yay, more reposts!
This was my submission for gleesecretsanta and I am still not quite sure how much I like it, but here it is, anyway.
seven easy steps for world domination
rachel, pg-13, 2107 words
Rachel Berry likes to be prepared, in the same way that most people like to breathe. She likes order and balance and plans and lists, oh, of course, lists. And she knows, somewhere deep and strong within her, that there really is a place for everything, like her awards belong on her bedroom shelf and she belongs in a packed theatre on Broadway. There's no room for chaos in a world as perfectly planned as hers.
Arguably, this is why she hates high school.
People are not people there, she discovers at age fourteen: they're savages. She gets slushies in the face almost daily. She's no stranger to glue in her seat, or to someone sticking gum in her hair. It's barbaric. And the one place Rachel doesn't have to worry about the accuracy of her dodge is in the choir room, and even then, she has to watch their ephebophilic director fawn over the prettiest boy in the room while she hums in the background.
When William Schuester comes to glee club, it's indubitably the happiest she's been since kindergarten.
It's not just the praise, or the solos, although those are nice. It's seeing all these different kids in this club together, and-they don't like her. They're not friends. She knows that. But no one's trying to pour chocolate milk on her head. When she stands up, no one will try to trip her. In this room, they're the same. This can be the safe haven she's needed.
She doesn't walk home that day; she floats.
Eventually she comes down from this overwhelming sense of not-quite-happiness, still feeling like her organs are twisted up into tense knots, like electricity is crackling down her spine to the very very tips of her fingers, like she can do anything. So, calmly, she sits down at her desk, pulls out a sheet of stationery and a pen (purple, because it matches her throw pillows) and begins to write a list.
Rachel Berry's Plan for (non-violent!) World Domination
1. Find an appropriate outlet for talent
2. Make friends with important people
3. Find a beau (here, she has to pause for a moment to think about Finn Hudson, perfect, unattainable Finn Hudson and his easy, goofy grin; she smiles)
4. Donate portion of inevitable fortune to charity
5. Perfect techniques for the evasion of paparazzi
6. Be adored by millions
7. Profit
Rachel reads over her list, tapping a thoughtful finger against her lips. Satisfied, she rummages through the desk drawer and, with careful precision, places a gold star at the very top. It's going to be a good year.
one
And it's so much fun in the beginning. Fun performing the number that they arranged, that they created all by themselves. Fun that Schue decides not to leave and be an accountant and give them all abandonment issues. Maybe the most fun of all is when Mercedes and Kurt wait by her locker one day so they can all walk to Spanish together. It's not like they don't still get slushied or shoved into trash cans, but it's somehow more comforting to know you're not they only one; that someone will be there to wash the grape out of your eyes and tell horror stories about the time Karofsky and Puckerman double-teamed them.
But the more performances they piece together, the more times Rachel has to walk to class alone. Naturally, she just assumes that they're all horribly jealous, but that doesn't quite fit. Tina and Mercedes, they're not petty. She decides she needs another opinion.
"Finn," she calls out, after the last bell has rung and everyone around her is making a beeline for the door. He turns to her, bag slung casually over his shoulder, and if she's being honest with herself, she likes him a little bit too much; tiny things like the way he smiles at her even when all his football friends are watching, the way his eyes widen just a little bit when they talk, so she knows he's paying attention. She clears her throat, so as not to think about it.
"What's up, Rachel?" he asks, blissfully ignorant of Santana glaring at her from over his shoulder.
"I need your advice on something. Am I obnoxious? Or self-centered? Or vicious? Or is my talent just too bright for others to handle without being intimidated?"
Finn scratches his head. "Um. I don't think I want to answer that."
"No, really," she says, almost reaches out to touch his arm, but thinks better of it. "I won't be upset."
"Well," Finn says slowly, "you could probably be a little less-eager. Like, not jumping up every time Schue talks about a solo. And also maybe not ragging on everyone else's singing so much."
"I'm helping!" she protests indignantly, and then, "oh. I see."
"Rachel," he says, and lays a hand on her shoulder (he is touching me). "Look, it's not like it's a bad thing. You're really into music. We get that, we know you get excited about it."
"No, I completely understand," Rachel trills, pointedly not noticing the proximity of his hand to the bare skin of her neck. "I'll see you at practice, Finn."
Schue's handing out sheet music when she walks into the choir room. "Ah, Rachel," he beams, handing her a copy. It's the solo. Rachel chews on her bottom lip for a second, darting glance at Tina who's sitting across the room, staring at her shoes. Just this once, she thinks, and gently pushes the piece of paper back towards Schuester.
"Respectfully, Mr. Schue, I think Tina's voice is much better suited for this than mine." Every mouth in the room hangs open, except for Finn's, because he is just walking in, looking around to see what he missed.
Rachel smiles and makes her way to the auditorium to practice.
Tina's voice isn't as clean as it could be, but she sounds lovely with everyone else backing her up, and the small, sweet look of gratitude she sends Rachel in the middle of the song makes up for any pitches she misses. Rachel sways in the background. She still sings her heart out; it feels as good as it ever did.
two
She doesn't really know if she'll ever be more to Quinn Fabray than a particularly annoying bug on her windshield. She has mostly come to terms with it, even if coming to terms with it means learning to put up with constant insults from the Cheerios and the occasional sabotaged shampoo incident in the locker room after gym class. But glee club is her family now, and if that means Quinn has to be evil cousin Amber who locked her in a closet for two hours when they were six years old-
Well. Family is family.
So when Rachel finds Quinn crying in front of the bathroom mirror, Cheerio uniform halfway zipped, she doesn't run away or take a cheap shot. Instead, she pulls a tissue out of her bag and offers it like an olive branch.
"What do you want, Berry?" Quinn spits, eying her warily. She takes the tissue, though.
"I've got some make-up remover in my bag, if you need it. There's mascara all over your face," Rachel informs her.
"I'm carrying the spawn of your dream boy and you want to help me clean up?" Quinn says dryly, and Rachel is bracing herself but all Quinn does is look down and say, softly, "I can't get it to zip up."
"Here," Rachel says, and without thinking, she sets one hand on Quinn's waist and tugs at the zipper with the other. Quinn goes tense for a moment, but then Rachel realizes she's just trying to suck in. It takes a few tries, but eventually it zips, and Quinn lets out a relieved sigh.
"You're not so awful," Quinn tells her, dabbing at the mascara streaks on her cheeks. Rachel thinks that it's how she says thank you.
(She knows it is two days later, when Noah Puckerman is heading toward her with a slushie in hand and Quinn, silently, lays a hand on his arm. She makes sure Rachel meets her eyes, that she knows why this is happening. Quid pro quo.)
three
Finn Hudson kisses her a total of four times in the auditorium, and those are her favorites: she feels like a star underneath the blinding lights, a leading man on her arm and anyone in the world could be in the dark, anonymous audience because right now, all that matters is Rachel and Finn.
He kisses her twice in the bowling alley, once while they're playing and once when they're walking out. He tastes like greasy pizza and she has to brush her teeth immediately when she gets home. When she finds out why he did it, she feels even sicker.
He kisses her in the hallway once, between classes. It's too short and he jumps back three feet when he hears a door open nearby. Rachel goes into the bathroom after and locks herself in the stall for the remainder of third block, because no one ever, ever walks away from a star.
She takes a break and starts kissing Noah Puckerman, knowing that some stories have to end with 'to be continued.'
four
There's only one person in the world who likes her less than Quinn Fabray, and that's Santana. It would be such sweet justice to see her and Brittany die of thirst after they get out of Cheerios practice, begging for some change to go buy a bottle of water. But Rachel is a good person, mostly, so she holds out a dollar bill when they reach her.
Santana doesn't really seem to know how to react, so she quirks her lips oddly and says, "Thanks, Man-hands." Britanny nods her agreement and kisses Rachel on the mouth.
Being generous is an interesting thing.
five
She's not sure exactly how Jacob Ben Israel has managed to sneak his camera up her skirt to take pictures of her panties, but when Puck drags him by the collar into the choir room and says, "What do you want me to do with this little shit?" she only crosses her legs primly and tells him it's at his discretion.
six
And then it feels like a million different things are going on at once; Quinn's baby turning into Quinn and Puck's baby, Finn falling apart, Jesse St. James, Mr. Schuester's divorce-she feels like drowning. Everyone has their own problems to deal with, no one needs to deal with Rachel's compulsive need to be center of attention.
So when she walks into the choir room, dripping with egg yolk, Kurt and Mercedes latch onto her and start cleaning her off, while Finn jumps up angrily. Schue tries to calm everyone down, to no avail, because he's a little bit afraid of Quinn's hormones and she's currently madder than anyone has hitherto seen.
"We're gonna fuck his shit up," Santana promises with venom (Tina nods her agreement), before Finn shepherds her towards a bathroom.
"Here," Finn tells her, wiping egg off her clothes with a paper towel. "They were getting kinda hyped in there, I figured you'd need a little while to chill."
"That's-considerate of you," Rachel says softly. "I don't think the sweater's salvageable, though."
"Yeah, well," he says sheepishly. She unbuttons her cardigan and hands it to Finn, who sets it on the sink.
"I've been thinking," Finn starts.
"About?"
"You. And me." He smiles at her. "You totally already know what I'm about to say, don't you?"
"That's not a bad thing," Rachel assures him, and very gently presses her lips to his cheek.
The silence that follows is stunned, if not awkward.
"We should go back before Puck and Santana hurt someone," Rachel suggests loudly, standing up.
"Right," Finn says, handing her sweater back to her. "This might be okay if it goes through an actual washing machine."
"I'm sure it's nothing I can't live without," Rachel shrugs and turns toward the door.
"Wait a sec, I think something fell out of your pocket," Finn says, and presses a neatly-folded piece of paper into her hand. She opens it up and sees her list staring up at her. None of the items are checked off.
"You know," she says, looking him straight in the eye. "I really don't think I need it."
She drops it in the trash bin on the way out, and, after a few seconds, grabs his hand.
seven
So they don't go to Nationals. That's not the point; it never was.
seven easy steps for world domination
rachel, pg-13, 2107 words
Rachel Berry likes to be prepared, in the same way that most people like to breathe. She likes order and balance and plans and lists, oh, of course, lists. And she knows, somewhere deep and strong within her, that there really is a place for everything, like her awards belong on her bedroom shelf and she belongs in a packed theatre on Broadway. There's no room for chaos in a world as perfectly planned as hers.
Arguably, this is why she hates high school.
People are not people there, she discovers at age fourteen: they're savages. She gets slushies in the face almost daily. She's no stranger to glue in her seat, or to someone sticking gum in her hair. It's barbaric. And the one place Rachel doesn't have to worry about the accuracy of her dodge is in the choir room, and even then, she has to watch their ephebophilic director fawn over the prettiest boy in the room while she hums in the background.
When William Schuester comes to glee club, it's indubitably the happiest she's been since kindergarten.
It's not just the praise, or the solos, although those are nice. It's seeing all these different kids in this club together, and-they don't like her. They're not friends. She knows that. But no one's trying to pour chocolate milk on her head. When she stands up, no one will try to trip her. In this room, they're the same. This can be the safe haven she's needed.
She doesn't walk home that day; she floats.
Eventually she comes down from this overwhelming sense of not-quite-happiness, still feeling like her organs are twisted up into tense knots, like electricity is crackling down her spine to the very very tips of her fingers, like she can do anything. So, calmly, she sits down at her desk, pulls out a sheet of stationery and a pen (purple, because it matches her throw pillows) and begins to write a list.
Rachel Berry's Plan for (non-violent!) World Domination
1. Find an appropriate outlet for talent
2. Make friends with important people
3. Find a beau (here, she has to pause for a moment to think about Finn Hudson, perfect, unattainable Finn Hudson and his easy, goofy grin; she smiles)
4. Donate portion of inevitable fortune to charity
5. Perfect techniques for the evasion of paparazzi
6. Be adored by millions
7. Profit
Rachel reads over her list, tapping a thoughtful finger against her lips. Satisfied, she rummages through the desk drawer and, with careful precision, places a gold star at the very top. It's going to be a good year.
one
And it's so much fun in the beginning. Fun performing the number that they arranged, that they created all by themselves. Fun that Schue decides not to leave and be an accountant and give them all abandonment issues. Maybe the most fun of all is when Mercedes and Kurt wait by her locker one day so they can all walk to Spanish together. It's not like they don't still get slushied or shoved into trash cans, but it's somehow more comforting to know you're not they only one; that someone will be there to wash the grape out of your eyes and tell horror stories about the time Karofsky and Puckerman double-teamed them.
But the more performances they piece together, the more times Rachel has to walk to class alone. Naturally, she just assumes that they're all horribly jealous, but that doesn't quite fit. Tina and Mercedes, they're not petty. She decides she needs another opinion.
"Finn," she calls out, after the last bell has rung and everyone around her is making a beeline for the door. He turns to her, bag slung casually over his shoulder, and if she's being honest with herself, she likes him a little bit too much; tiny things like the way he smiles at her even when all his football friends are watching, the way his eyes widen just a little bit when they talk, so she knows he's paying attention. She clears her throat, so as not to think about it.
"What's up, Rachel?" he asks, blissfully ignorant of Santana glaring at her from over his shoulder.
"I need your advice on something. Am I obnoxious? Or self-centered? Or vicious? Or is my talent just too bright for others to handle without being intimidated?"
Finn scratches his head. "Um. I don't think I want to answer that."
"No, really," she says, almost reaches out to touch his arm, but thinks better of it. "I won't be upset."
"Well," Finn says slowly, "you could probably be a little less-eager. Like, not jumping up every time Schue talks about a solo. And also maybe not ragging on everyone else's singing so much."
"I'm helping!" she protests indignantly, and then, "oh. I see."
"Rachel," he says, and lays a hand on her shoulder (he is touching me). "Look, it's not like it's a bad thing. You're really into music. We get that, we know you get excited about it."
"No, I completely understand," Rachel trills, pointedly not noticing the proximity of his hand to the bare skin of her neck. "I'll see you at practice, Finn."
Schue's handing out sheet music when she walks into the choir room. "Ah, Rachel," he beams, handing her a copy. It's the solo. Rachel chews on her bottom lip for a second, darting glance at Tina who's sitting across the room, staring at her shoes. Just this once, she thinks, and gently pushes the piece of paper back towards Schuester.
"Respectfully, Mr. Schue, I think Tina's voice is much better suited for this than mine." Every mouth in the room hangs open, except for Finn's, because he is just walking in, looking around to see what he missed.
Rachel smiles and makes her way to the auditorium to practice.
Tina's voice isn't as clean as it could be, but she sounds lovely with everyone else backing her up, and the small, sweet look of gratitude she sends Rachel in the middle of the song makes up for any pitches she misses. Rachel sways in the background. She still sings her heart out; it feels as good as it ever did.
two
She doesn't really know if she'll ever be more to Quinn Fabray than a particularly annoying bug on her windshield. She has mostly come to terms with it, even if coming to terms with it means learning to put up with constant insults from the Cheerios and the occasional sabotaged shampoo incident in the locker room after gym class. But glee club is her family now, and if that means Quinn has to be evil cousin Amber who locked her in a closet for two hours when they were six years old-
Well. Family is family.
So when Rachel finds Quinn crying in front of the bathroom mirror, Cheerio uniform halfway zipped, she doesn't run away or take a cheap shot. Instead, she pulls a tissue out of her bag and offers it like an olive branch.
"What do you want, Berry?" Quinn spits, eying her warily. She takes the tissue, though.
"I've got some make-up remover in my bag, if you need it. There's mascara all over your face," Rachel informs her.
"I'm carrying the spawn of your dream boy and you want to help me clean up?" Quinn says dryly, and Rachel is bracing herself but all Quinn does is look down and say, softly, "I can't get it to zip up."
"Here," Rachel says, and without thinking, she sets one hand on Quinn's waist and tugs at the zipper with the other. Quinn goes tense for a moment, but then Rachel realizes she's just trying to suck in. It takes a few tries, but eventually it zips, and Quinn lets out a relieved sigh.
"You're not so awful," Quinn tells her, dabbing at the mascara streaks on her cheeks. Rachel thinks that it's how she says thank you.
(She knows it is two days later, when Noah Puckerman is heading toward her with a slushie in hand and Quinn, silently, lays a hand on his arm. She makes sure Rachel meets her eyes, that she knows why this is happening. Quid pro quo.)
three
Finn Hudson kisses her a total of four times in the auditorium, and those are her favorites: she feels like a star underneath the blinding lights, a leading man on her arm and anyone in the world could be in the dark, anonymous audience because right now, all that matters is Rachel and Finn.
He kisses her twice in the bowling alley, once while they're playing and once when they're walking out. He tastes like greasy pizza and she has to brush her teeth immediately when she gets home. When she finds out why he did it, she feels even sicker.
He kisses her in the hallway once, between classes. It's too short and he jumps back three feet when he hears a door open nearby. Rachel goes into the bathroom after and locks herself in the stall for the remainder of third block, because no one ever, ever walks away from a star.
She takes a break and starts kissing Noah Puckerman, knowing that some stories have to end with 'to be continued.'
four
There's only one person in the world who likes her less than Quinn Fabray, and that's Santana. It would be such sweet justice to see her and Brittany die of thirst after they get out of Cheerios practice, begging for some change to go buy a bottle of water. But Rachel is a good person, mostly, so she holds out a dollar bill when they reach her.
Santana doesn't really seem to know how to react, so she quirks her lips oddly and says, "Thanks, Man-hands." Britanny nods her agreement and kisses Rachel on the mouth.
Being generous is an interesting thing.
five
She's not sure exactly how Jacob Ben Israel has managed to sneak his camera up her skirt to take pictures of her panties, but when Puck drags him by the collar into the choir room and says, "What do you want me to do with this little shit?" she only crosses her legs primly and tells him it's at his discretion.
six
And then it feels like a million different things are going on at once; Quinn's baby turning into Quinn and Puck's baby, Finn falling apart, Jesse St. James, Mr. Schuester's divorce-she feels like drowning. Everyone has their own problems to deal with, no one needs to deal with Rachel's compulsive need to be center of attention.
So when she walks into the choir room, dripping with egg yolk, Kurt and Mercedes latch onto her and start cleaning her off, while Finn jumps up angrily. Schue tries to calm everyone down, to no avail, because he's a little bit afraid of Quinn's hormones and she's currently madder than anyone has hitherto seen.
"We're gonna fuck his shit up," Santana promises with venom (Tina nods her agreement), before Finn shepherds her towards a bathroom.
"Here," Finn tells her, wiping egg off her clothes with a paper towel. "They were getting kinda hyped in there, I figured you'd need a little while to chill."
"That's-considerate of you," Rachel says softly. "I don't think the sweater's salvageable, though."
"Yeah, well," he says sheepishly. She unbuttons her cardigan and hands it to Finn, who sets it on the sink.
"I've been thinking," Finn starts.
"About?"
"You. And me." He smiles at her. "You totally already know what I'm about to say, don't you?"
"That's not a bad thing," Rachel assures him, and very gently presses her lips to his cheek.
The silence that follows is stunned, if not awkward.
"We should go back before Puck and Santana hurt someone," Rachel suggests loudly, standing up.
"Right," Finn says, handing her sweater back to her. "This might be okay if it goes through an actual washing machine."
"I'm sure it's nothing I can't live without," Rachel shrugs and turns toward the door.
"Wait a sec, I think something fell out of your pocket," Finn says, and presses a neatly-folded piece of paper into her hand. She opens it up and sees her list staring up at her. None of the items are checked off.
"You know," she says, looking him straight in the eye. "I really don't think I need it."
She drops it in the trash bin on the way out, and, after a few seconds, grabs his hand.
seven
So they don't go to Nationals. That's not the point; it never was.