A/N: Having a hard time finding dreams, Finn? Maybe a nightmare will give you something to think about. Best wishes, Henrietta Line.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or anything connected either to Glee or to the Dire Straits song whose title I have borrowed.


It was late, but Finn still couldn't get to sleep, his mind still on the argument he'd had with Rachel about their future together.

He rolled over and it ran through his head again, how he'd brought up California and she wasn't interested, how he still didn't have anything to do with his life. Yeah, she said they'd find dreams for him together, but nothing had come up yet, and really how did someone who'd been born with her dream know anything about looking for one? All she had for him was support, faith in him, at least faith that he could do something in New York with her. And right now he certainly didn't feel like he had it in him to make something of himself in New York. She thought so, but he couldn't see why, and if she missed all those flaws in himself that he couldn't help staring at, just who was it that she had faith in?

He'd always loved how much she believed in him, until it seemed that there was no way that those things could be true. When she looked up at him adoringly with those big brown eyes of hers he felt like he could do anything – as long as he could feel that it was possible, that it was the real him she was looking at. Because he loved and needed her so damned much that any flaw in that, the slightest thought that maybe he wasn't what she really loved and needed herself, felt like a full bodyslam into the ground. (And he had plenty of experience with those.)

Belief in him, faith in him, that was great. But now it was more like an expectation that he couldn't see any way of living up to, he'd either disappoint her now or disappoint her later. So yeah, he'd questioned whether she really loved him, and seen the look of hurt in her eyes, and he'd felt like he'd kicked a puppy but he was still so frustrated that he couldn't do anything other than stalk off. He'd been doing that a lot these days.

And it was easier, much easier, to think about going along with Puck to LA. Puck had a simple plan that Finn felt even he couldn't screw up, something he could grab onto and even contribute to, nothing too complicated but it'd get him started, give him something to do.

'Cause wouldn't it be great to be like Puck. No expectations, nothing to try to live up to, Puck could get away with damn near anything. Knock up your best friend's girlfriend and still patch things up. Do a stint in juvie and get welcomed back. Screw a teacher, what the hell, it's Puck, nobody gets disappointed and nothing cramps his style.

Though, yeah, technically it was Shelby who had gotten away with that, since she was the teacher. And also Puck's kid's adoptive mother. And Finn's girlfriend's birth mother, who looked a lot like her, and if that meant Puck had a thing for Rachel then that was one thing he wasn't going to get away with, but – this is why all that shit is filed under "do not think about", and it's going right back there right now.

So, yeah, it'd be cool to take a page from Puck's ripped-up book, go out to LA, hang out in the sun, and as long as the pools get cleaned and fixed nobody worries or expects anything more. Sun, sparkling blue water in fancy shapes, hot babes in barely-there bikinis all over the place, what's not to like?

'Course he'd still need to keep a shirt on 'cause his skin fried in, like, ten seconds. Skin cancer, not cool. And the babes, well, they belonged to the houses. Or the guys in the houses. But still, pool cleaning mogul, stuff he knew he could do, lots of freedom and great scenery...

As Finn dozed off a little he could see himself there, fixing the filter system on some pool that would be just fine if the ass who owned it had done the maintenance, but no problem for him as he could charge more and they could get a new regular client. Bright sunny day, cool clear water, some barely-dressed starlet on a lounger on the far side, no problems and no worries.

But then he caught a glimpse of the girl sunning herself by the pool, and he felt like he was about to be sick. Sun-kissed olive skin, long legs that seemed impossible for someone that tiny, that gorgeous silky golden body that was amazing to look at and he knew was even better to touch. Masses of dark hair fanning out around her shoulders. A tiny white bikini that left very little to the imagination, not that he needed to use his because he'd seen her, all of her, back when he was the only one who ever did.

Rachel. Stretched out on a lounge chair by the pool of some fat middle-aged Hollywood producer who was probably putting the moves on her. (Who was he kidding, it was morning, that's already happened.)

And he was just the pool guy.

Fuck.

She hadn't seen him, she was probably asleep, and he'd better get out of there right now before that changed. Or before he really was sick, 'cause the thought of that lech touching her – fuck. No.

He'd have to get the new guy to come in and finish the job, because there was no way he was ever coming back here, and he sure didn't want to know what Puck would say to him about her if Puck found out.

But he couldn't help looking back at her briefly, sliding his eyes up to look at her face, those soft lips that he'd always felt could suck out his soul when they pressed against his, the sweet curve of her cheek, what looked like a little sad smile – he couldn't really tell since she was wearing some of those huge sunglasses like all the other starlets do. And she didn't quite look like his Rachel any more, not that she was his, but she'd finally had that nose job that she'd considered having the last time he'd walked away from her, when he wasn't sure she loved him and he'd made her think he didn't love her the way she was, and why was it that because she was so beautiful and talented and driven he always seemed to forget that she was also massively insecure, so insecure that she'd let some plastic surgeon ruin the most beautiful face in the world.

Maybe she did really need him after all, needed someone like him to love her more than she loved herself.

But he couldn't be just that, he couldn't live his life just to love her, not like the dude with the boombox in that eighties movie that Finn never admitted to anyone that he liked, the dude who said that what he was going to do was love the girl because he was good at it. Finn liked the song, sometimes when he was with Rachel he really got what it said, and the dude was a kickboxer which was cool. But Finn needed to do more than just love his girl. And privately he had to admit that he wasn't always that good at loving his girl, though he always tried to do better because he really did love her.

And he did love that she dreamed so big, and yes her dream was for New York and it always had been. But he needed dreams too and even though he didn't have any yet he needed to feel like there was space for him to have his own dreams, not just be in hers.

Even though, yeah, he'd told her he would go to New York with her, back when he was talking her into accepting his proposal. And trying to suddenly walk that back now was a pretty douche move, he got that. But this was for keeps, he still didn't know what he'd do in New York, and he needed to know that he mattered enough to her for her to take him into account. Even if there wasn't anything specific to take into account for him. And it sucked, beyond sucked, that any way he looked at things it seemed as though their worlds after high school were going to be even harder to line up than their worlds inside high school had been. And no, it wouldn't really be great to be like Puck, 'cause if nobody cares what you do it's probably because nobody cares very much at all. Even if he disappointed her it would at least be proof that he mattered to her.

But if he went to California, and she went to New York, then she'd damn well better stay there so he wouldn't run into her by some douchebag's pool and find out just how badly everything had gotten screwed up.

Crap.

Finn turned over again and pummelled his pillow. It didn't look like he was going to get much sleep tonight.