you're too young & eager to love

Whaaaaat is this?

Why, a random paragraph or two centered on Finn / Rachel / Jesse. With no explanation given, really. Because I can.

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Finn should be enough for her.

But that’s the thing with Rachel Berry. Her ambition and her appetite for life and love are one in the same. She wants everything too much.

It should upset him.

It does, at first. He gets the usual lost and confused look and makes that familiar unintelligible puppy dog sound. Something like a sigh and a floundering for words. But Finn loves her – enough to be okay with this and the fact that Jesse St. James is kissing him. Hard and a little angry mixed with a lot of impatience.

He’s a good kisser and it makes Finn’s competitive side burst through. Quick enough to surprise the older boy, he grabs a handful of shirt between his fingers and yanks, opens his mouth more so he can take control. From his left, he hears Rachel’s laughter, soft and amused. Against his mouth, Jesse laughs too.

Finn isn’t sure what exactly is funny about this, but he thinks it might have something to do with having Rachel's absurdly pink duvet beneath them.

Working on Santana.

Spoilers for the second season plot? Whatev.

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Dating Santana, Puck realizes, pretty much involves dating Brittany too. The two of them are always together, inseparable like those weird twins he saw once at a circus (not that Puck would admit to going to a circus, even if he was only ten at the time). It’s good for his rep, so he doesn’t complain. Plus, they’re forever buying him dinner at Breadstix, even if Santana sits on Brittany’s side and pretends like Puck doesn’t realize her hand on Brittany’s thigh. He thought about saying some snarky remark about her secretly being a Lizzy Lesbian, but then Santana might slash his tires or stop sexting him and neither of those is winning to the Puckasaurus.

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Brittany can’t read analog clocks. Santana finds this out the first time they stay the night together and, at six in the morning, Brittany has the alarm (that’s blaring) in both her hands, asking what time it is. Santana switches to a digital version, because their sleepovers become habitual, but she still moves the clock to her side of the bed just in case.

--

Santana puts on a good show. She pencils in her eyebrows perfectly and masters the bored pursed-lip look. She drums her long nails against her thighs during each class like she’s allowed to be uninterested – she’s head cheerleader now, after all, ever since Fabray’s stomach started swelling up like a balloon. The only time she could be called active is in Spanish when she has to help Brittany with conjugating – then she is attentive and patient.

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She likes being popular. She likes Glee too, and she likes the routineness of the Cheerios – even if Sue’s yelling from the sidelines gives her headaches. She likes her slim body and the lack of length in her skirt. Santana just doesn’t like herself, not really. She doesn’t like the quiver in her stomach every time Brittany touches her arm or starts playing with her dark hair. She doesn’t like how she knows the blonde’s perfume and gets confused whenever another student walks by wearing it. She doesn’t like how even though she’s willing to fight any girl in McKinley, she keeps battling with herself the most.

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Puck is easy and a good kisser. He compliments her, but Santana is used to that. Even Finn was fun, in a novelty, innocent kind of way. She doesn’t realize till later, even with all her experience, that neither of them mattered. She has a jealous territorial side, but what hormonal teenager doesn’t?
Santana can’t stand someone else being chosen over her. It brings up all those insecurities she tries to ignore.

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Brittany likes everybody. She’s not smart enough to hold a grudge, and she follows like a puppy dog. But she’s the nicest person in the entire school, the one who really is friends with every student, but still no one understands how close she is with Santana. Why she holds her hand and keeps by her side in the hallways.

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Rachel isn’t afraid to be herself. She’s annoying and demanding and wears horrible sweaters with animals on them, but she knows who she is. She doesn’t shy from it. If Santana was the type to reveal anything, she’d say how envious she is.

--

This sort of turned into porn.

Then I get stuck.


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They have certain traditions, like linking their pinkie fingers together, or how her shoulder is forever available for Brittany to lean against. Brittany always spends the night with her on the last Saturday of the summer break. They wear matching silver toe rings, and no one has ever noticed.

In a way, this is just another tradition.

Brittany’s hips are rolling, up and down, and a little to the side. It’s almost like she’s dancing, similar except for Santana’s presence. It’s always like this too – Brittany being the last to come, because Santana is a lot less selfish than people realize, and she likes the easy, familiar way Brittany will crawl up her body to, inevitably, switch places once her thighs have stopped shaking. Santana’s orgasm had hit her powerfully like hope, but left her unusually quiet. A touch of longing that she ignored, and Brittany confused her flushed face for excitement. “Brain fall?” Brittany asked in her quiet, undemanding voice while trailing her fingers up and around Santana’s hip. “Brain freeze, Brit. That happens with ice-cream, not orgasms.” Or maybe it does, but just with Brittany. Definitely not with Puck, although he had a sort of demanding that Santana could revel in, roll on like her eyeliner. Finn was more awkward, unsuccessful due to his stumbling, lips that felt like jelly on her stomach.

She likes the way Brittany’s long hair gets caught against her mouth as she moves down her neck, and how she always wears plain bras that unsnap simply. Likes the way that Brittany, keeping with her unsophisticated ways, talks about how good Santana looks between her thighs while not noticing how it makes the brunette tense. It might make her look a little sad too, if her mouth were able to grin. Brittany’s entire body shakes when she reaches her peak, reverberating off of the other girl, and her hand tangles in Santana’s hair, half pressing against her jaw.

Just some random bits that I wrote down while watching the first few episodes of Season 1. Up to episode 6-7, I believe. I'll probably work on Santana tomorrow or Sunday.

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Quinn’s uniform stops fitting, and she shows up to Glee rehearsals with reddened eyes. She has a shaky stance, which Santana thinks is odd because Quinn, as head cheerleader, is familiar with routines. But she forgets when Puck flashes her a smile, when Brittany loops a finger around hers. Nobody else notices – they’re focused on steps and chords and Finn’s bad dancing.

So, there’s talk of loosening up and grants, the road beyond high school. There’s a pregnant girlfriend in need of support too - that’s all types of hectic, especially because Quinn’s hormones make her more temperamental than Liza Minnelli. (Rachel’s the one that says that, once the baby news has broken). For now it’s a secret and a pressure. Rachel is a necessity, because the club needs her in order to win Regionals, and Finn needs that mark to get a scholarship. It’s not that Finn wants to hurt her. He likes her, when she’s not trying to flirt with him and being overly dramatic. She’s conceited but talented, and she has a leadership quality that works well with his own. Plus, she has this way of believing in him that’s infectious. Rachel’s a dreamer (in more than one way - her buttercream bedroom walls and pink sheets make sure she rarely has nightmares). She has a high-strung energy about her, caught in the way she talks too fast and her need to almost run down the hallways. But she helps him with his voice, hitting keys on the piano and being sincerely encouraging, and he needs that too.

He lets her kiss him, hopeful and young, and his fingers feel sweaty from bowling and there’s so much noise that he almost misses the spark that happens when their lips meet.

I feel like I opened an impossible door.

This is why you don't write a Glee piece, then start marathoning the first season. Why? Because half-way through you get inspired to do another piece. Although this is just really a snippet. Writing Rachel is easy, since we (sadly) have too much in common, and Finn's such a nice character (even during his occasional bad-boy moments) that I want to hug him. In other words, this is fun fun fun.

Let's see how long I can go before I start writing Glee porn. Woo.

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Rachel’s legs are pressed together so tightly that they’re shaking. She’s wearing a scared, lost little girl look – the one she so faithfully falls back on during times of stress. It matches the egg yolk in her hair, which, coincidentally, almost matches the yellow cotton of her shirt. Every now and then, she lets out a sniffle. A half gasp, half whimper noise. But she isn’t crying, and Finn has to give her credit – she’s holding together decently well, all things considered. He can pretty much see the tension in her shoulders, the strict iron path of her spine, her hands fists on her thighs. It’s not the same type of tension that arises from having to sing and dance for months next to the guy who got your girlfriend pregnant, but – for once – he doesn’t think Rachel’s worried about competing.

The others don’t know (he’s not a boaster, not a bragger) but it’s Finn that takes care of Rachel that day, after Jesse humiliates her in the school parking lot. Practically makes an omelet on top of her head. Being the non-violent vegan that she is, Rachel will have nightmares about those unborn chickens for weeks. She’ll wake up smelling butter and fried souls. For now, she’s just uncomfortable and hurt and broken hearted.

Finn is warm and solid and close to her. He keeps the radio down low and is grateful that, today of all days, his mother let him take the car to school. Grateful that he was the one to find her, stunned and close to tears, while a bunch of Range Rovers spun out of the parking lot. He knows the way to her house, drives the car safely and parks it near the side of the curb so that her fathers won’t ask him to back out of the driveway when they get home. He’s the one that holds her hand, takes her backpack and places it near the door, hangs up her jacket after checking for stains and eggshells.

He could say, I told you so, what did you expect, or you were wrong. He doesn’t. He starts the hot water in the shower and, because it can’t hurt, puts on her favorite Streisand album. Next week, he’ll talk about motivations and how she’s both annoying and strong-willed. He’ll use the type of tone his mother always uses, the serious listen-to-me voice. She’ll lean in and kiss him, suddenly, heavy-lidded dark eyes and the fall of her hair like a ghost across his cheek.

Glee is god damn addicting. I sat down to write a piece on Inception, because at least that's considered more adult, and wham! Out came Jesse, Rachel, and Finn. I've entered a whole new realm of nerdom.

I'm not used to writing teenagers. Especially relatively light and fluffy teenagers. So, I didn't think my usual writing style of intended fancy metaphors fit. I sacrificed that for hopefully accurate characterization.

There's ... not really an ending. Because some things never change. There is, however, 3 pages worth under the cut.

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