A/N: The moment that I saw the promo, I knew that I wanted to write this. It's probably one of my favorites I've written so far this season. Hope you enjoy it!

Blame It On The Alcohol

She stumbled forward, cotton candy pink liquid spilling over the edge of her red solo cup as her eyes widened. She stepped up a bit, opening and closing her eyes experimentally to see if he was still there, because he couldn't be-shouldn't be. He was supposed to be hundreds of miles away in California, not standing in her foyer looking alarmingly handsome in his worn jeans and leather jacket.

"No," she mumbled, shaking her head as she suddenly began to back up. "No, no, no-"

She collided with something solid and its hands gently palmed her waist as it said, "Ow! Other people around, Rachel."

She spun around, looking up into the marginally irritated eyes of one Noah Puckerman. Her expression must have looked relatively stricken because his eyes narrowed and he asked, "What is it?"

"Look behind me," she ordered. "And tell me that Jesse St James is not standing in my house."

She watched his expression as he glanced behind her, heart sinking when his jaw clenched and he hissed, "Son of a bitch-"

He went to move past her but she grabbed on to him, shaking her head quickly as she said, "No, no don't do anything."

Puck still looked geared for a fight but his shoulders slackened when he looked down at Rachel and saw the absolutely horrified look on her face. Clearly, she did not want to add any more drama to this already fantastic scene. "Fine," he sighed. "What is he even doing here?"

She visibly relaxed at the change in tone and said, "I don't know. He's supposed to be at UCLA."

"You want me to kick him out?"

"No," she said glumly, crossing her arms over her chest. "He-he can stay."

"I'll keep an eye on him," Puck said, chest puffing out as he took his role of protector.

Rachel watched Jesse take of his jacket and her chest tightened.

She needed more shots.

Jesse was pretty sure that he was going to get his ass kicked. For the record, when his friend Eric suggested that they go to a party, he did not know that it was Rachel's. He was entirely unaware of this fact until Eric pulled up to the house and said, "Get ready, St James. Drunk high school girls, tonight is gonna rock."

"You know who's throwing this party?" Jesse had asked, futilely hoping that Eric would answer with some unfamiliar name.

"Nope, but it's at that house." He had pointed to the predictable house, teeming with cars and drunk teenagers. He had thought at that point that perhaps he could gracefully bow out. Fake the flu or a forgotten music assignment. Eric could always see through his bol shit, though, and a part of him actually wanted to go in there and see the girl who had haunted his dreams for months.

So, he had climbed out of the car and followed Eric into the house.

He was so going to get his ass kicked.

If Rachel was the first to know and Puck was the second, Finn was the third, and he did not handle it nearly as gracefully. The moment he saw Jesse he stormed forward, all looming intimidation as he demanded, "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

Jesse knew he should be somewhat intimidated by the tall New Directions lead, but he was unable to feel anything other than the usual amusement. The real person he was afraid to face was Rachel. "Just came with my friend," Jesse said, nodding his head toward a guy both taller and sturdier than Finn. "He heard about the party and I tagged along."

"You should leave," he warned.

"Why?"

Voice lowered to menacing proportions, Finn hissed, "I said you should leave." He had stepped forward, little left to the imagination as to what would happen if Jesse chose to ignore his warning further. Things might have escalated rather quickly if Rachel had not strode forward and pushed her way between them. Hands pressing Finn backward she said, "No fighting at my party!"

"Rachel-"

"I mean it, Finn." She turned to Jesse and appraised him coolly as she said, "You can stay. But if you start anything I am kicking you out on your behind."

"Seems fair," he agreed, looking past her at Finn. "Seem fair to you, Hudson?"

"Don't talk to me," he snarled, turning on his heel and stalking off. Without Finn, Rachel had ceased breaking up a fight and instead was standing alone in front of Jesse St James, alarmingly close to what some would call broaching a conversation.

"I thought you were in California," she stammered.

"Early spring break," he explained. She was holding a red cup and it shook gently with her hand's trembling. "You have more of that?" he asked.

"Kitchen," she replied, her eyes darting to his mouth and then back to his eyes. "Cups are in there."

He wanted to suggest that she escort him there, but knew better than to take advantage of her drunkenness and instead nodded toward Eric and said, "Alright, let's go."

They walked away, leaving Rachel alone at the center of the room.

Kurt stood with Blaine, stealing overt glances at his friend as Blaine casually looked around the room. He noticed Blaine's gaze fall on someone familiar and he shifted his weight, cocking his head to the side. The shots he consumed were playing with his head, because he could swear that Blaine was staring at Jesse St James. Which would mean that Jesse St James was in Rachel Berry's house, a notion too ridiculous to even hallucinate.

But then Blaine asked, "Who's that?" and Kurt knew he wasn't hallucinating. Rachel was definitely somewhere pitching a fit.

"Well, I'll be damned. Don't even think about it, Blaine. He's straight and formerly Berry-ied," Kurt supplied, sniffing unhappily as he wondered just what the hell Jesse was doing at this party.

"I'd say he's still Berry-fied," Blaine said, nodding his head toward Jesse. The boy was staring obviously across the room and when Kurt followed the line of sight it was easy to ascertain the object of said staring, who wound up to be none other than the diminutive, animal-sweater-loving brunette. For all the time Kurt had known Jesse, he was never one to openly pine, and he thought that this night was getting a whole lot more interesting.

Rachel had thought a game of spin the bottle was a fantastic idea up until she found herself seated across from Jesse St James, her eyes following the bottle worriedly as every other female took their turn. She realized it was irrational for her to hold any claim over him, but she didn't want anyone else kissing him.

It was her turn and she took a deep breath before taking a hold of the bottle and setting it into a spin. It went around and around, her heart leaping each time it approached Jesse, and then dropping as it passed. Her heart was in her throat as it came to a halt. It would stop at him. She knew it. Barely breathing, she watched the bottle still and looked up into her person's eyes.

Blaine.

It was supposed to be Jesse, but the bottle had gone a bit too far, and instead Blaine was smiling congenially toward her, offering a small shrug before leaning forward. Her eyes met Jesse's as she followed Blaine's lead. He was watching as she met Blaine's lips with her own, his face unreadable. She lost her balance and fell forward a bit, unintentionally deepening the kiss.

"And that's enough!" Kurt trilled above them. She pulled away with a sheepish grin, feeling something pull at the pit of her stomach when she saw the dark tint of Jesse's eyes.

Someone was jealous.

"My turn," Kurt said, shooting Rachel a look. She knew he was probably upset about the Blaine thing, but she wasn't paying him much attention. Jesse was still looking at her and she didn't see a valid reason to look away. Kurt's turn passed without much commotion and then it was Santana. The bottle spun, effectively cutting between Rachel and Jesse as the long bottle neck pointed at the latter.

"Well St James," Santana purred, "time to fulfill that wet dream of yours."

Rachel felt a bit of Kurt's former pain as she watched Santana lean in and cover Jesse's mouth with her own. Kurt looked over at her as if to say, "Not too fun, is it?"

When Santana pulled away Jesse's eyes were hazy, his lips shining just a bit from Santana's lip gloss. Rachel had never wanted to slap the Latina more. A few more turns went by, Rachel too perturbed to pay any attention to them. She didn't actually focus until it was Jesse's turn. She grew agitated at what she was sure would be a Jesse-Brittay, or Jesse-Tina lip-lock. All agitation proved unnecessary, however, when the bottle landed squarely in front of her.

"You don't have to do anything," Finn sputtered immediately. She didn't want to hear his bumbling now, though. She leaned forward, stopping short when she realized that Jesse wasn't moving. She could feel all eyes on her. Foolishly she had made the first move, and here she was suspended in the middle with absolutely no one meeting her. Face flushing, she began to pull back just as Jesse seemed to make up his mind and reach toward her. His hand curved around the base of her neck, tugging her face to his. He caught her off guard and she lurched forward, one hand resting heavily on his thigh as he caught her lips with his own. The kiss was messy, nothing like how she was accustomed to being kissed, but she had to admit it pretty good. She didn't know if tongue was appropriate in spin-the-bottle-kissing, but she slipped in some anyway.

"It's a kiss, not a make-out session," Santana said snidely, crossing her arms over her chest. Kurt took a hold of Rachel's shoulder and chuckled as he pulled her back. "Down Berry," he teased.

Jesse was clearly aroused, that much was evident from the naked lust burning in his eyes, and Rachel had to admit she shared his sentiments. She wanted nothing more than to stand up, take his hand, and lead him to the nearest bedroom. She would be a good girl, though. And besides, they wouldn't get too far with Finn and Puck nearby.

Puck cleared his throat and said, "My turn."

And the game continued.

Eric and Jesse are getting more drinks when Eric asked, "So, is that her?"

"Is that who?"

"The reason you aren't getting tail at UCLA."

Jesse smirked, pouring a shot into his cup and chasing it with a splash of cranberry juice. "Ever think the lack of tail is due to me?"

"You're a fucking dream boat," Eric slurred. "You worked your way into all of our ex's pants, remember? It's a wonder we're actually still friends with you."

"She's not the reason," Jesse supplied.

"Can I go for her then?"

Without thinking Jesse answered, "If you want a fist in your face."

"I knew it!" Eric said, laughing uproariously as he pointed an accusing finger into Jesse's face. "She is so the reason you're being a little celibate bitch baby! So, you gonna seal the deal tonight?"

"Nope."

"Come on man, get her out of your system!"

Jesse shook his head. Eric just didn't understand. Rachel was not someone to get out of your system; no, she was someone to obsess over, someone to pine after. She was someone to haunt your dreams and occupy your thoughts. She wasn't someone to screw and forget about.

"You're hopeless," Eric said, shaking his head. "Fucking hopeless." Eric looked over to the side where Brittany and Santana were talking. The latina caught him staring and surreptitiously flicked him off. "Damn," Eric hissed. "That one is hot."

"Yeah, she leaves a mark, too."

"That's how I like 'em man," Eric said with a devilish grin. "I think I'm going to go for it."

"She'll chew you up and spit you out," Jesse warned.

"What do I care? All I need is one chew, anyway." Jesse laughed, shaking his head as he watched his friend walk toward something he would undoubtedly regret. There was no stopping a drunken Eric, though, so he let his friend go on his damned way. Alone, he leaned against the counter and drank from his cup as he felt the first signs of the long night hit him. Moments later, he was hit by something else. Rachel's hand, to be exact.

"What was that for?" he asked, rubbing his arm.

"That was my hello," she said decisively.

"Well, hello?"

She smiled brilliantly, leaning on the counter beside him. She reached for his drink and he handed it over without contest, watching her lift it to her lips and take a long gulp. She began to take another, but he plucked the cup from her grasp and chided, "Don't finish my drink."

"You and Santana kissed," she said, looking up at him. "You seemed pretty happy afterward."

"More shocked than anything. She bit my lip."

"Huh, shame."

"Rachel-"

"I bet the girls are all over you at UCLA."

"Well-"

"I have been getting many offers from boys," she continued, bowling over him entirely. He nodded for her to continue, rather enjoying her rambling despite it being the opposite of the reaction he was sure it was intended to elicit. "Once the news that Finn and I separated spread through the school, I have been beating them away with a stick."

"Is that so?"

"A big one," she added. "Because there are just so many."

"Right."

She frowned, sensing that her attempt to make him jealous had failed. "I kissed Blaine," she said as a last attempt.

"Yes, I saw. Kurt practically had steam coming out of his ears."

Clearly Jesse knew that Blaine was gay. Actually, anyone within a five foot radius of the kid would know that, and Rachel felt silly for bringing up the kiss at all. She was really just trying to bring the conversation to what they had shared. Make him mention it, because she sure as hell wouldn't. She couldn't, in fact, because in all her fantasies where they had kissed again, he was the one to bring it up and for once, she wanted a fantasy to play out like it was supposed to.

She was almost reconciled to admitting that fantasies were just that-figments of her imagination-when Jesse miraculously followed the hastily placed breadcrumbs and said, "So, we kissed."

"It was part of the game."

"Your hand was on my thigh."

"Your fingers were caught up in my hair."

He leaned closer, the extra shot making him forget himself as he murmured, "Keep talking and I might kiss you again." Desire lit in the base of his stomach as she murmured, "Why don't you?"

She was looking up at him with those eyes, the ones that haunted him for months, and it sobered him. He knew if they did anything, she would regret it in the morning. He would, too, knowing he would have to leave her in a week for California. "You're too drunk," he said.

"So are you."

"Yeah, so?"

"Which is why it shouldn't matter," she pressed. "And it doesn't."

Her hand was resting heavily on his shoulder, body angled toward him as she reached her face up to his. It took all of his resolve to remove her hand and tell her gently, "You'll thank me for this in the morning."

"Fat chance," she spat out, face falling. She sighed dramatically and wrapped her arms around herself, pulling the white shirt down enough for him to catch the smallest glance of her lacy bra. "Why am I so tired now?" she mumbled softly, yawning wide. Clearly, she didn't drink often.

"Alcohol is a depressant," he explained.

"Well, look at you smarty pants," she mocked between long, face stretching yawns.

"Berry!" Puck called from the other room, gesturing for her to come to him. She looked up at Jesse and asked, "So, are you going to kiss me?" He shook his head. "Then I am leaving." With that she sauntered over to Noah Puckerman, and he tried to not become hypnotized by the sway of her hips. He was fighting a losing battle.

The party was slowing down. Mercedes was fast asleep on the couch and beside her Brittany was curled up, her feet resting on the other girl's lap. Artie's wheelchair was parked beside the couch, his head dropped to one side. It occurred to Jesse that he hadn't seen Eric since he went after Santana. He walked through the house, opening a door here and there to see if he could find them.

He didn't know what made him open Rachel's door. The odds of him finding Eric and Santana there were slim, but he went ahead with it anyway. He pulled the door open, throat going dry when he found Rachel curled up with Puck on the bed. He saw immediately that it was rather chaste, all clothes in place. It looked like Puck had covered Rachel with a blanket but had not joined her under it. Jesse had no right to be jealous, but he felt the stab of envy as sharply as a knife. Closing the door softly, he padded back into the living room. He sat down on the only available seat and stared at the ceiling, the image of Rachel with Puck refusing to leave his mind.

He would not be sleeping.

He did end up falling asleep, only to be awoken by the sound of vomiting. It was a rather unpleasant sound, followed by a small cough that he recognized. He used to make fun of her coughing, telling her it sounded like how a small dog would cough, high pitched and tinny. He rose from the couch and walked to the bathroom without really thinking. The door was ajar and he saw her head resting on the toilet seat, tears leaving inky tracks down her cheeks.

He knelt beside her without a word, pulling her hair away from her face. She looked up at him with hazy eyes and mumbled, "Thank you."

"You have any water yet?"

"No."

"I'll be right back." He pulled himself into standing and went to the kitchen, grabbing an empty red cup and filling it with water. When he returned Rachel took one look at the cup and began to retch. "Ugh, no," she groaned, shaking her head. He couldn't help but chuckle lightly at her reaction and told her, "Relax, it's just water."

"I don't want any," she mumbled.

He pushed the water toward her and said, "Just take one sip. Just one, Rach."

She frowned and took the water from him, a shaky hand raising it to her lips. She took a few sips and then handed it back, her eyes squeezing shut. "The room won't stop spinning," she bit out. He took her hand and told her, "Dig your fingernails into my hand."

Her eyes snapped open, "What?"

"Just do it. It'll help." She was in no state to actually put up resistance, so she followed his advice. She dug her fingernails into his hand, leaving crescent moon shaped indentations on his palm. "I'm not moving, see?" he murmured.

"You're not?"

He shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere."

She nodded her head, gazing up at him with hooded eyes and he wondered if they were still talking about the room. She rose to standing shakily and he quickly followed, holding onto her elbow. "I can take you back to your room."

"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

He imagined that Puck would not be too keen on him staying in the room with them, but decided simply to take her back without an answer. He was sure when she saw Puck sprawled out on her bed she would remember why he couldn't stay. When he led her into the room, he was surprised to find it empty.

She climbed into the bed and sprawled out on her stomach. He was glued at the doorway, unsure of what to do next. Groggily, she looked up at him and murmured, "Are you just going to stand there?"

"Floor, I'm going to sleep on the floor."

"The floor is uncomfortable."

Yeah, so will lying in that bed without being able to touch you, Jesse thought. Instead he simply said, "I'll be fine."

"Okay."

He grabbed a blanket off the foot of her bed and made a make-shift sleeping bag. He settled on the floor and thought to himself how ironic it was that he was finally staring up at Rachel Berry's ceiling and yet all of their clothes were intact. "Jesse?" she mumbled softly, one arm slipping off the bed as if it were searching for him. He hesitated for a moment but then took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm here," he murmured.

She slipped her hand from his and he heard her shift in the bed, undoubtedly assuming some other stretched out position. One tiny foot poked out of the comforter at an odd angle and he found himself wondering just what odd position she had gotten herself into. With this thought, he slowly drifted asleep.

She woke up alone. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. She woke up with a blinding headache and throat so dry she felt like she swallowed pine cones. She was the sole person in the room, a far cry from the hullabaloo of the the night before. She remembered her and Puck sharing a drunken heart-to-heart, both of them falling asleep on her bed. Then she had awoken with a start and stumbled toward the bathroom with a hand clamped over her mouth. That horror she faced alone, Puck already having moved on.

Then Jesse found her.

She turned on her side and noticed something unfamiliar on her nightstand. Raising up on her forearm, she paid the bottle of Advil and glass of water a cursory glance as she reached toward the accompanying letter.

Hey Rachel,

Eric and I had to leave early this morning. He was escaping Santana. (Rachel laughed)

I imagine you feel like hell right now. As a connoisseur of hangovers, I will give you a few pointers.

Take two of those Advils with a bit of toast loaded with Earth Balance. Greasy food is a hangover's best friend.

Drink that entire glass of water. And I mean the ENTIRE glass. (He easily called out her stubbornness, even in note form)

Wait until at least four to attempt to clean. If you need help, give me a call.

At this point I would offer my phone number, but we both know you have it memorized. (He was right)

She sat up and grabbed the glass of water, dutifully finishing it all. She was surprised to find that she finished without a hitch, even wanting more. She rose from bed and padded into the kitchen, grabbing the Advil on her way out. Her friends were awake too, wandering around like zombies. Finn and Puck had found the cereal stash and were making their way through the box of Fruit Loops that she usually saved for her time of the month. They nodded their heads toward her in greeting, eyes puffy like her own. She grabbed a piece of bread, not bothering to toast it before she smeared on a thick layer of Earth Balance. She bit into it and her stomach turned and then settled as she chewed.

"Good party," Puck said in her general direction, more focused on his cereal than the other end of the comment. She thought of the note and how she actually might utilize that number she had been unable to forget and murmured, "Yeah, good party."

A/N: This story seriously took on a life of its own. I never intended it to be this long but it just would not stop developing. So...hope you enjoyed it!