Glee fic: "On An Empty Stage"
Title: On An Empty Stage
Pairing: Jesse/Rachel
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,297
Summary: It's Rachel's sweet sixteen, and nobody even remembered.
Written for v_wiggin 's request over at rachelandjesse .
Rachel’s dads enjoy family traditions. On the eighth day of every Hanukkah, after seven smaller presents, Rachel always has to solve a riddle to find her real present somewhere in the house. She always makes latkes with Daddy. And every birthday morning, even if it’s a weekday, she always wakes to the smell of apple cinnamon pancakes. She skips her shake and workout: they always bring it all up to her room and sit on top of the covers, and the three of them eat breakfast in her bed. They give her a little surprise - a cute pair of knee-socks or a lip gloss or something - and then Dad buys her a hot chocolate or a mocha on the way to school. That night, once they both get home from work they take her out to dinner wherever she wants, and after eating she opens her real present. Then she orders any dessert she wants, which they always ask the server to stick a candle in. They sing her happy birthday, even in a crowded restaurant when people will turn and look, and because they’re her dads, they do it in harmony. Rachel’s favourite holiday is always her birthday, which, while not a calendar one, is a holiday for her.
But the morning of her sixteenth birthday is different. She wakes up with her usual enthusiasm, her body already expecting the smell of apples and cinnamon to be drifting into her room. It takes her a moment to remember that her dads are away, and promised her a celebration when they got back. They hadn’t liked leaving her, but Great-Uncle Mike is sick - sick enough they aren’t sure he’s going to make it through the week - and while Rachel has never met Great-Uncle Mike, who lives in Florida, she knows Daddy is close to him.
It would have been outrageously selfish to expect them to stay back for her. She is sixteen (or will be in four hours), practically a woman - she can handle her birthday being postponed. She’d acted as though she couldn’t believe they even thought she’d be disappointed.
Rachel gets up and goes through her usual morning routine - protein shake, elliptical, shower, clothes (laid out the night before), moisturizer, make-up, hair, half a bagel with margarine and a thin layer of sugar-free jam and a cup of black tea. She brushes her teeth and then spend her usual half hour doing vocal warm-ups, even though they’ll do more at Glee later today. The house feels strangely empty - her dads rarely go away, and almost never at the same time. She takes the bus to school, which is unpleasant: the man next to her has breath so bad she breathes through her sleeve.
She gets to school and finds Finn standing at her locker, hands behind his back. Her heart leaps, and she wonders what he got her, but as she approaches he straightens up and his hands fall to his sides, empty.
“Hey,” he says, smiling. “What’s up?”
“Uh - nothing,” she says, automatically. He nods.
“Awesome. I’m just here ‘cause I was thinking maybe you could help me with that new song in Glee? I can’t get the harmonies right on the chorus.”
“Sure.” She blinks. Did he really forget? Is he just pretending, so he can surprise her? But no, Finn doesn’t have the poker face for that kind of deception. He can barely tell a teacher he lost his homework with a straight face.
“Great! How about today, like a half hour before Glee?”
She nods numbly. He had forgotten.
Her phone is empty of texts or missed calls. She checked her email and her MySpace and Facebook this morning - nothing. One by one, the Glee club passes her in the halls, sometimes nodding, sometimes smiling, depending on their relationship to her. In the Quinn and Santana’s case, just ignoring her. Nobody says ‘happy birthday’. Nobody makes a sweet sixteen joke.
She doesn’t see Jesse - he’s supposed to have second period World History with her, but he’s absent. Then at lunchtime, as she’s eating in the music room, there’s a quiet knock on the door, and Jesse enters, carrying…
“Oh my god,” Rachel says, because there’s almost no better sight than her dashing boyfriend walking in with a smile, a bouquet of calla lilies (her favourite) in one hand and a perfectly-wrapped parcel in the other. The wrapping paper has little gold stars all over it - hand-drawn, she realizes as he comes closer. “You remembered.”
He laughs. “Of course I remembered.” He leans down and kisses her sweetly before sitting down on the riser next to her. She sets down her salad and takes the bouquet from him eagerly, stroking the silky surface of a flower.
“You’re the best boyfriend ever,” Rachel informs him, and he just smiles at her, clearly not about to argue.
“Open your present,” he says, putting it down between them. She carefully peels off the wrapping paper, unwilling to tear the homemade pattern. It’s a jewellery box, soft and fuzzy on the outside. She opens it to find a delicate silver chain with a variety of music notes dangling from it, all around the outside. Eighth notes, half notes, chords, all glittering in the fluorescent light.
“It’s white-gold,” he says. “I know you have a lot of gold already.”
“It’s - it’s beautiful,” she says, stuttering because she doesn’t want to think about how much it might have cost. He grins, taking the necklace from her hands and reaching over to fasten it around her neck. She holds her hair up for him, and when he’s finished she touches a hand to her throat, where an eighth note settles in the hollow of her collarbone.
“So, how does it feel to be sixteen?” he asks, watching with amusement as she runs a finger over the fine chain.
Rachel considers this very carefully. “It feels like fifteen, except with a lot more pressure.”
Jesse lets out a quiet laugh, but she’s serious.
“I mean it,” she insists, looking up to meet his eyes. “Every year I get older and I still have so much I haven’t accomplished. If I don’t-” She blinks, indignant, when Jesse puts his finger over her lips.
“You wait, little girl, on an empty stage,” he sings, even the first note pitch-perfect because he’s never anything less. Oh, she’s glad she warmed up this morning. It’s for times like this she makes sure she’s always ready to sing. “For fate to turn the light on.”
“That song is incredibly sexist,” she says against his finger, just to make sure it’s out there. It’s more of a disclaimer than a protest, because they both know she’s never going to miss this kind of opportunity.
“Your life, little girl, is an empty page,” he goes on, standing up and spreading his hands in a dramatic gesture. “That men will want to write on.”
“To write on,” she replies, and he smiles.
It’s wonderful, watching him perform this ridiculous, insulting song like it’s a declaration of love. “I-‘ll take ca-are of you,” he finishes, taking her hand and twirling her until she nearly falls over laughing.
He stays close as she sings her part, holding her hand, spinning her, and - as she sings how she’ll depend on him - scooping her up, bridal-style. She doesn’t even mind too much that in her surprise she misses a note. This performance is not about technique, she’s realizing, even if his was perfect. This is about fun. The kind of fun you’re supposed to have on your birthday.
All things considered, she thinks performing a duet with her boyfriend - her gorgeous, talented boyfriend who sings her showtunes to assuage her fears - is a pretty good way to spend her sweet sixteen.
* * *
I should mention - for those who aren't total geeks like me - that the song they're singing is I Am Sixteen, Going On Seventeen from The Sound of Music.
Pairing: Jesse/Rachel
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,297
Summary: It's Rachel's sweet sixteen, and nobody even remembered.
Written for v_wiggin 's request over at rachelandjesse .
Rachel’s dads enjoy family traditions. On the eighth day of every Hanukkah, after seven smaller presents, Rachel always has to solve a riddle to find her real present somewhere in the house. She always makes latkes with Daddy. And every birthday morning, even if it’s a weekday, she always wakes to the smell of apple cinnamon pancakes. She skips her shake and workout: they always bring it all up to her room and sit on top of the covers, and the three of them eat breakfast in her bed. They give her a little surprise - a cute pair of knee-socks or a lip gloss or something - and then Dad buys her a hot chocolate or a mocha on the way to school. That night, once they both get home from work they take her out to dinner wherever she wants, and after eating she opens her real present. Then she orders any dessert she wants, which they always ask the server to stick a candle in. They sing her happy birthday, even in a crowded restaurant when people will turn and look, and because they’re her dads, they do it in harmony. Rachel’s favourite holiday is always her birthday, which, while not a calendar one, is a holiday for her.
But the morning of her sixteenth birthday is different. She wakes up with her usual enthusiasm, her body already expecting the smell of apples and cinnamon to be drifting into her room. It takes her a moment to remember that her dads are away, and promised her a celebration when they got back. They hadn’t liked leaving her, but Great-Uncle Mike is sick - sick enough they aren’t sure he’s going to make it through the week - and while Rachel has never met Great-Uncle Mike, who lives in Florida, she knows Daddy is close to him.
It would have been outrageously selfish to expect them to stay back for her. She is sixteen (or will be in four hours), practically a woman - she can handle her birthday being postponed. She’d acted as though she couldn’t believe they even thought she’d be disappointed.
Rachel gets up and goes through her usual morning routine - protein shake, elliptical, shower, clothes (laid out the night before), moisturizer, make-up, hair, half a bagel with margarine and a thin layer of sugar-free jam and a cup of black tea. She brushes her teeth and then spend her usual half hour doing vocal warm-ups, even though they’ll do more at Glee later today. The house feels strangely empty - her dads rarely go away, and almost never at the same time. She takes the bus to school, which is unpleasant: the man next to her has breath so bad she breathes through her sleeve.
She gets to school and finds Finn standing at her locker, hands behind his back. Her heart leaps, and she wonders what he got her, but as she approaches he straightens up and his hands fall to his sides, empty.
“Hey,” he says, smiling. “What’s up?”
“Uh - nothing,” she says, automatically. He nods.
“Awesome. I’m just here ‘cause I was thinking maybe you could help me with that new song in Glee? I can’t get the harmonies right on the chorus.”
“Sure.” She blinks. Did he really forget? Is he just pretending, so he can surprise her? But no, Finn doesn’t have the poker face for that kind of deception. He can barely tell a teacher he lost his homework with a straight face.
“Great! How about today, like a half hour before Glee?”
She nods numbly. He had forgotten.
Her phone is empty of texts or missed calls. She checked her email and her MySpace and Facebook this morning - nothing. One by one, the Glee club passes her in the halls, sometimes nodding, sometimes smiling, depending on their relationship to her. In the Quinn and Santana’s case, just ignoring her. Nobody says ‘happy birthday’. Nobody makes a sweet sixteen joke.
She doesn’t see Jesse - he’s supposed to have second period World History with her, but he’s absent. Then at lunchtime, as she’s eating in the music room, there’s a quiet knock on the door, and Jesse enters, carrying…
“Oh my god,” Rachel says, because there’s almost no better sight than her dashing boyfriend walking in with a smile, a bouquet of calla lilies (her favourite) in one hand and a perfectly-wrapped parcel in the other. The wrapping paper has little gold stars all over it - hand-drawn, she realizes as he comes closer. “You remembered.”
He laughs. “Of course I remembered.” He leans down and kisses her sweetly before sitting down on the riser next to her. She sets down her salad and takes the bouquet from him eagerly, stroking the silky surface of a flower.
“You’re the best boyfriend ever,” Rachel informs him, and he just smiles at her, clearly not about to argue.
“Open your present,” he says, putting it down between them. She carefully peels off the wrapping paper, unwilling to tear the homemade pattern. It’s a jewellery box, soft and fuzzy on the outside. She opens it to find a delicate silver chain with a variety of music notes dangling from it, all around the outside. Eighth notes, half notes, chords, all glittering in the fluorescent light.
“It’s white-gold,” he says. “I know you have a lot of gold already.”
“It’s - it’s beautiful,” she says, stuttering because she doesn’t want to think about how much it might have cost. He grins, taking the necklace from her hands and reaching over to fasten it around her neck. She holds her hair up for him, and when he’s finished she touches a hand to her throat, where an eighth note settles in the hollow of her collarbone.
“So, how does it feel to be sixteen?” he asks, watching with amusement as she runs a finger over the fine chain.
Rachel considers this very carefully. “It feels like fifteen, except with a lot more pressure.”
Jesse lets out a quiet laugh, but she’s serious.
“I mean it,” she insists, looking up to meet his eyes. “Every year I get older and I still have so much I haven’t accomplished. If I don’t-” She blinks, indignant, when Jesse puts his finger over her lips.
“You wait, little girl, on an empty stage,” he sings, even the first note pitch-perfect because he’s never anything less. Oh, she’s glad she warmed up this morning. It’s for times like this she makes sure she’s always ready to sing. “For fate to turn the light on.”
“That song is incredibly sexist,” she says against his finger, just to make sure it’s out there. It’s more of a disclaimer than a protest, because they both know she’s never going to miss this kind of opportunity.
“Your life, little girl, is an empty page,” he goes on, standing up and spreading his hands in a dramatic gesture. “That men will want to write on.”
“To write on,” she replies, and he smiles.
It’s wonderful, watching him perform this ridiculous, insulting song like it’s a declaration of love. “I-‘ll take ca-are of you,” he finishes, taking her hand and twirling her until she nearly falls over laughing.
He stays close as she sings her part, holding her hand, spinning her, and - as she sings how she’ll depend on him - scooping her up, bridal-style. She doesn’t even mind too much that in her surprise she misses a note. This performance is not about technique, she’s realizing, even if his was perfect. This is about fun. The kind of fun you’re supposed to have on your birthday.
All things considered, she thinks performing a duet with her boyfriend - her gorgeous, talented boyfriend who sings her showtunes to assuage her fears - is a pretty good way to spend her sweet sixteen.
* * *
I should mention - for those who aren't total geeks like me - that the song they're singing is I Am Sixteen, Going On Seventeen from The Sound of Music.