She can't believe he's here yet he's making no move to keep himself subtle.

"What are the odds, Berry? Me and you taking both the leads." He looks taller, somehow, Rachel notes but his eyes look at her in the same way as before. "I can't say I'm surprised."

"I'm giving my lead up." If her face didn't match the shock on his, he might have believed her.

"I seriously doubt that."

"Why are you here anyway? You left." She can't quite bring herself to look at his face. It's only been a couple of months and the bitterness from Regionals is still present but that's nothing compared to the humiliation she remembers every time she hears herself whispering Jesse.

"Break. Plus, they thought it'd be good to get a bit more experience, show my talents, get myself noticed." He pauses to fully take her in. If he'd known she'd auditioned, would he still have come? Jesse can't figure it out, but something inside him knows he's glad she's here. Even if she is walking away from him as he tries to think of what to say. "Rachel, wait."

"Don't you get it, Jesse? I'm tired of waiting for you. I waited for you to come back, I waited for you to apologise and I waited-"

"Well wait no longer." He holds out his hand and places hers into his, concentrating his all into the iris of her eye: he needs her to understand because he really doesn't think he can cope with the heartache anymore. "Commiserations for regionals, you did good Berry."

She scoffs, but doesn't remove her hand from his, allowing his thumb to continue tiny ministrations over her skin, actions she doesn't even think he's aware of.

"And I'm sorry. They egged me on so I egged on you."

"Wow, Jesse. You really know how to give a heartfelt apology. Teach you that at UCLA, did they?" He guesses he should have expected that. This was Rachel Berry and she wasn't about to be won over easily.

"Just don't give up your lead, not yet." It's only now, when he releases her hand, she realises how much she liked it there.

-StB-

"How did you even get the part? You're technically not old enough."

"I might have lied slightly," she struggles to hide a grin because they both know the other will stop at nothing to get where they want to be.

"The age restriction is there for a reason, Rachel." He's trying to sound authoritative but he can't help but let a daft smile briefly take over.

"It's barely a year till I'm 18 – what's the harm?"

"You haven't read the script." It's a realisation and a question all in one.

"Is that a problem?" She's trying nonchalance, but it's not really working. Not on him.

"You tell me." Full of cryptic clues, as always. "Read it and then decide."

So she does. And that's when she realises what he was going on about. Suddenly, the idea of giving up her lead seems a far better plan. The printed letters begin to smudge under her sweaty digits and for once, she's facing a dilemma where she really doesn't know what to do. And without the support of the Club, she feels slightly overwhelmed. And that's exactly her excuse when she finds herself knocking on Jesse's door.

"Rachel." He's surprised to see her but in a way, he always saw this coming. And he can't say he's not glad she's here.

"I just need someone to talk at and since you're the only one I – regrettably – have any history with, you're going to have to do." It's so matter-of-fact but it brings a soft laugh to his lips.

"Well come on in to my humble abode, Berry." He holds the door of his dressing room open and as she walks past, her hair just brushes his shoulder and it affects him in ways he thought unimaginable. He tries to focus on her as she takes in what she sees: a mirror adorned with photos, a plastic bin full with wasted song lyrics, his phone strewn on a nearby chair and seven bottles of water. She runs her hand across the desk, moving closer to the photos. She sees one of Jesse and Shelby and finds it odd that she's so close to both yet in the same breath, they're all so far apart. There are a few of Vocal Adrenaline, one of Jesse and the trophy she'd dreamt about for weeks and then, hidden at the bottom, one of the two of them. She doesn't even remember it being taken; she's laughing and pointing to something on their right but what intrigues her more is him. The way he's not even looking at the camera, but at her, as if by taking his eyes off her, he'd somehow lose her. And in some ways, he did.

He clears his throat and she's torn away from the photo. "Yes, that's you. Not your best angle, granted, but I like the way the sun catches my skin. Makes me glow, don't you think?" It's such a fabricated lie and neither of them believes it for a second, but she's sort of glad because she needs to move on. It's pretty clear he has.

"Did you like it?" He gestures to the script she has rolled up in her hands. It's neatly highlighted in pink and she smoothes it out, nodding.

"It's good. A little dry, perhaps." She rolls the script back up and shuffles her feet. He sighs and begins to believe the devil on his shoulder: he blew it and it's over. He can sense her awkwardness and that's not how he wants it to be. But suddenly, she changes the topic of conversation and it's as if nothing's changed. "What's it like? You know, at UCLA?"

"Yeah, it's alright." He's lying and she can tell. She dares a grin and chucks a scrunched up piece of paper in his direction.

"Liar." It's such a relief for him to hear her laugh: it's so infectious and it's one of the things he misses the most. "Tell me."

He grins back and resigns. "It's great," he tells her simply but with so much animation, she's sure he'll explode. "It's everything I thought it would be, and then some. It's a dream."

She can tell, just from looking at him, that it's where he belongs. Where he fits in.

"And how's New Directions doing?"

"Fine without you, if that's what you're hinting at." He wasn't but as he looks over to check she knows, he notices the sparkle in her eye. They sit in silence for a while and for the first time, it's not awkward. There's no singing, no eggs, no parents and no history, they're just Rachel and Jesse.

Eventually, she yawns and excuses herself, making her way back to her own room. Suddenly, she's got a lot to think about and she can't do it when he's around, because Jesse has the insane ability to fill up every single one of her thoughts without even trying.

She takes out her script again and her eyes hover over the words she didn't want to read. A scene of intimacy begins between LOLA and RICARDO. How was she supposed to act out a scene she had no experience in?

She fumbles for her phone and rings each female Glee Club member, but to no avail. In a desperate bid she rings Kurt and Puck (with Finn, this would be far too awkward) but gets only a mumbled – and probably drunken – reply from Puck. Sighing, there's only one thing left she can do.

"Twice in one night? You do surprise me." She hears the smirk before she sees it and his eyes smile with it.

"Shut it, St James. I'm only here because you're my last resort and I've run out of people to contact." He already knows what coming but he's not going to let on. He's glad she's come to him despite everything that's happened and he can't even begin to imagine how awkward this entire debacle is for her. She takes a deep breath and speaks. "What's it like? And no smart remarks Jesse; this is an artistic question that will benefit us both. A brief overview will do nicely and then I'll be on my way." She doesn't want the details or some crude, animalistic description. Just enough knowledge to pull this scene off perfectly. She's just thankful it's not with his character; there's no way she'd survive such a performance day in, day out.

"Do you want me to show you?" He's clearly ignored everything she's just said, but his increasingly close proximity coupled with the low tone of his voice and the dimming light bulbs stop her in her tracks. To say she's taken aback by his suggestion is an understatement.

"Show me?" She means to sound mocking but it ends up with added intrigue, despite the hand she lands plaintively on her hip in an attempt to physically scoff his ideas.

"Yes," he moves even closer to her, breathing ever so lightly on the front of her neck. "Show you."

Before she even has time to comprehend his lewd suggestion (let alone answer) her lips are captured in the gentlest spark of a kiss. As his lips meet hers she finds herself moulding around him and she's powerless to stop as his tongue works wonders around hers. One hand gets lost in her hair, the other snakes under her shirt and touches the skin at the base of her spine. Her stomach becomes a law unto itself and somersaults wildly as the kiss deepens and she finds her hands snaking onto his waist, one lingering either side. She doesn't quite remember when she lost every ounce of self control she's ever maintained, but if it feels like this, Rachel decides she's more than willing to lose control in the future; it certainly has benefits.

Neither one wants to come up for air but the need for oxygen wins out and Jesse's lips leave hers and travel to the side of her jaw line, dropping butterfly kisses down and down her neck. The fact that this feels so wrong almost makes it right as she feels his hand shift from under her shirt and reach for his door. The key turns and that makes it final: there's no going back. His hand reappears on the small of her back and his lips return to meets hers, gently massaging away her apprehensions. She knows she ought to kick herself for getting into this situation: this is Jesse St James, the boy who broke her heart and thought it fun. Yet here she was again, handing him her heart again as fragile as ever.

They stumble backwards, through a flimsy wooden door and he pulls them onto the bed, he sits on the edge, her atop his lap.

"You have a bed here?" She can hardly talk for want of breath but he releases her lips just enough to reply.

"Sometimes I stay over; it's easier than going back home."

She notices the candles on the bedside table and it makes the dingy cave in the back of his dressing room seem a lot less hostile and lot more homely, and it's almost as if he's planned this. But not even Jesse's that omnipotent. The hand in her hair drops to her neck and his hand is so hot she swears it will burn her. Then it leaves her body completely and falls behind him on the bed as he gently thrusts his hips upwards. Her cheeks graze red as the friction between his clothes and hers heat up and her eyes flutter shut as if she doesn't really believe this is happening. It's all so fast and sudden and so spur of the moment and so not Rachel Berry, but all of it just contributes to giving her a rush of excitement unlike any she's ever felt. And she doesn't want it to stop.

So when he performs the action again and their clothed hips brush she emits a gasp that Jesse believes sounds even more amazing than that beautiful voice of hers. He takes a gamble – because he's still not sure she's really ready – and undoes the first four buttons on her shirt as he skirt begins to hike up her legs as she settles on his lap.

"We probably shouldn't do this." She's breathy as she speaks and tries to regain at least some composure.

"We probably shouldn't," he agrees, gently kissing her collar bone. He's had far too much experience in these circumstances, she decides, and he's using it all to his advantage to make her feel emotions she's only ever dreamt of.

"Particularly given our past and the entanglement of our upcoming future." He knows what she means: they're going to have to work together after this – whatever this is – and the last thing either one wants is another lengthy period of awkwardness. But her words seem empty as she shows no signs of wanting any of this to stop. His fingers hover above the last two buttons and he glances up at her, awaiting her confirmation. He could easily have his way with her now, given her current state of mind, but he's learnt that it's not all about him. And after their last relationship ended as it did, he's determined to not let this one go. She nods, just once, and then closes her eyes as the fabric drops from her body and his hands roam her bare midriff.

She dares to open one eye as she feels his hands leave her body and sees him take off his own top and discard it to the floor. Still sitting atop his lap, he takes both of her hands and places them on his chest. She closes both eyes tightly and just lets her hands rest on his chest, the nerves evident as her hands twitch, just lightly, but enough for him to notice. He takes both his hands and encircles her back, hoping to make her feel safe, secure. Her hands leave his chest to brush her hair out her face, tucking several strands safely behind her ears before replacing her hands on his chest and pushing him backwards onto the bed. His hands left the safety of her back can scooted under her skirt to rest on the sides of her thighs, his thumbs rubbing tiny circles of reassurance just under each hip bone.

This was it. Slowly their sweaty bodies conjoin and the candles flicker out, leaving only flashes on flesh visible in the moonlight creeping in from the poorly covered window. Their fingers entwine, their foreheads meet and her lips speak only one word:

"Jesse."