her back to him, the pads of her fingers pressing down delicately at the corners of the poster as she aligned it up perfectly straight, too caught up in her concentration to notice his approach. Smiling to himself, he laid his hands upon her waist and abruptly turned her around, catching her surprised exclamation in the brush of his mouth. She giggled against him, her palms sliding along his neck as she eagerly returned the kiss, deep and hot enough to make his hands curl into her dress with longing. She pulled back a breath from his lips to meet his eyes. "Is this your idea of helping?" she queried with a smile.
He grinned against her mouth. "Absolutely." She laughed but the musical sound was soon muffled as he pulled her back into the fervour of their crashing kiss, backing them both up against the school corridor with a careless disregard for their surroundings.
Jesse came back to himself sharply, banishing the bittersweet indulgence from his head. Walking on briskly, he resumed his route to the auditorium, still plagued by the whisper of his all too vivid imagination. He shook his head. He was turning into a masochist except without any of the pleasure. God, he really needed to kill some energy.
/o/
"Can I ask you a question?"
Tina turned around, still pulling a brush through her hair as she attempted to wrestle the tangled locks back into submission after the rigours of gym class. "Sure," she replied, frowning in curiosity as she watched her friend open her mouth and then hesitate with an uncharacteristic bout of doubt.
Rachel cast a quick look about the crowded changing rooms, pausing from packing up her bag to move closer, her voice lowering in a conspiratorial whisper. "You and Mike… How did you know when… when you're ready?"
"Ready?" Tina repeated, unsure if her friend was really talking about what she thought she was talking about.
Rachel sighed, dropping to sit down on the bench. "I'm going over to Finn's tonight. He's cooking dinner for us."
"Oh," Tina mumbled in understanding. She eyed the girl next to her thoughtfully, trying to decipher the distant look on her face. "And… you're not sure you're ready?"
"That's not it. I mean, I think I'm… I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be." She sighed as if struggling to get her thoughts out. Leaning forward, she propped her elbows on her legs. "I mean, you're always going to be a bit nervous before the…the first time…right?"
"Rachel, he's not pressuring you, is he?"
"No! No, not at all," she insisted firmly, speaking so low and fast that Tina almost lost her friend's voice in the chatter of the changing rooms, especially now Rachel was speaking more to her knees than to her teammate. "It was my suggestion actually. I mean, I figure, why not now? Better sooner rather than later after all. It felt like a good idea…and it can only help things…"
Tina frowned, confused by Rachel's mumblings. "Rach, no-one can tell you when you're ready, only you can make that decision. But Finn's a good guy and you know he loves you – like a stupid amount. If anyone's going to wait for you and move forward on your terms, it's him."
An affectionate smile sparked on Rachel's lips, her eyes going soft and distant. "Yeah, you're right. And I love him, I do. It was always going to be him, he's the only one I've always been sure of, and that's all that really matters, isn't it?" She looked up decisively, meeting her friend's face with a confident nod and quiet smile of thanks. Sitting back abruptly and without pausing for a response to her rhetorical question, Rachel pushed some wayward locks away from her eyes impatiently. "Hey, you don't have a hair tie I could borrow, do you?"
"Um, yeah, sure. I think so…" Tina muttered, a little surprised at the sudden change of topic for a moment, before shrugging it off and turning around to dig through her bag beside them.
Rachel cast her gaze about the emptying locker room as she waited, musing over the conviction she had found and thinking forward to tonight with fresh determination. A frown soon fell over her face however as she spotted a familiar figure just a few paces away from where she sat, someone she hadn't noticed in the earlier bustle of activity.
Quinn's back was turned to them as she stripped off the McKinley sport shirt and tossed it onto the bench. Reaching for the blouse she had left hanging on the hook, she shook back the cropped flicks of her honey hair and pulled it over her head – but not before Rachel glimpsed the dark purple bruises that stained the curve of her neck. She felt her throat go dry, her heart dropping uncomfortably in her chest with a sickening violation that felt almost like betrayal. Morbid curiosity pinned her in place, held her gaze numbly, even though every fibre in her screamed to look away. To let it go.
"Can I help you?"
Jerking back, Rachel realised too late that the subject of her attention had turned around and caught her staring. Quinn folded her arms, a cool smugness in her tone that set Rachel's nerves on edge, making her eyes narrow with a confrontational urge she didn't completely understand. She quickly composed her expression, meeting the former Cheerio's gaze levelly.
"Hair straighteners again?" She nodded towards the painful marks that stood out violently against the pale canvas of the other girl's skin.
Quinn smiled mockingly, tugging her gym bag up onto her shoulder as she walked past and out of the changing rooms. "If you say so."
/o/
Make of our hands, one hand,
Make of our hearts, one heart.
Make of our vows, one last vow;
Only death will part us now.
Jesse's own hand moved quickly across the papers in front of him as his trained ear picked over the finer points of Blaine's performance, catching every waver in pitch and beat of timing and transcribing them through his fingers almost too fast to see. The boy was certainly improving, there was no doubt about that. Jesse could hear the difference in his vocal control even over these few weeks of rehearsals. Blaine's voice was strong, if unpolished, and it contrasted very nicely with Rachel's. Of course, Jesse knew that nothing could ever compare to the exceptional magic and chemistry that his voice evoked when joined with hers, but that was a perfection that could never hope to be replicated and so it was an impossible standard he didn't even try to push them to. The heights of her duets with Blaine may never be as impressive, but they would be adequate for the purposes of this performance.
However, they still had a lot of work ahead of them.
Make of our lives, one life.
Day after day, one life.
Now it begins, Now we start;
One Hand, One Heart.
Even death won't part us now.
As Maria's verse kicked in, Jesse lifted his eyes up and onto the stage below, a half smile drawing his lips. Of course she would steal the show; she was incapable of not pulling focus. Rachel reigned supreme in almost every performance she went into and she knew how to pack one hell of a punch into a song. Her voice filled the huge space with an incredible power, the high soprano notes coming across as deceptively effortless, even though he knew that it was out of her normal range and something she had dedicated many hours of struggle to over the weeks. And it had paid off. He saw her look out into the audience once more and deftly caught her gaze, sending her a smile of approval which she returned almost bashfully, before hastily turning her attention back to Blaine. Jesse smirked in quiet satisfaction. For all her confidence and drive and self-absorption, he could still manage to make her blush with a carefully timed compliment or gesture. It was a game he would never tire of.
The pencil in his fingers had all but fallen still under the spell of her voice for a long moment – however it didn't rest for long. There was always room for improvement as far as Jesse was concerned, even with a performer as talented as Rachel, and so with no small twinge of reluctance he forced his gaze back to the notebooks that covered the table before him.
The number soon ended and the rehearsal moved onto another scene, as directed by Artie from the edge of the stage – script in hand and glasses perched slightly askew on his nose. Jesse sighed and dropped back in his seat, casting a critical eye over the activities below and taking the opportunity to take a swig from the bottle of water beside him. It wasn't that he didn't have an opinion on the dialogue scenes, or that he was shy about expressing them, but that was just the way the roles of responsibility had been divided. He was the authority on vocals, while Artie had taken on the mantle of general director. Emma was happy to manage the costumes and budget, while Coach Beiste had found a convenient outlet for her love of welding by taking charge of set design. It wasn't perfect but it seemed to be working out, more or less. Give or take a few clashes of creative opinion.
Jesse's expression tightened as he thought back on the previous day's argument with a heavy sense of foreboding he just couldn't seem to shake. He didn't like at all what Artie had done with his little speech. Such naïve ignorance could prove very dangerous in the wrong impressionable minds, and he really didn't want to stoke the fire of bad decisions anymore than they were already.
His eyes drifted over the stage, following the flow of her gestures, how she moved and spoke with all the longing urgency of their tragic story as the two leads played through one of their more intimate scenes. He watched the way Blaine took her hand, the way she touched his face and held his eyes, and a familiar thorn of resentment stabbed inside his stomach. Running a hand through his hair, Jesse rubbed his temple and curbed the irrational reaction as much as he could; needlessly reminding himself for the hundredth time that Blaine was gay and already spoken for. It certainly took the worst sting out of it, but stage jealously was an instinct that he struggled to assuage at the best of times, and the emotions were only all the more heightened wherever Rachel was involved.
A scowl fell over his features as unwanted memories pushed into his head, fuelled by his troubled reflections. All the little glances, easy touches and private smiles that she bestowed on Blaine under their director's watchful eye… It was everything she shared with Finn on a daily basis, everything Jesse had once held in the palm of his hand and then thrown away. Her interaction with her on-stage lover only served to remind him all the more of the way she was with her real-life boyfriend, all the tender moments he was forced to witness between them weighing down on his mind like an oppressive shadow.
A sharp snap drew him abruptly out of his thoughts. Glancing down, he saw that the pencil had finally broken between his fingers, unable to bear the brunt of his taught grip any longer. Making up his mind, Jesse dropped the splintered remains onto the tabletop and withdrew his cell, scrolling down to a familiar number.
French corridor, ten mins.
/o/
Quinn rolled her eyes with a smile. A man of few words, wasn't he? Well, it was certainly to the point, though she couldn't help wondering what had provoked such a curt message of demand out of the blue like that. Her desire and curiosity got the better of her (of course) and it wasn't long before she found herself heading for the language department. Besides, it wasn't as if she had anything else she was supposed to be doing after all. Like, say, schoolwork. But where was the fun in that?
Yet when she reached the rendezvous location, she found the hallways empty. She frowned gently as she walked down the corridor, irritably wondering just what the hell he was playing at. Suddenly a door cracked open to her right and Quinn had to stifle a gasp as an arm reached out and snatched her around the waist, pulling her into the warm darkness.
As the door clicked shut behind them, she found herself caught in a strong embrace, pressed against a gorgeously firm body that she was becoming increasingly familiar with. Quickly recovering her balance and allowing her sight to adjust to the dimness, she found his face through the shadows and arched a sceptical eyebrow.
"The janitor's closet? How original."
"Sometimes the classics are the best."
His hands were still resting on her waist, fingers softly flexing against the small of her back. Quinn slid her palms up his chest, a sly note of teasing creeping into her voice. "Seems a bit down and dirty for you."
She could hear the knowing smile he skimmed over her ear, the murmured words hot and husky against her skin. "Well, it beats almost being caught with a junior on the Principle's desk."
Quinn pulled back to meet his gaze, unable to hide the tinge of awe and disbelief in her expression as she regarded her partner in crime with fresh intrigue. "You didn't…"
He shrugged, brushing aside the casual confession with a matter-of-fact tone. "It was a bet."
"For you or for her?"
"Doesn't matter." Jesse smirked, his dark eyes distant with the echo of pleasurable memories. "We won it fair and square."
Quinn shook her head, grinning as she leaned in close and tugged his mouth down to hers. She felt him smile into the kiss, his hands travelling up her back as they wound their way into her hair. However the leisurely pace didn't last long. She sucked in a sharp breath as he moved to slide his fingers along her neck, tilting her head and forcing them to deepen the kiss, his mouth bruising hers with a rush of heat that burned through the pit of her stomach in eager anticipation.
Her hands grasped the shirt hem at his waist, holding firm even as she reluctantly drew back to regain her breath. She could feel the tension in his chest and arms, and she knew that he was silently struggling with the boundaries of self-restraint, the confines of a tortured frustration that was getting ever closer to breaking point. Running a hand along his shoulder, she quirked a playful smile.
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure? Pressure of directing getting to you?"
She watched his expression as it turned guarded and sober, his arms falling back to cross over his chest as he lowered his eyes. When he finally broke his silence, his voice was low and tight.
"Have you heard the rumours?"
"About us?"
"About them."
Quinn frowned. "What, you mean 'tonight's the night' and all that bullshit? What of it?"
He didn't answer right away, and for a moment she wasn't sure he would at all. His eyes were still cast towards the floor when he reluctantly spoke again, his knuckles stained white in his clenched hands.
"Do you think she will?"
"How the hell would I know?" she retorted, a little more bluntly than she intended. If Rachel wanted to stop being such an uptight, celibate, little killjoy and finally put Finn out of his misery – fine. It didn't mean Quinn particularly wanted to dwell on such a prospect. And neither did Jesse, by the look of it. She winced inwardly, abruptly reminded of the silent confession shared over a cigarette only a few weeks ago, a pained truth that for better or worse couldn't be undone. Her expression softened. "It's just a rumour."
"So are we," he pointed out, a small smile stirring on his lips.
She watched as he slumped back against the wall with a sigh, his shoulders hunching as he seemed to close up, retreating into the prison of his thoughts. "You're brooding again," she said reprovingly, sidling closer to press into his chest until his arms dropped around her waist again. She ran her lips up his neck, pressing a kiss under his jaw. "Want me to take your mind off it?"
He pulled her tighter, his breath whispering over her forehead with the ghost of a smile. "Well, since you offer so nicely…"
Quinn smiled and raised her hand to his cheek as their mouths met once more, letting the pressure build for a tantalizing moment, before eagerly following his lead as he pulled them both back hard into the wall. All lingering troubles were soon driven back in the advance of their wandering hands, the caress of skin and crash of lips, an elusive relief that both accepted gratefully. It wasn't until they stumbled a little too forcefully and accidently knocked over a bucket and mop that they broke apart, their hushed laughter echoing softly in the darkness.
/o/
Rachel tapped the gavel on the desktop, halting the murmur of chatter and summoning the attention of the room.
"This emergency meeting is now in session," she announced, folding her hands neatly and casting a quick look around the assembled group. "I realise that we are a house divided but I need the advice of my girls. The last time I called a meeting like this was during our Madonna lesson, and all of you were wildly unhelpful."
"I still think you should have let Jesse be the one to pop your cherry," Santana commented idly, examining her nails with an expression of mild disgust. "Sex with Finn is like being smothered by a sweaty, out-of breath sack of potatoes that someone soaked in body spray. At least St. James actually knows what he's doing."
"Oh, like you've ever been in a position to compare notes," Tina cut in, rolling her eyes.
"Whatever," the Latina drawled, dismissing the rebuke with a wave of her hand before flashing a sly smirk. "Okay, fine. So maybe we should ask Quinn."
"Wait, is that actually true?"
Rachel gritted her teeth. They really needed to shut up. The last thing she wanted to think about was Jesse and Quinn right now, and she was only thankful that she hadn't invited the former cheerleader to this impromptu meeting. She just couldn't cope with the messed up soup her emotions became when faced with the prospect of that ambiguous relationship – least of all now.
"Guys," she interrupted loudly. "We're talking about my situation, remember?"'
"Just for a change," Brittany muttered.
"Look," she pressed on, taking a deep breath and regaining her focus. "Finn and I were… almost intimate last night."
"Almost?" Tina gave her a pointed look of concern. "What happened?"
Rachel sighed. "He ran out. I just, I wanted my performance of Maria to be as realistic as possible, and when he found out that that's why I was doing it, he got really, really hurt."
"Of course he was hurt."
"Yeah, that's really bad, Rachel."
"I know, I know," she mumbled, dropping her head into her hands. "I feel terrible, and now I realise that I was just doing it for all the wrong reasons."
"If you're this worried about it, maybe you should just hold off," said Brittany with a shrug.
"I'm not worried about…it," she corrected hesitantly. "I'm just worried that I upset him. I know he loves me and I… I just want it to be special."
"Then you just need to reassure him," Tina suggested. "Be honest with him."
"I don't know what the big deal is," Santana said impatiently. "The first time is never perfect, trust me. Frankly, it's all less an ethereal experience of pleasure and more an easily-forgettable bout of awkward fumbling. If you're looking for a dulcet choir of bluebirds moment, it ain't gonna happen. Hell, if he even comes close to finding your G-spot at all, it'll be purely by accident."
"Santana, that is not cool."
"I lost my virginity at cheerleading camp," added Brittany. "He just… climbed into my tent. Alien invasion."
Rachel was finding it hard to get her head together amid the varying volley of opinions. At a loss for what to say, she mumbled the only coherent thought in her head.
"He cooked meat."
At the blank looks she received, she dropped her gaze and tried to explain her random comment – the innocent oversight that bothered her so much more than she had been willing to admit. "For dinner. He just… forgot."
Rachel grimaced as she recalled the awkward exchange that had ensued in the wake of that revelation, a single slip of mind that had managed to turn a thoughtful gesture into an uncomfortable mood-killer. It had been a devastating moment when she'd taken one bite into her dinner and realised that her boyfriend had somehow completely forgotten one of her most important personal principles. He'd been mortified of course and had been quick to make her up something else, deaf to her objections that she could just eat around it. She had spent the rest of dinner assuring him that it wasn't a big deal, but she couldn't deny that a part of her was still deeply hurt over it. Three years they had known each other. Three years. The honest truth was that forgetting she was a vegan was kinda a big deal for someone you were about to give your first time to.
"Well, at least you had some meat last night, huh?" Santana smirked.
Rachel scowled at the smug Latina but was distracted by Tina speaking up from her perch on the stool.
"Losing my virginity was a great experience for me. Because I was with someone I love. It was right. It wasn't rushed. It was amazing." She gave a small shrug, her smile soft with intimate memories. "Mike is my first love, and I'll always look back at that moment as absolutely perfect, something I'll remember for the rest of my life. No regrets."
Rachel stared at her friend, taking in her words with rapt attention. It was rare that she had heard Tina talk so openly about her and Mike's first time, and the tenderness of her emotions struck a resonance deep inside Rachel with their simplicity. That was how it was supposed to be, wasn't it? It was just love at the end of the day, all complications and doubt aside – as long as they had that, then it would always be right.
"No regrets," she murmured under her breath, nodding to herself.
/o/
"Wait, I don't – I don't understand what any of this means –"
She reached for him in confusion, her gaze wide and earnest as she tried to halt his restless pacing.
"It means I suck!" he burst out angrily. "It means I'm gonna be stuck here forever. Cooter's not gonna recruit me. He said I'd reached my ceiling."
Rachel shook her head, refusing to let him wallow in despair like this. "There are other colleges, not –"
"Oh, like there are other schools for you besides NYADA?" he shot back, making her recoil at the force of his words. "I'm not good enough! I'm not a good enough quarterback to get a scholarship; I'm not a good enough singer to get into NYADA. It's all over for me!" he bemoaned dramatically, collapsing down onto the sofa and burying his head in his hands.
Rachel stood stunned for a moment, trying to wrap her head around what she had walked into. She had come over tonight to apologise and had found Finn in the middle of a personal crisis. She had never seen him like this before and it tore something inside her heart to see the boy she loved so broken, so utterly despondent, thinking he had nothing left. It just wasn't true. She dropped onto her knees in front of him, taking his face firmly in her hands, determined to fix this somehow.
"Stop it! Finn, look at me. Your dreams are not dead, okay? You've just grown out of them. You have to find new ones now."
He closed his eyes wearily, turning his head to lean into her touch. He let out a deep sigh, letting go of his anger and giving into her comfort. His breath brushed her palm as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how."
"Then we'll figure it out together," she insisted sternly. "You're special. You know how I know that?" She watched him duly raise his eyes to hers, so lost and defeated, looking to her for a light to guide his way back out of the darkness. She was all he had now. Rachel swallowed, trying to gather the words out of the dust of her throat, prying them from her lips. Her voice sounded small and unfamiliar, distant somehow, like it belonged to another person. "Because I'm going to give you something. Something that no one else is ever going to get."
She saw his confused eyes widen an inch in comprehension and she gave him a soft smile of assurance, one that was as much for her as it was for him. She waited, the seconds ticking on torturously, her thumb still grazing his cheek almost compulsively. However, when it became clear that he was not going to make the first move, she took a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his and sealing her commitment for them both.
It was apparently all the confirmation he required, and he was soon deepening the kiss, pulling her so close against him that she had to sit up on her knees in order to maintain the contact. She felt his hands stroke down her neck to the collar of her jacket, moving to ease it off her shoulders. She let him strip the garment from her, only opening her eyes again when she heard the brush of his voice against her lips.
"We could go upstairs…to my room?"
He was looking at her with a mixture of hesitation and urgency, asking and imploring at the same time. All the honest emotion she loved about him was there, written within his gaze for only her to see as he awaited her response. Rachel could summon only a nod in answer, finding that her voice had seemingly deserted her. She certainly wasn't doing it on his parent's living room floor and she was starting to lose the feeling in her legs from her awkward kneeling position.
A look of almost awed relief crossed his face and he was quickly on his feet, gently pulling her up to hers. The journey to his bedroom was short and quiet, neither knowing what to say to fill the moment, and Rachel felt somehow adrift without the anchor of her usually confident words. Instead she followed him up the stairs in silence, his hold on her hand strangely numb, the touch of his fingers cool against her skin.
When they reached his bed, Rachel stood uncomfortably for a moment before following his lead and sitting down, feeling disproportionally awkward as she did so. They had made out on his bed dozens of times, and yet she seemed to have left all the ease of familiarity at the threshold. She bit her lip. This was harder than she had expected. Surely she wasn't meant to stop and question her next move so much? Shuffling closer to him, she met his eyes again with a tentative smile, forcing herself to try and relax as he ran his hand through her hair and brought her lips back to his.
They kissed for a few long moments, taking the time to explore each other without restraint, and Rachel was just beginning to shut off her mind when she felt Finn pull back. Opening her eyes dazedly, she saw him reach down and pull off his shirt, casting it to the floor beside them. Her heart rate instantly kicked back up to a painful level and she averted her gaze shyly before she could stop herself. It was hardly the first time she had seen her boyfriend shirtless, but for some reason she couldn't shake the feeling that this was all going a little faster than she would have chosen.
When he caught her mouth again, the kiss had gained an edge of demanding pressure, one she struggled to keep up with as she let him lay them both down against the pillows. She was finding it hard to breathe, but she told herself that was a natural reaction – only to be expected. He planted kisses down her neck, making a cursory sweep over her collarbone as Rachel drew in an uneven breath, squeezing her eyes shut as she clung to his shoulders. She barely felt the tug of his hands on the hem of her blouse before he was tugging it over her head, and she shivered as the cool air struck her bare skin. He kissed her again almost instantly, cupping her face and leaning down, covering her exposed flesh with his own. As the kisses delved with increasing force, Rachel couldn't help feeling overwhelmed by the weight of expectation of what she had started, by the feeling that perhaps he needed this more than she did.
As his fingers wandered up to the clasp of her bra, she suddenly felt severely lightheaded – and not in a good way. As her mind struggled with the fresh surge of emotions such a symptom triggered, it abruptly dawned on her that it was the fight or flight instinct, and god, it was strong. But that was crazy. She'd initiated this for god's sake! Why the hell was her body warning her to run from the thing she wanted the most.
Rachel pushed gently against his chest, pulling away and forcing them to sit up. Breaking the kiss completely, she blinked long and hard and tried to concentrate on slowing out her breathing – which was less the breathless gasps of passion but the shallow pants of panic.
"Are you okay? Rach?"
She opened her eyes at his voice to find his gaze fixed on her intently. Her head was swimming like she'd been under water for too long, her thoughts foggy with adrenaline.
"Just feel a little dizzy," she said at last, her hand grasping at his shoulder in support.
It looked for a moment as if he was going to take her reply as a compliment, but as he caught the sudden pallor of her cheeks, his expression quickly faded to troubled concern.
"Do you want a drink?"
I want to go home.
The desperate thought caught her off guard so suddenly that she stumbled over her reply. She didn't understand what was happening, the numbing fear and panic that had seized her body were far more acute than first time nerves or the rush of anticipation. "I just need a moment," she mumbled, scrunching her eyes shut. "Maybe I'll just go to the bathroom, cool down a bit…"
"Of course," Finn said, confusion joining the worry on his face, but she had already stood up off the bed and was moving for the ensuite before he could summon any further response.
Slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door, Rachel slumped back with a deep breath and tried to get a grip on herself. She couldn't understand the instinct that had just propelled her out of her boyfriend's loving embrace with such force. She didn't know why she craved the physical space, why she could only now finally breathe again. None of it made any sense.
Leaning over the sink, she ran the tap and washed her face, hoping the freezing water would somehow snap her out of whatever this bout of uncertainty was all about. Lifting her head, she glared accusingly at her reflection, as if it were the one responsible for her current predicament.
And yet, she reflected wryly, this wasn't the first time she had found herself in this position – locked away in the bathroom with her bemused boyfriend on the other side.
'Just come out so we can talk. Or sing about it.'
Oh, how times had changed. But she had never imagined that one day it would be Finn she was hiding from. Rachel smiled faintly at the whisper of a memory that felt like such a long lifetime ago…
Jesse had stood outside and pleaded with her for almost fifteen minutes before she had finally caved in and opened the door to him. That boy could be surprisingly patient when he felt like it. And in truth, the majority of that time when she had refused to see him had been because she had feared her resolve would shatter the moment she did – that she would jump on him, forget herself and drag them both back to her bed. The powerful hormonal urge of her body betraying her to something she knew in her head she wasn't ready for. Not then.
But now it was just the opposite, everything was reversed and back to front, and it was confusing as hell. Her head was insisting very vocally that this was the right time and with the right person. Yes, she wanted to enhance her acting and she certainly didn't want to start her life in New York a virgin – but it was more than that. She loved Finn deeply. She knew they were meant to be together, that they were meant for each other. Now was their time and there wasn't anyone else she was prepared to give herself to, no one else she wanted. This was what she wanted – with him and only him.
But her body told a different story. Rachel dropped her head with a sigh, struggling to reconcile the conflicting instincts within her. She could feel it even now, though much less intensely than a few minutes ago. Her muscles knotted tight with tension, the cool numbness of her skin, the weight of anxiety that cramped sickeningly in the bottom of her stomach. Her body closing itself off protectively, as if to keep an intruder at bay, reacting to a fear she wasn't even aware of. Fear of what, she didn't know. Regret? No. She shook her head defiantly. That was impossible – she would never regret Finn. She couldn't.
She suddenly realised then that her heart had remained strangely impassive during this internal debate, and that worried Rachel almost more than anything else. Surely her heart should be singing its joy and conviction the loudest? And yet it was quiet, clenched with the pain that wracked her but stubbornly silent. It was an odd sensation – like she was keeping secrets from herself, a code she couldn't unlock, a key hidden in plain sight.
And it was so frustrating she wanted to smash her fist through the bathroom mirror.
"Rach, everything okay?"
She jumped at the knock on the door behind her, snapping back to herself at the sound of his tentative voice just outside. Steeling herself, she turned around and slowly pulled the door open to meet his concerned eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, the words rushing out of her all at once. "I really want to, I do, but…I don't feel too well tonight…"
"It's okay," he assured, cutting off her stream of nervous chatter and pulling her into his chest. "We'll wait until you're ready. I want it to be perfect for you."
Rachel nodded in relief, fighting back the heat of tears. Of course he would understand, of course he wouldn't rush her. And yet a vein of tension ran through the gentle assurance in his voice, an undercurrent of frustration and impatience that couldn't be wholly subdued. His arms were stiff as he held her and she shivered as she felt him release a tight sigh into her hair. It was faint but it was there, a crack of distance between the beat of their hearts that she couldn't seem to close, no matter how hard she crushed herself into his arms.
Pressing her lips together, it was a long moment before she could bring herself to open her eyes again. At the end of the day, she could only hope that the crack would mend on its own, that the fissure wouldn't grow wider.
/o/
The Lima Bean was surprisingly busy for the time of night. It couldn't be more than an hour or so before they closed and yet Rachel had to edge her way past a reasonable queue as she pushed through the doors.
Quickly pulling off her scarf, she cast her gaze about the cafe, wondering if she had gotten here first. But then she saw him, just turning away from the counter and folding a receipt neatly back into his wallet. Stuffing the scarf into her pocket, she made her way over, offering a small and tired wave when he glanced up and saw her.
However before she could muster a word of greeting as she reached him, he had taken one look at her and abruptly wrapped her up in a tight hug, one that warmed her far more than Finn's had earlier. She blinked in surprise for a moment before sinking into his embrace, returning it just as fiercely. She buried her face in his shoulder and dug her fingers into his blazer, not even caring if she was crushing his ribs in the process, impossibly grateful for the tendrils of comfort that were unfurling through her body. She didn't even care if they were making a strange scene in the middle of the café, and neither did he, and oh how she loved him for that. Warm affection spread slowly through her system and she soaked it in greedily, letting it melt away the frost that had settled over her skin ever since she had left her boyfriend's house a few hours ago.
After a long moment and when she had sufficiently gathered herself, she dutifully tried to move away – only to realise that he wasn't making any indication of letting her go anytime soon.
"Uh, Blaine? You can let go now."
"Not until I see a genuine smile."
She laughed into his shoulder, hitting him lightly in the back. He grinned and finally released her, pulling back to meet her face.
"Or a giggle. That works well too."
She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips was faithfully real.
"I ordered you a soy latte," he informed her needlessly as they moved along the counter to pick up their drinks. They knew each other's coffee orders inside out by now anyway – it had become an established ritual of theirs.
"Thanks."
Clutching their hot beverages, the two friends made their way over to an empty table and sat down.
"So," Blaine began conversationally, prying the lid off his own coffee and stirring in the obligatory shot of sugar. "Not that I don't love being summoned out of the house for emergency caffeine, but is there any particular reason for the late night sympathy shoulder?"
It was a redundant question and they both knew it, but she let it hang in the air for a moment all the same.
"Is this about the show?" he pressed gently, taking a sip as he waited for her to share what she'd come to talk about.
"No. Well… not really." Rachel sighed as she struggled to air her thoughts. "You know what Artie said the other day in rehearsal?"
"About to ability to convincingly project romantic passion being directly dependant upon personal sexual experience?" He frowned. "Yeah, that little nugget of wisdom."
She could tell by his tone that he held far more scepticism over such advice than she had, for which she envied him. "Do you think he had a point?"
"Depends," he said thoughtfully. "I think there is certainly a danger from being too sheltered as an artist. All creativity stems from experience to some degree. But I don't believe the lack of experience of a specific situation is fundamentally detrimental to portraying it. Acting is all based on imagination and emotion – as long as you have the skill to tap into both of those, then nothing is theoretically outside the realms of your capabilities."
Rachel reflected on his answer with a small nod, wondering why she had never thought to see it that way before. Maybe her gaze really was too narrow. But then again, Blaine always did have a uniquely eloquent way with words. "Makes sense when you say it," she said with a reluctant smile.
He laughed. "Well, that's just one perspective. Feel free to make up your own mind." Leaning back in his chair, he eyed her curiously. "Is that what's been bothering you?"
"That," she admitted quietly. "And some other things." Suddenly exhausted, Rachel slumped over her coffee with a low groan, muttering into her hands. "God, I've really screwed things up."
Raising an eyebrow, Blaine waited patiently for further elaboration. When none was forthcoming, he cleared his throat pointedly.
"Okay, honey, I'm going to need a little more information to be of any use here."
Lifting her head up as if it weighed a ton, Rachel blew out a long breath. Tearing open a sugar packet and dragging a stirrer through her cup miserably, she proceeded to recount the whole sorry affair of the past few days, up to and including the anticlimactic ending to her evening with Finn just a few hours ago.
Blaine listened carefully, a sympathetic frown on his face as he let her pour her heart out, knowing she needed to get it off her chest. When she was finished, he offered her a reassuring smile, one full of mutual understanding.
"Sounds to me like you just changed your mind, that's all. Which you are more than entitled to do, by the way. You can't blame yourself for that or for not understanding why. It's not something that requires justification and it doesn't mean you won't feel differently at some point in the future. It's a big step to take and second thoughts are way more common than you might think, believe me. Finn would never hold that against you."
"Hmm," she murmured evasively, not entirely convinced.
"Hey," he continued, leaning forward with a confidential quirk of a grin. "I got wasted and tried to drag Kurt into the backseat of a car in the parking lot of a gay bar, so I wouldn't feel too bad about your little misadventure."
A half-hearted smile flickered on her lips, though the amusement was tempered somewhat by the thought of her absentee friend. Truthfully, at that moment, Rachel didn't even care about the elections anymore – she only wanted Kurt to get over his stupid pride and just forgive her. She wanted to be able to pick up the phone again and call him just because she felt like it, to text him incessantly through American Idol and critique every performance and outfit with him in a debate that would usually last for at least an hour after the show had finished. She wanted her best friend back. She needed one thing in her life that wasn't mired in confusion.
Blaine seemed to sense this depressing train of her thoughts, and quickly brought their conversation back to his main point.
"Look, so we both had less than perfect first attempts. It's not the end of the world."
Rachel shrugged noncommittally, still staring down into her drink, tracing the rim absently with the pad of her thumb.
"You love him, right?"
"Of course I do," she replied automatically.
"Then stop beating yourself up," he insisted, leaning across the table to squeeze her hand. "You'll know when it feels right."
What if it never feels right?
Rachel bit her tongue sharply against the rogue voice and managed a vague nod in response. She didn't know where such a thought had come from and she was determined to crush it before it could even consider taking root. And yet she found herself hesitating, the question falling from her lips almost without permission, nearly too soft to catch.
"Have you ever found yourself thinking about… someone else?"
To her surprise, Blaine's gaze turned troubled and he slouched back with a weary sigh.
"Now there's a loaded question."
At her raised eyebrow, he offered a tight smile and briefly filled her in on the visit back to Dalton and his encounter with a certain new Warbler.
"I mean, I can understand Kurt's feelings up to a point, I really can. We're all guilty of jealousy and insecurity sometimes; it's a part of life. But if I've told him once, I've told him a hundred times… I just don't know how to make him believe me." There was a note of bitter helplessness in his voice that Rachel had never heard before, and she realised just how real the fear of losing Kurt was for him, how much it scared him.
"That boy can be a real stubborn pain in the ass, can't he?" she agreed with a teasing grin. "But I suppose that's why we love him so much."
Blaine laughed, and the sound broke the tension that had fallen over their little table. "Cheers to that," he said and they tapped their cups together with a smile as they raised a toast to impossible boys everywhere.
Taking a long drink, Rachel pushed aside the now empty plastic container and noticed that Blaine's expression had turned thoughtful again. He caught the question in her eyes and let out a quiet breath.
"I guess the bottom line is that attraction to others is natural and is always going to be there. You just have to make sure you're fighting for what counts. Sebastian's a player. I know that. This is all a game to him, the hunt of seduction." He shrugged. "Some people are just like that. It's all about the chase, the thrill of getting what you want at whatever cost, and if you can break up true happiness along the way – so much the better."
Rachel frowned as she contemplated Blaine's words, a stinging knot forming in her throat as she realised just how right he was. He had managed to perfectly sum up and pinpoint the harsh reality of her own wretched situation, even if he didn't know it, even if he didn't mean to.
The parallels were uncanny really.
That was exactly what was going on, what this whole damn charade was all about. How could she have been so stupid to think there was ever any shred of sincerity in that boy, any capacity for genuine remorse or will to change. The truth was that Jesse was playing his own game, just like always, trying to ruin her and Finn just for the thrill of it. It was who he was, it was how he worked. He wanted the dream, the chase, the elusive temptation of what he couldn't have. She was inaccessible to him, and that was the only reason he had ever bothered to look her way again. She'd snubbed him in New York and he couldn't stand it. It was a pride thing. It was all about winning. Again. A sick, twisted, fucked up game… and she had let it get to her. Rachel felt angry all of a sudden – with him, with herself, furious that she had ever allowed his presence to have any effect on her. All he cared about was breaking up her relationship, not about her at all. It was never about her. It was revenge, a personal entertainment kick, and that was all.
And yet the surge of resentment was all too soon washed away by the tides of weariness that crept persistently over her. It wasn't actually that late, but she was completely emotionally exhausted, her mind blurred and heavy with the weight of churning thoughts. And in the wake of her retreating anger came the assault of far more unpredictable emotions. Rachel panicked as she felt the terrifying crush of tears stir behind her eyes, rushing up to fill the void, and she desperately forced her mind anywhere else.
Blaine noticed her stifle a yawn behind her hand and smiled.
"It doesn't say much for the stimulant effect of this establishment's special brew – but I do believe, my dear, that you are minutes from falling asleep on me."
Rachel scoffed, but yawned again before she could retort. Blaine just laughed and stood up, reaching out a hand and hauling his companion up to her feet, cheerfully ignoring her stream of indignant protests.
"Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Your chariot awaits."
/o/
"You know what? I think the fabric conditioning on those costumes is bringing my dermatitis back again," Kurt declared, frowning at the back of his hand with avid concern. "Maybe I should start wearing my moisturising gloves to rehearsal. What do you think?"
"Either that or you could just talk to Miss Pillsbury and ask her if she could use non-bio on your outfit."
"Hmm, I suppose," he admitted reluctantly, before quickly perking up again. "Hey, are we still on for the Cabaret matinee at the Cameo tomorrow?"
"Sure," Blaine murmured absently, rubbing a hand across his tired eyes and fighting the urge to yawn.
"Sorry if I'm boring you."
"Shut up," he scolded with a smile, shoving his shoulder affectionately. "I was up late, that's all. Rachel made a last minute, unscheduled friend-in-need call."
Kurt frowned in concern. "Is she okay?"
He sighed. "I hope so. Just a bit upset and confused, I think."
"Oh," Kurt mumbled, glancing away guiltily.
Blaine saw the expression on his face and a weary smile of frustration crossed his lips. "Don't worry, it wasn't about you. Although that situation is hardly helping things either."
Kurt bristled defensively. "Hey, she's the one who threw down the gauntlet. What do you expect me to do?"
"Oh, I don't know – maybe try and be an adult about it?"
Kurt scowled and Blaine held up an appeasing hand. "All I'm saying is you could try easing up on her. This freeze out is only hurting both of you. You know she didn't enter the race out of spite. You're the one who made the ultimatum of friends or rivals."
"Yeah, because she knew how important this is to me. Not just for the NYADA application, but as a chance to really make a difference for kids like me in this school. She didn't need to horn in on this, like she does with everything else."
Blaine sent his boyfriend a stern look of disapproval. "You don't want to lose a good friend over this. Just look at what happened with Mercedes – do you really want to lose Rachel too?" At Kurt's stubborn silence, he pushed on pointedly. "I love you," he said with a smile, "but there aren't a lot of people out there who would put up with either of you without some heavy bribery. You're something pretty special to each other – don't give up on that too quickly."
"But she's campaigning against me –"
"You guys fight each other out for solos all the time," he interrupted firmly. "The artistic community is small and you're always going to be in competition with each other. But you'll never find anyone else who understands you better either. You can't fall out every time you're up against a friend for a coveted role. Find a way around it."
Kurt rolled his eyes but Blaine put a hand on his shoulder. "Just try, okay?"
He gave a grudging smile. "You're lucky you're cute," he said with a grin, making Blaine laugh as the boys headed around the corner before parting at the doorway to Kurt's math class.
/o/
Most of the core cast were already assembled when Rachel showed up at the auditorium, dumping her bag into an empty seat and slipping onto the stage to join the activity of preparation. They were rehearsing some of the group numbers today and the floor was busy with the chatter and press of her fellow teammates.
"You're late."
She stiffened at the blunt reprimand. Glancing over irritably, she found that he hadn't even bothered to turn to look at her, still flicking through the sheets of music in his hand. She threw a glare at the side of his head.
"I had a late night," she retorted coolly. Turning sharply on her heel, she resumed her path across the stage, missing the way his back tensed in response to her careless quip.
She was just finishing her warm up exercises when Tina found her. Her friend's face was both concerned and excited as she weaved her way around the mill of bodies and rushed up to Rachel.
"So?"
"So?" she repeated dumbly for a second, confused at the sentence fragment.
Rolling her eyes impatiently, Tina grabbed her hand and pulled her over towards the wings. She lowered her voice confidentially, her eyes bright and keen as she studied her friend.
"So, how did it go with Finn?"
"Oh," Rachel mumbled, mentally wincing. She managed to force a smile as she looked into Tina's eager face, the words slipping from her almost without thinking. "Yeah, it – it was great." She hastily composed her expression, hoping the spark of her smile would hide the dull confusion in her eyes. "It was perfect."
"Oh, Rach," Tina hushed happily, catching her in a quick hug.
Rachel returned the embrace distractedly, her smile slipping. What was happening to her? She was turning into a compulsive liar. She didn't know why she said it; maybe it was simply safer to leave the illusion unbroken. Let them think what they wanted. Whatever happened – or didn't happen – last night was between her and Finn, nothing to do with anyone else.
On the other side of the wings, Jesse straightened up slowly, the box of set props left forgotten at his feet. As the murmur of familiar voices and patter of footsteps retreated into the crowd once more, he remained still, his face impassive and muscles locked in careful control.
He didn't know how long he stood there, but when it finally buckled and caved, he felt it all the way down to his bones.
Abruptly wrenching his eyes open, he turned in one ripple of taught movement and walked away in silence, his features shadowed under a dark and violent storm cloud.
"Hey," Artie swivelled in his chair, calling after him. "Jesse, where are you going? We've still got –" He was cut off however as the other boy stormed out, not bothering to respond or even slow down as he slammed the door shut behind him. Artie blinked at the force of his exit, staring at the fire door for a long moment before blowing out a sigh, shaking his head.
"Gee, that guy really is such a people person."
~o~
AN To be honest, I really wasn't sure if I was going to be able to come back to Glee after discovering what a tragic farce the third season has become, but I think I just needed some time to calm down! I have now abandoned canon completely and cut all emotional loyalties to the Rachel imposter on my screen. However, the real Rachel from Season One has been begging and hounding me to try and give her the ending she deserves - and so here I am. I can't help it, I will be a die-hard St. Berry shipper to the bitter end and these characters just will not leave me alone! So RIB can suck it.
So, onto the chapter. I should point out that WSS is going to be a longer story arc in this season AU, not done and dusted in a single episode. This was also my first time really writing a few of the other glee characters, especially Kurt and Blaine, but I think I rather enjoyed it :) Oh yeah, and I should probably state a general disclaimer that some dialogue of this is obviously taken from 'The First Time' and the same goes for pretty much every other chapter in this fic. Also, I think this is possibly the longest chapter I've ever posted! I'm trying to stick to one chapter per episode, but if it keeps on like this, I might have to start breaking them up. As for the little cliff hanger - well, I couldn't be too kind, could I?
Thanks so much to everyone who has voiced their support, both here and on my other fics. I can't say how much I appreciate it, you guys help push me to keep going! I also want to say thanks for your patience. I realise updates are sometimes few and far between, but it's just the way I write unfortunately, and it annoys me as much as you. More, actually. Sitting down and just getting it all out on paper (or screen) is like squeezing blood from a stone at times.
Anyway, I'll shut up now and just say thanks for reading. And, as ever, I love hearing what you think :)
