[fic] Skinny Love
Title: Skinny Love
Pairing: Cherry
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,753
Summary: When Rachel requests dance lessons from Mike, it’s not because she can’t dance.
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Glee, the characters thereof, or Ryan Murphy. This is purely fictional and entirely for fun, and no offense is meant to anyone.
When Rachel requests dance lessons from Mike, it’s not because she can’t dance.
She doesn’t realize it yet when she asks, hands outheld carefully, quietly, clasped in front of her demurely the way she’s taken to doing around Finn, but when he smiles at her-- slightly crooked, barely there, but his eyes lighting up like a firework-- her stomach does flip, ducking her head to hide her smile as she leave the choir room again.
&
Lessons, Mike informs her, are on Tuesday afternoons after Glee. It works out well, because Tina has singing lessons, and Finn has football practice.
It’s also fantastic reasoning not to tell them in the first place what they’re doing in each other’s arms.
Mike informs Rachel straight away, two songs in, that she is one of the best students he’s ever had. That-- more than just being a dancer, it makes him want to teach, because seeing her already almost flawless steps improve in his arms, his guidance, gives him hope for something greater.
It makes her flush horribly. Rachel is typically used to compliments left and right-- when she’s not being made fun of, obviously-- especially from people with talent who know what they’re talking about. It’s something normal, natural, something to which she reacts naturally, not by feeling her cheeks darken and the back of her neck get warm. If she had hair to hide behind, she would have ducked her head, but as it is, she can’t help but stare down at her jazz shoes in obvious discomfort as she slowly nods.
The truth is-- and a part of her has known this from the moment that she asked him to teach her-- there’s a reason she doesn’t want to tell Finn.
He’d nod, smile, not even realizing what she’s saying-- if only because it’s Mike instead of Jesse, or Puck-- and not even think to acknowledge that Rachel has feelings for someone else.
That when Mike wraps his arms around her from behind and pulls her close as they go through the prescribed motions of the dance, occasionally stopping and taking longer where he shouldn’t to breathe in the smell of her hair or exhale hotly against her throat, she feels more for him than she ever has for Finn in almost three years.
Obsession doesn’t ache in your gut like this.
And when she spins in his arms and inevitably comes a little too close, stumbling in her steps because she’s too busy staring at him, she can almost delude herself into thinking that he’s considering the same thing she is.
That when she missteps on purpose and lets him catch her, looking up to him with big eyes just waiting for them to make a mistake together, that he’ll lean in and kiss her one of these Tuesdays.
&
It’s raining on the Tuesday it happens, and she’s already set herself up for infidelity when she lies and tells Finn she’s already made plans with her dads to hang out that night.
Staying behind in the choir room feels more exciting than a single date with Finn, her breath catching in her throat when Mike catches her in the air, both of them breathless and flushed, his hands-- she never noticed how long his fingers are, how strong he actually is-- tightening on her waist as he sets her down so as to stop himself from pushing her away like he normally does.
And when she catches his gaze wavering from her eyes down to her lips, she forgets how to breathe.
Kissing Mike is as different as everything else about this, and she curses herself mentally for comparing him to Finn constantly, even if every single comparison turns out in his favor.
He tastes like breathmints-- which is telling-- and ginger tea, slightly sweet, like Jesse used to taste, and she whimpers a little as she stands on the tips of her toes to tilt her face against him, letting him deepen the kiss as he presses her back against the exercise bar, picking her up easily and setting her down on top.
They’re both short of breath when he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against her chest, her head falling back against the mirror behind her, and she wonders if this-- doing the wrong thing-- is supposed to feel this right.
"I-- we can’t do this."
"Because-- because I love her."
Rachel is fairly certain that something that was supposed to be exciting and daring and playful isn’t supposed to hurt like this, isn’t supposed to make her want to cry.
But this does hurt, and Rachel can’t help but wonder when all her best-laid plans fell through, when this stirring in her gut first started.
"A-and obviously I love Finn, but--"
"No, Rachel," he mutters softly, shaking his head as he pulls back from her, turning away as he gathers his things. "There aren’t any buts in something like that."
Rachel feels her chest tighten as she watches him leave, hopping down from the bar at the last minute and speaking up just in time to stop him in the doorway.
"... do you love her enough?"
Mike doesn’t answer, not that she expects him to, but watching him retreat away from the doorway means she’s all but won.
She’s right.
Normally this would have made her feel good, but as it is, all she feels is a hollow space in her chest where she isn’t, and she wonders if this is what love is supposed to feel like but doesn’t with Finn.
&
From that point forward, dance lessons are unofficially canceled, not that that stops Rachel from showing up for them anyway, sitting in the center of the room and wondering what she did to deserve this.
Whether this was how Jesse felt when she kissed Finn on that stage, or Finn felt when she slept with Puck. Whether this was what normal people felt like when they realized they were accidentally in love with someone they’d never meant to fall in love with.
It’s three weeks from their unofficial breakup that Mike shows up, too, hovering in the doorway for a bit before moving to sit in front of her, sighing softly.
"I’m a coward."
Rachel looks up from her dance shoes to blink at him, shrugging. She did break up with Finn, and she’s fairly certain he knows, but that isn’t what this is about. It’s not a competition, and she’s just slightly ashamed of herself for even thinking of it as such.
"And you deserve better than someone like that."
If he’s here to tell her that she deserves better, and leaves it at that, she might kill him.
"So I broke up with Tina."
Rachel can’t believe what she’s hearing for a moment, even despite how badly she wanted him to say this, as though she can’t quite believe the idea of good things happening to her.
"I think I’m in love with you," she confesses quietly, looking more concerned for her well-being than anything else, scared, vulnerable, and, most importantly, anxious for his response.
But when he kisses her, leaning forward from his cross-legged seat on the floor to cup her cheek and part his lips against hers with a soft moan, she can’t help but forget about all of that in its embarrassing, soul-baring entirety.
They find convenient pillows hidden away from a particularly ridiculous number Mr. Schue had them perform in class, and when he leans her back on top of them, Rachel understands.
Falling in love with Mike is like realizing turtles don’t have anything to protect them beneath their tough exteriors, bare and terrified, nothing but organs and a barely beating heart.
Careful fingers-- so careful one might never suspect them of their strength-- slowly slide her pants-- and shoes, when he reaches them-- down off her hips, and her shirt up and away until she’s in nothing but her underwear.
Being this exposed for him while he’s still fully dressed feels strangely appropriate for them, trust letting her hands guide his behind her back to slowly unclasp her bra, her panties following swiftly behind.
"Have you and Finn..."
Rachel rolls onto her side as she watches him get a condom from his bag, carefully tearing it with his fingers before returning to hover over her from his vantage point on all fours.
It’s strange-- he’s the first person where she doesn’t feel insecure about her body, where she feels comfortable being this naked, and she slowly shakes her head.
"No. Have you--"
He nods, setting the condom aside as he leans down to kiss her, hard. "Do you want to? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do."
"I can’t think of anything I’d want more," she mutters softly as he nips a soft, careful trail down her front to take the small bud of her nipple in his mouth to suckle, his hands exploring her body slowly.
"God, you’re so beautiful."
She has a moment of insecurity flash across her features that he catches as he comes up to tug his shirt off, frowning as he regards her carefully.
"What’s wrong?"
"Am I better than..."
Mike is quiet for a long moment as he leans down to kiss her again, resting his forehead against hers to look at her. "I chose you, Rachel."
It’s all she really needs to hear, shooting one last glance to the doors to make sure they locked them adequately as Mike tugs off the rest of his clothes. It’s after hours, late, no lights on-- and when Rachel cries out upon his entrance, she knows no one will hear them here.
There was always something about the romanticism behind being someone’s first to Rachel, but when Mike makes her come three times that night during sex, even through the initial pain, she understands why this was infinitely better.
The condom gets flushed unceremoniously down the boy’s bathroom toilet and promptly forgotten about before he returns to her side on their pillow pile in the choir room.
Setting an alarm means getting to fall asleep in his arms before they have to force themselves to leave so no one else will know of their being here that night, not that it takes them much longer to openly admit to their relationship in glee club, holding hands during practices.
Quinn tells her, soon after, that she understands why she did it, that anyone with a brain would have been able to notice how much her dancing even improved in his wake.
Rachel can’t help but smile.
Pairing: Cherry
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,753
Summary: When Rachel requests dance lessons from Mike, it’s not because she can’t dance.
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Glee, the characters thereof, or Ryan Murphy. This is purely fictional and entirely for fun, and no offense is meant to anyone.
When Rachel requests dance lessons from Mike, it’s not because she can’t dance.
She doesn’t realize it yet when she asks, hands outheld carefully, quietly, clasped in front of her demurely the way she’s taken to doing around Finn, but when he smiles at her-- slightly crooked, barely there, but his eyes lighting up like a firework-- her stomach does flip, ducking her head to hide her smile as she leave the choir room again.
&
Lessons, Mike informs her, are on Tuesday afternoons after Glee. It works out well, because Tina has singing lessons, and Finn has football practice.
It’s also fantastic reasoning not to tell them in the first place what they’re doing in each other’s arms.
Mike informs Rachel straight away, two songs in, that she is one of the best students he’s ever had. That-- more than just being a dancer, it makes him want to teach, because seeing her already almost flawless steps improve in his arms, his guidance, gives him hope for something greater.
It makes her flush horribly. Rachel is typically used to compliments left and right-- when she’s not being made fun of, obviously-- especially from people with talent who know what they’re talking about. It’s something normal, natural, something to which she reacts naturally, not by feeling her cheeks darken and the back of her neck get warm. If she had hair to hide behind, she would have ducked her head, but as it is, she can’t help but stare down at her jazz shoes in obvious discomfort as she slowly nods.
The truth is-- and a part of her has known this from the moment that she asked him to teach her-- there’s a reason she doesn’t want to tell Finn.
He’d nod, smile, not even realizing what she’s saying-- if only because it’s Mike instead of Jesse, or Puck-- and not even think to acknowledge that Rachel has feelings for someone else.
That when Mike wraps his arms around her from behind and pulls her close as they go through the prescribed motions of the dance, occasionally stopping and taking longer where he shouldn’t to breathe in the smell of her hair or exhale hotly against her throat, she feels more for him than she ever has for Finn in almost three years.
Obsession doesn’t ache in your gut like this.
And when she spins in his arms and inevitably comes a little too close, stumbling in her steps because she’s too busy staring at him, she can almost delude herself into thinking that he’s considering the same thing she is.
That when she missteps on purpose and lets him catch her, looking up to him with big eyes just waiting for them to make a mistake together, that he’ll lean in and kiss her one of these Tuesdays.
&
It’s raining on the Tuesday it happens, and she’s already set herself up for infidelity when she lies and tells Finn she’s already made plans with her dads to hang out that night.
Staying behind in the choir room feels more exciting than a single date with Finn, her breath catching in her throat when Mike catches her in the air, both of them breathless and flushed, his hands-- she never noticed how long his fingers are, how strong he actually is-- tightening on her waist as he sets her down so as to stop himself from pushing her away like he normally does.
And when she catches his gaze wavering from her eyes down to her lips, she forgets how to breathe.
Kissing Mike is as different as everything else about this, and she curses herself mentally for comparing him to Finn constantly, even if every single comparison turns out in his favor.
He tastes like breathmints-- which is telling-- and ginger tea, slightly sweet, like Jesse used to taste, and she whimpers a little as she stands on the tips of her toes to tilt her face against him, letting him deepen the kiss as he presses her back against the exercise bar, picking her up easily and setting her down on top.
They’re both short of breath when he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against her chest, her head falling back against the mirror behind her, and she wonders if this-- doing the wrong thing-- is supposed to feel this right.
"I-- we can’t do this."
"Because-- because I love her."
Rachel is fairly certain that something that was supposed to be exciting and daring and playful isn’t supposed to hurt like this, isn’t supposed to make her want to cry.
But this does hurt, and Rachel can’t help but wonder when all her best-laid plans fell through, when this stirring in her gut first started.
"A-and obviously I love Finn, but--"
"No, Rachel," he mutters softly, shaking his head as he pulls back from her, turning away as he gathers his things. "There aren’t any buts in something like that."
Rachel feels her chest tighten as she watches him leave, hopping down from the bar at the last minute and speaking up just in time to stop him in the doorway.
"... do you love her enough?"
Mike doesn’t answer, not that she expects him to, but watching him retreat away from the doorway means she’s all but won.
She’s right.
Normally this would have made her feel good, but as it is, all she feels is a hollow space in her chest where she isn’t, and she wonders if this is what love is supposed to feel like but doesn’t with Finn.
&
From that point forward, dance lessons are unofficially canceled, not that that stops Rachel from showing up for them anyway, sitting in the center of the room and wondering what she did to deserve this.
Whether this was how Jesse felt when she kissed Finn on that stage, or Finn felt when she slept with Puck. Whether this was what normal people felt like when they realized they were accidentally in love with someone they’d never meant to fall in love with.
It’s three weeks from their unofficial breakup that Mike shows up, too, hovering in the doorway for a bit before moving to sit in front of her, sighing softly.
"I’m a coward."
Rachel looks up from her dance shoes to blink at him, shrugging. She did break up with Finn, and she’s fairly certain he knows, but that isn’t what this is about. It’s not a competition, and she’s just slightly ashamed of herself for even thinking of it as such.
"And you deserve better than someone like that."
If he’s here to tell her that she deserves better, and leaves it at that, she might kill him.
"So I broke up with Tina."
Rachel can’t believe what she’s hearing for a moment, even despite how badly she wanted him to say this, as though she can’t quite believe the idea of good things happening to her.
"I think I’m in love with you," she confesses quietly, looking more concerned for her well-being than anything else, scared, vulnerable, and, most importantly, anxious for his response.
But when he kisses her, leaning forward from his cross-legged seat on the floor to cup her cheek and part his lips against hers with a soft moan, she can’t help but forget about all of that in its embarrassing, soul-baring entirety.
They find convenient pillows hidden away from a particularly ridiculous number Mr. Schue had them perform in class, and when he leans her back on top of them, Rachel understands.
Falling in love with Mike is like realizing turtles don’t have anything to protect them beneath their tough exteriors, bare and terrified, nothing but organs and a barely beating heart.
Careful fingers-- so careful one might never suspect them of their strength-- slowly slide her pants-- and shoes, when he reaches them-- down off her hips, and her shirt up and away until she’s in nothing but her underwear.
Being this exposed for him while he’s still fully dressed feels strangely appropriate for them, trust letting her hands guide his behind her back to slowly unclasp her bra, her panties following swiftly behind.
"Have you and Finn..."
Rachel rolls onto her side as she watches him get a condom from his bag, carefully tearing it with his fingers before returning to hover over her from his vantage point on all fours.
It’s strange-- he’s the first person where she doesn’t feel insecure about her body, where she feels comfortable being this naked, and she slowly shakes her head.
"No. Have you--"
He nods, setting the condom aside as he leans down to kiss her, hard. "Do you want to? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do."
"I can’t think of anything I’d want more," she mutters softly as he nips a soft, careful trail down her front to take the small bud of her nipple in his mouth to suckle, his hands exploring her body slowly.
"God, you’re so beautiful."
She has a moment of insecurity flash across her features that he catches as he comes up to tug his shirt off, frowning as he regards her carefully.
"What’s wrong?"
"Am I better than..."
Mike is quiet for a long moment as he leans down to kiss her again, resting his forehead against hers to look at her. "I chose you, Rachel."
It’s all she really needs to hear, shooting one last glance to the doors to make sure they locked them adequately as Mike tugs off the rest of his clothes. It’s after hours, late, no lights on-- and when Rachel cries out upon his entrance, she knows no one will hear them here.
There was always something about the romanticism behind being someone’s first to Rachel, but when Mike makes her come three times that night during sex, even through the initial pain, she understands why this was infinitely better.
The condom gets flushed unceremoniously down the boy’s bathroom toilet and promptly forgotten about before he returns to her side on their pillow pile in the choir room.
Setting an alarm means getting to fall asleep in his arms before they have to force themselves to leave so no one else will know of their being here that night, not that it takes them much longer to openly admit to their relationship in glee club, holding hands during practices.
Quinn tells her, soon after, that she understands why she did it, that anyone with a brain would have been able to notice how much her dancing even improved in his wake.
Rachel can’t help but smile.