Finn hated everything about the supermarket.
He despised the awfulness of the fluorescent lights that shone overhead flooding everything with a creepy sheen. He couldn't stand the fluctuating temperatures, one minute Arctic cold in the freezer section, followed by clammy humidity of the produce section. He hated the monotony of doing the same thing every week, wishing the food in his refrigerator would just refill itself. And Finn wasn't sure if this was true for everyone or just his unfortunate experience but he was guaranteed to always bump into one of the chatty old ladies he knew from the hospital or volunteering with the soup van causing his shopping excursion to drag out even longer. It really bothered Finn that despite their complaints about how busy they were, they seemed to have so much time to talk.
Finn especially hated the overwhelming choice, which was how he found himself staring blankly at cereal. It had been bad enough choosing toilet paper. Two ply. Three ply. Cottonelle. Quilted. Environmentally friendly. Whatever.
And he knew he'd been in the cereal aisle too long but he was stuck staring at the lurid coloured cereal boxes with confusion. There were just so many boxes. And so many colours. Purples and reds, yellows and greens. Should any of them contain such violently bright green, he wondered. That couldn't be good for anyone. But then again, he had inhaled Lucky Charms and Frosted Flakes by the wheelbarrow load as a kid and even now as a grown up too and it hadn't done him any harm. At least, he didn't think so.
On the other hand wasn't frosted just ad speak for sugar covered. Finn knew sugar wasn't good for kids. Sugar highs weren't something easily forgotten. These days the memory of sticky pink cotton candy was more of recurring nightmare that he mightn't recover from. He imagined Lucky Charms chewed up and spat on his dining room floor. That was a likely outcome. Or worse, vomited all over any of his shirts like the vicious pink slushie stain that now eternally graced his favourite Henley. None of those experiences beared repeating.
He supposed Marley also remembered the pink stain and the vomit and the white shirt that she'd apologetically scrubbed a hole in even though the vomit wasn't her fault and that was why she had instructed him more strictly this time. Toast, she'd said. More specifically, wholemeal toast with scrambled egg. Or grilled cheese. Stick with his strengths. She'd laughed at his basic breakfast incompetence despite his previous life of Afghanistan tour of duty's. Finn wasn't offended though, he knew he deserved her good humoured scorn.
Feeling incredibly guilty about the vomit, not to mention the tugging of his heartstrings at hearing the tiny sobs, he always listened to Marley's careful and deliberate instructions now.
But, still, wholemeal toast was so boring. And healthy. And he wasn't going down the baked bean route. His conscience fought with his sense of adventure as he dutifully placed porridge into the cart. Since he had some straight from the hive honey Brittany had given him he could liven it up with that. And no doubt he'd regret it but he tossed some Fruity Pebbles in as well. Everyone deserved a sugary treat occasionally, he thought, wincing internally.
Taking stock of the contents of the cart; cereal, porridge, toilet paper, whole milk, cheese, raspberries and bananas, Finn decided he was done and steered towards the checkout. He joined a line and decided that queueing was another reason he hated shopping. He'd been caught out before, swapping and changing queues, and nothing good had come of it. A short queue just meant that a customer in that line would have some stupid issue, need an item price checked or would form a close and personal bond with the checkout person and their secrets needed to be shared right there and then. Being patient was the only way to get through this domestic nightmare.
Waiting behind a lady with a cart piled so high with canned goods he assumed there was an apocalypse coming he was unaware of, Finn slumped over the front of his own cart and took a withering look at the tabloids calling out to him to impulse buy. He scoffed at stories that announced in bold letters that aliens were spotted in Columbus and that Elvis wasn't dead, but alive and well, recouping his fortune at Bingo nights in Ohio. His eye was drawn away from ridiculous news to mostly mean headlines on the magazines fronting the celebrity gossip. Capturing his attention were grainy pictures of a couple that dug a hole in his stomach and scratched at his throat.
Bickering on Broadway. He knew he shouldn't even look. It had nothing to do with him. Both of those people existed in an entirely different place. A different universe really. They couldn't have less in common. They'd shared a past over seven years ago. She hadn't chosen him. They were over. Nothing. So, Finn had locked that person in a cage, and draped a black curtain over that cage and shoved that cage to the darkest part of his brain.
But that person was Rachel Berry. No, Finn corrected himself. That person was Rachel St. James.
Finn picked up the magazine despite his best interests. It wouldn't hurt to look. And he wasn't going to read the article. Just look at the headlines. Just look at the cover.
The picture might have been grainy but he could see that it was Rachel and Jesse in the street outside a New York City brownstone. Alone, singular pictures could be taken out of context. But together the series depicted an argument.
Arms wide apart, tense stance, head rigid, jaw tight, Rachel was mad. It was still all familiar to him. Flashbacks to furious high school Rachel hit Finn in a visceral way. Even worse, the bitterness of their last fight washed over him. He tasted bile.
It was none of his business. Rachel and Jesse were none of his business. Their fights were nothing to do with him. He didn't care.
Except for when he did. Sometimes, and he would die before he would admit it, the cage that he'd imprisoned her memory in would show up at the forefront of his brain. The black cape draped over the cage would rise with a flourish and freaking Rachel Berry, because in his brain she would always be Rachel Berry, would be freed, standing on top like a magician doing an old Houdini trick.
Angrily, he stuffed the magazine back in the rack.
"I wouldn't have thought that trash filled rag would interest you, Finn Hudson."
Startled, Finn swung around bumping his hip in the sharp edge of the shopping cart. Rubbing the ache, Finn was stunned to see Rachel standing behind him holding a basket. Never having the quickest wit, Finn was surprised how easily he quipped, "I just think those Kardashian women deserve better boyfriends, don't you?"
Rachel's face didn't hide her scepticism at his lie, but Finn purposely kept his face blank. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of any emotion, not happiness, not surprise, not shock, not after the way they parted.
"Are your Dad's ok?" Finn could think of no other reason why Rachel would have come back to the town where she clearly had never belonged.
"They are fine. I just have some business to take care of. I'm staying with them for a few weeks and needed to pick up some essentials."
Finn nosily peeked into the basket she was clutching tightly. "Organic peanut butter. Almond milk. Blueberries. Coconut water. Green tea. Essentials. Right."
He was aware he was being abrupt. Rude even. It was too easy. He started loading his groceries onto the conveyor belt. It gave him something to do and he didn't have to look at Rachel's face. Her undeniably beautiful face.
Rachel bristled, her voice pitched high. "They are essential to me." In retaliation her head tilted, indicating the Fruity Pebbles, "Still eating like a four year old, I see."
"Yep," Finn nodded sagely, ignoring how close to the truth she was. Rachel was insignificant. She didn't need to know anything about Finn's life. "You know me. Nothing ever changes with me. Same old Finn."
"I'm sure that's not true."
Finn recognised the conciliatory tone. It was used with a baited statement designed to open him up. And seven years ago it would have worked, and Finn would've laid himself bare to Rachel for a dose of her sympathy kisses and sweet supportive words, but Finn was older now.
He shrugged, not committing either way. "So, it was nice to see you, Rachel," Finn smiled at the checkout operator and handed her the money and put his paper bag back into the cart, "But I really have somewhere to be. Someone waiting for me, you know."
"Sure," Rachel sounded choked up but gave Finn a wide smile. He could not forget how good an actress she was. "Have a nice night, Finn."
Caging Rachel back into the dark recesses of his brain Finn pushed the cart over to his truck, putting the bag of groceries on the passenger seat. He slotted the cart into the conga line home of the other carts.
He drove to his destination from the supermarket, knowing the route to Marley's cute little cottage in his sleep and without a single thought of Rachel. He had more important stuff crowding her out.
An infectious wide ass grin that couldn't be helped lit up Finn's face as he knocked on the front door. Smiling, as a harried looking Marley answered the door, he leant down and kissed her on the cheek, "Hey, Mama Rose."
"Hi Finn," she smiled back, returning to work, collecting up the toys littering the floor and putting them in the pink boxes scattered strategically around the room. "Thanks for this, by the way. I wouldn't have asked because I hate screwing with the schedule but Renee was sick and I have to be available for night shifts to have any hope of a promotion."
"It's cool, Marley. You know I'm always here for you. Whatever you need. You'll be a great head nurse. That promotion is definitely yours." Finn helped her pick up the room and headed down the hall to the pale yellow room he'd helped paint.
Finn watched from the doorway as his daughter's body, taut with tension, stacked coloured blocks carefully on top of each other. He couldn't help the peal of laughter escaping as the little girl huffed with frustration as the tower of blocks she'd painstakingly built toppled over.
"Daddy, you here!"
Finn scooped up his baby, smothering kisses on her head, on both of her rosy cheeks and the tip of her button nose. "Mia. My Mia. Mia Cara. My darling."
"Daddy! Daddy! Stop. Tickles!" Mia's joyful giggles strangled Finn's heart. She was impossible not to love. With her soft mop of brown hair, tiny fingers and toes and dark eyes, Mia owned Finn's heart.
"You ready for a sleepover at Daddy's house?" He rearranged Mia onto his shoulders and bent to pick up her overnight bag. She wrapped her arms around Finn's neck, rested her pudgy fists against his cheeks and her chin on the top of his head.
"Yes, Daddy," Mia replied, lovingly, "I ready."
Just a quick edit in response to dumb reviews. Obviously Finn and Rachel are going to end up together. That's why it's in the finchel tag.