Title: The Itch

Category: Romance/Drama, for now, maybe future humor, let's see.

Summary: Finn's moved on. In fact, he couldn't be happier with Rachel but there's still something, an itch he can't scratch, an urge he feels compelled to give in to, whenever he sees her and he doesn't know why or how to fix it.

DISCLAIMER: It's the old same words. I don't own Glee; it's all owned by Fox and it's three stooges, head by the idiot, Ryan Murphy.

Author notes: Not really sure where it came from and just so you know, I haven't written fan fiction in a long while and had given up on it entirely. But since it's Christmas and I'm feeling like utter crap, I figured I'd throw more crap into the internet for lovely trolls. So don't hate me, this is my own little Christmas present to myself. And for those Finchel shippers, I understand your love for them, I do. But I sorta missed non-douchey Finn, so I wanted to bring him back somehow, to lit up my spirits. I miss him terribly, just like how I miss, Rachel Berry. I refuse to believe that it was Rachel Berry I was seeing these past two episodes who relied way too much on her boyfriend's words to make her know she's the most beautiful girl in the room. Anyway, yeah, rant. Gonna shut up now.

"The Itch"

PROLOGUE.

It was a terrible morning to wake up to when just the night before Finn had to watch his girlfriend, the beautiful blonde Quinn Fabray, lug her things out of his home and into the truck of one Noah Puckerman, his ex-best friend. He guessed if he was getting used to calling Puck his 'ex-best friend' he should start getting used to calling Quinn his 'ex-girlfriend' as well but it was proving to be harder than he thought. Finn never considered himself to be a master at emotions, he wasn't the guy that could easily hide what he felt in a mask of apathy unlike most people; he would try to yield against people's assumptions but sometimes people's assumptions were indeed correct and he did look more like a puppy than he would care to admit.

And just thinking of having to go to school with that thought, with that feeling of hurt still clinging to his chest, that feeling of animosity towards his ex-best friend, he couldn't help but wonder if he was going to make it. Sure, he was the leader; he was supposed to be handling things better than this, act like a man, act unfazed by it all but the truth of the matter was he wasn't.

He wasn't ready to let go.

Maybe he wasn't even willing to let go. I mean, how can you, when you've fallen in love with this unborn child who you thought was actually yours, this beautiful baby that you've already claimed and named as yours, this unspeakable beauty that you thought you would be able to grasp.

Finn had no first hand experience on what fathers were like or how they were supposed to be, having lost his father at a young age, his memory on his antics, his personality and his general being was as vague as yesterday's homework. He wasn't even sure how it happened or why he wanted to do it; he thought that maybe it was a natural mechanism in dudes, to be the one to wish that he could give everything to their baby because in the few minutes that followed that shocking announcement, in the middle of that hallway with his arms wrapped around Quinn's crying form, Finn knew without a doubt that he wanted to be the best father he could possibly be to his unnamed baby.

He had every fiber of his being convinced that he was going to do everything, in his power, to be the man that his Drizzle could be proud of; that he would do everything he possibly could to be the man Quinn was looking for, the one person he knew she could depend on, no matter how frail his IQ was. He wasn't going to stop at anything to give his child the life she deserved, which was nothing short of the best.

But it seemed that all disappeared the minute he found out that not only his girl friend had been lying to him but his best friend as well.

He didn't know what to feel right then and last night, watching her leave and walk into his truck, all frowns on their faces. He wasn't sure whether he should have only felt betrayed or hurt or angry or anything; he felt at a loss that not even his mother's soft rubbing on his back or her sweet cajoling to eat some cake could distract his exhausted mind.

And right now, staring at his strained eyes, he couldn't tell if he slept crying or was just really that exhausted. He hoped it was the latter, his ego wishing silently to himself that he wasn't stupid enough to have cried over her after what she'd done; his spiteful ego, wishing that he could do something more – more – anything to prove that he was dealing with this better than he should. But he wasn't. And he was indeed Stupid.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he washed his face in the sink, hoping to wash away any memory left of what happened last night or the past six months they were together. Looking up again at his reflection, the memory still vividly fresh in his mind, he gave out another exhausted sigh before drying his face in a towel and walking out, his brows knitted together in a furrow and a small frown cradling his lips.

He didn't even bother saying good bye to his mom and for the first time in months, walked his way to school, ignoring almost everything that came his way.

The morning so far had been quiet, no lingering stares, no curious glances from anyone other than Rachel and had it been any other day, Finn might have liked the extra attention; he would have probably even bothered to listen, but it wasn't any other day. It was the day after he just foud out about the baby and try as he might to move on, he had to admit to himself,

"I wasn't over her."

And as if on cure, he sees her walking not too far away, just by the end of the hall way with Puck, having another heated argument about something he could only assume was baby-related. He couldn't stop himself from staring, the weight of his frown forcing him to stifle another sigh as his ears immediately turned off to Rachel's chattering and only focused on what he could possibly hear from ten feet away.

Of course, he heard nothing, his thoughts and his senses only glued to the blonde ex-cheerleader with her baby bump calling out to him. He felt the itch, the urge, the need to walk towards her like he would have had before but he could do nothing but stand in place. He felt his jaw tense at the thought, his eyes longingly wishing she would look in his direction and quickly averting them when she did, his hopes high that she didn't even notice him. Why should she anyway when one thing was pretty clear: she chose Puck over him.

"I wasn't over her."

He told himself again and leaned back into his locker, head knocked back against the metal. He wished he had the courage to tell it to Rachel but he couldn't, not with Quinn and Puck not too far away, not with the whole school just waiting to make him feel any less of himself, stupid as he may be, he still had some semblance of an ego in that noggin' of his. And even though he knew he still wasn't over her, he knew he had to be because she was Puck's now and he was Rachel's.

Walking down the street,

Blind to every eye she meets

Do you think you'll be the guy

To make the queen of the angels sigh