So, I'm new. I love to write but haven't done it in a long time and have gotten worse. I'm trying to work on that! Be kind. :)

This is the first thing I'm posting because I absolutely adore the Rachel/Jesse thing and, come on -- he's the only person who (even while betraying her) has treated Rachel nicely. I mean, give the girl a break!

Also: I don't own Glee. Wish I did.

Jesse St. James has every reason to be confident. His face is all straight lines and his body strong angles; he is older and smarter than his competition; he has talent most people only dream of. Still, he finds himself standing in front of this bunch of underdeveloped kids with mediocre voices trying his hardest to keep from shaking. He's positively squeezing his muscles to stiffness.

Schuester's not there yet and the prepubescents in this so called Glee club aren't giving him any sort of chance to explain his presence. Their hostility sits in front of them like a wall and Jesse doesn't think there's any way to climb it.

Mercedes and Finn are trying to burn holes into his body with their eyes and, a few times, his face smarts and he almost thinks they've succeeded but he forces himself to preserve the cool smile that's been plastered on his face since he walked into the room.

He holds onto that smile even when Rachel's eyes dart over his face for the nineteenth time in two minutes. Her hands clench into her skirt. Her face is creased with worry and he thinks she might be trying to telepathically beat the shit out of him for being in her school, in front of her Glee club. He can practically hear the hum of her brain from across the room and he almost laughs out loud because, really, what else would Rachel's brain do but hum?

He tries not to think about her purity. She is too proper for him, too concerned about other people's feelings to get far enough ahead. But, then, her voice is too penetrating and her hair is too shiny and her mouth does that stupid thing where one side lifts up before the other when she smiles and he's starting to hate that nobody has come as close as she has.

He doesn't look directly at her and tries not to think about her knee socks or tanned legs but her panic has shortened her skirt and he can't stop staring at her thighs and thinking how much he suddenly wishes he was the person she needs him to be.

But then Schuester's there and his hand is on Jesse's shoulder, steering his eyes away from Rachel and back to those revolting children he calls singers and the pressure of the moment is back. He is performing, after all.