An Artistic Dispute

Jesse St. James was not a person easily stunned into silence or one to question the reality of his surroundings, and yet in the past few days he had found himself increasingly suspecting (or maybe even hoping) that he had stumbled into a bizarre daydream by accident.

A relatively normal glee club meeting, with the random addition of Coach Sylvester for some reason, had started out predictably enough. Mr. Schue had begun by announcing the criteria for Regionals this year along with the reveal of their fellow headliners – information that Jesse had already taken the liberty of sourcing through the grapevine. Though he had to admit he was surprised Aural Intensity had gotten through again; they had been a poor second place to VA last year. Their teacher had then asked the club to define the nature of an anthem (which Jesse considered patronizing in the extreme) before promptly ignoring Rachel's dutifully offered hand and answering the question himself. All in all, just another day really.

Jesse had just about zoned out, musing over the best song choices for them to present at the competition as he let his fingertips stroke lazily over the back of Rachel's neck, smiling to himself as he felt her body stiffen subtly next to his. He was just about to extend his attentions when he was reluctantly distracted by the new kid (Sam, he reminded himself in a reproving voice that sounded suspiciously like his girlfriend), who stood up and announced under that floppy mop of a haircut that he wanted to open the floor up to the 'epic talent' of teeny-bopper sensation – Justin Bieber.

Jesse had nearly choked on the air in his lungs.

Quickly attempting to gather his composure, he could only stare at the blonde kid with an expression of mixed horror and incredulity, his eyebrows almost arching into his hairline. It was an immediate reaction that was echoed by a lot of the club members, even Quinn seemed dismayed by the turn of events her boyfriend was orchestrating. Jesse watched a little numbly as Sam tried to twist all laws of logic and principles of music into justifying Bieber's 'hugely emotional' song as an anthem, all the while wondering how the guy expected anyone to take him seriously in that ridiculous getup. As Sam pulled on his guitar and took centre stage, Jesse slouched back in his chair with a sigh, gripped by the depressing realisation that New Directions had succeeded in sinking to new lows.

Suffice to say, he was not a fan or follower of the Bieber mania that had captured the fluttering hearts of young teenage girls across the country. Sure, he could appreciate the phenomenon from a savvy marketing perspective, the boy hit all the boxes of the typical nice and safe celebrity crush, but it didn't mean he had any wish for it to come anywhere near his own life. It was a goal he had managed to pull off without much effort, more or less, up until now anyway. Not that he'd spared it excessive thought, but as far as he was concerned the songs in question were cheesy and uninspired, and the obsessive madness surrounding the boy was more than a little disconcerting. It was most certainly not his thing. And why would it be? For one he was a good few years older than the kid's target demographic, not to mention the wrong gender, and for another – he just had taste.

Something which while he didn't credit his fellow members having in abundance (Rachel excepted of course) he thought they at least had enough of it to shut down the god-awful idea the moment it was spewed into the air. Yet for some reason, unfathomable to him, the girls had swooned over Sam's rendition and the boys had subsequently decided to jump on the bandwagon to capitalize on the temporary insanity that was addling their girlfriends' minds.

For the first time he actually found himself agreeing with Finn, of all people. Times must be dire. As much as he loathed to join forces, he had raised his own voice to back up the objections put forth to stem the hastily approaching disaster, desperate to talk some common sense back into the club before he was forced to endure anymore of this inexplicable adolescent regression. That was until Finn too had succumbed to the ludicrous fad, all in a plot to garner Quinn's favour it seemed – if the side-long looks and secret smiles he had witnessed between those two recently were anything to go by.

The revelation of that little rekindled affair had caused Jesse no end of private amusement. Yeah, because that was only going to end well. Quinn was fickle at the best of times. Though if her choices were really between Sam 'The Justin Bieber Experience' Evans and Finn 'As Stupid As He Looks' Hudson – Jesse couldn't blame the girl for being more than reluctant to place her bets. Still, anything that kept the jock's attention off Rachel and out of his face was fine by him.

The past few days had been fascinating really, in a stuck-in-a-horror-movie kind of way. It was like watching an epidemic of hysteria spreading, jumping from person to person like an airborne disease that devoured all dignity and reason and compelled a vivid sense of delusion and questionable fashion sense. It was Outbreak 2: The Virus Takes McKinley, live before his very eyes.

Jesse knew how prevalent a dominant brand could be if marketed correctly, the skills of manipulating the mass market were valuable ones to have, but he also knew how to effectively dodge the less favourable ones. He had just never anticipated this particular trend to penetrate New Directions with quite this much fervour, though he knew he shouldn't really have been surprised.

Anyone in Vocal Adrenaline would have been strung up for ever suggesting such a concept, even ironically, but it seemed anything was fair game in New Directions. It almost made him nostalgic for his old team.

Watching Puckerman, Mike and Artie standing up there with Sam, in matching hoodies and slicked down fringes, proposing to subject them to another 'epic' performance, was possibly one of the most surreal and painfully inane moments Jesse had ever experienced.

Forget daydream, it was more like a tragic nightmare. There was just something vaguely…creepy about the whole thing.

Jesse might have been able to write it all off to the frivolous mind-sets of their fellow team members, could maybe have succeeded in just dismissing the entire embarrassing spectacle out of hand. However, when Rachel seemed to surrender her better judgement and fall under the influence too – he all but despaired.

"Please tell me you're not serious," he muttered in disbelief as they lounged across her bed one evening, tilting his head to look up at his girlfriend with a mixture of scepticism and imploring.

"What?" she replied, lifting her shoulders with a small defensive huff. "They were good, that's all I'm saying." She sighed then, gathering patience, as if trying to reason with a difficult child. "Love it or hate it, Bieber's a powerful presence in the music world right now and I actually think it's a good thing we're taking the time to acknowledge that."

"Oh god," he moaned dramatically, pressing his face into her stomach so the words were muffled by her body. Rachel giggled, winding her fingers lovingly through his hair where he rested against her. "Et tu, Rach?"

"Oh shut up," she laughed. "It's not that bad."

"Are you kidding me? As if suffering through Vanilla Ice wasn't bad enough –"

"I still maintain that song is a guilty pleasure of yours."

Jesse ignored the teasing interruption, shifting on his elbow to allow him better access as his hand slowly coaxed up the hem of her top. His tone didn't betray a hint of the intentions of his fingers, not breaking a beat in their conversation even as Rachel's pulse skipped and raced in her veins. "But now you're intent on subjecting me to this fresh atrocity. It's beyond cruel." He shook his head, his chest heaving with a weary breath. "I swear you guys are trying to break my spirit."

"Darling, trust me," Rachel assured with a knowing smile. "If I truly wanted to do that, I could think of far more pleasurable ways of achieving it."

A smirk curved Jesse's lips, his fingers dropping lower to toy with the button of her jeans. "I'm sure," he murmured smugly. He didn't fail to catch the quickening rush of her breath, or the way her nails dug into the skin under his shirt.

"Don't get me wrong," he continued almost idly, "I can understand why the kid is so successful, and believe me it has nothing to do with the quality of his music, but I just don't get why you lot are so keen to indulge in such a mindless craze."

She shrugged. "A little bit of mob mentality, I guess. It's hard not to get swept up in the wave of such popularity. And you have to admit, there is something about him."

"What, you mean besides the fact he looks like a twelve-year old girl himself?"

Rachel sighed, poking her boyfriend in the shoulder in a pointed reprimand. "Whatever happened to mutual artistic respect?"

"It's reserved for people who actually qualify as legitimate artists," he replied, unrepentant in his distain.

"You mean people that you deem to be worthy."

"Yeah."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "You're not in a one-man band anymore, Jesse. You're not going to like what we do every week, but that's no cause to be a bad sport and sulk like a child who doesn't get his way."

"It's not a question of sportsmanship, it's a matter of common decency," he corrected loftily. "It's just…wrong. On so many levels." He almost seemed to shudder at the mere thought, a pained look crossing his face. "I feel like I'm trapped in a pre-pubescent girl's bubbleheaded fantasy."

"What, and you're disappointed you're not the main focus this time?"

"Very funny."

"Tolerance is a good virtue to have," Rachel pointed out in exasperation. "Think of it as a leaning experience in people skills."

Jesse scoffed under his breath, though he knew she could feel it and could practically hear her frowning in annoyance. Jesse was not diplomatic by nature, nor did he have a habit of indulging other people's egos or mistakes. He may have been overruled by the team on this occasion, his superior opinions forced to the sidelines, but that didn't stop him from still fighting such a travesty with every shred of artistic pride in him.

"The whole thing is an exercise in immature absurdity," he replied stubbornly. "It's cringe-worthy."

"It's fun."

"It's demeaning."

"It's…inclusive."

Jesse turned his head and threw his girlfriend an incredulous look, bordering on bemusement. Rachel held his gaze with as much dignity as she could as she went on to explain her argument.

"Glee club is all about embracing the whole musical spectrum, from Broadway ballads to pop songs," she reminded him calmly. "We give everything a fair chance, and you can't deny he's a personality that's very current and very popular."

"Hey, I'm all for exploring the wide arc of musical culture, but you still have to retain some standards."

"Ugh, you're impossible!" Rachel groaned, letting her head fall back against the pillows with a loud huff.

Jesse grinned. Driving his equally-impossible girlfriend to distraction was one of his all-time favourite pastimes, and one of his greatest skills. But that didn't mean he still didn't have a valid objection and complaint about all of this.

"I'm just trying to keep whatever little credible reputation this club may have from being completely decimated. Honestly, how do you guys expect any of your competitors to take you seriously when they hear you actually bother to waste your time on stuff like this?"

"We don't care what people think about us," Rachel said in a flat voice, half-heartedly reciting the club mantra that had been so persistently drummed into them.

"Yes you do," he interrupted firmly, dismissing her reluctant soap-box speech before she could start. Everyone did, they were in high school for god's sake. Reputation was life and death here, even among misfits. Everyone wanted success in some way, to be recognised and rewarded; it was only human nature. He knew just how much that world meant to Rachel, how badly she wanted to win, because he wanted it just as hard. And the misguided determination to downplay that driving spark and soul of fire, to subdue that vital edge of competition, was one of the things Jesse found most infuriating about New Directions.

He felt her sigh deeply, could hear the conflict in her thoughts when she spoke. "I'm used to being mocked. At least in glee club, you don't have to be afraid of the ridicule."

"Why? Because you all embrace the ridiculousness together?" he asked with a dry smile.

Rachel laughed. "Yeah, I suppose so. Being different is what makes us strong. Makes us more than a machine," she added with a playful nudge to his arm, the allusion to his previous team passing between them without bitterness. "People can choose to perform whatever songs they wish to in the club. Well, mostly. It's just the way we work. Better get used to it," she told him with a grin, running her hand lightly over his back. Her voice was as soft as her touch, warm with affection.

Jesse grimaced in distaste. "But…this? It's inhumane. You do realise I could report you guys to Amnesty International for musical torture."

Rachel couldn't help but smile at the petulant tone in her boyfriend's voice. He really was like a sulky kid sometimes. To her relief and frustration, Jesse had shifted his attention during their discussion, his hands sliding higher on her body once more, retuning to the supple canvas of her stomach where he was currently scrawling lyrics across her bare skin with his eloquent fingertips. Rachel closed her eyes, finding she could breathe a little easier but still not enough to keep her heartbeat within normal parameters.

"So I take it you're not going to be joining Sam's tribute group any time soon?" she queried innocently. Jesse raised his head to give her the full benefit of his scathing expression in reply. Rachel's eyes twinkled mischievously as she tilted her head in a thoughtful gesture. "You know, your hair is getting a little longer again…"

She reached out, making to try and smooth the unruly curls down, but Jesse seized her raised hands before she could make contact. His fingers wrapped tight around her wrists, his lean figure moving quick as lightening as he shifted his body over hers and roughly pinned her arms back down over her head. A shallow gasp broke from Rachel's lips, her nerves suddenly taught with electricity, but her sparkling gaze lost none of its sly daring.

"Not in a million years," he said in a dangerously low voice, enunciating each word with crystal clarity.

She pouted softly; a look that had never failed throughout her life in getting her what she wanted. No man was immune to it.

But Jesse only leaned down closer, a wicked smile curling the edge of his own mouth. "Ain't gonna cut it, Princess." His fingers flexed harder against her wrists, making her blood race and breath quicken. Rachel winced and swallowed down a whimper, biting into her lower lip in a knowing gesture that made Jesse's voice drop an octave into his achingly familiar bedroom voice. There was a rough pitch in his velvet tone when he spoke again, both seducing and demanding. "You're going to have to do a lot better than that if you want me to go along with this insanity quietly."

Rachel's heart was pounding, burning up with the heat of his touch, her eyes glinting with the tantalizing threat of anticipation. She held his gaze with a goading smile, bending her knee slowly to brush her leg against his. "I thought your integrity wasn't for sale?" she said, arching a teasing eyebrow.

He lowered his face to hers, binding her body with the pressure of his, their hot breath mingling in the inch of air that separated them. "I'm sure we can work something out." At last breaking the lock of their eyes, Jesse dropped his head to brush his lips to the hollow of her throat. He felt her hips buck into his at his touch, making him groan softly and tighten his grip on her captive hands in response. He moved his mouth over her neck, kissing excruciatingly slowly up her throat, barely skimming her skin yet igniting a yearning fire under the surface.

Rachel's eyes were pressed shut as she struggled to catch enough cooling air to stop her body from over-heating right then and there. Her fingers twitched with the urge to wrap her arms around him but were still held fast by his stronger hands, digging in painfully. She sensed him raise his head to hers once more, could feel the words grazing her lips as his mouth hovered enticingly over hers. She just knew he was smiling.

"What exactly is my compliance worth to you?"

/o/

The members of McKinley's New Directions were scattered about their auditorium. The stage curtains were drawn in preparation for the performance they had all been summoned to gather for, and the air was filled with the mutter of chat and gossip as the remaining students waited for the boys' number to begin, some more patiently than others.

About halfway along an empty row, slightly more removed from their fellow teammates, the club's reigning power couple were talking quietly in low voices, coiled up in an embrace that was entirely too intimate for school grounds. Ignoring the disapproving glance of their teacher, the teenagers appeared completely unconcerned by their surroundings, too wrapped up in each other to care.

Rachel was nestled firmly in Jesse's lap, playing affectionately with his fingers as she talked; all memory of why they were even loitering in the auditorium in the first place long since vanished from her mind. To anyone observing, it wasn't hard to guess how the young couple had spent the previous night that had left them so inseparable today – even more so than usual.

Mercedes rolled her eyes as she walked down the aisle, passing by the absorbed lovers. "Please, Rachel," she commented in a bored tone, loud enough to ensure she had their attention. "We all know you're hopelessly in love with him, but do you have to be so obvious about it?"

Rachel didn't even bother to look away from his face, a soft grin spilling over her lips with her reply. "Yes," she announced defiantly.

Jesse returned the private smile, as always the language of his body and eyes so much more eloquent in silence. Gently removing his fingers from her grasp, he caught her hands and caressed them between his own. With infinite care, he stroked his thumb over the delicate skin of her pulse points, tenderly soothing the shadowed bruises that lingered there.

Rachel shifted closer, leaning in to touch her forehead to his, the depth of the warmth behind her smile almost stilling his heart all over again. He could feel her uneven breath against his face and his eyes slipped shut of their own accord, drinking her in through touch alone.

When they were forced to pull apart only a few moments later, the disappointment was almost a physical tug between them. With a sigh, Rachel slid off his lap and back into her own seat where she instantly snuggled tight into his side as they both turned their attention towards the stage, less than enthusiastic about listening to the announcement that had so rudely interrupted them.

The curtains drew back and as the opening chords of 'Never Say Never' pierced the air, Jesse felt himself rolling his eyes so far back it hurt his head. He opened his mouth, a withering comment poised on his tongue, but Rachel placed her hand on his leg and squeezed gently. He sighed and reluctantly shut his mouth again. Leaning back, he settled his arm over her shoulders and felt her eagerly curl in closer to him, preparing to brace his ears for another aural assault.

Jesse smirked. A deal was a deal after all.

~o~

AN Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed! Reviews make me and my muse smile :)