Glee, Jesse/Tina, "tonight,tonight", FRT
Title: tonight, tonight
Character/Pairing: Jesse/Tina
Disclaimer: Without prejudice, the recognisable characters used herein are the property of Ryan Murphy and Fox and are used without permission and not for profit.
Rating: FRT
Content Warning: None
Spoilers: Generally, season 1.
Summary: Tina's used to having the auditorium to herself this late at night...
Author's Notes: What is it with me and certain departed male VA leads? Anyway. I don’t know where this came from. Also, the references to race don’t reflect my own particular opinions, nor those I genuinely believe Jesse to hold, but in the context of the story, ethnicity is a necessary, valid and, well, key point.
tonight, tonight
“That note isn’t outwith your range, you know.”
She startles, closing her mouth abruptly, the blatantly missed sharp note hanging in the air. He’s in a middle row, feet propped up on the chair in front, and she doesn’t know how long he’s been there.
She wants to tell him she knows, goddammit, and she wishes people would just stop telling her it, as if the platitudes are really going to make her feel better. But then, he doesn’t know her well enough to be saying it to make her feel better.
“I presume from the look on your face that the song isn’t being rehearsed for glee club purposes.”
She squares her shoulders.
“Don’t worry,” He makes short work of the distance between his seat and the stage, and before she knows it she’s standing in his shadow. “I have no intention of blowing your cover.”
“What are you even doing here?” She challenges, head up and eyes blazing, “it’s the middle of the night.”
“Touche, Tina.” It’s a typically blase return, which utterly fails to answer her question. “Do you mind if I ask why ‘Tonight’? You’re not really a good fit for Maria.”
She feels him look her up and down, and only stiffens her stance. She’s seen West Side Story too, she knows what he’s referring to. It’s a race thing, even if he is too well brought up to say that out loud.
“You do have the range, admittedly,” he continues, apparently completely involved in his own train of thought, “but not even the most forward thinking casting director would put you in the role.”
“It’s not about that.”
Her voice cracks, and he looks directly at her just in time to see a tear she can’t control slip down her face. She wants to laugh at the sudden look of panic that flits across his face.
“It was the first solo I was ever given in Glee club.” He frowns, and she guesses maybe she needs to give him just a little more.
“Rachel actually quit over it,” she gives low chuckle, because she knows they’re both picturing the patented Berry storm out at that moment, “but I could never get that note right. She ended up singing it anyway.”
His smile tells her what she’s always known - he considers this to be the more natural order of things. Maybe it is, but he doesn’t have to make his feelings quite so obvious.
“So,” he crosses to the sound system, his back turned to her just briefly, “this is personal?”
“I...” The stutter she never really had threatens, more of a nervous habit still than she wants to admit. “...not against Rachel. It’s my own personal challenge. Like if I can get it, I’ll feel good enough to...”
“...demand your own solos again?” He turns back to her, and she wonders why she’s never noticed just how searching his eyes can be. He hits upon whatever he was looking for, gives her an exaggerated eyebrow raise. “No. It’s more than that, isn’t it?”
“You can’t understand.” Passive aggressive retorts are her speciality, and this is a good one. She finishes with extra venom, just for good measure. “You’ve never hit a bad note in your life.”
His laugh echoes in the otherwise empty auditorium.
“That’ll teach you to judge a book by its, admittedly impeccable, cover, Tina.” In three easy steps, he’s facing her again, and she has to crook her neck to make eye contact. “I’m far from perfect.”
She guesses that’s his confession, hanging in the air between them, details not required but questions buzzing around her head anyway. He’s Rachel’s to ask questions of, not hers. She isn’t sure she wants to know - someone elses issues are generally a dangerous place to delve.
“But, luckily for you, my range is pretty much perfect for Tony.” She hears the opening notes before he even finishes his proposition. “So why don’t you let me help you out?”
Character/Pairing: Jesse/Tina
Disclaimer: Without prejudice, the recognisable characters used herein are the property of Ryan Murphy and Fox and are used without permission and not for profit.
Rating: FRT
Content Warning: None
Spoilers: Generally, season 1.
Summary: Tina's used to having the auditorium to herself this late at night...
Author's Notes: What is it with me and certain departed male VA leads? Anyway. I don’t know where this came from. Also, the references to race don’t reflect my own particular opinions, nor those I genuinely believe Jesse to hold, but in the context of the story, ethnicity is a necessary, valid and, well, key point.
tonight, tonight
“That note isn’t outwith your range, you know.”
She startles, closing her mouth abruptly, the blatantly missed sharp note hanging in the air. He’s in a middle row, feet propped up on the chair in front, and she doesn’t know how long he’s been there.
She wants to tell him she knows, goddammit, and she wishes people would just stop telling her it, as if the platitudes are really going to make her feel better. But then, he doesn’t know her well enough to be saying it to make her feel better.
“I presume from the look on your face that the song isn’t being rehearsed for glee club purposes.”
She squares her shoulders.
“Don’t worry,” He makes short work of the distance between his seat and the stage, and before she knows it she’s standing in his shadow. “I have no intention of blowing your cover.”
“What are you even doing here?” She challenges, head up and eyes blazing, “it’s the middle of the night.”
“Touche, Tina.” It’s a typically blase return, which utterly fails to answer her question. “Do you mind if I ask why ‘Tonight’? You’re not really a good fit for Maria.”
She feels him look her up and down, and only stiffens her stance. She’s seen West Side Story too, she knows what he’s referring to. It’s a race thing, even if he is too well brought up to say that out loud.
“You do have the range, admittedly,” he continues, apparently completely involved in his own train of thought, “but not even the most forward thinking casting director would put you in the role.”
“It’s not about that.”
Her voice cracks, and he looks directly at her just in time to see a tear she can’t control slip down her face. She wants to laugh at the sudden look of panic that flits across his face.
“It was the first solo I was ever given in Glee club.” He frowns, and she guesses maybe she needs to give him just a little more.
“Rachel actually quit over it,” she gives low chuckle, because she knows they’re both picturing the patented Berry storm out at that moment, “but I could never get that note right. She ended up singing it anyway.”
His smile tells her what she’s always known - he considers this to be the more natural order of things. Maybe it is, but he doesn’t have to make his feelings quite so obvious.
“So,” he crosses to the sound system, his back turned to her just briefly, “this is personal?”
“I...” The stutter she never really had threatens, more of a nervous habit still than she wants to admit. “...not against Rachel. It’s my own personal challenge. Like if I can get it, I’ll feel good enough to...”
“...demand your own solos again?” He turns back to her, and she wonders why she’s never noticed just how searching his eyes can be. He hits upon whatever he was looking for, gives her an exaggerated eyebrow raise. “No. It’s more than that, isn’t it?”
“You can’t understand.” Passive aggressive retorts are her speciality, and this is a good one. She finishes with extra venom, just for good measure. “You’ve never hit a bad note in your life.”
His laugh echoes in the otherwise empty auditorium.
“That’ll teach you to judge a book by its, admittedly impeccable, cover, Tina.” In three easy steps, he’s facing her again, and she has to crook her neck to make eye contact. “I’m far from perfect.”
She guesses that’s his confession, hanging in the air between them, details not required but questions buzzing around her head anyway. He’s Rachel’s to ask questions of, not hers. She isn’t sure she wants to know - someone elses issues are generally a dangerous place to delve.
“But, luckily for you, my range is pretty much perfect for Tony.” She hears the opening notes before he even finishes his proposition. “So why don’t you let me help you out?”