Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters. Unfortunately. It all belongs to Ryan Murphy (damn him).
Hey everyone. It's been a while since I've written anything on here. This is my first attempt at a Glee fic, but I figured I'd give it a shot since I'm currently hooked on this show like it's crack. Reviews are awesome, so let me know what you think!
SPEECHLESS
I.
It's just a word.
One breath, two syllables, five letters.
It's also ignorance.
He knows he shouldn't have said it, even if it's been in the back of his mind for quite some time now. Even if it's been on the tip of his tongue since the moment their parents had announced the union of both families under one roof. Like they hadn't just laid the world's largest bombshell on him and turned his world upside down.
Was it really not obvious to anyone else how completely fucked up this was?
What he'd said was wrong, and he knows it. But it's not like he can just take it back and say Whoops, what I meant to say was as totally awesome as the room partition and sofa blanket are, you totally freak me out when I catch you drooling over me, so I'd rather our rooms just exist on polar opposite sides of the house.
Yeah, he's pretty sure that would not go over much better.
So, then what the hell is he supposed to do now that he dropped the F-bomb in a moment of frustration and anger? It's not like he uses that word ever because he really does like Kurt and all 'cause he's a cool dude – ya know, when he's not dressing like a girl.
But it's like the guy just can't take a hint or something and keeps pushing the fact that he obviously has a crush on Finn. So, of course, Finn was gonna eventually react because for crying out loud – he had felt like a caged animal backed up against a wall.
It's just not fair.
But his reaction hadn't been fair to Kurt, either.
As much as it sounds like a copout, Finn just couldn't take it anymore. He had to finally say something for both their sakes. Should he have found a better, less insulting way to confront him? Hell. Yes. But that hadn't been the case, which is how he finds himself sitting outside Kurt's house (which up until five minutes ago had sorta kinda been his as well) with his head in his lap, wondering where in the hell he can go until his mom gets back and realizes what a jerk she raised.
God, he doesn't even want to imagine how embarrassed she'll be when she finds out what he said. He just prays that Burt and Kurt don't look at her like she has any part in this – like she is at all to blame. 'Cause she totally isn't, and this is his mess and somehow he's gonna find a way to make it up to everyone.
He's just gotta figure out how.
II.
He pretends not to know how or why he's ended up here because he knows he really shouldn't – be here, that is. It's not his right to run to this place every time he fucks up or has a problem or just wants to talk. He realizes that maybe it never really has been. But it's never stopped him before, and he's selfish and needs to talk to someone. And who better than the one person he's screwed over more times than he can count, right?
Like he said, he's selfish, and since he's apparently on a roll tonight to win the award for world's largest prick, why stop at the silver when he can go for gold?
He's surprised when she's the one to answer the door since it's pretty late, and he knows how crazy she is about getting at least eight hours of sleep. Before the truth about Babygate had been revealed – back in the good old days when his only worries were juggling football, glee, school and a hormonal pregnant girlfriend (Jesus, this had been one helluva year) – Finn had been quite the frequent visitor to her house.
Because honestly, even though he probably should have been with the girl carrying "his" baby, there's something about her that just gets him. And it doesn't matter that it would take about three of her to make one of him or that she uses words that give him a headache while he can barely form a coherent sentence or that she's the school outcast and he the golden boy.
Those things don't matter because when it comes down to it all, she's the only one who's ever really given a crap about him (with the exception of his mother that is).
"Finn?" Her voice is small and unsure, something he's not used to hearing from her. She's always so confident and boisterous (he mentally gives himself a high-five for his vocabulary), but right now all she looks is confused and maybe even a little worried. His heart swells a little at the thought that she might actually still care about him in some way. She's still with St. Jerk-off, so it's not like he can expect a lot from her but he's taking what he can get.
Even if it's nothing more than his own delusional thinking.
"Uh, hey Rach," he answers as casually as possible, flashing a shy smile before shifting his eyes to his feet. He really hadn't thought this idea through. She probably thinks he's some crazy stalker who can't take the hint that she's unavailable. She of all people should understand.
Opening the door a little wider, she questions him. "Wh-what are you doing here so late?" But then she gets this look in her eyes like she's going to lecture him. "You are aware that it's a school night and roaming the streets at such a late hour is not conducive to a productive day of school, right?"
He really doesn't see what going into labor has to do with anything, but he just nods dumbly.
"I mean, it's nearly ten o'clock, and if I don't get to bed soon then my entire morning routine will be thrown off. And if that happens, I'll – "
"Rachel," he cuts off her ranting, too drained from the day to hear another speech. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come by so late. Just forget about it." He turns around to leave with what little pride he has left.
He should've figured this was a bad idea. This isn't her problem to deal with, and he needs to find a way to solve his problems without her.
Her voice stops him. "Finn, wait." When he turns back around to face her once again, he knows he's doing a shitty job of hiding his feelings because she's looking at him with concern in her large brown eyes and all he can think is that she is perfection.
"What's the matter?" She steps outside now, revealing a thin strapped tank top and silky pajama shorts lined with stars. He feels himself grow hard and wills himself to think of the mailman. Damn hormones.
"I – nothing. It's nothing, Rachel. Honestly." He refuses to meet her eyes.
She lets out a dramatic sigh. "God, Finn, for once, could you actually just say what you want to say and leave out the bullshit?"
What the hell?
Rachel Berry did not curse.
Where was all this anger coming from?
"Are you mad at me or something?" He asks incredulously, an edge to his voice that wasn't there before.
"You randomly show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night, barely look me in the face and mumble a few incoherent words, all while looking like someone just kicked your puppy. And you don't even have the decency to tell me why? YES, I'm mad at you."
Dropping his head in defeat, he lets out a frustrated groan. "Look, it's like I said… I shouldn't be here. I – this isn't your problem, and as usual, I was too damn stupid to think this through."
"Stop it," she says angrily. "I hate it when you talk about yourself like that. How many times do I have to tell you that you are anything but stupid, Finn?"
Embarrassed, he still struggles to meet her eyes. He's terrified that she'll see just how much he loves her – how much she can make him feel with only a few words. Like, she's freaking crazy as hell and talks way more than should be legal and doesn't know the difference between a touchdown and a field goal, but she's also totally awesome and doesn't give a crap what other people think which is actually kind of cool. And even though the majority of her outfits have weird freaky animals plastered all over them, they're kind of totally awesome too. Because she's awesome, so everything she does, says, and wears must be awesome too, right?
God, she has definitely started to rub off on him.
"Apparently more than once," he tries to joke to relieve some of the tension between them. He doesn't want to fight with her, especially since they barely speak to each other these days, courtesy of her stupid boyfriend.
Her smile is small, but still, she does smile. "Why don't you come inside for a few minutes? Maybe even take part in an actual conversation rather than exchanging angry glances and dishing out self-deprecating comments."
Again with her ridiculous vocabulary.
But she's not yelling anymore, and she said he can come in, so he's not complaining.
"If you wanted to talk, all you had to do was say so, Rach." He walks into her house, laughing when she smacks him lightly on the arm.
He's never washing that arm again.
III.
He's always kind of hated the color pink. It's too bright and too loud, and it overtakes everything else that surrounds it. It's obnoxious and demands attention, and it's just really, really girly.
He's always kind of hated it – until her.
Because somewhere during this past year, while he's been spending so much of his time seeing, thinking about, and being with her – he's come to the conclusion that she is pink. She's all those things that he used to despise about it until he got to know pink and came to a conclusion: pink is freaking amazing.
"So, ready to finally tell me the reason you're here?" Her voice is curious, but it holds less demand than earlier, which puts him slightly more at ease. She always seems to know how to calm him down. Even if she's the whole reason he's wound up.
He plays with his hands for a minute, and when he looks up, she signals for him to join her on the bed. Without hesitation, he obliges and sits down on the cushy material, and his knees graze her tiny legs just long enough for both of them to feel the electricity.
He clears his throat before beginning, "I did something – well, said something actually – tonight that I regret. It's bad – like really bad, Rach."
There's silence for a few seconds, and he's trying to figure out the best way to tell her what happened without coming off like a complete ass. It's not that he wants to lie about what happened, but he doesn't want to tell the whole truth either. It's cowardly, he knows, but he's starting to realize how absolutely terrified he is of her reaction. What if she decides he really is no good and cuts him out of her life completely instead of just mostly? He's managed to get through a lot this year, but this is one thing he absolutely cannot recover from.
Losing her completely – it would kill him.
"Okay, well, not that I'm privy to the events that transpired this evening, but I cannot imagine that you are capable of something so terrible that it can't be forgiven." When he looks away, she grabs his face with her small hands so that he has no choice but to look at her. "Finn, whatever it is – whatever this thing you said is – it doesn't mean you're a bad person. It doesn't define you."
Do not kiss her. Do NOT kiss her.
His eyes close at the feeling of her skin upon his. He's trying desperately to hide his obvious feelings for her because he knows it isn't fair to want her this much this late. There was a time when he could have had her, but he'd blown it. So why can't he just be the bigger man and let her move on? His mom had once told him it's what you did for the people you loved.
And he really loves her.
"Trust me, you'll change your mind once you hear the truth."
Her brows scrunch up in worry. "Finn, you're starting to scare me. Please just tell me what happened. I won't judge you. Trust me."
And he does. He really does. So he tells her.
"I called Kurt a fag." Never in his life has he hated a word more than in this moment. It sounds even worse saying it to her, and he's completely disgusted with himself for even thinking it.
Rachel's eyes grow wide with surprise, and he's literally stopped breathing in anticipation of her next move. He's waiting for her to slap him, yell at him – something – but he finds himself waiting for nothing after a full minute of silence passes.
What is she thinking?
Why hasn't her hand made contact with his face?
Why does he have to care about her reaction so damn much?
And then she finally speaks. "Did you mean it?" Her voice is so low that he wonders if it's not a figment of his imagination. It's scary as shit because Rachel Berry is nothing if not loud, and yet for the second time today, Finn practically strains his ears to hear her talk.
"I – um, huh?" Too many thoughts and emotions are running through his mind, and he's finding it surprisingly harder than usual to form full sentences. Like, with nouns and verbs and… proverbs (no wait, that had something to do with the Bible).
When she starts to look a little offended, he rushes to find the right words to say what he means. "No, that's not what I meant." Squeezing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, Finn continues, "Look, Rachel, we both know I'm not the best with words. The thing is – the reason I said that name – I didn't mean to say it out loud."
Her eyebrows rise at his statement.
"Not that I think it either," he says quickly. God, he's really fucking this up. "Okay, well, maybe a little but more in a way where I think of him as gay… not a – well, you know."
"Not really," she answers, and he can tell that she's starting to get more than a little upset. Coming to her had been an awful idea. For crying out loud, she'd been raised by two gay men! Did he really think her of all people wouldn't take it personally?
He's seriously about to cry at this point, and he doesn't even give a crap that Puck would totally beat the shit out of him for acting like such a pansy. This girl has a ridiculous power over him that should be like, illegal or something.
Too freaked out to say anything else – because he would without a doubt fuck it up – Finn quickly stands up from Rachel's bed, attempting to make a move for it before he further humiliates himself. Before he's able to make his escape, however, she roughly grabs his hand and jerks him back onto his recently vacated spot. If he wasn't so damn upset, he'd be so totally turned on. She's like, really sexy when she's pissed off, and he's suddenly having dirty thoughts about her involving a whip and some hot naughty school teacher outfit.
These are the times he's reminded that there's at least some testosterone left in him.
"If you think for even one minute that you have the right to show up at my house, utter that deplorable excuse for a word, provide absolutely no explanation in regards to the context in which it was originally stated, and then cower from my reaction like a – like a – "
"Pussy," he throws out by mistake.
Word vomit, meet your soul mate, Finn Hudson.
"FINN!" She screeches in horror, nearly falling off of her bed in shock.
At this point, he's not sure it's even worth it for him to care. He's dug himself into such a deep hole that he's pretty sure it would be better if someone just finished the job and buried him alive.
"God, I'm sorry Rachel, okay? I'm sorry I'm no good at 'expressing my feelings' or whatever, and I'm sorry I'm not all into ballet and talented like Jesse." Her eyes widen at this, but he's done holding in everything, and if she wants the truth, he'll give her the fucking truth. "I'm sorry I'm so freaking tall and you could seriously live in that tree house with the rest of those damn Keebler elves." Why was he apologizing for their height difference? And had he just called her an elf? "I'm sorry I was too afraid to own up to my feelings for you until someone else got the chance to see how awesome you are. I'm sorry that I couldn't handle Kurt's feelings for me and said the cruelest thing I've ever said to a person in my life." He hasn't been able to look her directly in the eye up until now, but he needs her to believe him when she hears his last apology. So he forces their eyes to lock. "But most of all, I'm sorry that I've done nothing but disappoint you this year when you've done nothing but amaze me."
It's extremely noisy all of a sudden, and he can hear a loud thumping in his ears. It's then that Finn recognizes the sound as the rapid beating of his heart. He literally feels like he's just ran a marathon he's breathing so hard. When he looks back at Rachel, he notices her staring off into empty space, her mouth opening and closing, trying to form words but failing miserably.
Are his eyes and ears deceiving him or is it possible? He smiles to himself. Yes, yes it is.
Rachel.
Barbra.
Berry.
Is.
Speechless.
When she shifts her eyes back to him, Finn squirms uncomfortably under her gaze and suddenly wishes he had ESPN or whatever so that he can just read her mind. He's pretty certain she'll want to get some type of restraining order against him after he basically just admitted to obsessing over her. You know, in a completely non-stalkerish I'm-in-love-with-you-please-dump-that-sack-of-shit-boyfriend-so-I-can-kiss-you-and-openly-check-you-out kind of way.
But you know, he's totally cool with just being friends too.
"I, um – I don't really know what to say," she says in a bit of a panicked voice. The funny this is, he knows her well enough to realize that the fact that she's speechless is scaring her more than the pile of information he just unloaded on her. She's ridiculous.
And so awesome.
Really, he just can't say it enough.
"Yeah," he drawls awkwardly. Maybe if he's really quiet and closes his eyes, he'll just disappear.
"Did you mean it?" She asks for the second time that night. This time, though, he has no clue what she's referring to. Feeling badly about the Kurt issue? His feelings for her?
"Which part?"
She stares at him for a moment, before saying, "All of it."
He doesn't miss a beat. "Every single word. Especially the last part."
She nods her head, processing the meaning of his confession. Even though she isn't running into his arms and screaming her love for him, he hopes she's at least impressed that he finally got the balls to say it out loud. To her. For her.
"He'll forgive you, you know."
Huh?
"Kurt," she answers his silent question.
He's not stupid (well…) – he knows she's avoiding the tense topic that is there relationship. Not that he can really blame her because things have been super awkward between them the last few weeks. But it kind of sucks that he just spilled his guts to the girl he loves, and she's trying to play it off like nothing was said at all. It's so un-Rachel Berry like, and he wishes things were different for them. He wishes a lot of things, but mostly he just wishes she was his.
But she's not.
He's pretty sure he'll never say that and be alright with it.
Hopefully, one day he won't have to.
"Um, I'm not so sure. It was pretty bad when I left. Burt overheard everything and kind of threw me out."
She gasps at this news. "He threw you out? But how could he do that? Where are you supposed to live? What if you become like that homeless man, Patches? He cannot do this to you, Finn. I'll call my fathers' attorney, Bernard. He'll let you know your rights – "
He cuts her off, chuckling at her crazy antics, and his heart swelling with pure adoration at her concern. "Rach, calm down. I'll figure it out, don't worry." When she opens her mouth to object, he continues. "I mean, can you really blame the guy? I attacked his kid in his own home. No shit he was gonna retaliate and fight back."
"Language, Finn," she scolds him.
"Sorry, but it's the truth. I messed up big time, Rachel. But I just – I'm gonna find a way to make things better. I don't know how, but I'll find a way." He looks at her shyly but with an intense glaze in his eyes to let her know he means it. "But, that's kind of why I came here tonight. You're the best person I know and definitely the smartest." She blushes. "And I was kind of hoping you could help me – ya know, with an apology or whatever."
He thinks to himself that he might actually cry if she turns him down – if she tells him to just go to hell and figure out for once in his life how to solve a damn problem without dragging her into it. He's glad when he sees a hint of a smile grace her face, and he can't help thinking it's the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen. She's gonna help, he just knows it. Because she's Rachel, and she just can't not help. Because she's just so completely amazing like that, and she actually cares about his feelings and wants him to be happy.
And it's only one of the bajillion trillion reasons he loves her.
And even though he can tell she has no intentions of bringing up his almost-kind of-sort of declaration of love for her tonight, things are beginning to look better for them. He just knows it like he just knows she's the only person who can ever hold his heart with such a fierce intensity. It's just a given.
His eyes roam every inch of her while she animatedly discusses her plan to renew Kurt's trust. When she catches him staring, she blushes but it's kind of nice because it means he still affects her. Maybe he even still holds a piece of her heart as well.
She says something that catches his attention. "I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"
She smirks. "Don't worry, I've got the perfect red shower curtain to pull this whole thing off."
He thinks twice before objecting because as embarrassing as her plan is, he knows he'd follow her to the end of the earth. So he nods his head and sighs, admiring the large smile she wears for him.
And he can't help but think that she's done it once again.
She's left him speechless.