DISCLAIMER: I neither own Glee nor the characters. They are the property of Ryan Murphy and FOX. This is purely for fun. Enjoy :)

A/N: Me Voila! The Minsk here with a new story for you all. I hope you enjoy it; Lots of spoilers/speculations for the back-nine! Because we all know that fanfiction helps ease the pain of hiatus-itis!

I would like to inform the masses that the speculation for this story was inspired by both the Entertainment Tonight clip from 2/15 and the many Finchel-related conversations I have with hope813 over possible outcomes in the back-nine. For those of you who haven't seen the clip, go do it now or prepared to be spoiled. As for Hope813 and The Minsk, we will speculate until the cows come home, and then write fanfics about it. You can't stop us. Can't Stop, Won't Stop! Holla! LOL :)

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Chapter One: Drunk Dial

Finn Hudson sat at a dining room table in a crowded house surrounded by people he recognized from school. At least, he thought he could recognize them all; his vision was getting a little blurry. They all stood around him in a circle and chanted him on to victory. Wait, what victory? What were they saying again? He focused on the background noise he'd tried to ignore. "Drink! Drink! Drink!" Oh, now he remembered what he was supposed to be doing! He picked up the little shot glass and downed it without flinching. He'd stopped flinching hours ago. . .

"Yeah! Hudson, For The Win!" He heard various screams behind him and tried as hard as he could not to think about the abundance of liquor swirling around in his system. If he did, he was sure it would all come up, and he did not want to be the one kid at the party who ralphed into Mrs. Stevenson's Vase Collection. Someone leaned over him and poured him another shot of the dark, burning liquid that set his throat on fire.

"One more Hudson, and you beat the all-time shot record for a Stevenson party!" The crowd of drunk teenagers cheered him on and he picked up the shot, closed his eyes, and swallowed the harsh liquid that left his face feeling hot and tingly. The crowd erupted into screams of victory and he felt people patting him on the back and congratulating him on his Iron Stomach. He burped and had to choke back the feeling of bile rushing into his mouth. He didn't know whether he felt miserable or fantastic.

A girl came up to him and sat on his lap. He smiled drunkenly at her and could barely make out any definitive features of her face. The alcohol had been in his system for hours now and the addition of the record-breaking shots weren't helping his coordination at all. But she was a girl in a cheerleading uniform and that was all that mattered at the moment. She giggled on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Wow Finn, you're on a roll tonight! First the basketball game, now the record for Stevenson Shots? I think someone deserves a prize!"

He smiled and let the girl plant kisses on his face and neck. It felt so nice to have a warm body pressed up against him, even if he didn't know her name. His mind was a fog of alcohol and in his drunken haze, he envisioned the one girl whose name and face he could remember at the moment, and let his imagination do the rest. He wrapped his arms around her and carried her into the next room where there were less people to watch them make out.

He leaned the two of them against a wall and attached his lips to hers. She felt so good in his arms, he just had to let her know how he felt. . .

"Oh Rachel. . ." The kissing stopped. The arms around his neck detached and the girl pushed him backwards away from her.

"Rachel? Who the hell is Rachel? My name is Bonnie!" Finn looked at her in a daze. How could she not know who Rachel was? Rachel was the nicest, most talented person he knew!

"Rachel Berry? You don't know her? She's awesome." He slurred out the words and realized that the room was starting to spin all around him and it made his head hurt. He felt a hard slap against the side of his face and his attention was brought back to the tiny girl in the red Cheerios uniform.

"Did you just call me Rachel Berry?" She said with venom in her tone. He, like the drunk idiot he was, just smiled and nodded his head.

"Yeah, she's the best." He heard the girl let out a strangled scream and she slapped him a second time before walking out of the room and back towards the party. His stomach rolled in a powerful lurch and the room started to spin even more. Before he knew what was going on, he ran towards the nearest vase and emptied the contents of his stomach into the pottery.

He grabbed his coat from the pile by the door and walked out of the party into the cold night without saying a word to anyone.

He rubbed his hands together in the cold, trying to get warm. He had wandered pretty far from the party and wound up in the town park, not too far from his house. He used to play here all the time when he was a kid. This playground held many memories he couldn't recall at the moment because of his intoxicated state. He sat down on one of the swings and pressed his forehead against the freezing chains. He sat there for a minute, letting his weight push him around slightly on the swing. He knew he couldn't go home looking and feeling like this. He needed some time to sober up.

He couldn't clear his mind. It was too much of a haze, like a giant cloud of drunkenness in his head. He was only positive about two things:

1) He felt disgusting and his mouth tasted like barf.

2) He really wanted to talk to Rachel.

He couldn't though, and he knew it. He had treated her like such crap these past few weeks and she deserved much better than a drunk jock calling her up in the middle of the night for no reason. She was on his mind all the time, though. That was obvious through his experience with. . . what was her name again. . .Bonnie? Yeah, Bonnie.

He could remember seeing her at the game they had won today. Rachel was cheering him on from the stands in a bright blue "Team Finn" t-shirt and he flat-out ignored her. Hell, he'd even felt embarrassed- for himself and for her. He'd been a douche to her, but he needed to hear her voice.

He pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and looked at it like it held all the answers to his drunken questions. He looked for her number and pressed the green button. It started to ring and he held his breath. . .

"Hello?"

Rachel Berry tossed and turned in her comfortable bed and got wrapped up in her pink sheets. She got up, frustrated, and re-made her bed to smooth out the tangle of linens she had caught herself in. She looked at the clock. It was almost 2 AM and she knew she would never be able to get a decent night's sleep with her mind traveling a mile a minute. She turned her desk lamp on and picked up the newest issue of Jazz Hands Magazine, her favorite publication, from her nightstand. She was reading an interesting article on the "50 Most Practical Uses for Tap-Shoes Off of the Dance Floor" when she heard her phone start to ring.

Who could be calling her so late at night? She jumped off of her bed to run across the room and looked at the caller ID.

It was Finn.

She froze in her skin.

Finn hadn't talked to her in weeks. Not in Glee, not in Spanish, not even in the hallways at school. He was Popular Finn again, and he made it clear that he was off limits to anyone NOT in a Cheerios uniform. Especially freaky Glee girls who wear bright Blue "Team Finn" t-shirts to his home games. . .

She frowned. Could this be a trick, like the games he used to play before they met? Would she answer the phone only to be harassed by one of his jock friends? Would he hang up on her and tell all his friends that she was pathetic and obsessive and tried to call him at 2AM?

Her heart beat her logic in her internal battle and she picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

Finn almost fell off the swing. She answered the phone!

"Rachel!" He heard a long pause.

"Yeah?"

"It's me, it's Finn! Finn Hudson!"

"Yes, Finn, I know who you are." There was an even longer pause and he thought she had hung up. "So, what's up? It's pretty late Finn."

He paused. He hadn't thought that far ahead, all he'd wanted was to hear her voice.

"Um, nothing, just hanging around. I'm in a park!" He was excited to be in a park. Parks were fun!

"A park?"

"Yeah, Abbott's Field. I'm on the swings. Swinging is cool!" He heard another long pause and then a deep exhale.

"Are you drunk, Finn?"

"Yes I am." He said matter-of-factly.

"Let me guess, victory party at Dan Stevenson's house?"

"You're right! You're always right, you're so smart Rachel!"

"Oh no. Finn Hudson, you are not doing this to me! You are drunk dialing me! I do not condone the imbibing of alcohol and for you to drink in excess and wind up in such a mental state is completely irresponsible!"

"You use big words Rachel. I can barely understand you when you speak." He said with an amused tone to his voice.

"UGH!" He laughed at the funny sound she made in frustration. "So why did you call me Finn? Shouldn't you be playing Beer Pong or something?"

"No, I left the party."

"Why?"

"I threw up in Mrs. Stevenson's vase collection after a cheerleader slapped me for calling her Rachel while we made out."

Well that was a mouthful of a sentence! She tried to envision the words that just came out of his mouth and it took all her willpower not to scream into the phone or hang up on him. He threw up. . .after a cheerleader slapped him. . .for calling her "Rachel". . .while making out. . .

"Are you serious?" She sat down on her bed to help support her. Her legs were not working at the moment.

"Yep. We started to kiss," Rachel winced, "and I called her Rachel. And she got really mad. I mean really mad. She slapped me twice. She should have known it was like a compliment almost, 'cause you're so nice and talented and stuff."

Thank God she was sitting down now. She was sure she would have keeled over if she was standing on her own legs. He hadn't even looked in her general direction for the past few weeks and now he's telling other girls, other cheerleaders, that it's a compliment to be compared to her? Did he drink alcohol or huff Upholstery Cleaner?!?

"Um, thank you Finn."

"It's true though. And if only you were, like, a little bit popular and stuff, we would totally be dating."

She felt all the air blow out of her like a hole in a tire. Well, at least he was honest when he was drunk. It might hurt like hell, but honesty was better than living a fantasy.

"Oh," was all she said. She knew she had to get off the phone soon or else she was really going to scream.

"Anyways, I'm glad you picked up the phone. I miss you." She could still hear the slight slurring in his voice, but it was a little better than when she had answered the phone, so she hoped he was sobering up a little bit. She couldn't help the warmth she'd felt in her chest when he said that he missed her. She missed him more than anything.

"I miss you too, Finn. I should get going." Before I start to cry. . .

"Yeah, I should head home. It's cold outside."

"Goodnight, Finn."

"Goodnight, Rachel."

She hung up the phone and berated herself for the one tear that fell from her eye during the final part of their conversation. She laid back down in bed with no intention of going to sleep. He'd sounded very drunk. There was a pretty good chance he wouldn't even remember their conversation. It's not like they had said much, but he had drunk dialed her. There were two parts of their conversation that stuck out to Rachel the most, like confessions or something.

"We started to kiss and I called her Rachel. . ."

"If only you were, like, a little bit popular and stuff, we would totally be dating. . ."

She felt a smile form on her face.

She had an idea.

Salut Mes Amis!

I hope you enjoyed chapter one! I have a good feeling about this story!

Until Next Time. . . *sings* Don't Stop . . . Reviewing!

Merci Mille Fois

The Minsk