Turkey
The following takes place in season one between Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson. This is a one-shot, meaning there will be no further chapters updated beyond this. (You'll just have to use your imagination.) Enjoy!
Ding! The dismissal bell wailed, and most students couldn't wait to get out of school. It was a Friday, which meant that the weekend was ahead of them. Naturally, it was what they looked forward to most throughout the week.
There's always that one student, though, that is set apart from the rest. In this case, it happened to be Rachel Berry. Unlike her classmates, she loved school. It was an opportunity for her to showcase her talent and superior intellect. Most people didn't pay attention, so it didn't really matter. In her mind, though, this was simply a diversion tactic. They cared. They just didn't want to admit it.
She stood at her locker, her hair parted nearly, as always. She was practicing singing into her mirror again. The mark of any good singer was practicing to yourself in the mirror. She learned her own facial expressions; she loved seeing the joy and ache pour out of her soul. She assumed others did, too.
"Uh, hey." Her thoughts and splendor were interrupted by a tall, awkward figure towering over her. Finn Hudson smiled warmed, though, again, awkwardly. She smiled back.
How could she not? He rubbed his nose. His expression was a bit blank, and he looked tired.
"Hello, Finn! Did you come to get lessons? I'm all booked today. The boy that Sandy Ryerson used to tutor was…" Her voice trailed off into a whine. He squinted his eyes. How did she do that? he wondered. "Uh, no, actually," he interrupted her without realizing. "I was actually hope maybe we could uh, go bowling, or get pizza or something." He stood for a moment, the expression on her face speaking for itself. "You know, to like, talk?" He stood for another moment before flashing a reassuring smile.
Finn didn't seem like much of the talking type, but she empathized. "I would be honored," she said enthusiastically. It was just pizza, right?
—
He didn't pick her up. She wouldn't let him, even after he offered her a ride. She couldn't exactly be seen fraternizing with the enemy; she didn't want it for him, either. If his single-celled friends caught him talking to someone like her, she was for sure they'd give him a wedgie. Or, whatever infantile hazing ritual boys that age usually took park in.
She arrived promptly at 7:45. She was actually early. She expected everyone to be. She frowned when she didn't see him. Did he forget? Or did he stand her up? Either way, it was an insult. No one could exactly forget Rachel Berry, not even if they wanted to. (But why would they want to?)
Just as these thoughts flooded her mind, he plopped himself down in front of her at the table near lane six. "Hey," he said. "Sorry. I had to find clean socks." Her nose wrinkled. She was glad he cared about his feet; it was a sign of good character.
She ran her hand through her long, brunette hair. She wasn't sure what he needed to talk about, but she wasn't exactly complaining. "So," she started. "What services did you require of me today?" He snapped out of whatever momentary daze he was in. "Right," he said and walked over to pick up a shiny, pink ball.
"We need to get our hands dirty," he said, almost coyly.
"…But my morning ritual requires three top layer scrubs of my hands, Finn." She looked at him expectantly. 'They'll get dirty."
He took in a sigh, rolling his eyes playfully. "That's your problem. You need to loosen up. The best way to function as a team is being able to relax around them," he said as he sat to tie his over-sized shoes up. "And bowling is the perfect way to relax. You can stink up the place and no one will care." He shrugged, looking back up at her with his caramel brown eyes. She loved them.
She bit her lip hesitantly. What if she was seen? Bowling? What would the Broadway blogs have to say about that? "Here," he said as he cut her train of thought. "It's easy, I'll show you."
All in one motion, he pulled her from her seat and over to the lane, lining her up with the pins. "Now, just throw," he said. He figured that, given her size, it wasn't much of a threat. Wam! The ball rolled down the lane and unceremoniously flopped into the gutter, her lips forming into a frown.
He cringed a little. "Okay, so it's your first time," he said. She looked at him incredulously. "I'm horrible," she murmured. That made him frown. "No, you're not. You're still not relaxing." He reached down and grabbed the ball again.
"Here." He stood next to her; the smell of his cologne wafted and he towered over her, showing her how to properly hold the ball. She was in a momentary daze and didn't pay attention again until he said, "Sounds simple, right?"
She gulped. Totally simple. He helped her line up again. Wam! The ball smacked down the lane with the force of two bowling balls. There was a difference this time, though. It made it.
A little red "X" appeared on the screen. "Is that good?" she said, hands folded anxiously. He grinned, unable to prevent himself. "Means you got a strike!" He gave her a low-five, letting her try on her own the next time. Wam!
She made it again. Another "X" appeared. At this point, she was feeling a bit cocky; he had three pins less than her, according to him. She couldn't tell whether or not he was just saying that, or whether it was the truth. She trusted him, though.
"One more time and you'll have a turkey," he said enthusiastically. He could never get one; his luck always stopped at two.
She licked over her lips and made a concentrated face. She kissed the ball before throwing it back down the lane. Wam!, it said after it whizzed down the lane, making a slight whistling noise.
Her eyes widened and she jumped up and down before pulling him into a tight hug. He smiled, not really feeling awkward until she pulled away. He looked at her, his grin crooked, but not in a mischievous way. His hair was ruffled cutely and he still smelled like cologne, which was another attractive feature.
Without much thought behind it, she leaned up and kissed him square on the lips. It caught him off guard, but he didn't stop her.
He didn't want her to stop.