So here's the place I'll keep all of my little drabbles. These are the sort of things my best friend and I write to each other as notes, so I'm hoping there'll be a lot of them here.

If you have any words you think I should write off of, send them in a review or Pm and I'll credit you :)

Challenge #1: Touch

[Finchel]

A very pregnant Rachel Berry twirled around the house clutching a small pink blanket, twirling it above her head in a euphoric ballet improvised on the moment. She hummed an old lullaby her fathers used to play on tape for her-they were not musically gifted- and glided on hardwood flooring in her most worn out pair of pink ballet slippers; her lucky pair. As she twirled and danced she scattered more and more pink paraphernalia across the house, spreading it across chairs and tables as she made her way to their spare room.

The pile of pink could be traced to this room, smaller than the master but not completely tiny. It already had various pieces of furniture assembled in it, and one that was half-assembled, left for Finn to do when he came back from work. For now, the room was an organized chaos that made Rachel both anxious and ridiculously happy. Anxious because of the mess, but on cloud nine knowing what the room would be used for, and who would be occupying it in such a short time.

The walls were newly painted, a pale pink matching the quilt that was now draped across the railing of the white-wooded crib. An old pair of Rachel's ballet shoes had been hung on the wall over the crib, and the room itself was filled with pastel butterflies. The wardrobe Rachel's fathers had bought and filled with clothes was on the opposite wall, with picture frames just waiting to be filled on top of it.

Somewhere in the middle of her decorating spree, her simple humming had turned into a full on orchestra, the violins and cellos keeping time to her wild conducting as she danced to the melody of her childhood.

Finn stood in the doorway, watching the dance unfold in blissful silence. These moments were what he came home for, the simple times where he could see Rachel acting outside of her boundaries, simple and carefree. Her baggy T-shirt and sweatpants were endearing, the ballet shoes adding a touch of herself to the outfit that he admired, laughing to himself. She spun around, hitting the climax of her song and going down with a thud onto the floor. Finn raced from his place in the doorway, stepping over the mess she had generated in her song. She was clutching her ankle and moaning, the beginnings of tears reaching her eyes. She bit them back, and when he asked if she was okay she brushed it off, fake-laughing and wiping her eyes.

"Rachel, I've known you since high school, I can tell when you're lying. Let me see your ankle." He took her hand in his and removed it from her ankle, which it had been clutching in desperation. It had begun to swell, a swirl of black and blue starting to form along the bone. "Do you think it's broken?"

"No…I've had enough dance injuries to know that at least it's not broken, just twisted." She groaned again and tried to stand, but he held her down.

"Nope, you're not standing on that ankle just yet." He scooped her up gently and led her to the bedroom, dropping her on the bed and propping her foot on a pillow. Before she could protest, he began to massage her foot delicately, and she drifted off into a peaceful sleep, forgetting about her injury in her dreams.