#jstj

Rachel stirred to the sound of traffic and late night television. Outside, the city was dark, save for the haze of streetlights and glowing apartment windows. Blinking her eyes open, Rachel discovered herself on the couch, her limbs tangled with a sleeping Jesse’s. A blanket was half-draped over the two of them, and pillows were abandoned on the floor. They must have fallen asleep watching a movie again. Leaning forward, Rachel placed a hand on Jesse’s chest, rubbing her thumb over his collarbone. “Jesse,” she whispered, “wake up.” When he didn’t stir, Rachel squeezed his shoulder, gently kissing his cheek. “Hi,” she smiled down at him as he finally opened his eyes, “let’s go back to my bed.”

Finn had never been much of a dancer, mostly because he positively had two left feet--at least on a dance floor--and the body coordination of a two year old when it came to body movement. It didn’t even make sense. As a drummer, he could always stay on beat and as a football player he knew how to be in sync with other people through running around a field. But dancing? Nope. Not happening. Before he knew it, everyone was out on the dance floor, dancing like there was no tomorrow. He had no choice but to join, stepping side to side and keeping it as minimal as possible until someone came swooping in from the side, yelling “you need to step up!”. He rolled his eyes when he realized it was Jesse, trying his best to match his energy with Jesse’s. He wasn’t sure if they were having some kind of dance battle or if it was two buds pulling off some moves, but either way, he was definitely on the losing side. “You trying to make me look more stupid than I already do?” 

“Whoa, I’m infuriating? You’re the one going all PDA with my ex in front of me, dude.”

You having to take Dalton’s midterms is only about as ridiculous as the idea of Finn winning a Nobel Prize for philosophy.