A Little Less Sixteen Candles

Rachel Berry was really starting to lose any semblance of patience.

She had plans. Lists. Expectations. And each and every one of them was being blown to heck right before her eyes. This was a John Hughes movie coming alive and didn't even have Molly Ringwald to liven things up. The young, pretty, spunky 80's Molly, of course. That's the one her dads always compared her to, not the one waffling around on a crappy cable show in 2009.

At least in those movies the young, undervalued, unconventionally pretty girl had her dreams come alive in the end. For Rachel? She wasn't seeing that in her future anytime soon.

And that's why she was here, waiting, again, for Mr. Schuester to make a decision that could possibly affect the rest of her life. You'd think he would treat it with the severity and respect owed to the situation, but why should this any different than what Rachel had come to expect from life as of late? There he was, big grin and all, saying yes, bring in the next one, we have time, it's not like people have things to do.

Rachel brushed her hair from her neck and heaved a sigh. On her left, Mercedes rolled her eyes, not that Rachel would acknowledge it with a response. To her other side, Kurt hung his head backwards over his seat, practicing his breathing if Rachel was reading his pursed lips right. Tina and Artie were down the way playing paper-rock-scissors with two of New Direction's newest members, while another two watched. And in the row in front of her...

Her insides revolted at the sight.

There was no place for a saccharin, peroxide blonde pop star aspiring voices in New Directions as far as Rachel was concerned. And she'd stated such, very vocally - no pun intended - but it was just like Mr. Schuester to disregard reason and let Quinn Fabray into their hallowed ranks. Quinn Fabray who harassed those she considered the lowly on a daily basis. Quinn Fabray who covered it with a sheen of virginity and self-righteousness in order to maintain her power. Quinn Fabray who currently had Finn Hudson's arm firmly clamped around her shoulders and a look of infuriating smugness on her face.

Rachel had to take several deep breaths from grunting loudly in frustration. Johnny so would have written that character out by now, or at least had Michael Anthony Hall have his way with her so she could be taken down a peg or two. Where the heck was Rachel's cake glowing with candles? Why wasn't Finn on top of her dining table yet?

That's how life was supposed to work, wasn't it?

Apparently not.

Her train of thought was barely broken when Mr. Schuester turned in his seat and apologized to them all. Just a few more, he claims, it's trying, he knows, but it needs to be well-rounded and for that, the group's input is needed. Blah. Blah. Blah. Please. As if he's not going to politely ask for their opinions and then just make whatever decision he wants to, like always.

Rachel knew.

So instead she stared at the heads in the row in front of her, possibly trying to bore holes through the one with a perky ponytail. Of course, in the end, her gaze was brought back to Finn. Like clockwork, maybe even like fate.

For a little while it was easy to ignore the vileness his arm was currently attached to and just gaze at him instead. To take in the sweet tufts of hair on the top of his head, the freckles on his cheeks and the upturn of lips in that half-smile that made her-

Stop.

Just stop.

Rachel closed her eyes and shook her head, just a fraction to each side. Anyone looking at her would suspect she was responding to what was at the front of the room, a boy trying to claim the last open spot in their group with an all-around hideous voice. Only she knew it was her latest technique to center herself when it came to all things Finn Hudson. It came in a long line of many, all eventual failures. She had no high hopes for this one.

When she opened her eyes, Rachel was startled to find Finn half turned in his seat to face her, a pained smile on his face. The kind that said he knew the kid was trying, but could he maybe not? Rachel couldn't help it, she smiled back. Because, fudge it all, despite this mess, Finn was her friend.

Her handsome, heart-quickening, Cheerio-attached friend.

The pain here was more akin to Shakespeare than Hughes, but both of them had some serious insight to the trials of unrequited love.

If Rachel was writing this out, she would have gone the classic way. Finn would have discovered her feelings quite by accident or fallen for her without knowing her purest desires. He would have struggled a bit over breaking up with his long-time girlfriend before being made brutally aware of her true self (how Finn couldn't see the real Quinn as of yet was a mystery of mammoth proportions to Rachel even now) and dumping her immediately. Preferably in public, so Quinn couldn't claim it was mutual like most high school girls did. And so everyone could see what she really was and she could be publicly shunned and ridiculed.

Rachel wasn't asking for much.

Then Finn would find hope in the girl who was truly right for him, possibly go dashing across campus or show up soaking wet on her doorstep (a brief thunderstorm would do, nothing really dramatic) to confess what had been right all along. Add in the cake, the candles, the table and it was magic.

In reality, Finn had figured out how she felt pretty early on and nothing had gone by the book. It was worse in how he was nice about it. He'd had her laughing, momentarily forgetting that he'd just crushed her heart in the kindest way. It had come back to Rachel in a flash of horror, that nothing that had to do with Finn went according to plan.

Then it had broken her heart all over again because Rachel had never planned to feel this much for him.

In her mind, Finn had been on track to be her high school boyfriend. Possibly her first, if he played his cards right (she'd help him lay them out if she had to). But the distance of college would part them in the fondest of farewells, tears on the phone and the sweetness of first love put away in a box. After she dumped her first college boyfriend, a blazing intellectual baritone who had commitment issues, she'd bring out the box, reminisce alone and sigh before moving on. She'd do that for each relationship facing a curtain call, the memories fading but staying just as cherished, forever branded with first chances, first risks, first heartache.

Well, she'd gotten the last one, that's for sure.

It was time for a different plan, but Rachel didn't know where to start. She was off-kilter to say the least. But she knew it was too early to count Finn out. They had more than two years to go before graduation, after all; it was more than enough time to play the closest-female-friend angle, but Rachel was no Watts. And if she could play the seductress, she would, but even Rachel knew it would be years before her wiles in that area were honed. It was a crap shoot either way.

Besides, it wouldn't fit the simplicity of first love. It wouldn't be right. With Finn it had to be as straightforward as she could make it, otherwise the whole thing was only fit for the pooper.

So what next?

Up ahead, Mr. Schuester was saying the same thing, calling up the next, sure to be sub-par contestant. Rachel recoiled when she saw who walked through the door, quickly putting it together with the eager looks Finn and Quinn were trading. After dealing with her initial shock and revulsion, she wondered how in the world Finn had gotten Noah Puckerson to willingly enter the audition room. Surely blackmail had to be involved.

Beside her, Kurt jerked to attention and made a hissy cat noise. Rachel silently agreed and glowered at the boy, who was busy making angry faces at Finn, who in turn had his mouth set in a broad grin.

Every person there, save two, was on the edge of making a comment, but Mr. Schuester silenced them with a glance that was in parts placating, pleading and threatening. Artie still moved his chair back an inch or two and Rachel crossed her arms tightly across her chest. Tina silently gave Puck the finger when Mr. Schuester had turned to face the front again.

If it wasn't so vulgar, Rachel would do the same, because if Quinn was her chief torturer, then Puck was surely her second-in-command. He'd used every opportunity to make life difficult for Rachel, whether it be a used jock strap in her locker or a flat tire every other week. And she knew it was him because only an imbecile such as Puck would walk around with his hands covered in tire grime after the lunch break when they shared History in the next period.

Her dads told her boys like that picked on girls like her because they secretly had a crush, but were to cowardly to admit it. The movie Juno told her the same thing (though Rachel chose to block out that awful song at the end - it still made her shudder to recollect it) and she had to admit the hypothesis had merit. She caught him staring at her chest on a couple of occasions, and not just to toss tiny paper balls to see if they'd stick to her mohair sweater. Still, couldn't he pine secretly from a distance and stop hiding her book satchel in the boy's bathroom?

It was fitting that Finn had some flaws, but Rachel wished he would show wiser discretion in choosing his closest companions. Quinn as a girlfriend and Puck as a best friend hardly went in his favor. Poor judgment or not, however, Rachel couldn't help still feeling her knees get weak when he sneaked a glance at her, like now as Puck sang in front of them and...

Actually sounded decent. Not anywhere near her range, to be sure, or even Finn's or Kurt's but... Rachel was loathe to admit it, but there was some promise. And Puck might, just might, blend in well vocally with the rest of them. And it had been quite a long afternoon. And it wasn't like they'd found anyone else. And-

Rachel slowly slid her eyes from Finn's, the expectation and pleading on his face so apparent as he looked back at them all. For whatever insane reasons he'd rationalized, he wanted his friend in with them.

But even as Finn silently pleaded with everyone else, Rachel scrutinized Puck from where she sat. He'd stopped singing, shoved his hands in his front pockets and begun glaring at the floor. In that moment, Rachel felt her dislike of him pulsate in every fiber of her body. Did he not see the opportunity he was about to be offered? Didn't he care that Mr. Schuester was looking from person to person, taking in Artie and Tina's hesitant nods, Mercedes lone shrugged shoulder of approval and Kurt's jutting chin, but lack of resistance?

Puck could be trained. Directed. Useful. In so many ways. Rachel waited before meeting Mr. Schuester's expectant eyes, using her moment to consider the key element she'd been missing in the plan. Because what was high school without a little scandal? Say, a good guy doing right by stealing his best friend's girl?

And with that thought, Rachel met her director's look, raised her eyebrows and said, "He'll do."

End

A/N: Thank you for reading! Do a girl a favor and leave a review, they are such a great encouragement.