You often meet your fate on the road you take to avoid it
Title: You often meet your fate on the road you take to avoid it
Fandom: Glee
Ship: Will/Rachel
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Season one.
Disclaimer: Say it with me now ~ me ... don't ... own. Title taken from the French proverb.
Summary: "Will, look at us. We are already so far down this path we can't even see where it started anymore."
Authors Notes: Thanks to the awesome deadrana for the beta. It should be noted that this fic takes place in a future where only the events of season one are canon, but I borrow some ideas from season two.
This was written for joshdonnalyman who bid on me in the qldfloodauction. It has taken an unpardonably long time to write (stupid real life getting in the way) and I hope it was worth the wait.
You often meet your fate on the road you take to avoid it
One could suppose this day was always going to eventuate. Will had watched the love lives of the Glee members intermingle over the years, and it seemed an inevitability that one day, something would happen, and everything would implode.
He walks into the rehearsal room and realises immediately that something isn't right. Everyone is staring at either Rachel or Finn. Rachel looks angry, shocked. Finn shuffles on the spot, guilty, and he looks to Will for guidance.
"What's going on guys?" Will asks. Some the group look to him, as though wanting to explain, while the rest continue to stare at Finn and Rachel.
Rachel is the one to answer. "Apparently Quinn and Finn have been seeing each other behind my back. For months. Finn was just about to tell me whether the rumour was true or not."
Everyone looks to Finn. Except Will. His eyes stay on Rachel, and when, through the silence of the room Finn's voice quietly admits, "It's true," Will is the only one to see her eyes close, a tear cascade down her cheek.
The room explodes with noise. Questions are asked, accusations thrown. Will tries to calm everyone, unsuccessfully. Finn notices that Rachel has fled, and he goes after her. Quinn bursts into tears and leaves in the opposite direction. Puck immediately follows, leaving a dejected Lauren behind. Mercedes sits by Lauren. Sam kicks a chair on his way out of the room. When the chaos finally calms, only a few teens remain in the room.
"Go home guys," Will says sadly, starting to clear up the damage. "I don't think there will be any rehearsal tonight."
They all slowly get up and walk out the door. He hears Tina comment that, "I don't think there will be any rehearsals any time soon," and he silently agrees. They have had their fall-outs before, but this is different. Call it the straw that breaks the camels back, but he doesn't know how they will recover from this.
Will heads home in a dejected state. He never thought it would end like this. In truth, he never thought it would end at all. He wanted to watch them grow and succeed and go off into the big wide world, ready to conquer it. He wanted the experiences they shared and the friendships they had formed to make them stronger, not tear them apart.
He walks through his apartment door, drained. The little red light on his answering machine flashes, and his first instinct is that it's one of the Glee members. However, it's Terri's voice that comes through the speaker, her voice even harder and more annoying than normal.
"Will, it's me. I wanted - I just thought you should know."
A pause, and Will sinks to the couch, preparing for the worst.
"I'm getting married. His name is John. I just thought you should know. Um ... I'll call you again later."
He cradles his head in his hands and wonders how it is that his life has spun so out of control so quickly. He doesn't know how to do this.
A knock at the door startles his reverie. He thinks, for one horrifying moment, that it's Terri, and he is determined to ignore it. But when the knocking becomes more insistent, he gets up to answer it. He takes a deep breath, his hand on the doorknob, and pulls it open.
He is shocked to see Rachel standing there. She looks so small, her eyes averted from his, tear stains clear under her red eyes.
"Rach," he says softly, opening the door wider for her.
She walks in without a word and sits on his couch, her eyes focused on her hands. He stands there for a moment, looking at her tiny form crumpled on his couch, and his heart breaks a little. He closes the door and joins her on the couch, immediately putting a hand to her back and moving it in what he hopes are soothing motions.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks.
She scoffs. "Talk about what? How my boyfriend cheated on me with his ex-girlfriend when I was saving myself for him? Or how nothing is ever easy and everything is always wrong. Or maybe we should talk about how with everything that happened tonight I can't ever imagine us being a group again."
"Yeah, whichever topic takes your fancy," he says lightly, and this finally earns him some eye contact and the barest of smiles. "I am sorry about Finn. He's an idiot."
Her face falls again. "The truth is, I deserved this."
"No, Rach-"
"Yes, My Schue. I did. This is my comeuppance. This is my reward for kissing Finn when he was still with Quinn. For trying to steal him away. For dating the enemy behind everyone's back. For lying to Finn for so long, telling him that I slept with Jesse when I didn’t. I've been a horrible person, and this is my karma."
"Rachel, nobody is perfect. Sometimes I think you try so hard and so earnestly that you forget; life is not the stage. Life is messy. You can't control what happens. Rach, you are a good person. You are the most hardworking person I think I've ever met. You don't deserve this."
She looks down to her hands, twisting in her lap. Despite her bent head he can see tears streaming down her cheek once more. He sighs. His words had meant to comfort her, not upset her. Would nothing go right today?
He covers her hands with his own. Her thumb hooks over his hand and she rests her head on his shoulder. She doesn't speak for a long time, and he, for fear of saying the wrong thing again, doesn't break the silence either. He just sits there with her, and despite the horrible day today and the uncertainty of tomorrow, sitting here like this with her makes him feel more content than he has in a while.
Out of the corner of his eye, the little red light of the answering machine flashes menacingly. Somehow, with Rachel sitting there beside him, the weight of Terri's message comes crashing down around him. He doesn’t want to seem petty, but he can’t help but feel annoyed, that she has so quickly moved on from him, that she has found someone to love, and he is still alone. After the betrayal and pain she put him through, doesn’t he deserve to be happy and loved?
His thoughts must be showing in his face, because despite her own grief she notices that something is wrong, sitting up and turning to him and asking, "What is it?"
"Nothing," he says, shaking his head. She delivers a stern look, made all the more potent by her red eyes and blurry lips. "You don't want to hear about my problems, Rach."
"Will," she says tentatively, her inflection asking permission to use the informal moniker. He nods, something in his chest pounding at her voice and his name. "You wanna hear about my problems, don't you?" He nods. "Because you care about me?" He nods. "So is it so hard to believe that the feelings are mutual?"
He smiles at that, and somehow, incredibly, his burden already feels slightly lifted. "My ex-wife is getting married."
"Oh."
"It's not that I want her back or anything. I just never thought she would move on so quickly. I didn't think I would be alone so long."
"You're a great guy, Will," she says, and off his incredulous look she smiles. "Really, you are sweet and generous and you care about people. The right person is out there for you. I know it."
"Thanks, Rach," he says, and there doesn’t really seem to be anything left to say after that. "Come on," he says after a moment, standing from the couch. He holds his hand out to her. "I'll take you home."
She doesn't take his hand, doesn’t move from her spot on his couch. "I can't go home. I don't want to be alone. Please, Will, can I stay here?"
The request is a surprise, and he resumes his place beside her. He is suddenly aware of the line they are about to cross.
"Rach, I don't think that's such a good idea."
"I know," she replies earnestly, her big brown eyes boring into his. Her hand rests on his knee.
"In fact, I'd say it's a very bad idea."
"You're probably right."
"We will regret this." He reaches over and wipes a tear from her cheek.
"Hmmm ... debatable," she replies, a small smile lighting her features.
He can't help but smile back. "Okay."
She immediately wraps her arms around him. "Thank you, Will."
He withdraws. "Let me grab you some blankets."
He busies himself finding bedding to make up the couch. He is aware of her eyes on his form as she sits in silence, watching him move about the room. He returns to the couch and they silently make the bed up. When it's complete, they stand in the centre of the room, uncertain.
This is a dangerous road you are going down, his mind screams. There will be no going back from this. And yet, somehow, he can't summon the will to care. There has always been something about Rachel, the way she tries so earnestly and loves so quickly and believes so completely. If there was anyone in the world he would be willing to cross the line for, it's her.
Aware that he has been staring, he smiles bashfully to try and recover. He steps forward, presses a kiss to Rachel's forehead, and says goodnight. He leaves her, goes into the relative safety of his room, closes the door behind him and lets out a deep breath.
*
Two hours later, he is still wide awake. He can't stop his mind from racing. He can't stop thinking about that young woman, only a few metres away. She is infuriating and amazing and so very, very dangerous.
He wishes he could be surprised when his bedroom door is pushed open, light from the lounge area spilling into his room. She stands in his doorway, the pair of pyjamas he leant her too big on her small frame. He watches her move into the room, slow deliberate steps drawing the agonising process out. She walks to the other side of his bed and, with her eyes locked on his, she lifts the covers and climbs in.
He knows he should say something, but for the first time in his life he is rendered truly speechless. She lies down, rests her head on the pillow, and he follows her lead. She reaches over, taking his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. They are still for a moment, and he starts to relax, thinking this is as far as it will go. But then she presses her lips to his fingers, and the world crashes down around them.
"Rachel-"
"I know."
"But-"
"I know."
He sighs. "Please, let me say this."
"Why?" she counters. "We both know what you are going to say. We both know all the reasons not to do this. We both know the risks, the dangers, the consequences. And yet, here we both are. Talking about it doesn’t make it go away."
"No, but talking about it, saying the words out loud, could stop us from going down this path."
And then she laughs. "Will, look at us. We are already so far down this path we can't even see where it started anymore."
He genuinely doesn’t know what to say to that. She takes his silence as compliance and breaches the space between them, pressing her lips to his.
Despite the turn of events that evening, the stirring of feeling he has been trying to deny, he is still shocked by the intensity at which he returns her kiss. Their lips slide together so easily. Their bodies meet in the middle of the bed, legs intertwine. Her fingers steal under his cotton t-shirt. His mouth moves down the column of her neck.
He can feel her pulling at his t-shirt, so he pulls back so she can push it over his head. He lies atop her and kisses her deeply, tongues moving in a beautiful ballet. Her stomach is velvet beneath his hand. Her fingertips trail up and down his arm, until they come to rest over his hand. She stops kissing him, her dazed eyes meeting his as she shifts his hand up over her stomach to her breast.
Even if he had a week to think about it Will would still not have been able to describe what he felt at that moment. He feels overwhelmed and whole and real. He had never felt so close to anyone in his life. He wishes he could say it was a surprise, to feel this way about Rachel, to be with her like this. But he realises now that somehow, somewhere inside him he always knew this day would come. Granted, he would have thought it was a few years down the track, but ever since that moment in the ballet studio when he told her he was her biggest and only fan, he knew that there was something between them that could only be denied so long.
He keeps his eyes on hers as his fingertips move across her warm skin. She bites her bottom lip, sucks in her breath. She wants more, wants everything, so she removes his hand from her. Will, thinking she has finally come to her senses and is about to put a stop to this insanity, shifts back slightly. Only she doesn’t get up, run away, leave without a word. Instead she wiggles out of his shirt, throwing the offending material on the floor. She reaches up, grabbing his face between her palms and bringing him back down to her, kissing him hard.
His body settles between her hips as things heat up. Their kisses become even more heated, fuelled by the amazing feeling of their skin-on-skin contact. Her hands roam his back as he presses a kiss between her breasts. She grips his broad shoulders and holds on tight as he swirls a tongue around her nipple. She somehow manoeuvres her hand down his body, under his shorts. He gasps at her touch. She wraps her fingers around him, her movements slow and tentative. Knowing her voracity for learning, he covers her hand with his own, schools her in the movements. It doesn’t take long for her to understand, and he soon withdraws his hand as she moves with more pressure, more speed. He lifts his mouth from her body so she can see what she's doing to him. But he doesn’t want it to end like this, so he soon removes her hand from him and lies atop her. He rocks his body against hers. She begins to feel hot and breathless, but she still wants more. She hooks her legs around his hips, urging him closer.
He kisses her once more, then asks, "Are you absolutely sure about this?"
She nods. "I want it to be you. I think I've always wanted it to be you."
He smiles, placing a kiss to the hollow of her throat. He then rolls off her, and she can see that beneath the covers he is divesting himself of the remainder of his clothes. She does the same, pushing everything off and kicking them to the foot of the bed while he reaches into his bedside table. For some reason, watching as he fiddles with the packet and makes preparations for what is about to happen feels too intimate to witness. So she turns her head away, scanning the contents of his room. She isn't scared as such, just nervous about the unknown.
She can feel his lips on her shoulder, and she turns back to him, smiling. He shifts again, lying atop her, taking the weight of his body on his forearms. He thinks he should say something; reassure her that it's going to be okay, promise her that she is safe, tell her how honoured he is that she chose him. But words seem too tiny, so instead he simply presses his mouth to hers. The kiss is the most gentle they've shared, and he thinks she understands all he wants to tell her.
He slowly pushes forward, moves into her. She gasps, and he can feel her tense up at the new sensation. "It’s okay," he whispers soothingly. He kisses her, keeps kissing her as a distraction while she adjusts. When he feels the tension leave her body he starts moving, slowly. She feels incredible, but his heart falls slightly, knowing that the sensation probably doesn’t feel the same to her.
Her hands settle on his hips. He increases the pace slightly. He knows he is close. Her breath starts coming in quick gasps as the sensations turn pleasurable. She whispers his name, and he can't hold out anymore. He comes with a groan, and collapses atop her.
It takes a moment to have the presence of mind to realise he is probably crushing her. He rolls away, his loud breath heavy in the room. Rachel lies there, still and silent. In the corner of her eye she can see him fiddling under the blanket, removing the protection. He turns back to her and only then does she turn her head to face him. He kisses her, an action she returns with equal ardour. His hand trails down her body, and slips between her legs. She gasps at this, breaking their kiss. He presses his lips to her neck, shoulder, chest. All the while, his fingertips explore her. But he soon focuses on the small bundle of nerves, his fingertips circling and pressing. She feels warm all over, her breath shortening. He knows exactly what to do, and soon she has a hand gripping the sheets, looking for purchase. Her eyes close, her breath coming in short gasps. She comes with a soft cry, her whole body tingling.
She lies there a moment, trying to catch her breath. Finally, she opens her eyes and sees Will beside her, his eyes fixed on her. She leans over, kisses him. He brings her into his arms, and they remain silent until sleep claims them.
*
He wakes early, a blanket of darkness still covering the room. She sleeps beside him, her cheek resting on her hands, the long line of her neck and smooth lines of her shoulders exposed to him. Strangely, the emotion he most anticipates, regret, fails to materialise. Instead he feels wonder and reverence. He presses his mouth to her shoulder, and she stirs at the touch.
"Hey," she says, her voice low.
"Hey."
"What time is it," she asks.
"Either very late or very early," he replies, eliciting a chuckle. His hand finds hers, their fingers sliding together. But then she bolts up, startling Will with the sudden movement.
"I should go," she says, reaching for her clothes.
He sits up. "Wait, Rach, don't go. It's the middle of the night."
"Exactly," she says, pulling a t-shirt over her head. "I should go now so no one sees me leaving first thing in the morning. Plus, I need to get back before my dads realise I never came home. If they realise I'm not there and start a panicked search that will only lead to questions I can't answer."
He is rendered speechless, saddened that she has so easily adapted to deception. It is this, more than anything else, more than crossing the line they crossed and not feeling guilty about it, that makes him feel like a horrible human being.
She ducks into the bathroom, and when she emerges a few minutes later she is fully dressed and ready to leave. He turns on the lamp, a soft orange light bathing the room. She walks up to his side of the bed, then gingerly sits down.
"Will?" she says tentatively. "What happens now?"
"I don't know," he replies honestly. He takes her hand in his. "Nothing, if that's what you want."
"Is that what you want?"
"No," he says, surprised by how easily the word comes out. "Rach, I know you don't want to talk about it, but the truth is, you and I shouldn't happen. As much as I want you, I really really shouldn't. What we did, despite how amazing it was, was wrong. If anyone found out, it could ruin both our lives."
"You know I would never tell anyone. Never."
"I know, Rach." He sighs. "I guess what I'm saying is, I don't know how to move forward from here."
"I think I do," she says, surprising him. She then leans forward and kisses him. Her fingertips are light on his cheek.
"I want you," she says, and as always he admires her boldness. "I want to be with you. I don't care about the risks or complications. We can make this work."
He's not sure he believes her, but despite everything, he wants to try. He nods his head, and her returning grin seals their fate.
She stands to leave. He gets out of bed, pulling on some clothes and offering to drive her home. She refuses, as she drove herself and that would just complicate everything. Standing at the door, he takes her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. There is a shame, he thinks as he watches her walk through the door, that she has to leave under the cover of night while he cowers in his apartment. He doesn't think it sets a good tone for their relationship, but there is no other choice.
*
As predicted, only half of the glee club appears at their next meeting. It is a sombre affair, as they slowly and quietly admit defeat. He watches as they stagger out of the choir room, heads hung low. And already he misses them; the joy they had together.
The door closes behind Brittany and he turns to her. Rachel is still sitting on the tallest step. He crosses the room, sits down beside her, fights the urge to take her hand.
"How are you today?" he asks, concerned. He can only imagine how horrible her day has been as news of Finn’s betrayal spreads.
"Okay," she replies, lying.
"That bad, huh?"
She bites her lip as a tear slowly slides down her cheek. He doesn't hesitate in wrapping an arm around her. She turns into his embrace, cries silently into his shoulder. His hand runs up and down her back in a soothing motion.
“It’s been horrible. The looks, the comments people whisper just loud enough for me to hear. Honestly, the only thing that got me through today was how much I was looking forward to seeing you this afternoon.”
She smiles shyly at him, and he knows now what he must do.
"I have a meeting with Figgins later."
She tenses, but lets him continue.
"I'm going to resign as the Glee director-"
"But you love Glee."
"Yeah. Yeah, I do. So imagine how strongly I feel about you if I am willingly giving that up."
She smiles, shifting closer.
"There's something else, Rach. During my meeting with Figgins, I'm thinking about giving my notice."
"What?!"
"I can't do this. I can't be your teacher and have this relationship with you. I can't put both our lives at risk. I have some savings I can live on until I find something new." He pauses, letting his fingertips idle over her hand for a moment before withdrawing them. "But nothing is set in stone yet. In truth, the final decision is up to you."
"Me?"
"I need to know. This thing between us, whatever it is, is it real? Can we really do this? I mean, in the real world, with real consequences. Can we go the distance? Because if not, maybe we should just quit now."
She is rendered speechless. He is suddenly scared he won't get the answer he wants.
"I'm not asking you to profess your love for me, or anything like that. I just need to know: is this just some fantasy, having an affair with a teacher, or do you have real feelings for me, like I do for you?"
She remains silent, a small tear escaping her eye. He leans up to wipe it away but before he touches her skin she is up off the steps and walking towards the door. He hangs his head, defeated, unable to watch her walk away.
Only when the sound of the door closing reaches his ear is he able to look up. He's shocked to see her standing on this side of the threshold, pulling the blind down so no-one can see. He stands slowly, watches her approach him. Their arms wrap around each other easily, mouths meeting in a searing kiss.
"I have real feelings for you," she says, her forehead pressed to his. Her fingers play with the comma of hair at the nape of his neck. She can feel his hands on her back, grabbing at the material of her shirt. "Lots and lots of feelings."
He kisses her again, and basks in the feeling of pure contentment he hasn't experienced for the longest time.
When they finally separate, she takes his hand and leads him to the piano. They sit together on the bench. "I don't want you to quit, though. Will, you have so much to give. I can't take that away from you, or take it away from your students who need you. There has to be third solution."
"I honestly don't think there is."
They sit in silence, lost in thought. Until Rachel finally cries, "No, you know what, this is too hard. It’s a big decision - we need to think on it. Don't quit, not yet, let's just take some time."
"Alright," he nods. "But not too much time. The longer we leave it the more risky the situation becomes." He pauses, an idea forming in his mind. "How about this - you come over to my place tonight, I'll cook you dinner, and we can figure everything out."
She smiles. "Wow, dinner at your place. Almost like a real date."
"It is a real date. You and me, food, candlelight, soft music…"
Rachel can't help the dreamy look the steals over her face, and Will can't help but lean in and kiss her. She softly returns the embrace for a moment before the bell rings loud over the speakers, interrupting their solitude.
"I better go," Rachel says, jumping off the piano bench and heading to the door. She turns and smiles, saying "See you tonight. Seven?"
His grin lights up his face. "Seven. See you then."
Will watches her walk through the door. He has absolutely no idea what is in store for them. Logically one would assume that this won't end well, but he can't seem to care. For the first time in a long time he is hopeful and optimistic, and he knows, like all things, it's all because of her.
Fandom: Glee
Ship: Will/Rachel
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Season one.
Disclaimer: Say it with me now ~ me ... don't ... own. Title taken from the French proverb.
Summary: "Will, look at us. We are already so far down this path we can't even see where it started anymore."
Authors Notes: Thanks to the awesome deadrana for the beta. It should be noted that this fic takes place in a future where only the events of season one are canon, but I borrow some ideas from season two.
This was written for joshdonnalyman who bid on me in the qldfloodauction. It has taken an unpardonably long time to write (stupid real life getting in the way) and I hope it was worth the wait.
You often meet your fate on the road you take to avoid it
One could suppose this day was always going to eventuate. Will had watched the love lives of the Glee members intermingle over the years, and it seemed an inevitability that one day, something would happen, and everything would implode.
He walks into the rehearsal room and realises immediately that something isn't right. Everyone is staring at either Rachel or Finn. Rachel looks angry, shocked. Finn shuffles on the spot, guilty, and he looks to Will for guidance.
"What's going on guys?" Will asks. Some the group look to him, as though wanting to explain, while the rest continue to stare at Finn and Rachel.
Rachel is the one to answer. "Apparently Quinn and Finn have been seeing each other behind my back. For months. Finn was just about to tell me whether the rumour was true or not."
Everyone looks to Finn. Except Will. His eyes stay on Rachel, and when, through the silence of the room Finn's voice quietly admits, "It's true," Will is the only one to see her eyes close, a tear cascade down her cheek.
The room explodes with noise. Questions are asked, accusations thrown. Will tries to calm everyone, unsuccessfully. Finn notices that Rachel has fled, and he goes after her. Quinn bursts into tears and leaves in the opposite direction. Puck immediately follows, leaving a dejected Lauren behind. Mercedes sits by Lauren. Sam kicks a chair on his way out of the room. When the chaos finally calms, only a few teens remain in the room.
"Go home guys," Will says sadly, starting to clear up the damage. "I don't think there will be any rehearsal tonight."
They all slowly get up and walk out the door. He hears Tina comment that, "I don't think there will be any rehearsals any time soon," and he silently agrees. They have had their fall-outs before, but this is different. Call it the straw that breaks the camels back, but he doesn't know how they will recover from this.
Will heads home in a dejected state. He never thought it would end like this. In truth, he never thought it would end at all. He wanted to watch them grow and succeed and go off into the big wide world, ready to conquer it. He wanted the experiences they shared and the friendships they had formed to make them stronger, not tear them apart.
He walks through his apartment door, drained. The little red light on his answering machine flashes, and his first instinct is that it's one of the Glee members. However, it's Terri's voice that comes through the speaker, her voice even harder and more annoying than normal.
"Will, it's me. I wanted - I just thought you should know."
A pause, and Will sinks to the couch, preparing for the worst.
"I'm getting married. His name is John. I just thought you should know. Um ... I'll call you again later."
He cradles his head in his hands and wonders how it is that his life has spun so out of control so quickly. He doesn't know how to do this.
A knock at the door startles his reverie. He thinks, for one horrifying moment, that it's Terri, and he is determined to ignore it. But when the knocking becomes more insistent, he gets up to answer it. He takes a deep breath, his hand on the doorknob, and pulls it open.
He is shocked to see Rachel standing there. She looks so small, her eyes averted from his, tear stains clear under her red eyes.
"Rach," he says softly, opening the door wider for her.
She walks in without a word and sits on his couch, her eyes focused on her hands. He stands there for a moment, looking at her tiny form crumpled on his couch, and his heart breaks a little. He closes the door and joins her on the couch, immediately putting a hand to her back and moving it in what he hopes are soothing motions.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks.
She scoffs. "Talk about what? How my boyfriend cheated on me with his ex-girlfriend when I was saving myself for him? Or how nothing is ever easy and everything is always wrong. Or maybe we should talk about how with everything that happened tonight I can't ever imagine us being a group again."
"Yeah, whichever topic takes your fancy," he says lightly, and this finally earns him some eye contact and the barest of smiles. "I am sorry about Finn. He's an idiot."
Her face falls again. "The truth is, I deserved this."
"No, Rach-"
"Yes, My Schue. I did. This is my comeuppance. This is my reward for kissing Finn when he was still with Quinn. For trying to steal him away. For dating the enemy behind everyone's back. For lying to Finn for so long, telling him that I slept with Jesse when I didn’t. I've been a horrible person, and this is my karma."
"Rachel, nobody is perfect. Sometimes I think you try so hard and so earnestly that you forget; life is not the stage. Life is messy. You can't control what happens. Rach, you are a good person. You are the most hardworking person I think I've ever met. You don't deserve this."
She looks down to her hands, twisting in her lap. Despite her bent head he can see tears streaming down her cheek once more. He sighs. His words had meant to comfort her, not upset her. Would nothing go right today?
He covers her hands with his own. Her thumb hooks over his hand and she rests her head on his shoulder. She doesn't speak for a long time, and he, for fear of saying the wrong thing again, doesn't break the silence either. He just sits there with her, and despite the horrible day today and the uncertainty of tomorrow, sitting here like this with her makes him feel more content than he has in a while.
Out of the corner of his eye, the little red light of the answering machine flashes menacingly. Somehow, with Rachel sitting there beside him, the weight of Terri's message comes crashing down around him. He doesn’t want to seem petty, but he can’t help but feel annoyed, that she has so quickly moved on from him, that she has found someone to love, and he is still alone. After the betrayal and pain she put him through, doesn’t he deserve to be happy and loved?
His thoughts must be showing in his face, because despite her own grief she notices that something is wrong, sitting up and turning to him and asking, "What is it?"
"Nothing," he says, shaking his head. She delivers a stern look, made all the more potent by her red eyes and blurry lips. "You don't want to hear about my problems, Rach."
"Will," she says tentatively, her inflection asking permission to use the informal moniker. He nods, something in his chest pounding at her voice and his name. "You wanna hear about my problems, don't you?" He nods. "Because you care about me?" He nods. "So is it so hard to believe that the feelings are mutual?"
He smiles at that, and somehow, incredibly, his burden already feels slightly lifted. "My ex-wife is getting married."
"Oh."
"It's not that I want her back or anything. I just never thought she would move on so quickly. I didn't think I would be alone so long."
"You're a great guy, Will," she says, and off his incredulous look she smiles. "Really, you are sweet and generous and you care about people. The right person is out there for you. I know it."
"Thanks, Rach," he says, and there doesn’t really seem to be anything left to say after that. "Come on," he says after a moment, standing from the couch. He holds his hand out to her. "I'll take you home."
She doesn't take his hand, doesn’t move from her spot on his couch. "I can't go home. I don't want to be alone. Please, Will, can I stay here?"
The request is a surprise, and he resumes his place beside her. He is suddenly aware of the line they are about to cross.
"Rach, I don't think that's such a good idea."
"I know," she replies earnestly, her big brown eyes boring into his. Her hand rests on his knee.
"In fact, I'd say it's a very bad idea."
"You're probably right."
"We will regret this." He reaches over and wipes a tear from her cheek.
"Hmmm ... debatable," she replies, a small smile lighting her features.
He can't help but smile back. "Okay."
She immediately wraps her arms around him. "Thank you, Will."
He withdraws. "Let me grab you some blankets."
He busies himself finding bedding to make up the couch. He is aware of her eyes on his form as she sits in silence, watching him move about the room. He returns to the couch and they silently make the bed up. When it's complete, they stand in the centre of the room, uncertain.
This is a dangerous road you are going down, his mind screams. There will be no going back from this. And yet, somehow, he can't summon the will to care. There has always been something about Rachel, the way she tries so earnestly and loves so quickly and believes so completely. If there was anyone in the world he would be willing to cross the line for, it's her.
Aware that he has been staring, he smiles bashfully to try and recover. He steps forward, presses a kiss to Rachel's forehead, and says goodnight. He leaves her, goes into the relative safety of his room, closes the door behind him and lets out a deep breath.
*
Two hours later, he is still wide awake. He can't stop his mind from racing. He can't stop thinking about that young woman, only a few metres away. She is infuriating and amazing and so very, very dangerous.
He wishes he could be surprised when his bedroom door is pushed open, light from the lounge area spilling into his room. She stands in his doorway, the pair of pyjamas he leant her too big on her small frame. He watches her move into the room, slow deliberate steps drawing the agonising process out. She walks to the other side of his bed and, with her eyes locked on his, she lifts the covers and climbs in.
He knows he should say something, but for the first time in his life he is rendered truly speechless. She lies down, rests her head on the pillow, and he follows her lead. She reaches over, taking his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. They are still for a moment, and he starts to relax, thinking this is as far as it will go. But then she presses her lips to his fingers, and the world crashes down around them.
"Rachel-"
"I know."
"But-"
"I know."
He sighs. "Please, let me say this."
"Why?" she counters. "We both know what you are going to say. We both know all the reasons not to do this. We both know the risks, the dangers, the consequences. And yet, here we both are. Talking about it doesn’t make it go away."
"No, but talking about it, saying the words out loud, could stop us from going down this path."
And then she laughs. "Will, look at us. We are already so far down this path we can't even see where it started anymore."
He genuinely doesn’t know what to say to that. She takes his silence as compliance and breaches the space between them, pressing her lips to his.
Despite the turn of events that evening, the stirring of feeling he has been trying to deny, he is still shocked by the intensity at which he returns her kiss. Their lips slide together so easily. Their bodies meet in the middle of the bed, legs intertwine. Her fingers steal under his cotton t-shirt. His mouth moves down the column of her neck.
He can feel her pulling at his t-shirt, so he pulls back so she can push it over his head. He lies atop her and kisses her deeply, tongues moving in a beautiful ballet. Her stomach is velvet beneath his hand. Her fingertips trail up and down his arm, until they come to rest over his hand. She stops kissing him, her dazed eyes meeting his as she shifts his hand up over her stomach to her breast.
Even if he had a week to think about it Will would still not have been able to describe what he felt at that moment. He feels overwhelmed and whole and real. He had never felt so close to anyone in his life. He wishes he could say it was a surprise, to feel this way about Rachel, to be with her like this. But he realises now that somehow, somewhere inside him he always knew this day would come. Granted, he would have thought it was a few years down the track, but ever since that moment in the ballet studio when he told her he was her biggest and only fan, he knew that there was something between them that could only be denied so long.
He keeps his eyes on hers as his fingertips move across her warm skin. She bites her bottom lip, sucks in her breath. She wants more, wants everything, so she removes his hand from her. Will, thinking she has finally come to her senses and is about to put a stop to this insanity, shifts back slightly. Only she doesn’t get up, run away, leave without a word. Instead she wiggles out of his shirt, throwing the offending material on the floor. She reaches up, grabbing his face between her palms and bringing him back down to her, kissing him hard.
His body settles between her hips as things heat up. Their kisses become even more heated, fuelled by the amazing feeling of their skin-on-skin contact. Her hands roam his back as he presses a kiss between her breasts. She grips his broad shoulders and holds on tight as he swirls a tongue around her nipple. She somehow manoeuvres her hand down his body, under his shorts. He gasps at her touch. She wraps her fingers around him, her movements slow and tentative. Knowing her voracity for learning, he covers her hand with his own, schools her in the movements. It doesn’t take long for her to understand, and he soon withdraws his hand as she moves with more pressure, more speed. He lifts his mouth from her body so she can see what she's doing to him. But he doesn’t want it to end like this, so he soon removes her hand from him and lies atop her. He rocks his body against hers. She begins to feel hot and breathless, but she still wants more. She hooks her legs around his hips, urging him closer.
He kisses her once more, then asks, "Are you absolutely sure about this?"
She nods. "I want it to be you. I think I've always wanted it to be you."
He smiles, placing a kiss to the hollow of her throat. He then rolls off her, and she can see that beneath the covers he is divesting himself of the remainder of his clothes. She does the same, pushing everything off and kicking them to the foot of the bed while he reaches into his bedside table. For some reason, watching as he fiddles with the packet and makes preparations for what is about to happen feels too intimate to witness. So she turns her head away, scanning the contents of his room. She isn't scared as such, just nervous about the unknown.
She can feel his lips on her shoulder, and she turns back to him, smiling. He shifts again, lying atop her, taking the weight of his body on his forearms. He thinks he should say something; reassure her that it's going to be okay, promise her that she is safe, tell her how honoured he is that she chose him. But words seem too tiny, so instead he simply presses his mouth to hers. The kiss is the most gentle they've shared, and he thinks she understands all he wants to tell her.
He slowly pushes forward, moves into her. She gasps, and he can feel her tense up at the new sensation. "It’s okay," he whispers soothingly. He kisses her, keeps kissing her as a distraction while she adjusts. When he feels the tension leave her body he starts moving, slowly. She feels incredible, but his heart falls slightly, knowing that the sensation probably doesn’t feel the same to her.
Her hands settle on his hips. He increases the pace slightly. He knows he is close. Her breath starts coming in quick gasps as the sensations turn pleasurable. She whispers his name, and he can't hold out anymore. He comes with a groan, and collapses atop her.
It takes a moment to have the presence of mind to realise he is probably crushing her. He rolls away, his loud breath heavy in the room. Rachel lies there, still and silent. In the corner of her eye she can see him fiddling under the blanket, removing the protection. He turns back to her and only then does she turn her head to face him. He kisses her, an action she returns with equal ardour. His hand trails down her body, and slips between her legs. She gasps at this, breaking their kiss. He presses his lips to her neck, shoulder, chest. All the while, his fingertips explore her. But he soon focuses on the small bundle of nerves, his fingertips circling and pressing. She feels warm all over, her breath shortening. He knows exactly what to do, and soon she has a hand gripping the sheets, looking for purchase. Her eyes close, her breath coming in short gasps. She comes with a soft cry, her whole body tingling.
She lies there a moment, trying to catch her breath. Finally, she opens her eyes and sees Will beside her, his eyes fixed on her. She leans over, kisses him. He brings her into his arms, and they remain silent until sleep claims them.
*
He wakes early, a blanket of darkness still covering the room. She sleeps beside him, her cheek resting on her hands, the long line of her neck and smooth lines of her shoulders exposed to him. Strangely, the emotion he most anticipates, regret, fails to materialise. Instead he feels wonder and reverence. He presses his mouth to her shoulder, and she stirs at the touch.
"Hey," she says, her voice low.
"Hey."
"What time is it," she asks.
"Either very late or very early," he replies, eliciting a chuckle. His hand finds hers, their fingers sliding together. But then she bolts up, startling Will with the sudden movement.
"I should go," she says, reaching for her clothes.
He sits up. "Wait, Rach, don't go. It's the middle of the night."
"Exactly," she says, pulling a t-shirt over her head. "I should go now so no one sees me leaving first thing in the morning. Plus, I need to get back before my dads realise I never came home. If they realise I'm not there and start a panicked search that will only lead to questions I can't answer."
He is rendered speechless, saddened that she has so easily adapted to deception. It is this, more than anything else, more than crossing the line they crossed and not feeling guilty about it, that makes him feel like a horrible human being.
She ducks into the bathroom, and when she emerges a few minutes later she is fully dressed and ready to leave. He turns on the lamp, a soft orange light bathing the room. She walks up to his side of the bed, then gingerly sits down.
"Will?" she says tentatively. "What happens now?"
"I don't know," he replies honestly. He takes her hand in his. "Nothing, if that's what you want."
"Is that what you want?"
"No," he says, surprised by how easily the word comes out. "Rach, I know you don't want to talk about it, but the truth is, you and I shouldn't happen. As much as I want you, I really really shouldn't. What we did, despite how amazing it was, was wrong. If anyone found out, it could ruin both our lives."
"You know I would never tell anyone. Never."
"I know, Rach." He sighs. "I guess what I'm saying is, I don't know how to move forward from here."
"I think I do," she says, surprising him. She then leans forward and kisses him. Her fingertips are light on his cheek.
"I want you," she says, and as always he admires her boldness. "I want to be with you. I don't care about the risks or complications. We can make this work."
He's not sure he believes her, but despite everything, he wants to try. He nods his head, and her returning grin seals their fate.
She stands to leave. He gets out of bed, pulling on some clothes and offering to drive her home. She refuses, as she drove herself and that would just complicate everything. Standing at the door, he takes her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. There is a shame, he thinks as he watches her walk through the door, that she has to leave under the cover of night while he cowers in his apartment. He doesn't think it sets a good tone for their relationship, but there is no other choice.
*
As predicted, only half of the glee club appears at their next meeting. It is a sombre affair, as they slowly and quietly admit defeat. He watches as they stagger out of the choir room, heads hung low. And already he misses them; the joy they had together.
The door closes behind Brittany and he turns to her. Rachel is still sitting on the tallest step. He crosses the room, sits down beside her, fights the urge to take her hand.
"How are you today?" he asks, concerned. He can only imagine how horrible her day has been as news of Finn’s betrayal spreads.
"Okay," she replies, lying.
"That bad, huh?"
She bites her lip as a tear slowly slides down her cheek. He doesn't hesitate in wrapping an arm around her. She turns into his embrace, cries silently into his shoulder. His hand runs up and down her back in a soothing motion.
“It’s been horrible. The looks, the comments people whisper just loud enough for me to hear. Honestly, the only thing that got me through today was how much I was looking forward to seeing you this afternoon.”
She smiles shyly at him, and he knows now what he must do.
"I have a meeting with Figgins later."
She tenses, but lets him continue.
"I'm going to resign as the Glee director-"
"But you love Glee."
"Yeah. Yeah, I do. So imagine how strongly I feel about you if I am willingly giving that up."
She smiles, shifting closer.
"There's something else, Rach. During my meeting with Figgins, I'm thinking about giving my notice."
"What?!"
"I can't do this. I can't be your teacher and have this relationship with you. I can't put both our lives at risk. I have some savings I can live on until I find something new." He pauses, letting his fingertips idle over her hand for a moment before withdrawing them. "But nothing is set in stone yet. In truth, the final decision is up to you."
"Me?"
"I need to know. This thing between us, whatever it is, is it real? Can we really do this? I mean, in the real world, with real consequences. Can we go the distance? Because if not, maybe we should just quit now."
She is rendered speechless. He is suddenly scared he won't get the answer he wants.
"I'm not asking you to profess your love for me, or anything like that. I just need to know: is this just some fantasy, having an affair with a teacher, or do you have real feelings for me, like I do for you?"
She remains silent, a small tear escaping her eye. He leans up to wipe it away but before he touches her skin she is up off the steps and walking towards the door. He hangs his head, defeated, unable to watch her walk away.
Only when the sound of the door closing reaches his ear is he able to look up. He's shocked to see her standing on this side of the threshold, pulling the blind down so no-one can see. He stands slowly, watches her approach him. Their arms wrap around each other easily, mouths meeting in a searing kiss.
"I have real feelings for you," she says, her forehead pressed to his. Her fingers play with the comma of hair at the nape of his neck. She can feel his hands on her back, grabbing at the material of her shirt. "Lots and lots of feelings."
He kisses her again, and basks in the feeling of pure contentment he hasn't experienced for the longest time.
When they finally separate, she takes his hand and leads him to the piano. They sit together on the bench. "I don't want you to quit, though. Will, you have so much to give. I can't take that away from you, or take it away from your students who need you. There has to be third solution."
"I honestly don't think there is."
They sit in silence, lost in thought. Until Rachel finally cries, "No, you know what, this is too hard. It’s a big decision - we need to think on it. Don't quit, not yet, let's just take some time."
"Alright," he nods. "But not too much time. The longer we leave it the more risky the situation becomes." He pauses, an idea forming in his mind. "How about this - you come over to my place tonight, I'll cook you dinner, and we can figure everything out."
She smiles. "Wow, dinner at your place. Almost like a real date."
"It is a real date. You and me, food, candlelight, soft music…"
Rachel can't help the dreamy look the steals over her face, and Will can't help but lean in and kiss her. She softly returns the embrace for a moment before the bell rings loud over the speakers, interrupting their solitude.
"I better go," Rachel says, jumping off the piano bench and heading to the door. She turns and smiles, saying "See you tonight. Seven?"
His grin lights up his face. "Seven. See you then."
Will watches her walk through the door. He has absolutely no idea what is in store for them. Logically one would assume that this won't end well, but he can't seem to care. For the first time in a long time he is hopeful and optimistic, and he knows, like all things, it's all because of her.