First Glee story. Just some rambling between Finn and Rachel. Takes places after 'Sectionals,' spoilers until then. Review if you're nice and maybe I'll write some more Glee-related stuff. :)

Tending Goals

They weren't quite OK, to be honest, Rachel and Finn. She was still the overbearing, egotistical, career-driven Jewish girl, and he was still the jock in Glee Club, who fell for a story about sperm in a hot tub.

Finn was irate with Puck and Quinn, and not much would change that except time, he thought. It made Glee awkward. Everyone tip-toed around him, afraid to say much. Except Rachel. She didn't posses that filter.

So they were allies, but that still didn't explain why Rachel was at his house, talking to his mom at the front door, holding what appeared to be a platter of cookies.

By the time he strode to the door, he'd caught the end of their conversation. "...So I brought these for Finn, you know, maybe to cheer him up, and I'm still trying to make up for my lack of sensitivity at times. Sometimes I'm just too competitive, but you know why that is? Because I have to succeed. That's what my dads have always told me."

"That's... nice, dear," he heard his mother say. "Finn!" she yelled, not realizing her son was only steps behind her. "Your... friend is here." Wiping her hands on the dish towel she held, her gaze burned into his, giving him a look of question only a mother could. She left them alone.

"Hey," he said awkwardly, unsure how Rachel even knew where he lived. As much as she intrigued him and he was drawn to her, he wouldn't put stalking past her.

"I brought you these," she said quickly, dressed in a blue and black plaid skirt, even in the cold Ohio December evening. "I know what you must be thinking, and that's that I'm Jewish, and why would I make you Christmas cookies when we're of a different faith–"

Finn drew a finger to her lips to shush her. "Thank you, Rachel. They look great." She beamed. He wondered how little it took to make her happy.

"Those little round ones with the blue frosting are a new recipe my dad created," she said, her fingertips grazing over the plastic covering of the tray. Finn found it sensual and pictured her fingers grazing other places.

Think of the mailman, he chanted internally. You're about to run over the mailman.

"Are you still mad at me?" Rachel asked him, inviting herself in, ducking under his arm where he held the door open and making her way into the entry. He could sense his mom eavesdropping from the kitchen. "I know I shouldn't have dropped the news. About Quinn. It really wasn't any of my business but I just couldn't let you be led on like that, not with something so big–"

"I'm not mad." He shuffled his feet, uncomfortable. The only person to react positively to the situation had been his mother, who had practically danced with joy upon hearing the news that Finn wasn't fathering the illegitimate child of the Celibacy Club's president. He wasn't sure how he felt– relieved was certainly a word that came to mind, but he also felt betrayed and insulted. "I just don't know how to talk about it and I don't really want to. But I'm not mad at you."

There were thousands of sentences running through his mind, and Finn cursed his sixteen year-old brain for being unable to articulate them. "OK," Rachel said. "You've been on my mind a lot, Finn. I wouldn't be able to stand it if I were somehow making all of this worse."

Her sincerity was enough to cover the selfishness of her words. Rachel didn't tend to say things she didn't mean. For better or worse, he always knew what she was thinking. And she was kind of crazy and controlling, but it was comforting to be around someone who knew what she wanted and exactly how she'd get it. Her sometimes domineering personality hadn't put her on the fast track to popularity, but Finn could appreciate her drive. It was more than he could say for himself. A week ago he'd been drowning in the responsibilities and burdens of becoming a teenage father. Now he was treading water, staying afloat but struggling, and wasn't sure which was worse.

Finn sank into the living room couch. Rachel stood, arms folded across her chest, knee cocked to the side, about a foot away from him. "Is this the wrong time to ask about what this is between us?"

It shouldn't have surprised him, her forward question. He liked her, he knew that much, and now that Quinn was more or less out of the way, he thought it should be an easy decision. Pick Rachel.

"I don't know, uh, maybe it's not the best time."

Pressing her skirt into her thighs, she sat gingerly beside him. "Nothing has to happen now. But, as you know, I like to set goals in my life, and I need to know if you're one of them that will be conquered eventually."

"Conquered?"

She smiled. "That's a good thing. My goals are very important to me. I treat them well."

Selfishly, at least he thought, he needed to feel important right about now, after he'd been trampled on by two people he was close to. And the goal didn't have to be 'conquered' right now, as Rachel had said. Why not set something up to look forward to? Things kept happening between them anyway; it seemed inevitable. But still, there was her weird fling with Puck that he wasn't sure had quite fizzled all the way, even when they were caught up in the baby-daddy drama. When had Glee Club become such a tangled web?

"Maybe a little later, yeah. I like you, Rachel," he said confidently.

She beamed again, so genuinely Finn couldn't help but smile back. "I like you too. Obviously. And I don't think you're dumb. I think you trust people, and you believe the best in people, and those are good qualities to have. Especially when you're around me. I know I can be... a lot."

He traced two fingertips across her kneecap. Why does she always have to show her legs? he groaned, and again reminded himself of the mailman and the injuries he sustained. "You're motivated. I like that. You keep things interesting. You push me. That's what I need, not to stay exactly where I am."

Rachel was easy to talk to. He still fumbled with his words and hormones, but she was so honest, so upfront with him it would hardly be fair for him not to reciprocate.

She ran a hand through her long, shiny hair, hair Finn had dreamed of running his hands through. "And you're supposed to tell me I'm pretty. Tell me I'm pretty, Finn," she said, smiling, expecting him to repeat it.

He laughed, glad that she'd stopped by, even if it didn't seem to be for much of a reason. "And you're pretty. Very pretty and sweet. And you have soft lips–"

"OK," she stopped him, and he thought he was seeing the first instance of Rachel Berry becoming embarrassed. "Don't get me thinking about that."

Screw future goals, he thought. If he liked Rachel, why should he hold back? Quinn was no longer his problem. That belonged to Puck. Who should care if it seemed a little fast. They didn't know he and Rachel's short but full history.

Her brown eyes shifted as Finn grew closer, before her eyelids became heavy, fluttered, and dropped closed. He brought his hands to either side of her face, outlining her delicate jawline, sweeping his thumbs this close to the lips he'd spoken of earlier.

"I thought you said... later... maybe," she whispered, her mind hazy.

He cocked his head slightly before bringing his lips to hers, brushing over them, feeling her breathe in against him before she reacted, almost afraid. She was sweet. She gripped his wrists tightly.

He kissed her again, brief in intention, but she didn't want to let go. Finn looked into Rachel Berry's coffee-brown eyes, which always gave away her emotions. "I guess I'm seeing a little into the future."