A/N: I was writing something else and the story changed but because I wanted to keep the premise of the first story, I started a new one. And this is the result. AU Finchel centric, ensemble. A little bit of fluff and some happiness for a change.
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine.
cause someday I might call you from my heart
She was late. For the first time in forever, she was late.
And it was all Blaine's fault too; she firmly places the blame at his feet. She had to spent half the night by her brother's side, singing sad love songs and eating ice cream and watching sappy musicals because his latest boyfriend (who was a dick) broke his heart (again).
If and when she ever saw Chandler again he'd need help getting up from off the ground; he's lucky if she doesn't castrate him (if he isn't already.)
But before she goes into work she needs to find food. She waits impatiently in line at the café, rocking on the balls of her feet and grins at Tina when the small woman spots her and waves her over.
"Why are you in line?"
Rachel shrugs and looks around. The coffeehouse is busy, as always, and even though her best friend owns it, she wasn't one for favouritism. Well, not all the time.
Tina shakes her head at her and hands over two cups and a paper bag, smiling at her friend.
"Breakfast. It's your favourite too, cranberry."
"Awesome." She grins back and opens the bag, inhaling the delicious smell.
"I stashed two in there for Dave as well; Artie says he's a fan?"
"Fan? Your husband brags about your cooking, like, non-stop. The other guys are ready to jump him every time he opens his mouth about your food. He's lucky he doesn't have to actually do any walking with the way he eats."
"Oh lord, he isn't showing off his arms again, is he? Ever since he made it into the calendar for the FDNY, he's been bragging like crazy, flexing his biceps for the world to see."
Tina blushes, and Rachel knows very well that it's those arms that impressed her back in college.
"You know, he wants to go to the beach for his birthday. I promised him we could make a day of it, take Jessa. Mike can run the shop without me for a day."
"Take me with you! Please?" She hasn't been to the beach in forever.
"Sure. Take the day off too." Tina grins and raises her eyebrows in challenge.
She'd love to, but she has to work, and Tina knows that; she's always trying to get her to take some time off and have some fun. One day though, she will.
"I'm going to work."
Tina laughs. "You do that. And remind my husband he's not getting out of tomorrow. If I have to drag him in for that check-up I will."
Rachel chuckles and salutes, grabbing the paper bag and two cups. "Yes ma'am."
"Would just go?!" Tina tosses a coffee stirrer at her and shakes her head. "You be safe! And kiss Artie for me."
She makes a face as she backs away, shaking her head. Her best friend waves her off and turns to help the next customer.
It's hot as hell outside and a typical Sunday afternoon in Brooklyn, people rushing about their business. She loves New York, she's lived here since she was five when her fathers and brother moved from Connecticut. The crowd, the hectic pace, the smell, it's the city of life and love; she wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world. She puts an extra pep in her step as she walks off towards work.
There's this tall, messy-haired man standing at the music store a couple doors down Java & Scripts. He's staring through the window, looking at a drum kit on display, his long fingers tapping at his jean clad thigh as he nods his head to whatever beat he's singing. She can see his lips moving.
She passes by him, smiling at his grin as he surveys the instrument in the window. He looks positively happy, and he's even kind of good-looking too. But she's late and as much as she'd like to stop and talk to a cute guy, she needs to get to work.
She hurries past him, turning back for one last glimpse of his happy face before turning the corner.
The first shot comes out of nowhere and she jumps, looking around her as people scream, scattering about. She falls to the floor at the next shot, covering her head as two more ring out.
She chances a look up and sees people running helter-skelter away from the direction she'd just come from, the door of the corner store between Tina's coffeehouse and the music store ajar, broken glass littering the ground. Two men are running away with guns and bags slung over their shoulders, and sirens sound in the direction they run towards. Scared, they look around frantically before turning down a side street.
There's a crowd gathering by the stores and she jumps to her feet, pushing her way through.
She's still clutching the bag of muffins and she quickly tosses it away, dropping to the ground beside the large man she had seen smiling at the music window earlier, her belly twisting at the ugly red soaking his T-shirt and pooling beneath him.
She pulls out her phone and dials dispatch, checking his pulse, her fingers red when she feels it, faint and fading quickly.
"GSW to the chest. Male. Mid to late twenties. About 230lbs. On the corner of Grove and Pennsylvania. Off-duty paramedic attempting CPR."
Dispatch tells her an ambulance is on the way, ETA in less than a minute. She switches to autopilot, shrugging out of her jacket and using it to staunch the flow of blood from the man's chest.
His eyes are open but she's pretty sure he's in shock; he's not blinking.
She glances up at the crowd, people videotaping them, covering their hands in shock, or simply staring.
Really?
She spies a short, pale, black-haired girl standing close to the man's head and snaps her fingers to get her attention.
"Hey! You! Snow White."
The girl jerks her head up, her eyes boring into Rachel's, pointing to herself.
"Yes, you. Get down here!"
Blood pools from the man's mouth as he coughs wetly, his body shaking.
The girl crouches beside her, and she's terrified, her hands are shaking as she watches the man struggle to breathe.
"Hold his head, turn it gently to the side so the blood can run out of his mouth."
The girl stares at her with wide eyes, but slowly does as she's says, whimpering every time the man coughs. Rachel presses her hands harder to stem the wound, praying for the ambulance to just get here already. She checks his pulse again – he doesn't have much time.
Thankfully, she hears sirens coming closer and the crowd around them scatters as it stops in front of them.
Two of her coworkers, Dave and Azimio, jump out and she backs away only when Dave drops beside her, pulling her jacket away and checking the bullet hole in the man's chest. She walks him through what happened while police appear on the scene.
She steps back, dragging the shaking girl up with her.
Worrying at her lips, she looks around, eyes landing on one of the policemen she's worked with before, Noah, and he cocks his head at her and then looks at the ambulance.
Noah walks over to her and the shivering girl who's too scared to remember her name.
"Berry, you good?"
He looks her over, frowning at the blood over her clothes, on her hands and cheek.
She nods and murmurs, "Not mine."
She looks from him to the man Dave and Azimio are working on, inclining her head in question. Noah nods resigned, tugging the girl aside to get a statement. She follows the paramedics as they load the man onto the gurney and into the back of the ambulance, hopping in and closing the door as Azimio gets in the cab.
She's a witness and shouldn't be leaving the scene of the crime but a part of her kind of wants to be with the man. She's never met him before and she can't explain why she needs to go and she might even get in trouble for leaving.
"You know him?" Dave asks.
"Nope. Just got coffee, was on my way in."
She nods to the unconscious man. "Got caught in the crossfire of a robbery it looks like."
"Unlucky bastard. Wrong place, wrong time, huh?"
Dave rips away the man's shirt, exposing his chest; the bleeding isn't so profuse, but he's barely conscious and has been down for more than three minutes.
"Through and through," she murmurs as she helps Dave to lift him.
"That's the good thing. Chart it for me?" He digs around the man's pocket and tosses her a wallet. She drops it on the counter and goes to sterilize her hands and snapping on a pair of gloves, watching Dave secure the IV drip in the man's arm, then covering the wound in his chest.
The wallet is old and no doubt has seen better days. There's a seal embedded into the leather, the words 'United States Marine Corps' around the image in the centre.
"He's military," she mutters, pulling the chart to her.
"Yea? Then it kinda sucks for him. Getting shot on a street corner." Dave shakes his head.
She agrees.
"Ex-marine. Finn Hudson from Lima, OH. 26 years old."
It's funny. He spends eight years overseas with the US Marines and comes home with nary a scratch.
Alright, fine, that's really not true. He's jumped out of helicopters, flown over enemy airspace under fire, dived behind enemy lines and engaged in countless shoot-outs, fought the enemy hand to hand. His broken leg healed several times, his wrists have also healed several times, his eyebrows grew back and he's regained most of the function in the pinkie finger of his right hand.
He's been through hell at war, and he managed to get home in one piece.
Yet, on one random Sunday, just because his brother is miserable and depressed and will only drink the coffee (that yes, fine he finished) from that cafe several blocks over, when he could be catching up on some well-deserved shut-eye, he leaves to go buy more, and he gets shot.
In front of a music store on a busy street in Brooklyn. Right in the chest.
Really, the irony isn't lost on him.
He doesn't feel the pain when he crumbles to the round, gasping for breaths that he can't seem to get. He tries to clutch at his chest but his hands lay limp at his side, refusing to move and his vision starts to swim when he stares up at the warm sunlight mocking him as he starts to fade away.
His life sort of fast forwards in front of him just before he slips away; he can hear people screaming around him, sirens in the distance, smell lavender and strawberries floating on the air, feel someone pressing onto his chest.
He coughs up blood, his heart beating too fast as it pumps it through his body and right through the hole in his chest.
And it's like the cold spreading through his body is impatient. He lets the pain and darkness claim him, whispering a silent goodbye to his family and friends. His mother will take this the hardest: he had promised her he would come home in one piece, maybe give her grandbabies someday. She wasn't a fan of his grand idea to go off and join the Marines, where he could die a multitude of ways.
Honestly, the irony.
Fate, you fickle bitch.
It's his fault really, when he runs into the woman. He was daydreaming about buying the drum kit in the music store window. He could set it up in the den, with the pool table that was already there.
Kurt already has his sewing room where he works on his designs and stuff, and he wouldn't mind having his own space. He really misses making music, or just simply playing. He's always happy when he's messing around on the drums.
So, he's not looking where he's going when he sort of collides with someone, hot liquid spilling down the front of both their shirts.
His eyes widen as he stares down at the girl.
"Are you kidding me right now? Really dude!" She stomps her foot and glares up at him.
"I'm sorry, crap. I'm so sorry!"
He pulls out the handkerchief Kurt is always puttting in his pants pockets, dabbing at her chest with it. His hand touches her breast and he freezes, dropping it to his side and stepping away from her when he realizes what he's doing.
"Oh my god! I'm sorry! I didn't mean t-,"
"Hey, calm down, would you? It's just coffee, damnit."
She dabs at the front of her shirt, muttering about clumsy oafs not looking where they're going and he kind of feels like a dick about it.
He meets her eyes and his apologies immediately dies on his lips. She's gorgeous. She's not wearing a lot of make-up but her lips are kind of pretty and shiny, she looks radiant, her skin glowing and looking impossibly soft the longer he stares.
He jerks his eyes from hers and back to her chest and coughs when he sees that it's almost soaked all the way through and he can see the purple bra she's wearing. He turns away as his cheeks redden, staring pointedly at a spot just over her head.
"Um, I can buy you another bra – coffee! Or even pay for you to dry-clean your jacket and shirt."
He wants to smack himself for the slip, but the girl just chuckles and shakes her head, stepping around him.
"Hey, don't worry about it. Accidents happen, OK?" The girl laughs lightly and shakes her head.
He follows her down the street, still apologizing profusely as he does. He does feel bad; she's covered in coffee stains all down her shirt and the top of her pants. His long legs keep up easily with her as she walks, smiling the whole time.
"Hey. Relax. It's not a big deal, I can change inside."
He looks up and they've stopped across the street in front of a fire station.
"You're a fire-fighter?"
She chuckles, pulling her coffee-stained t-shirt away from her chest and looks up at him with an adorable smile on her face.
"Paramedic. Ah, thanks for walking me here, but really, I'm fine."
She flashes him a dimpled smile, waves at him with the paper bag with Java & Scripts marked on it then hurries across the road, turning back briefly to look at him and flash another smile before running inside the station.
He walks away with a smile on his face.
He goes by the firehouse the next day, with two cups, one with green tea and one cappuccino. He's pretty sure that what she had in her hand when he ran into her.
Really, he just wants an excuse to see her again, and to apologize again (of course).
There's a bunch of fire-fighters just hanging out and a squad car parked in front of the fire trucks standing there. He doesn't even know her name and he just shows up out of the blue at the place she works. How much dumber can he get?
He's about to turn and leave when she walks out of the firehouse with an older gentleman, her hair braided and hanging over her shoulder. Her face lights up as she talks, a dimple peeking out. She waves her hand around a lot as she tells her story and the man dressed in a white shirt with badges and epaulets on his shoulder and chest laughs as he listens to her.
She turns her head in his direction, frowning when she recognizes him, excuses herself and walks over.
"You lost?"
He shakes his head, his cheeks pinking at the small smile she gives him. He's suddenly shy, the words dying on his lips as she watches him, waiting for him to speak.
She's nice, so self-assured and relaxed and he's almost sure she'd never be interested in him. But, it's better he asks and gets a no than doesn't ask and wonders 'what if' afterwards, right? He's a grown man, so why was he acting like a teenager?
"Uh, hello?" She tries again.
He clears his throat and holds out the cupholder.
"To say sorry again about drenching you in coffee and tea yesterday. Sorry."
The petite brunette giggles and takes them from him, smiling when she does.
"Coffee. And tea. You shouldn't have."
His own smile stretches across his face as she gazes up at him. She's short, like, tiny. A little bit shorter than his mother. And she's gorgeous. Her skin is this pretty olive tan that he's almost sure is natural, big, beautiful brown eyes, prominent nose, this cute freckle on her cheek. Her hair, hanging over her shoulder almost hangs to her elbow, the ends thick and curly looks so soft. His fingers itch to reach out and touch it, but he doesn't, just smiles dopily at her.
"So," she says.
"So-,"
He doesn't know her name, and she's not wearing a badge or anything to indicate what it might be. He rubs at the back of his neck, more nervous now.
She glances behind her, sees the men looking at them and turns back to him.
"Tell you what," She offers him the cappuccino. "I'm actually off duty for the rest of the evening. How about you tell me what was so distracting you ruined a good shirt and copped a feel from a total stranger?"
He kind of wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole. But she's smiling, all pearly white teeth and cute dimple poking out.
He takes the cup from her, his fingers brushing hers. Warmth spreads through him, and he smiles and nods.
"There's this great little café near here. Come with?"
"I met a girl."
He's nervous telling Kurt about going a date. His brother has been single for some time now, and while he knows Kurt would be happy that he's going on an actual date, it really sucks asking since the guy is still quite broken up about his last relationship.
Kurt's at the stove cooking as they talk and he sees the spatula freeze in his brother's hand.
"Oh?"
"Ah, yea. A couple weeks ago. I ran into her by the coffee shop. Literally," he chuckles.
Kurt turns to him with amused eyes and gives him a smile. Its small, but its genuine. "What does she look like? What does she do? Where are you taking her?"
Laughing, he holds up his hands. "Whoa, whoa. She's gorgeous Kurt, brown hair, chocolate-brown eyes, and her voice, it sounds like music when she speaks."
His brother snorts and turns back to the stove. "Music, huh?"
He blushes, ducking his head. She does. If she sounds this good talking, he can only imagine how she sounds when she sings. But he doesn't even know if she can sing though.
"She's a paramedic, works with the response team based on Pennsylvania Ave."
Kurt turns back around. "So she's not a model or dancer or actress some other ditzy profession then. Yay." Kurt claps his hands lightly, laughing at the glare he gives him as he turns back to his cooking.
"Sometimes you worry about the most ridiculous things, Finn. Women don't bite. " He turns back to Finn with a silly grin on his face. "Much."
He tosses a piece bread at his brother who laughs and flicks it away.
"So, why come to me now? Usually you'd never tell me if you were interested in a girl. Matter of fact, you haven't dated since that last actress broke you heart, what's-her-face?"
"Quinn," he retorts through clenched teeth.
"Almost three years now. I thought you were going to join the monastery."
"Can you just shut up for a second? I asked her out. Dinner, somewhere nice. And I want to look nice too. She's really cool Kurt. A lot cooler than what's-her-face."
Kurt grins. "She must be. You're actually asking for my help. And I don't think it's to impress her."
He's not trying to impress her. Well, not really. Rachel's awesome. They talk almost every single day. And he doesn't mind. They talk about work, movies, games - she's a basketball fan, he likes football. She reads a lot, he plays the drums. He's single, she's single.
He has a few days off from work and after a month of exchanging texts and phone calls, he finally asks her out to dinner. He was relieved when she said yes. Eyes twinkling prettily with that dimple peeking out.
But the last date he was on was with Quinn and that was a while ago. He's not comparing Quinn and Rachel, but he has zero idea of what to do next. He's a military man, he knows war.
Women, not so much.
She's kind of crazy, and he likes that. When she's not at work, she's this girly girl, summer dresses and curly hair, tinkling at her piano or curling her legs underneath her as she sniggers at some tabloid magazine.
Or she's in summer shorts and t-shirts, shouting at her TV screen when the Nets miss a free throw just before half time. She tosses salsa chips at her flatscreen and growls at him when he laughs at her.
"You might not want to do that. Berry's very sensitive about her team," Puck chuckles.
"She lives in Brooklyn, how can she cheer for the Nets when you like in a different state? That's like against loyalty rules or something," he teases. Rachel lifts an eyebrow as she stares at him.
Puck snickers and shakes his beer at him. "Really Huddy, chill."
The doorbell ringing saves him and Rachel tosses the chips at him before she snags his baseball cap as she dances past them to answer the door. Puck watches her leave, admiring her long legs as she walks away. As small as she is, Rachel does have some legs on her.
Puck catches him looking and shakes his head, holding his hands up in surrender.
"You have nothing to worry about man. And believe me, I've tried. All it's gotten me is a sprained wrist and a bruised ego. Besides," he flashes the gold ring on his finger and gives an easy smile, "my wife would have my balls for breakfast if I go after her best friend."
He likes the guy, really.
"So. This is the famous Finn."
He looks over his shoulder, sees this tall woman with her hands on her hips looking at him. Behind her is the woman from the coffeehouse pushing a man in a wheelchair, and a grinning dark-skinned woman.
He gets to his feet, holding his hand out. "Hi."
The Latina eyes him appreciatively and whistles when she takes his hand, turning back to Rachel. "You are right, he is rather pretty and polite. Nice body too."
She turns back to him with a wicked smile, "I'm Santana."
"Oy! I'm sitting right here," Puck snaps.
Santana rolls her eyes and brushes past him, slapping her husband's feet off the coffee table and sits beside him on the couch.
"I married you, pretty sure I know what you look like Puck. And you know I love you sweetie. Doesn't mean I can't appreciate a good-looking man."
He blushes under her gaze, and Noah/ Puck doesn't look appeased until his wife giggles merrily and grabs his face, pressing her lips to his. He pulls his eyes from the two of them and turns around to the others.
He knows Artie, he actually works for the police department manning the computer systems but somehow he's based at the firestation. He shakes his hand and introduces him to his wife, Tina.
Tina smiles warmly at him. "I've heard lots about you. This one here won't shut up."
He glances at Rachel as Tina jabs her thumb at her and she's blushing under the brim of his baseball cap. Tina giggles and pulls her hand from his, smacking her husband on the arm.
"Look Artie, she's blushing. Hasn't done that since when, sophomore year in college?"
"She's basically been grinning like a Cheshire cat since you popped up." The last of the group laughs and holds her hand out. "Mercedes. Thanks for breaking our lil miss goody-two shoes out of the mould. I don't know who she was tryna fool with-,"
"You know what, shut up. All of you." Rachel flips them off and tugs him into the kitchen with her, getting out more chips and sodas for the newcomers. He stops her, wrapping his large fingers around her delicate wrist and turning her to face him.
"So far I've been told that I'm pretty and that I have a nice body. Also, that you can't stop talking about me?"
She pushes her bottom lip out as she stares up at him.
"My friends talk too much."
He laughs and lifts the rim of her cap and touches his lips to hers. She wraps her arms around his waist, pushing herself up to meet him.
"I pass the test?"
She lifts a shoulder, staring at his lips. He likes this newness of their relationship, being able to kiss her when he wants to, and having the taste of her lip gloss – cherry – on his lips. It's only been two months and he can look back and laugh at himself worrying if she'd ever go out with him.
Santana screams at the TV and Puck curses loudly and their little bubble is broken when Rachel pulls away, leaning around him so she can see the TV. She does this little dance and kisses his cheek before flitting away, cheering happily because the Nets just scored.
She's the only one there cheering for the opposing team, and he stays neutral, because she's crazy, and he's been a Knicks fan from before he even moved to New York. Pick your battles.
He gets home at 3am and there are three people sleeping on the floor in his living room.
There's soft breathing from the figure on the right, snoring from the one in the middle and the one on the end curled up is small enough that he easily recognizes his girlfriend. He walks over quietly and tugs the sheet down.
Rachel is drooling on her pillow, her long hair in a messy plait with her hand under her head. He figures the snoring in the middle is from his stepbrother and the figure on the left turns on his side, the blanket falling away and the jet black hair of Rachel's twin peeking out from underneath.
There are empty containers of ice cream and bottles of chocolate syrup and caramel sauce and nuts on the coffee table and cases of DVDs scattered about.
He shakes his head as he cleans up - Kurt will throw a fit in the morning when he sees that chocolate syrup stain on his coffee table – and heads to his bedroom, undoing his tie and tossing his shirt in the laundry.
The hot water feels so good on his back. It's one of the things he had really missed, from his days in the Marines. His brother complains about the long showers and the usual lack of hot water if he showers before him, but he gets away with because it sure helps with his dreams, which are fewer and fewer lately.
"Finn?"
The shower door slides open and his girlfriend is standing there in tiny sleep shorts and a t-shirt, rubbing her eyes. She stretches and yawns, covering her mouth.
"Hey. What're you doing up?"
"I was waiting up for you. Kurt ran into Sebastian earlier, so Blaine and Tina tagged along with me for a girls night in, try and cheer him up. Tina left around midnight."
He hears what she's saying but he's kind of distracted by that little bit of skin at her stomach when she stretches. He wipes water from his eyes and grins when her eyes travel down his body, and he can feel himself reacting to her stare.
"I have to be at the firehouse by 5am," she breathes out.
"OK."
He meets her eyes and she nods, biting her lip and steps closer.
"If we shower together, we'll save water."
She raises an eyebrow at his suggestion and laughs, throwing her head back.
"Really?"
He groans and reaches out for her.
"Rach. Baby. Just get in here."
He's painfully hard, and he hasn't actually seen her in four days, he had a flight to Perth and back, no stopovers and she's been on the 5am – 5pm shift for the past week with only a day off in between. So excuse him for dragging her into the shower fully clothed.
Rachel wraps her legs around his waist as he backs her up against the shower wall, pushing his hands under her shirt, moaning as her tongue dips inside his mouth.
"My brother," she moans and kisses him harder, rubbing herself against him, "Finn.. we can't. Kurt,-"
He tugs her shirt over her head, kissing her hard to shut her up. They're in the shower and she's pressed up against him and feels really good in his arms, making these cute little sounds and OK, really, he can't be bothered that her brother and his brother are asleep in the living room.
"Baby."
The wet sound of her shorts hitting the bathroom floor is the best sound he's heard all day.
He loves her, you know. He does.
They've been together for just over a year and he knows she loves him too, even though she hasn't actually said the words themselves. But it's in the little things: she always makes him coffee when she gets up in the mornings, even if she needs to be gone before he's even up. She doesn't drink the stuff, but she makes it a whole better than he ever can.
She bakes banana bread every Sunday, takes some with her to the firehouse and even if he's not home on that Sunday, he knows he'll always find banana bread at home.
He feeds her the last of his pecan pie, even though she knows it's made with eggs and kisses him soundly right after he eats a steak, wrinkling her nose at the taste. He washes her hair, she lets him paint her toes and he lets her pick those silly romantic comedies which means she usually ends up crying into his chest.
She lets him see the parts of her no one else gets to see. The brave façade she puts on every call she goes on, or when he calls her just before he takes off on the runway, she's yet to say those three little words, but they're loud, especially in the small things.
He doesn't know why he doesn't just say it first. And he's had a more than a few opportunities to say it. It's just. He's scared. He keeps waiting for her to realize that she can find someone better. That she will one day wake up and realize that she can do so much better than him.
It's stupid, he knows, he does. But he can't help it.
He's in Paris when he gets the call from Blaine. He landed about twenty minutes ago and he's tired enough to fall asleep waiting on the shuttle. The minute he answers and the guy says
"Hudson,"
He knows something's wrong.
"Hey. What's up?"
There's a heavy sigh and a hiccup over the line and he hears someone talking and then the sound of someone being paged.
"Finn."
"Kurt? What is it?"
"There's been an accident."
He turns right around and tells the girl at the first counter he sees that he needs to be on the next flight back to New York. He's supposed to be flying back in twelve hours but he needs to be home, like right now.
When he gets there, an ugly feeling creeps over him when he sees her fathers talking to a doctor in the hallway. The taller of the two glances up and his face visibly relaxes when he sees Finn striding towards them.
"She's fine. Just a little banged up, cuts and bruises."
He's only slightly relieved. Once he's seen her and held her in his arms, then maybe his heart will start beating again. Hiram squeezes his shoulder and points to the door across from them. It's slightly ajar and when he pushes it open and the first thing he sees is her brother curled up on the small chair near the bed.
Rachel. She's so small. Her face is slightly swollen and her cheek is bruised. Her right wrist is wrapped up tight and her breathing is shallow and jerky. He pulls another chair right up beside her and runs his finger over her cheek.
Her eyes flutter open and she smiles softly when her eyes meet his.
"Hey."
"Hi."
Her voice is raspy and dry and she starts coughing so he grabs the glass on the table beside her, holding her head up as he helps her to drink. She pushes the glass away and smiles, holding on to his hand.
"I love you."
Her words ring in his mind as she searches his eyes, fear and doubt creeping into the brown depths. Her face starts to crumble as she watches him and it's the tear that falls from his eyes that makes her laugh.
"I love you."
She repeats it and warms his cheek with her palm and when he chokes the words out, kissing away her tears, she buries her fingers in his hair, sighing when his lips tastes hers.
"I love you Rachel."
He feels like a fool now, for obviously worrying about nothing. She nuzzles his nose with hers, tracing the freckles on his face. She always does that before she falls asleep, and his heart swells a little more when she smiles again, kissing her favourite spot on his jaw. He looks up when Dave and Azimio knock on the door, jerking Blaine awake. He excuses himself to go get coffee after kissing his sister's hair. Dave's on crutches and Azimio is wearing a neckbrace. He looks down at his tiny girlfriend, his eyebrows rising and she laughs, squeezing his hand in hers.
"Really, I'm fine."
"Berry's a trooper," Dave pipes up.
Later, when Puck shows him photos of the ambulance and the other car, the crime scene so real he can't believe that people actually walked away from that, he goes back into Rachel's room and even though she's fast asleep, he curls his body besides her on the bed, he needs to be close to her.
He's wasted enough time being scared for no reason. He almost lost her. He was halfway around the world and he could have lost her, without her knowing how he felt.
"I love you so much baby. I love you." He brushes her hair from off her face and even asleep, face slightly swollen, her smile is still gorgeous.
"Babe, what do you think about us moving in together?"
Rachel turns his arms and stares at him intently.
"I don't mean here, I know you're not a fan of the neighbourhood and only hang out because the lights don't turn off."
She snickers and smacks his leg, turning back to the book in her hands. It's another thing he loves about her, even though it should drive him crazy. He doesn't understand how she can read when he's watching the game. But he rather likes her being this close to him, and if the game gets really good, she'll toss the book aside and scream at the TV too.
"What are you talking about?"
"I mean, you're always here, and Kurt's always by your place with Blaine and I know this is actually a bachelors pad designed by Kurt of course, but he and I aren't exactly bachelors in the strictest sense-," Rachel turns around all the way now, big brown eyes wide as she stares at him.
"You want us to move in together. In our own apartment?"
This sounded so much easier when he was going over what to say in his head. But yes – he wants them to get their own place, designed by him and Rachel (mostly Rachel though.)
His face feels hot but he nods, putting the TV on mute.
"Yes. We're already together, like, some old married couple."
Rachel's nose wrinkles as she laughs silently.
"So, you want us to settle down, buy a house with a picket fence, maybe a dog. Or a cat. Get ready for the 2.5 kids, huh?"
He can see it too. Rachel chasing after a little girl with her smile while he tickles a little boy with her eyes. The only thing their kids will get from him is hopefully the height and drumming skills, he wants as many miniature copies of Rachel as he can possibly get.
Her eyes as are shining as he watches him.
"Yes."
He watches her lips as she purses them in thought. His fingers skim the side of her neck, his thumbs ghosting over her jaw.
"OK."
"OK? Just like that?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Well, we're gonna have to get married first and all."
So, yes, he could have been a lot more suave in his approach but he can feel her pulse quicken under his fingertips as she blinks at him.
He would've preferred to do this the traditional way, dinner at some expensive restaurant with music playing in the background. His mother's ring has been burning a hole in his briefcase forever now. It's hers, it's always been hers. He just hadn't found the perfect time to ask.
"I think that's a fantastic idea," she lets out a breathy sigh.
Rachel doesn't need the fanfare. He could have, but somehow this moment right now is more intimate than whatever spectacular date he could ever have his brother help him plan.
He pulls her into his arms, squeezing her tight as his fireworks explode around him.
He's ridiculously happy right now, and he wants to show her. He nibbles at her jaw while she tries to tug his shirt off his chest.
"You know what we should do?" He breathes against her ear.
"Elope?" She gasps out, clutching at his back as his tongue teases her earlobe..
He drops his head against her shoulder to stifle his laugh. Rachel curses and brings her hand up to cover her face.
He really likes her idea better. She just suggested they run away to get married, and he really tries not to laugh when she curses and tries to backtrack, even though he's whispering yes against her lips and pressing her into the couch.
Artie's a genius.
He's not sure if it's entirely legal when her best friend gets her to sign her vacation forms without her knowing it's her vacation forms. But Artie gives him a thumbs up the morning he drops her off at the firehouse before heading to the airport, so he assumes that's a good thing.
Between her brother and his, his mother and Tina, all plans for the weddings are finalized. From the cake to the napkins to the ribbons around the chairs. Except, it's not at the park Rachel wants it to be held. They both want a small, intimate ceremony, with just a handful of people so he leaves it to their brothers because, well, Kurt's been planning his wedding since they were ten. And his wedding to Rachel since the day he introduced them.
And lately, Kurt and Blaine have this look of complete adoration whenever they look at each other, Rachel notices it and she encourages it because no, it wouldn't be weird at all if their brothers started dating, right?
"Leave them alone, Finn. Blaine's not been this giddy in forever, Kurt's good for him." She chastises, poking him in the side when they're out one evening. Their brothers are giving each other goo-goo eyes and Kurt stutters a lot when Blaine says anything to him. He's happier, and that's always a good thing, so, he leaves them be.
He scores first-class tickets for their extended family of twelve, although Santana's smart-alecky remarks tempts him to downgrade her seat to coach. (She threatens to cut his balls off and spill the beans to Rachel and only when his brother finds him researching countries with no extradition treaties with the US does he leave it alone.)
Kurt promises him an unforgettable ceremony, and when they come back to the States, they'll have a proper reception and he immediately forgets about Santana because, in three days, he's marrying the woman of his dreams.
The hard part was getting her to the airport without her catching on that he was taking her away to the Caribbean so they could get married.
She complains about the blindfold on the way there, and gives him a funny look when she sees both their parents and brothers waiting for them with Santana, Puck, Artie and Tina.
"What's going on?"
"It's just a weekend away Hobbit. Sun, sea and no inhibitions." Santana grins, twirling her straw hat in her hands.
"A weekend away? With our parents and you lot?"
Rachel turns to him with a frown on her face, hands on her hips.
"What're you up to?"
"Me?" His face is a picture of innocence. He's not up to anything.
"Rachel, sweetie. Shall we?"
Her daddy walks over and takes her hand, winking at Finn as he and her father walk her away. He doesn't see her again until the ceremony two das later and he almost runs down the sand to take her from her fathers.
Her lips wobble the entire ceremony, but she doesn't cry. She looks radiant in her lace dress, hair cascading down her shoulders, wearing little make-up. They're all barefoot, so she's even shorter than ever in front of him. He slips the ring his father had given his mother so long ago, and he hears his mother's sniffles get louder when he says his vows.
Rachel grows ten feet in front of him when she sings her vows to him and their audience fades away so it's just her and him on golden sand while the sun sets behind them. Her voice is like music, and better than he'd ever imagined and when the rabbi pronounces them as husband and wife, he whispers that forever isn't long enough for him to love her, right before she jumps in his arms and tackles him to the ground with her kiss.
On her birthday, she tells him they're pregnant - well, she's pregnant obviously - and she basically one-ups him on the surprise.
He makes plans with his mother and Kurt to take Rachel and Blaine out for a day of pampering and shopping, pretending that he has to go to the airport and tells her that he'll meet them for dinner that night.
Then their fathers and Tina invade his house and kicks him out of his own kitchen.
Mercedes, who's visiting from LA with her boyfriend Matt, arrives later in the afternoon with Puck and Santana, barking orders and bossing him around while they decorate his living and dining rooms. Really, he's only there to move furniture and hang stuff in the places they can't reach while their husbands sit in his den and watch the game with Burt and Hiram.
"Finn, you're hanging the banner crooked, one of the 'P' in HAPPY isn't even showing."
He adjusts the banner again, before Santana tells him yet again that one of the letters isn't showing. He growls at her and opens the door leading to the den and, none too gently, pushes her in, ignoring Tina and Mercedes' snicker when he stomps back out.
Tina's phone rings and she squeaks, yelling out that they're at the corner and almost here.
He's standing in front of the door, beneath the still crooked banner when his mother pushes the door open. Blaine and Rachel are both wearing blindfolds and his wife is dressed in a pretty summer dress and sandals, her hair braided over her shoulder, her skin looking like gold against the white of her summer dress. When Kurt unties their blindfold, she shrieks and grabs onto her brother when everyone in the rom shouts out
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
She glares playfully when she spots him, stretching up on her toes to kiss him. She wraps her arms around his neck and Kurt has to tug her free from his arms so she and Blaine can go around and meet their guests.
He's in the kitchen refilling glasses of pink champagne (he doesn't drink, but Rachel and Blaine both like the stuff) when she come in and presses her cheek into the space at his back between his shoulders.
"Having a good time?"
She dips under his arms as he turns and smiles, nodding her head.
"Thank you. My brother was really not looking forward to another boring birthday dinner again. I think he has plans with Kurt tonight."
"Please, stop. Whatever my brother gets up to on his own, I don't wanna know." He groans and drops his forehead against hers.
Rachel giggles and pats his cheek.
"Get used to it. As a matter of fact, I'm seeing two more parties like this in the near future."
He pulls away to hand her a glass but she shakes her head, wrinkling her nose.
"What? What's wrong? You never refuse pink champagne," he teases.
She lifts a shoulder and pulls a box wrapped in birthday wrapping paper with a ribbon top from her dress pocket and holds it out to him.
"So, I know it's my birthday, but I think it's the best time to give you a present."
"I think you're forgetting how this works. I'm supposed to be giving you a present, not the other way around."
She nibbles at her bottom lip and tugs at her braid.
"Yeah, but I think this works both ways." She pushes the box closer to him. "Open it."
He tugs the ribbon apart, and tears the paper away from the lid, opening it. There's a pair of shoes, way too small for him, or Rachel inside. He looks up at her with a frown and she nods. Underneath the shoes, is a blurry black and white picture with yesterday's date and Hudson, Rachel typed neatly in the top corner.
His eyes fly up to hers and she's grinning, smile wide and bright.
"We're pregnant?" He asks hoarsely.
Rachel nods. "Six weeks. No morning sickness or anything, but I've wanting to eat bacon and I almost stole a piece of chicken from Blaine's plate at lunch -,"
He swoops her up in his arms, kissing her until she's gasping for breath. She buries her face in his neck as he whispers her loves her over and over and she pulls away to cover his mouth.
"Are we telling the others now? I really want to tell my brother."
He promptly marches to the living room with her arms around his neck and shouts out to the room, "WE'RE HAVING A BABY!"
He was dog-tired. Santana is picking him up from the airport and he gives her a lazy wave, mumbles a greeting and falls asleep as soon as he reclines the seat in the car. He really needs to get a new flight route, international flights were the longest and the hardest and he really hates being away from Rachel that long.
"Rachel's at the animal shelter, Blaine's dropping her home about 3pm or so, so you have a couple of hours to get some sleep because you look like hell."
He chuckles and nods at her, offering another lazy wave as he trudges up the stairs. He barely has time to shrug out of his uniform before collapsing on the bed, succumbing to sleep.
When he wakes up again it's to someone digging into his side.
"Finn."
He grunts a response, pressing the pillow harder over his head.
"You need to get up."
He doesn't need to do anything besides go back to sleep. He's tired and his bed is warm and comfortable and soft and as soon as whoever is poking him in the side stops he can go back to the land of dreams.
"Baby."
He fakes a snore and Rachel smacks him hard on the butt. He jerks awake, turning to glare at the clock that's blearing 7:23pm before turning to his wife.
"Your daughter is coming!" She blurts out before he has a chance to speak.
It takes him three seconds of grumbling to figure out what Rachel just said before he jumps up, falls of the bed, nearly knocking the lamp off the bedside table in his rush to grab his keys.
"OK! We have a plan right?"
He whirls around to his wife again, trying to remember what he's supposed to do when this happened. She's told him before and he always remembers every time she asks him. Just. Not right now. Rachel is sitting up in bed, her legs spread open and a large wet spot on her yellow and green striped sheets.
He stares at it and then at her before Rachel screams at him to go get her bag and the car. He pulls on sweatpants before grabbing her bag from inside the nursery Blaine and Kurt had designed before running back to their bedroom.
He helps his heavily pregnant wife to put on new pants and lifts her easily in his arms, rushing out the door and into the car. She's six days overdue and irritable and screaming at him to just get to the hospital already.
And Rachel is loud. She's screaming and she's cussing him and she's doing those breathing exercises she does at those baby classes and he's the one crying because his wife is in pain. And apparently it's his fault.
Blaine and Kurt meet them at the hospital when he calls them in tears. They're fidgeting beside a nurse with a wheelchair when he pulls up outside emergency. He tosses Kurt his keys and lifts Rachel in his arms again.
"How far apart are her contractions?"
"I don't know."
He winces as Rachel squeezes his hand hard when he lowers her into the chair. She refuses to let go of him as they lead her towards a room and she literally growls at the nurse when they tell her he has to wait outside.
"He is not going anywhere! He did this to me so everything I suffer, so will he! Ow. Ow! OW!"
He'd prefer to go back to war than to watch his wife in pain.
He holds her hand when they tell her to push. Brushes her hair back when she screams and kisses her tears away when the happy sounds of a very loud baby girl fills the room. They place a pink, squirming baby in Rachel's arms and there's a tiny twinge of jealousy at the look of absolute awe Rachel gives their new baby girl.
But when she looks up at him with the same look of adoration, holding out the baby to him, he touches her hand with his finger and a soft little pink fist closes around his finger and his heart swells with love for the woman and the little girl in her arms. She's perfect. They both are.
"Leah Carole Hudson," she whispers, smiling at him. "Meet Daddy."
"Hey."
He looks over his shoulder at the doorway and Rachel is standing there, rubbing her eyes as she yawns. She's dressed in sleep shorts and one of his USMC t-shirts that's way too big and still manages to look sexy on her.
"Hey foxy momma. Why aren't you sleeping?"
She stretches and walks into the room, rubbing her fingers through her short hair. She brushes a hand over Caleb's hair and the baby wiggles sleepily in his arms.
"Hmmm. Even asleep he knows when his mommy is around."
His wife chuckles and kisses his hair and then presses her lips to Caleb's forehead.
"Mommy wants to sleep but your big sister is in the bed kicking like a footballer," she whispers against her son's cheek, kissing him again.
He laughs and holds his son close to his chest.
"So put her back in hers."
Rachel gives him a look and then snorts.
"Since Johannah told her about monsters last week she refuses to sleep in her own bed. She's been having nightmares, trouble sleeping." She yawns again and rubs her eyes.
"Is that why… that little shit. Ten to one she watched some movie with her father. Puck's a dick."
"Finn!"
She smacks him on the shoulder and peers down at Caleb.
"Rach, he's barely a month old."
"Swear jar."
He rolls his eyes and laughs lightly at her, pressing his nose into his son's hair. He loves the baby's smell, it's comforting, relaxing and part of home. His son is the spitting image of his mother already, Rachel's nose and most obviously, Rachel's voice.
"Don't worry. I'll talk to Leah in the morning."
"You?" Rachel snorts and covers her mouth with her hand. "Sweetie, she has you wrapped around her little finger. Instead of checking for monsters in her closet, she'll have you kicking down the door and go in with guns blazing. All Rambo-style."
He laughs at her as she settles at his feet, staring up at him while he rocks Caleb in his arms. His son is fast asleep, but as soon as he got in from the airport, it was the second place he checked. It's ridiculous how much he misses the little guy.
They sit there a while longer, watching Caleb sleeping. He's tired, he misses staying home, but he flew his last international flight today. He's always gone too long and too often, and his daughter is having nightmares and he didn't know why.
"Alright. Bedtime."
Rachel gets up from the floor and takes their son from his arms, laying him gently in his crib. The little guy turns his head to the side, his mouth puckering as he stretches in his sleep.
"Come on super Daddy. Let's get you out of that uniform and into bed. I'll make you muffins for breakfast. With some scrambled eggs, bacon, orange juice. How's that sound?"
She wraps her arms around his neck, tugging at his collar.
"Rach. You don't eat eggs. Or bacon." He kisses her quickly then pecks her on the nose.
"I don't. But you do. And your daughter loves bacon. And somehow you look like you could do with some of my cooking." She grins and tugs his tie from around his neck, her fingers slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
His fingers creep under hers, skimming over her back, she's not wearing a bra.
"That's not all I can do with right now." He nips at her neck, laughing when she squeals and bends backward in his arms. "C'mon take a shower with me."
She raises an eyebrow at him. "Your daughter is sleeping in our bedroom. A shower with you is not just a shower Finn."
He buries his face in her neck, then pulls back, looking at her lecherously. "Guest bathroom?"
She beats him there.
He's been sick all week, coughing and wheezing and running a high temperature. Rachel keeps feeding him soup and water, shoving antibiotics down his throat. He hates pills, he hates getting sick, and he hates even more not seeing his kids or kissing his wife. Rachel is basically keeping him quarantined.
She does kiss his cheek though when she gives him his medicine, watching him like a hawk as he swallows the vile-tasting liquid. She giggles and leaves him in bed, ordering him to go back to sleep.
He manages to doze off slightly but wakes up when he feels someone watching him. His eyes open to see the big brown of eyes of Caleb staring at him from beside the bed, one of Rachel's breathing masks over his face. He shakes his head, chuckling at his son.
"Hey buddy, you're not supposed to be in here, remember? Don't wanna get you sick. Go back to your room."
Caleb nods, his hair flopping over his face. He nods and brushes it back, then holds up his panda bear, offering it to his father.
It's his favourite toy. He won it for Rachel at Coney Island when she was pregnant with Caleb; it was the first toy to go in his crib when he came home from the hospital. He neverparts with it.
"Are you sure, buddy? I mean, I know Pan protects you and stuff."
His sons head bobs and his voice is muffles when he speaks. "Only when you're not around Daddy. He's gonna help you feel better, promise."
He sits up on his elbow, hiding a cough behind his hand. He gingerly takes the teddy bear from his son with his other hand, smiling widely at the little boy.
"Thanks Caleb."
Rachel shouts for him, threatening if he's anywhere near his father she'll tan his behind.
"Go on, before your mother gets even more crazy."
"Love you Daddy!" Caleb waves as he runs out.
"Love you too kiddo."
He falls back against the pillow, Pan on his chest. He lets sleep pull him under, and somehow he dreams of the day he first met Rachel, the day all this became possible: stuffy noses, favourite toys, monsters in the closet and all.
His eyes slip open slowly and he blinks a few times.
"CLEAR!" Someone shouts and then someone else calls out, "Dave, wait! His eyes are open!"
He blinks a couple more times, the light overhead too bright it hurts his eyes, making him groan.
"Sir? Can you hear me? Squeeze my finger if you can hear me!"
He feels the soft pressure of a finger on his hand and his chest fucking burns when he tries to take a breath. He squeezes a little hard and for too long.
He can't breathe. It hurts to breathe.
"Good, good." It's a woman, the voice murmuring above him, the smell of lavender washes over him again as she fusses over him, her hands moving sure at his chest and checking on the prickling pain in his hand. His eyes close again as pain radiates from where her fingers touch, spreading outward.
"Ugh."
"Sir? Do you know where you are?" It's a man's voice this time, gruff but concerned.
Where he 'are' is in a whole lot of fucking pain. He can smell antibiotics and he's almost sure that's a siren he hears screaming in his ears. He's in an ambulance. He'd rather go back to the awesome dream he'd been having.
He wheezes when he tries to talk, starts coughing.
"Shhh. Don't worry, we're almost there."
His eyes open and land on an IV swinging in front of him. A woman with long hair, wrapped around her head checks it, her hand in a bloody glove. He feels a bit woozy, the pain a dull throb in his upper body.
"We're almost there Finn, hang in there." The woman turns to look down at him and offers him a small smile.
He has to blink to make sure he's not seeing things, holding onto consciousness as his head starts to feel fuzzy again. He moves his eyes to the ID card pinned to her chest.
Rachel Berry.
He stares at her. Big brown eyes, that nose, that pretty smile, that mole on her cheek he fell in love with. It's her.
Rachel.
The woman from his dreams.
Literally.
A/N2: This was really fun to write, and I'm sorry it's so short or rushed, just wanted to get it out. What'dya think?