Author's Note: I started writing this after "Sadie Hawkins" aired. So it's not entirely canon. First Glee fanfic (first fanfic for a few years actually) so please forgive me if it's awful. =)
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.
"Why don't you just move in?"
She's shocked by her own words. Considers retracting her thoughts. Maybe pretend the words didn't happen, come up with some lame excuse. But then she sees the elation in his eyes, she feels guilty. And while she knows guilt is never a good reason to do anything, she lets him believe it was intentional. That she wants him without question and for possibly forever. He hugs her, tells her "That's perfect!" And something about cheaper rent and shorter train rides. When he kisses her….it feels comfortable. A feeling she desires. Brody is easy. They don't have to partake in deep discussions about their relationship status or plan their lives around each other. While she knows a relationship should have its challenges, she brushes work aside and instead chooses easy.
He spends the night sleeping soundly (his breathing is almost like music, she notices) on the right side of her bed. Hands behind his head, one knee bent. He doesn't even try to hold her. Lying still curled up against her pillow, she wonders if that's why she cannot seem to relax. Her mind is all over the place. Everything should be right about this situation. Her boyfriend is living with her, in the greatest city on earth. He's attending the same college as her, is incredibly good looking, and never has to be bribed into watching a musical. This boy lying next to her should be what she needs. His presence, kisses, the way he holds her. Even his smell should be something she craves. Bringing her long sleeve shirt over her nose, she takes in a deep breath. Its smell calms her. She told Brody it was one of her father's old shirts, gave her the comfort of home. It's a lie of course. The shirt had been in the back of her dresser for months, until she found it one Sunday morning while cleaning. Throwing it out should have been a no brainer, but even if your heart is far away, you never throw it out, it's your heart after all, it should be protected. Sleep starts to take her, the scent still wafting into her nose. When she wakes up the next morning, she finds her hands wrapped inside the sleeves of the shirt, arms pressed into her chest.
He moves in the next week. Kurt is not thrilled but accepts the change. She knows who he wishes was here, living with them. She would never admit it out loud, but she thinks she wishes it too.
Only a few boxes are brought in, a suitcase, and his laptop. Nothing personal, no photos of his family or friends. As if he just popped into existence. She doesn't think to question it, because, he's here and she should be happy, except she's not completely, anyway. Three hours spent in the kitchen making a "thank you for moving in!" dinner, and this time he's here. No late trains or excuses. This should be perfect, she knows this, but she can't help wish for something better.
A month into the new living situation and she's asked to do a topless scene. An actress has to be able to show more than necessary, she knows this. It's probably going to be written into every contract she'll sign. So she'll do it, because saying no, would be saying goodbye to the career she wants. With determination and conclusiveness in her voice, she tells the director yes.
Santana and Quinn show up, banging on her door. While she's happy to see them, it wears off when she learns that Kurt called them. An intervention has been staged, there is no way she can do this scene (so they say). Quinn gives her somewhat encouraging advice, something about God and purity(she still has her cross necklace sitting primly around her neck, devotes three nights a week to Bible study, and sings psalms at Church) and Santana basically says she's better than this (while also throwing in an insult or two about her breasts). This doesn't stop her, given her set mind and determination to ignore what the rest of the world thinks is the correct thing to do. She decides no one really understands her career, and anyway, it's only one topless scene. Brody encourages it, strutting around the apartment naked. She pretends it doesn't bother her when he plops his bare ass onto every surface. While it feels nice to have someone in her corner (he calls her sexy on more than one occasion), part of her wishes he might give her a reason not to do it.
Standing on stage clutching her pink robe, lights and eyes turned on her, she panics. This ongoing conflict with her old self has finally reached the surface. Bright eyed, determined, standing in the mirror singing into a hairbrush version of her would never allow herself to bare it all so early. The director seems furious, but she thinks she wanted to be the star of her own play anyway, also the story was terrible.
Santana and Quinn are proud of her, and really, she's proud of herself. Brody appears to be disappointed. And when she asks him if she made the right decision (she knows she did, but needs to hear it from him), he gives her a short speech about how she'll have to do it eventually, why not just get it out of the way? She considers breaking up with him right then and there. But then he tells her he respects her decisions and whispers how sexy she is in her ear. Everything she planned to say escapes with his sweet words.
She's almost positive Brody enjoys putting her and Kurt against each other. Sure her attitude was at an all time high and she probably needed the wake up call, but the whole midnight singing showdown was ridiculous….until she found out Kurt had thrown the note their sophomore year. It was about proving herself then. The entire night before the competition, Brody never wishes her good luck (or break a leg), instead going on and on about how "epic" it was going to be.
When she loses, she chooses to go into what she calls a "diva depression". Even Funny Girl auditions seem like a worthless dream. Kurt pulls her out of it of course, signing both of them up. If she gets this part, she'll thank him first (while clutching her Tony award). Brody never does question her sudden slump or change of mood. She tries not to let it bother her.
Santana moving in ignites the match. Her and Santna become roommates, sharing a room for about a week. Brody is forced to the couch. He tries to argue, "She's my girlfriend (she won't like when she says she cringes a little)!" Santana wins of course. Oddly, she doesn't mind. Brody was always a blanket hog. When the space in the loft is sectioned off and a flea market found bed is built, Santana moves into her own room. She never asks Brody into her bed, nor does she ask why he stays on the couch, she lets it happen.
The wick is lit when Brody starts coming home late, missing dinner. It never bothers her that he's gone so often, mostly she's curious as to where he goes. She still does his laundry for him (and Kurt's and Santana's too, she finds it therapeutic) One of his t-shirts smells off, she shrugs it off as nothing. Maybe it's just a dance partner (the image of a certain blonde comes to mind). He's on his phone a lot. Smirking every so often, his thumbs attached to the touch screen keyboard. One night he's late for a study session and leaves his phone on the coffee table. The thought to dig through his phone never occurs to her, not because she trusts him implicitly, there's just no need for her to care.
The bomb explodes when Santana sneaks into Brody's overpriced dance bag. She's been telling her for weeks that Brody "Is a sneaky ferret, who has yet to pay his rent and continues to live off his supposed girlfriend, while totally shacking up with some hooker." His inbox is filled with month long conversations between himself and an unknown number. The "hooker" in question refers to Brody as her "hushpuppy", sends VERY detailed messages, and pictures that show everything but her face. Santana suggests (demands) a stakeout, catch him in the act. They follow him out one evening (another study group he says), hiding in the darkness between buildings, breathing quietly. She almost believes he's innocent when he leads them to NYADA. Dim lights fill the hallway, the only sounds are Brody's footsteps. He heads straight towards the dance studio, Santana gives her a knowing look. They sit in a corner staircase, listening. Santana gives her a speech about how even if she "threw up at the sight of Brody's face", she wanted her to be happy. When a loud moan escapes from the studio, she darts to the door. She finds Brody hoisting up Cassandra July against a far wall. Cassandra only smiles, Brody however tries to formulate an excuse. "You never paid any notice to me!" Rachel listens as he goes on, but leaves him with, "I want you out tomorrow." What's sad is she's glad she finally had a real excuse to kick him out, other than their failed relationship.
She throws everything he brought into the boxes that were never put away, leaving them in the living room next to the door. After writing a note (she's sure he'll get the message) she puts her favorite long sleeve shirt on and sleeps peacefully for the first time in months.
Kurt finds out the next morning over coffee (he's been too preoccupied with his new boyfriend to know what's been going on, she can't really blame him), silent elation fills his eyes, she knows he's thrilled and really she can't help but agree. They still partake in the usual post break up events. Ice cream and a sad movie. Brody is never mentioned. She's oddly okay with it.
Lima looks the same when they return for Mr. Shue's wedding. Main Street with its Mom and Pop shops, the lake still lit up with Christmas lights, parks littered with children. It doesn't feel like home anymore, but she could say the same about New York. Her home is a person, and until that person is where she is, home is nothing but a hope or a post card stuck to the fridge.
He asks her to meet him at the Lima Bean. She's surprised, because they really haven't spoken since her showcase. They talk, about everything but them. And when he tells her he kissed their guidance counselor she assumes he was just lonely. She even says something about her and Brody. When he tells her not everything is about her, she swears she can hear her heart breaking. Really, she just wanted him to know. Just in case.
Miss Pillsbury doesn't make it to the altar. No one really knows what happened. Mr. Shue said something about stress and neglect. Weddings aren't supposed to be filled with regret. Everyone still attends the reception. There's an open bar, and free food. She watches him the entire evening. When he finally asks her to dance, she's nervous. But when he draws her close, she pretends everything is perfect again.
Endgame. He told her that's what they were. With such certainty and confidence she's not used to hearing from him. She hopes he's right about where they're going. The idea of being in New York without him forever terrifies her more than she would admit.
Martinis and cheap champagne make her decisions for her that night.
She wakes up in a white sheeted hotel bed. He's next to her. She kisses his forehead before dashing out of the room. There was no note left for when he woke up, she's pretty sure he never remembers any of it. She sobs into her pillow. The long sleeve shirt is her only comfort that night.
A month later she's going through her planner, when she sees a date circled in red. A trip to the nearest pharmacy and two minutes sitting on the claw footed bath tub give her an answer. She's relieved but would never admit to anyone that she feels slightly empty.
He's coming to New York. She finds out from Kurt. Without any time to mentally prepare herself, practice fake smiles in the mirror. Found his direction, his dream. She's proud of course, but being proud doesn't cloud the nervous wreck she's become. He's coming to New York.
The first time she sees him he's lugging a duffle bag and three suitcases through the door. She stares at him, tongue firmly placed behind her teeth, immobile. His eyes find hers, before they both stutter out a "hi."
He's only staying with them until he finds his own apartment. His first night there, she doesn't sleep. Until she hears him quietly singing, sitting on the couch covered in newspapers, ads circled in red pen. And suddenly, she feels content, safe. He's here, she can breathe again.
At the end of his first week she asks him to have coffee with her. Once becomes daily. Her chest feels lighter. They're on their way.
She comes out of her bedroom in her favorite shirt. He gives her a look, surprise in his eyes. A blush creeps onto her cheeks, as she walks towards the kitchen she swears she can hear his smirk.
It's a Sunday when she comes across the ring again. Her jewelry box falls to the floor, scattered earrings and tangled necklaces. She sees it when the sunlight catches it. When she slips it onto her finger, the perfection she wishes for feels real again. He finds her on her knees sobbing into her hands. His eye catches the ring, he holds her closer to his chest.
He starts picking her up from class at night, something about creepy homeless people on the subway. She likes that he still wants to protect her.
She takes him to all of her favorite places one Saturday. All the places they should have discovered together. But she's glad they have the memories now, even if they are a little late.
When he's been living on their couch for a 27 days (she's been counting) he still hasn't found an apartment. They're both next to each other, a movie on the screen, when she says it.
"Why don't you just move in?"
He looks at her surprised. She says something about how he's already there anyway, and it would save him money now that he's going to school. She's sure he's going to say no, when he hugs her. "That's perfect!",he says. And then, when he kisses her, it feels like everything all at once. It feels perfect. Because after all, he's Finn and she's Rachel.