Author's Note: This was prompted by queenfinchel on tumblr because I was blocked on all my WIPs. But, have no fear! I've got a few great things in the works that, hopefully, will be posted soon. Reviews get you hugs and kisses and prompts get you my undying love and affection.
He lets out this tiny little sigh and Rachel knows she's not doing this right. She wasn't built to be a drummer - her arms are too short and her hands are too small. The sticks keep falling out of her grasp and clattering against the drums and Finn keeps picking them up, depositing them in her hands, and telling her to try again.
Rachel Berry is many, many things but patient? Not one of them.
She was born to be a performer and to make music, but not in this medium. She can plunk out a melody on a piano when she needs to and she can belt out any tune you give her, but she just can't play drums. She doesn't know what else she can say or do to Finn to make him believe that.
"I can't do this, Finn."
He shakes his head and she has to practically look straight up to see his face. "You can do anything, Rachel. Including play the drums." He flashes that knee-weakening grin that makes his dimples show and she can't help but reciprocate, but still. She doesn't want to do this.
She inhales quickly and exhales as slowly as she can, trying to contain her impending outburst and trying to quell the urge to storm out of the choir room. She doesn't like doing things she's not good at. That usually means she doesn't try new things like sports or fashion. It's too frustrating and she'd rather stick with things that make her comfortable, like singing and animal sweaters. All of that also happens to encompass instruments such as the drums.
She gives it a few more tries, hitting the cymbals too hard and getting her timing all wrong. She drops the drumsticks and Finn bends to pick them up, her fists clenching in her lap. She snatches them out of his hands and holds them behind her back, standing so she can see his face more comfortably. Her head still tilts back and she's balancing on the balls of her feet, but it's better. "I give up, Finn. No more drumming. Let's work on our solos for Regionals instead." She smiles brightly, hoping to persuade him.
He scratches the back of his neck and shakes his head. "Rach, we've had those solos perfected for months. You made sure of that. Now come on," he tries to reach around her but she steps away, her brow furrowing, "you can do this."
She shakes her head. "I don't want to."
"Why not?"
The frustration is building. "Because I'm not good at it and I'm never going to be good at it, so why bother? I should be focusing on perfecting the things I excel at, not learning new things that won't further my career choice in any way, shape, or form." She takes a deep breath and Finn lets her finish before he speaks again, a small smile on his face. He always said he'd loved it when she got heated and rambled, but she never really believed him. Until she saw that look. The pure love was written all over his face and she couldn't help the flush that grew on her cheeks.
"Fine," he says, holding out his hand. "Let's go to my house. Burt's at work and my mom's shopping or something, so we can make cookies and watch a movie. Your pick."
Her smile grows and she drops the drumsticks, taking his hand in hers and leaning into his side. "That sounds absolutely perfect."