BEFORE YOU READ THIS: Please watch this clip, as this is what the whole story is based off of; go to youtube and punch this in after the web address: /watch?v=Q2hhg_xDV8M
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, or the characters. There is a scene in this one-shot, the first flashback – is NOT mine. I came across it on Tumblr, and it had no author, and it fit perfectly into this story which I had already started, so I inserted it. So if you read, and see that you've seen it before, know that that is where it came from! This idea came to me last night after watching the clip from Cory's new movie, and I had to get my ideas into a story. I'm pretty proud of this one, and I cried the entire time I wrote it. So I would grab a box of Kleenex, and prepare yourself with a nice cup of coffee and a fuzzy blanket. Enjoy my lovelies!
Love Like Fools
Simon Weeks – that's his name.
That had been his name for the past five years. Since the day he ran from his life, that was what he was known as around this town.
A new identity, a new start, a new life. That was the plan when he left. He didn't expect or want to have to leave, but he had gotten so wrapped up in a life he didn't want, that he didn't really even have a choice. He had spent so much time and so many years trying to please everyone else, that he had got into some things that he couldn't just simply back out of.
He couldn't put a pin point on the exact time that his life started to go off the rails. He was living with his girlfriend, and they were good. When they first moved in, the place was amazing – it was the luxurious place to them; a place they would call home. They enjoyed date nights, and movies on Sundays, cuddling on the couch late at night, making dinner together, and every other thing that domestic couples did together. She was the sweet neighbor who brought pies and cookies, and he was her handsome boyfriend.
To everyone else, they seemed perfect – like the picture perfect couple. But behind closed doors, no one knew a single thing about them.
She was gone every other week, a different show taking her away from him. It brought in good money, and they were able to buy a new couch every few months, but he hated living in the place they bought together to share by himself. It was lonely…but he wanted her to be happy, so he kept quiet, and found other ways to relieve his own pain.
He had become a smoker, and he tried to hide it best he could from her, but she knew. That was the start of it…the smoking. It had gotten bad – really bad. He was blowing their money like wind.
He was out at bars every other night that she was away, and he bought one too many women shots. Women that he didn't even care to know…for what? He asked himself that question every time he held a finger up to the bartender. He never kissed or touched…hell, even thought about any of them in any sort of way. But having someone next to him made the pain of her absence hurt a bit less.
He smoked a pack a day, sometimes one and a half. He couldn't stop – it was like a part of him. A part of him that he hated. It was a habit of his that she too hated. She hated the smell, the feel, everything about it. And she hated that he was wasting so much of their money so selfishly. They weren't poor, but they didn't have much to begin with.
She would find empty boxes in his jean pockets, and throw them at him when he was caught off guard. She would yell, telling him how he was going to kill himself…then she would cry, and hit him. Then they would have sex. That's just how it went.
They never really talked about getting married, but he wanted to. He wanted to straighten himself out and be the perfect husband for her. He wanted to buy her a big ring, and slide it on her finger – knowing that she was his forever. But life had gotten complicated, and that never happened.
She made good money, but it all went towards the nice apartment she had to have. Any extra money was scarped off the ground…including cigarette money.
She never wanted to be around him when he did it – she made him shower and change his clothes when he was done, and he was lucky if he got any action during the week.
They loved each other – a lot. They attended parties together, and they enjoyed their life together. They had been together for four years, both of them at the ripe age of twenty two when both of their worlds came crashing down. Sure, they fought like animals – dirty and nasty, but they loved the fuck out of each other.
He occasionally used cocaine, or smoked too much marijuana. After a while, that too became a habit. He did it a few times a week, trying his best to sober up before he would go home back to her, but as he started taking more and more, it became almost impossible for her not to notice, or let alone – look past it. It consumed him.
He turned into a jealous, mean, arrogant, cocky man who got himself too deep into drugs to back out – both doing and selling them. She knew about it – to the minimal extent. She thought he could stop if he wanted to – but he knew better. He hated who he was becoming, and he couldn't help but watch as his life train was de-railing.
He didn't want it – who the hell wants their life to turn to shit? To make the woman he loves hate him?
He rarely shaved, which she couldn't stand. After a while, she could barely recognize the man she was living with, and she urged him over and over to get help, but all of her pleas went by him like high gusts of wind.
She fought and fought with him, but he would get angry, raise his voice and tell her she was a bitch and he hated her, and she would throw her hands up, slap him, and leave. He would go to bed without her, and wake up next to her. It was just fucked up, and neither of them knew how to fix it.
Not that he didn't want to, or that he didn't love her. He did know both of those things were true. He picked up on her subtle changes. She made dinner more nights than she used to, and she tried to buy him nice things that could make him happy – but he didn't seem to care. He would either be too stoned or drunk to appreciate her, and she would throw in the towel and make him sleep on the couch.
He would pack a new shirt into the back of their closet, put a new cologne bottle into the medicine cabinet, set a new alarm clock onto the bedside table, leaving it un-plugged. It seemed that every try she made to make him love her the way he used to failed, and she would just settle for her last resort – sex.
He did, however comply to her advances that she made towards him. Most of them resulted after a night of fighting, but he took anything and every bit of her he could get.
He's still seething; unfocused images of the fight are bouncing around his brain.
Adrenaline is still flushing every other emotion out of his body leaving him with just the one - anger.
What the fuck, Miller?! Where do you have your hand, asshole?
Finn winced; his own hand was killing him, the knuckles split and beginning to swell. Geeze, he probably hit him in the teeth, dudes freaking head was like punching a wall. Fuck.
He slams his car door, starts walking Rachel up to her porch, not bothering to even glance over to see if she's following. He feels her grab at his hand. He doesn't slow down.
"You should put some ice on this …does it hurt?" Finn looks over for the first time since he dragged her out of the party.
"Of course it fucking hurts." He glowers at her.
He doesn't recall much of the fight, just a burst of rage. He can remember how it started, remembers shoving the douchebag away from Rachel and then tossing him against the wall. The guy made a satisfying thud when his body hit the drywall. Finn is generally a mellow guy, but when he goes off, he knows he sort of loses it.
Matt compares it to the Jolly Green Giant turning into the Hulk. Whatever the fuck.
Just don't make me angry, no one gets hurt. He definitely remembers the feeling of his fist connecting with Millers smug fucking smile when he told him "dude, she was coming on to me" …then nothing till hands pulled him away… Puck, all up in his face trying to talk him down.
"Finn man, you have to chill, you are gonna kill the guy. I'll take care of it. You need to get Rachel home and calm down. Don't worry about it. You have your boys here. Mike an' me will toss him later."
He drops Rachel off at her front steps, doesn't kiss her or even say a word, and turns to go back to his car. Long angry strides bring him quickly back to the car door, when there's a tug at his sleeve.
"Aren't you going to… do you want to talk about this?" he hears Rachel say to his back.
Finn turns around and stares at her in exasperation and disbelief
"No, I don't want to talk about it. What is there to talk about? That my girlfriend is a drunk slut who lets guys put their hands in her panties?" His stare dares her to even try to look offended.
"That is not what happened!" She tells him.
"Really? Dave Miller's hand wasn't up your skirt? He wasn't feeling up your ass? Cause that's what it looked like to me, and to everyone at the party." He yells.
Rachel looks around furtively, whispering, "Lower your voice!"
"What, don't want the neighbors to know that you're not really a good girl Rachel? Afraid to let them know the dirty truth about little miss knee socks?" Finn is actually getting a little loud now, the sound of his voice carries in the night air. He likes it.
"Finn! Come inside, you're making a scene". She's dragging him in her front door by the arm. "Come on. My dads aren't home, we can shout as loud as you want… but inside."
He brushes past her into the house and heads to the kitchen. This shit definitely requires more beer, and he knows two dads equals always having beer, gay or not. He stalks back into the living room and sits on the back of the couch facing her, mostly because she hates it when he "perches" rather than sits, as she puts it.
He drinks his beer and pretends to ignore her existence, sullenly studying the pictures that adorn the wall behind her head. Rachel takes a deep breath and walks over to stand in front of him.
"Finn, I'm really sorry that… Finn, could you at least look at me when I'm trying to talk?" Finn finally turns his eyes towards her, raking them over her form slowly.
He takes in the low neckline that displays the tops of her breasts, the skirt that flares out barely covering her ass, and the incredibly high Mary Jane heels that look like something a hooker would wear to catholic school. He looks at her face last.
"As I was saying, I know that I…" She started, but he cut her off with an annoyed tone.
"Since when do you dress like that?" He asked, his voice taught and quick.
"What?" She snapped back, her eyes flickering in the light.
"Since when do you dress like you're looking to get some? What's with the fuck me hard shoes?" She can hardly believe her ears, but she answers without thinking.
"This is a perfectly nice dress, and I like being taller. Lots of girls wear shoes this high." Her eyes flicker to her shoes, then back to his face.
He snorts knowingly, "Yeah the girls who blow Puck at football keg parties. They wear exactly those shoes." 'How dare he', she thinks.
He takes another swing of beer, "You look like a slut. Like you're begging for it."
Finn's brow furrows as he openly stares at her chest.
"Are you even wearing a bra?" He asked incredulously, his eyes trained on them as they rise and fall with the heavy, angry breaths she takes.
"It doesn't need one, it has a built in bra." She snaps back at him, his eyes flashing to hers as he senses her tone.
"Well it isn't doing its fucking job because I can see your nips clear as day. Did you wave those in Dave's face too, or just your ass?" He reaches out and flicks one of her nipples with his thumb, and it gets even harder.
He takes satisfaction in her startled look as she crosses her arms over her chest. It just pushes her boobs up further, not bad.
Finn takes a long pull from his beer while continuing to stare irately at her chest. "Were they that hard before, or did he get you all hot? I know how you get off on the public stuff." Finn polishes his beer off and tosses the empty on the sofa. He vaguely hears a shocked sounding "Finn!" and looks up from her tits, his eyes dark.
"What? It's true. I bet your panties are wet right now." She glares at him.
"If this is the way you are going to act, then you should go." His lips twist into a smirk, as he raises his brows in mock surprise.
"Oh, I should? I thought you wanted to talk? I'm talking Rach". Suddenly his voice is loud again, booming and angry.
"I'm talking about how you get off on being felt up in public. How it makes you wetter than anything else. How much you like it when other guys show you how much they wanna fuck you."
Finn stands abruptly and moves closer, looming over Rachel so that she has to look up at him. "How much you like it when they do it where I can see it." His voice turns deep and low as he locks eyes with her.
"Truth is, you're kind of slutty Rachael. You're really good at it too." His fingers are under her chin, roughly tilting her face up towards his, "but you only get to be a slut with me."
Rachel pulls her chin free from his grasp, but Finn's hand is already snaking around her, cupping her ass under her dress and squeezing roughly. He leans down to her ear.
"This," he gives her ass cheek a hard pinch and she gasps a little, "This is mine." He notices that her face is flushed now, her breathing a little heavier. He can feel the heat of her, smell her perfume mixed with the alcohol coming off of her skin. His dick is already half hard from being this close.
"You really think any other guy can give you what I can? " He pushes his hips forward, his obvious hard on pressing into her stomach. Rachel tries to push him away as she feels the hand under her skirt skim over her panties.
He lets out a snort as his fingers slide back and forth across the damp material, pushing it aside and feeling her wet slit.
"Mmm, look who's put out the welcome mat. Is this for me or for Dave?" She shoves harder at his chest and gets a little distance between them.
His hand slides out of her underwear and he smirks down at her. He holds his hand up to the light, making a show of examining the glistening wetness on his fingers. He licks his fingers clean as he stares her in the face, Rachel's eyes watching as he slides them in his mouth. She's saying something again, but he isn't listening. He can hear her voice but the words …who gives a fuck. He knows he's right. She's the one who fucked up, not him. No way he's taking the blame for this shit. His eyes drop to her chest again. God, he wants to lick her tits.
Anger flits across Finn's face, mixed with something else. He reaches out and yanks her towards him by the neckline of her dress, hears it tear. He bends down and kisses the side of her neck, using his teeth and sucking a little. He hears her soft groan, even though her body is stiff in his arms. He roughly trails open mouthed kisses down to her shoulder, impatiently pulling the dress off as he goes. He feels her hands pulling at his.
"Finn. Finn, you're ripping it!" He ignores her, continues to pull the material down, stretching it so that her breasts are fully exposed.
"Better." Rachel seems stunned, her eyes wide with shock. She looks beautiful this way, and his dick makes note of it.
"I want you to leave." She says, raising her chin.
He shrugs, "Don't want to". Finn reaches out and grasps both nipples firmly, slowly pulling. She gasps at the sensation, and he leans down and forcibly sticks his tongue in her mouth, kissing her hard.
She tastes like whatever fruity drink she was downing all night. It goes well with the mix of beer and the musk of her on his tongue. He is holding her to his chest, and he can feel her hard nipples pressing into him. His other hand pushes between her thighs again, and Finn lazily rubs her clit as he kisses her. He loves the smell of her filling his senses, the room; the smell of sex.
Rachel tries to break away from his embrace but he holds her in place, his fingers working faster against her. He feels her body shudder, feels the wetness between her legs increase, coating his fingers. She utters a low moan.
He hears her soft husky whisper "I was only talking to him. It was nothing".
Bitch. His voice comes out raw and angry in spite of himself.
"I saw you touching him… Like a drunk slut looking for some varsity cock". Just as the word cock leaves Finn's lips, he roughly shoves two thick fingers inside her pussy.
Her moan is louder this time. Finn holds her body up with one arm, his long fingers pumping inside her while his thumb presses hard on her clit. Rachel is actively pushing herself down on his hand now, emitting shallow grunts as she rides his fingers.
"I know what you like", he whispers lowly in her ear. "I know just what you like". He keeps rubbing her clit forcefully with the pad of his thumb, then crooks his fingers deep inside her.
He watches her head limply fall back and feels her throbbing around his fingers, yet seeing her come just makes him angry all over again. He just rewarded her for cock teasing him all night, and he's still pissed off… and hard.
"I'm done talking." Finn lets her go; Rachel staggers a little on her heels. He pulls his shirt off over his head and tosses it to the side. He turns her around and moves back so that he is crowding Rachel up against the couch, dwarfing her with his size. Finn roughly pulls the dress up over her hips, revealing black lace panties. He presses himself against her using his bulk to hold her in place, and he knows she can feel his arousal up against her. He undoes his jeans, and starts to slowly stroke himself. His other hand pulls at her panties.
"Take them off." His voice is almost a growl.
Rachel bends to slide the lace panties down her legs, her ass pressing into Finn as she bends. He can't help letting out a low groan. Finn watches her face in the reflection of the dark TV in front of them as he reaches down to play with her clit again, rubbing it in circles and then stopping, teasing her while he strokes himself. Rachel moans and spreads her legs wider.
He mutters "You like that?" into her ear as he slides his hands back down her sides, pulling her hips backwards and bending her over at the waist.
"Is this what you wanted? To get fucked?" He puts a hand on her back and pushes her down so that her ass is sticking up over the back of the couch, and keeps his hand holding her in place. "Because I need a good fuck." Finn positions his cock at her entrance and then abruptly shoves into her all the way. He hears her grunt loudly, trying to accommodate his length.
Finn knows he's a big boy; usually he takes it slow and easy, letting her adjust. He doesn't want that right now. He wants her to feel every inch of him. He wants to punish her with his dick. He just wants to fuck and blow his load. That's all he wants.
She tries to move and he increases the pressure of his hand on her back, holding her down while roughly sliding in and out of her wet core.
His head falls forward and he moans at the feeling of her warm tightness around his hard cock. He watches his dick slide in and out of her below him. God, she feels fantastic.
"I love these heels baby, they make you just the right height". She feels so good he forgets everything except the feel of her wet warmth squeezing him in the most amazing way.
Her voice snaps him out of his "Please, Finn please …touch me, I need it.." Finn bends down, grasping her by the shoulders and whispers harshly in her ear as he pumps into her.
"Rub your own clit you little whore. Make yourself come while you get fucked." He starts pumping into her harder, bends her over more so that he's going deeper with each thrust. He can hear himself grunting, loves the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of her, the flesh of his hips slapping against her ass.
"God you are so tight baby. Is this what you wanted, to be fucked hard at the party like some cheap skank?"
"Oh…Yes, yesssss." He's grunting hard now.
"You love it when I call you a slut don't you? It makes you so wet…"
"Yes….ahhhh right there. Harder." Rachel is grinding against the couch. He's never fucked her this hard and rough; she seems to be loving it. He's never heard these breathy high pitched noises she's making before.
Finn takes her hand in his and brings it to her clit, forcing her to rub herself as he pounds her harder. He puts both of his hands back on her hips, pulling her back onto his cock with each thrust, pulling out almost all the way and then slamming into her as hard as he can.
The couch is moving across the floor with each thrust.
He grounds out, "You are such a cock teasing bitch Rachel. Ung… such a slut… I'm gonna fuck you like this every fucking night until you get that this is the only cock you get to touch, you cu… Oooh God yeah fuck." Finn hips jerk spastically as he spills into her, then he's slumping like dead weight onto her back.
He's panting heavily as he pulls out. Finn slides to the floor and leans against the back of the couch, a blissed out look on his face.
Rachel slowly straightens, turns around, a little wobbly on her heels, and slides down to sit beside him. He watches her kick her shoes off, sending them clattering across the hardwood.
She leans against Finn's sweaty shoulder, and he puts his arm around her. They are quiet for a moment, their ragged breathing the only sound in the room. She breaks the silence.
"We need to stop fighting, Finn". Rachel looks up at him, as he turns his head away from her, nodding – her words going in one ear, and out the other.
It was December when they found out.
She was having trouble sleeping, always getting sick, always tired, turning her nose up at everything he tried to get her to eat. He told her to see a doctor, so she did. He didn't go with her though, he had other things to do – at least that was what he told her.
She came home around four o' clock, and found him sitting on their sofa drinking a beer, his feet up on the arm rest watching some old football game from high school.
The loud bang shut of the door didn't startle him, as he just glanced back at her and smiled, his eyes not moving - emotionless. "What'd he put you on?" He asked her, looking back to the television.
After a couple seconds of silence, he looked back to her, his brows furrowing together as she stared at him, not moving or talking.
He took a deep breath, and braced himself for the yells that he thought that she would force at him. When they didn't come, he just looked back at her, his expression softening. Worry suddenly started to flood his mind.
"What's wrong?" He asked, setting the bottle down on the table while swinging his legs to sit up and face her.
He silently prayed she wouldn't tell him something terrible and awful, something that would make him hate himself for being so distant and horrible to her. He watched her mouth open as words fell from them that he couldn't quite believe he was hearing.
"I'm pregnant." She said, clearly.
He kept his still stare at her as he tried to comprehend the two words she had just said, putting them together in his head.
"What?" He asked, getting up from the couch and walking over to her.
She was what? Pregnant? What the fuck…she couldn't be pregnant. There was no way! They were always careful – always used protection. He raked his mind to try to make an excuse as to why she couldn't be pregnant, but then he paused. His mind suddenly drifted to that night. That one damn night that he had been so fucking angry at her – at himself – at that fuck…fuck!
"I'm pregnant, Finn." She repeated, a small smile forming on her face. She looked up at him, reaching her arms out to him. He flinched backwards, and away from her reach.
Her eyes contorted to a look of hurt, as she re-coiled her hands back to her, bringing them to lie flat on her stomach. He watched her the whole time.
"Finn, maybe this is a good thing…" She tried, happy tears brimming her eyes.
She thought that this was a good thing? She probably thought that a baby would magically fix them – fix him. He wished that were true, but he knew that nothing could help him – not even a child. He should be happy. He was a twenty four year old man, with a beautiful girlfriend, who was currently expecting their first child.
He couldn't help the anger that boiled inside of him, angry at everything. Angry at himself for being so stupid. Angry at her for not remembering to be careful. Angry at the person he had become. The old version of himself would have been ecstatic. The old version of himself would have been a stable young working man, but instead – he was caught up with illegal things that would ruin both of their lives if it ever was brought to light.
He wasn't in a position to become a father – no fucking way could he be a dad right now. He would fuck up a kid majorly.
"A good thing? A good thing, Rachel? Are you fucking insane? How stupid and fucking - naive can you be?" He shouted, shoving his hands into the air.
He watched as she blinked twice, tears flooding her eyes. He had hurt her – he was sure of it, but he didn't care. How could she have let this happen? How could she have been so careless?
"We're not keeping it." He said, before grabbing his keys and slamming the door shut behind him.
:::
It was a boy – a perfect little boy. He weighed less than he had expected, proving to him that her genes were pretty damn strong.
They fought for months, hating each other before he finally came home, wrapped her in his arms, and cried with her as they both tried to fight it. She didn't get rid of it. She wanted the baby, and there was nothing he could do or say to persuade her otherwise, so he supported her as best he could.
He tried to keep his anger at a minimum, knowing that if the baby got hurt because of him, he would never forgive himself – let alone the fact that Rachel would never forgive him.
He put a crib together, and situated it against a wall in the back room of their apartment, kissing her when she thanked him. He didn't know how to feel about all of it. It was a lot to take in, but between the late night ice cream runs, the foot rubs, the hugs he gave her when she cried because her pants were too right, he had grown attached to the person growing inside of his girlfriend.
Before he knew it, she was waking him up at two in the morning, crying and yelling at him that 'it was time', and that he needed to get his 'lazy' ass up. He didn't rush, or scramble – he followed her lead, picking up the things she was throwing on the floor in her process of trying to gather things that she apparently needed. He couldn't understand why she possibly needed half of the things in her bag to go and have a baby, but he didn't argue. He drove them to the hospital, rubbing her forearm soothingly, not sure of what to say when she cried out in pain. He was still hung over, and he had downed four Motrin, trying to be there for her as best as he could be.
As his son was born, a million different thoughts ran through his mind. He thought about how he wanted to be a role model for him…someone he would look up to. Someone to protect him, care for him, provide for him, to love him. Finn knew he could do none of those things.
Rachel was over the moon. There was no doubt the baby was his son. He had his nose, his eyes, and his lips. He saw himself in the tiny human in his girlfriend's arms. Watching the woman he loved bring his child into the world was like an outer body experience. Like he was outside of himself – watching from the outside in.
He offered her his hand, pressing kisses to her arm as she clenched his fingers with her small hand, rolling his knuckles every time she pushed a little harder. He watched as she struggled – as she fought hard to deliver their baby. He gently squeezed and rubbed her knee as she pushed, telling her she was doing great, and whispering soft 'I love you's into her ear. He didn't hate that she was going through this, but it hurt him to see her in pain.
As he listened to every moan, groan, and scream that came from Rachel, he broke down internally, wishing that he was a real man at this moment. One that would encourage her, and tell her to just push a little more…help her. Being there as his child was being born was supposed to be the best, happiest, and most proud day of his life. Yet, he couldn't get his mind off of the fact that he was planning on leaving her.
He had decided weeks ago, after seeing her cry after he brushed her off, turning her down after she had wanted to sleep together. He didn't like hurting her, but he was hurting himself – and he didn't want to cause her any more pain than he already had. He took his anger for himself out on her, and that killed him.
How could he stay here? He wanted to stay with her – to change for her…for him.
No matter how much he loved her, or wanted to be with her – he knew it was better for her, and for their son if he weren't.
He was no good for either of them. He couldn't provide a life for them. He knew he couldn't – no matter how hard he tried to tell himself that maybe he could.
The second he heard the sound of success in her voice as she screamed one last time before collapsing down onto the bed, replaced by louder screams, he smiled and looked to her, the largest grin spreading across his face. He couldn't remember a time he had been happier…and he didn't even notice it. He found himself laughing softly in happiness as their small wailing son was placed on her chest, his voice telling her how proud of her he was, and whispering 'you did it, baby' over and over again.
"What should we name him?" She asked softly, looking over to Finn. He slowly woke from his sleep, smiling lazily at her, leaning forward to look at the baby. As looked over at her, looking into her eyes, he couldn't see anything but love, and he hoped that she saw the same in his.
"Whatever you like, baby." He said, bringing her hand to his mouth, pressing a hard kiss to her palm.
He wanted her to name him. He wanted her to be happy with whatever they called their son, so that she would smile every time she heard it. He wanted her to be happy when she was faced with the fact that she got to name their son once he was gone. He didn't want her to resent him for naming their son, and then leaving them.
"I like Liam. Liam Christopher Hudson." She said, looking back up to him. He smiled back to her, nodding his head.
"I love it." He told her, before pressing his lips to hers, trying to push the lump in his throat down. It was going to be like driving a knife through his chest once he left them. He told himself he didn't have to go, but was quickly brought back to reality when the baby woke up crying in the middle of the night. It wasn't just him and her anymore. He had brought this person into the world with her that deserved so much more than he could give him.
When it came time, he couldn't bring himself to say goodbye. Or to leave a note. It was too painful.
He stood in the middle of their son's room, cradling him in the crook of his neck, rubbing small circles on his back. It was the second week home from the hospital, and the baby was already fed, and was asleep on his shoulder. Rachel was also asleep in their bedroom, and he didn't want her to wake up before he left, so this was the last stop.
He had already kissed her goodnight, and told her how much he loved her. His bag stood by the front door, his car keys in his hand. He didn't want to leave – god how he wished he didn't have to.
He pressed a small kiss to the baby's forehead as he set him down into his crib, tears falling from his eyes. This was his son – his and Rachel's that they had created together, and it took every single ounce of self restraint in his entire body to put him into the crib, releasing him from his grasp for the last time.
"I love you, little man." He said quietly, his voice breaking as he placed his large hand on the baby's back, closing his eyes tight before turning for the door, shutting it behind him, and never looking back.
Getting on that train was the hardest thing he would ever have to do. It broke every bit of him down to nothing. He couldn't help the tears that fell, not caring as to how he looked. He had walked out on the only two people in his life – in his world that he loved more than anything. He shook with sobs, his shoulders shaking as he did is best to keep the noises inside. Tears dripped off his nose as he bowed his head, hanging in shame.
How could he even call himself a man?
:::
He had been living in Toronto, Canada for the past five years. He lived in a shit hole apartment. He slept on a bare mattress, and walked around in a burgundy sweat shirt with the hood up, and the zipper halfway down, exposing his chiseled torso, covered in a blank ink tattoo on the right side of his chest.
His hair was long and shaggy, a lighter brown color than it had used to be – bleached from the sun.
He didn't bother much with haircuts, or clothes. All of the money he had made from "work" went towards his living expenses, and food – not that he would call it food. He hadn't had a decent meal since the last one she had made him.
There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't hate himself for leaving her. He had had no contact with her since that day, knowing absolutely nothing about her, or him. He didn't know where she was living, or how she or their son were. He woke up every day, telling himself he would look for them tomorrow, but so many days passed that 'tomorrow' was just a hope that he couldn't grasp onto.
He looked in the mirror most days, and was scared at the man that looked back at him. He had just turned thirty – his face much more matured and aged. He thought about how she would look – if she would have the same lines on her face as he did…probably not. She was always perfect.
The man he was now only smoked cigarettes – a half a pack a day, sometimes a quarter. It wasn't that he wanted to, but he just couldn't afford it. There was no purse to steal from anymore, and it honestly felt good to be able to feel pain when he thought about what he had done to his life rather than numb that pain with drugs. It was good to be able to live with a clean mind, it made him face his reality – of how badly he had fucked his life up.
Sure, he sold drugs – but he lived in a shitty part of town, and the only local grocery store was two miles away – too far to walk everyday.
He relied on one person in this town – a cop. Funny, right? He was illegally selling drugs, and his only friend in the town was a police officer – a strong one, too. One that had the power to bring him down in a snap of two fingers if he really wanted to.
He had been in jail twice, for possession. He never stayed in for more than two days, and for that he was grateful. He didn't want to be sent to the slammer, but the two times he was – he swore he would never go there again. He wanted to clean himself up, but could never fully commit to it – until now.
As he leaned against the concrete wall, feeling the cool hardness against him through the material of his clothing as he watched as the police lights glowed in the distance as he tried to convince the guy in front of him that it was okay, but he found himself unsuccessful as he was shoved the drugs back in his hands, left without the fifty dollars he was supposed to make.
She the car came to a stop, he took a long drag of his cigarette before glancing around and stepping down from the curb to go to the car. He took a deep breath before leaning down to the open window.
"You just cost me fifty bucks." He said, looking at Mack with open eyes.
The older man just stared at him before telling him that "Maybe you should get a real job." He chuckled, and replied with a smart response of "I've got a job that pays good money when asshole cops don't fuck it up."
"Yeah, well my mistake." Mack said, offering a slight smile before taking a deep breath and looking into the seat next to him, picking up an envelope.
"We found your boy." He said, looking up at him through the open window.
He flickered his eyes from Mack's to the envelope. "Liam Hudson – Riverside, New York." He said, looking back up to him.
"Is he okay?" He said quietly, looking up into his eyes, trying to grab at any sort of emotion he could find.
"We think so. He's living with a Miss Berry…like I said, they're staying on Long Island – have been for the past four years." He said, handing him the envelope.
Long Island. She moved – to New York. Her dream was the city, but she moved to the island. He smiled at the fact that she was clearly living for their son. He was thankful, grateful, and every other emotion that swelled his heart at the moment.
"Simon…I'll take you to them. If you want me to…I promised I would help you, and I will…if it gets you out of this shit black hole, he paused, then I'll do anything I can." He said, looking up to him, nodding slightly.
He nodded, and thanked him quietly, accepting when he told him to get into the car, tossing the cigarette to the ground before stepping on it, putting it out. He grasped the car handle, pulling the door open and slipping in before closing the window, making himself invisible to the outside world.
They drove out of the neighborhood, and drove for a few miles before he decided to speak up.
"I don't know what to say…I mean…thank you. Thank you so so much. I can't thank you enough. I don't know why you've done everything you have for me, but I'm so fucking thankful you did." He told him, looking over at the white haired man, offering him a smile.
He nodded heavily, looking over at his passenger. "I'm going to drive you to the airport, put you on a plane, and I don't ever want to see you here again…understand?" He said, his voice hard and stern while keeping his stare on the road in front of him.
"Yes." He replied, his eyes grazing the yellow line that led him closer to his family.
When he first came to Canada, he decided he needed to start over. He had his phone, credit cards, bank accounts, and every other way he could be traced closed and erased. He started out new – with the name Simon Weeks. That was the name on his identification, and his passport. He was known as Simon – the man with the burgundy sweat shirt, and long hair. This was him now – this was his life. So how would his life be when he showed up on her doorstep? That – he had no answer to.
Putting the car into park, Mack looked over at Simon, and smiled warmly at him, holding out his hand for his, both enveloping each other's before he realized what Mack had done. He slipped five hundred dollars and a plane ticket into his hand, and clasped a hand over his shoulder, offering him a nod.
"Your going to find your family, Simon, and your going to make it right." He said, unlocking the car doors.
"Thank you." Was all he could muster up, tears burning the back of his eyes. Had it not be for this man, he would never be getting this chance.
After boarding the plane, he shut his eyes and zipped his jacket up a little higher, hiding every and any bit of skin that was out for someone to see. The flight was a little over an hour, giving him time to think and muster up every thought in his mind about what he was going to do or say when he saw her.
He booked a hotel for one night, the five hundred dollars Mack had given him going towards a suite in the local Marriot, giving him a place to sleep, eat, shower, and clean up before starting his life.
He picked up a new zip up dark grey sweatshirt with white drawstrings along with a pair of jeans from the local target. He looked decent…but he still looked like he had been run down in the dirt – which he had – for the past five years.
He went to bed, thinking about ways to explain himself to her, but really, there was no way to explain what he had done to them. Nothing he could say would make up for leaving his family – ever.
He thought about what their son would look like. He worried that she would be with someone…someone who had replaced him. Going through all of the different scenarios in his head didn't give him much time to sleep, so he settled for the four hours he had gotten from six to ten in the morning. He got out of bed, put his new clothes on, and grabbed the envelope from the dresser before checking out of the hotel.
He hailed a cab, and gave him the address that he found on the paper that gave him all of Rachel's information. He noticed her martial status was single, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't know how ready he was to do this, but he knew he needed to. He wondered what she would look like – how she would smile when she saw him. What color lipstick she would be wearing.
Before he knew it, the cab driver was mumbling something about money, leaving him to realize that they were there.
He handed the man a twenty bill, and got out of the car, pulling his hood over his head, hair still peaking out. Looking at the house, he smiled knowing that she had achieved her goal – he was positive she had judging by the house she was living in. It wasn't extravagant, but it was big – beautiful – and oh so Rachel. The gardening was perfect, and he knew that was all her. The house was a golden yellow, a big white porch in front like she always wanted. The driveway was large, a navy Audi SUV sat in the driveway on the left. He hoped that there wasn't a second car hiding in one of the two doors of the garage, but he knew he had to prepare for the worst case scenario.
As he walks towards the front door, he notices just how large the house is. It seems as he's walking forever, the back stretching far outwards. She had a lot of grass, smiling as he imagines their son running around laughing and smiling as they toss a football back and forth. That dream is suddenly stopped when he realizes that he's standing in front of her door. There are two stripped windows to the side of the door, allowing him to see inside the house.
Before he knows what he's doing, he presses his finger to the doorbell, staring only in front of him.
It feels like an eternity that he's standing there, waiting for the knot in his stomach to tighten when he sees the doorknob turn.
He stands there, waiting for it, and when it does, he holds his breath.
This is it. He thinks
As the door swings open, he notices a blur of brown, as his eyes focus on her. He looks down and sees her eyes – those brown eyes that he hadn't seen in what feels like forever. He can't keep the tears that flow down his face as she stares up at him wide eyed, her lips parted slightly.
Her hair is long – just below her breasts, a darker and redder shade of brown than he remembers. Her eyes are dark, smoky with shadow, her lashes thick and full. Her lips are raspberry red and plump, a slight sheen to them. Her smile is gently fading into a straight line as she rakes his body with her eyes. She flicks them back to his eye.
"Finn?" She calls out, softly, blinking away tears that are brimming her lids. The fact that she calls his name in question burns a fire in him. She knows its him – no matter how different he looks.
"It's me, Rach. It's me." He said slowly, his lips stretching over his teeth into a smile as he stares down at her, his hair softly flowing in the wind.
He puts one foot in front of the other, taking a step forward, but he stops as a small hand is placed on his chest, her eyes connecting with his as she hitches her breath and looks up at him with wet tears falling down her face.
"Don't come any closer." She says clearly, as his brows furrow together in confusion. He flicks his eyes back and forth over hers, trying to figure her emotions, and nods his head when he realizes that she's afraid.
"Rachel, please…" He tries, but she cuts him off by her yelling voice.
"How could you? How dare you!" She shouts at him, her finger pricking his chest as she jabs it forward into him. She gasps and jerks her hand back to her, holding it against her chest with her other hand. "Who are you?" She whispers, wiping her falling tears with her small fingers.
He licks his lips, and takes a step toward her, thankful that she doesn't back away.
"I'm Simon…Weeks. But I'm Finn, baby…it's me. I promise you, it's me. You know me." He pleads with her, his hands fumbling together, trying to find a place to rest them. He shakes his head when he follows his words, trying desperately to get his words through to her.
Her head shakes back and forth, holding her eyes shut tight.
"We're strangers, Simon! Or was that how we always were?" She says harshly, looking up at him with black eyes, wide and sad.
"No, no…Rachel, I'm still me. You know it's still me." He tells her, clenching his fists together at his sides, the knot in his stomach tightening.
She doesn't respond, but she reaches her hand slowly up to him, pulling the hood off of his head as her lips part, gasping air as she reveals his hair to her. Tears pool her eyes as she begins to understand. She closes her mouth, and flickers her eyes to his, to his nose, to his mouth, to his neck, his chest, and back to his eyes. She nods in understanding, and lifts her chin to shakily take a deep breath.
He watches her swallow deeply, staring down to his midsection as she reaches out for his hands, turning her body as she ushers him into the house. They don't say any words to each other as she follows suit behind him, shutting the door behind her.
"Sit down." She says slowly, pointing to the armchair a few feet away from them. He cringes as his shoes make contact with the taupe carpet, afraid of dirtying it with his shoes. If she only knew what kind of things the bottoms of those shoes had touched.
He noticed the pictures that scattered her walls – ones of herself and their little boy – their Liam. He smiled, and so badly wanted to see his son, but he knew there was a possibility that he wouldn't be able to – ever.
"I don't know who you think you are..." She started, walking over to him as she say on the edge of the class covered black coffee table, leaning her body into him. They were only inches apart, so close that he could smell her. She smelled of laundry detergent, mixed with cinnamon musk, and a tang of vanilla and raspberries. She smelled like everything good mixed into one thing. He looked up into her eyes as she cowered over him, her body taller than his as she perched her back as he sank his.
"…To come into my home…to come into this town…after all this time…I just, I don't…why you're here…" Her words were scattered and choppy, her eyes never leaving his.
She shook her head, and tucked her hair behind her ears, scanning her eyes all over him as she reached out and unzipped his sweatshirt. She revealed more skin as each zip uncovered, she held her breath.
She opened her mouth, and he could hear the tears in her breath as she looked back up at him.
"You don't have a shirt on." She said, looking up at him, grabbing his hand with hers, clenching it tightly. Tears fell freely from her eyes, and she wasn't trying to stop them. He knew that she knew…just by seeing him she knew.
She reached up to his face and tucked his hair out of his face, holding his cheek in one hand. She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, pulling her hand back to her lap.
"I'm really…really messed up, Rachel." He whispered, reaching his hand out to her chin, resting his thumb and forefinger against it, tugging it up so he could look at her. She nodded in understanding, and rested her hand on his arm that was extended to her.
"I know." She said, gripping his arm a little tighter. She looked down to his open sweatshirt, and noticed the black lines on his chest as she slowly dragged the material away from his body, gasping at the sight in front of her. She bit her lip softly, and let out a soft "Oh, Finn…" that was barely audible, but he picked it up.
She gently grazed her finger tips over the black markings, tracing out the name with her finger. He felt her finger spell out the cursive l, i, a, and m. After she traced the last letter, she looked to him and offered him a small, weak smile. He brought his thumbs up to her cheeks, and brushed away the tears that escaped.
"You love him." She said, her voice peaking at the end of her sentence. It wasn't a question. She looked to him as he nodded his head and mouthed 'yes' to her.
She nodded in agreement, and reached for his hands, taking them in hers.
She looks at their hands for a moment, before telling him what he's been waiting years to hear.
"I don't hate you." She tells him, giving him a small smile as she tugs his hands in her own.
How could she hate him? She knows she should, but she just can't. As much as she wants to resent him for what he did to them, she has passed that already. She knows that he did what he did for them, not because of them. She knows that he loved them, and he left to save them. How she knows this, she's not sure…she just knows – she has known for a long time.
"You don't?" He asks softly, his own tears falling down his face. She watched as his chest and stomach tightens and constricts with every deep breath he takes to try to catch his breath in his throat.
"How can I hate you, Finn? I've loved you since that first day of Glee club…I loved you the day you gave me my star necklace, the day you put me on that train, the day you showed up in New York, the day you proposed – every time actually. I loved you every day for the past ten years, and I love you today." She tells him this, her eyes never faltering off of his.
"I didn't want this for you. I've been living in this big house for the past four years, raising our son alone…this house is so big, and the cabinets are so high that I can't…I can't reach them. You were supposed to live here. You were supposed to help me raise him…but I understand." She tells him, leaning forward and pulling him against her, her knees faltering, shakily. He pulls her body to his, picking her up to rest her on his legs, holding her close.
"I've been waiting for this day for five years." She whispers into his ear. She rakes her hand through his smooth hair, her nails combing through the thick strands.
He pulls her back, and takes her hands in his, looking up to her as she rests on his leg.
"I was so wrong, baby. I was an awful man to you…and I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, to treat you badly…to leave you. I love you more than I can ever express to you…I love our son. God, I love our son. That little baby that I said goodbye to years ago – I would die for him. I miss him so much, Rachel. I thought about the two of you for every day since that day that I walked out on the two of you. I regretted it the second I walked out that door…but God, I couldn't turn back. I was so weak, and I couldn't turn back…" His voice was broken, as he was in sobs now, his body shaking against her as she held him to her.
She hated seeing this broken man…this man that she didn't recognize. She never knew him to be weak, but here in front of her, she had never seen him so exposed and vulnerable. It made her heart ache in pain, and pull at her strings as she felt his cries rake through his body. Every vein of hers pumped blood quick and fast, her heart racing a mile a minute as she held him to her.
He reached his hand up to hold her neck to him, his cheek wet with tears as he pulled her closer to him, his fingers brushing the hair at the nape of her neck. He pulled away slowly, her hair sticking to his face, his lips just a breath away from hers. He looked from her lips to her eyes, and back, pressing them together without thinking. His puckered, strong lips caught hers in a deep and passionate kiss, feeling her heartbeat in his fingers as he gripped her neck a little tighter.
She fisted his sweatshirt in her hand, tugging him closer to her.
His tongue grazes her bottom lip, asking for entry. She parted her lips after a few seconds, and their tongues danced together as he held her face in his hands. He heard a small moan come from her, and he pulled away for a second, connecting with her eyes as he resumed his lips on hers before picking her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he walked to the nearest wall, resulting in a thud.
"Finn…" She groaned, his lips grazing her jaw, moving down to the skin between her ear and neck, earning a moan as he nipped and sucked on the taught skin there.
"Finn!" She groaned a little louder this time, his head leaning up to look at her.
"I need you." She told him, tugging at his arms, her finger barely fitting around the tops of his biceps, larger than they were the last time she did this. "Please." She didn't have to beg – he would give her anything she wanted anytime she wanted, and he would shower her with love and appreciation.
"Where's the bedroom?" he asked quietly, his lips going back to her neck as he ran his teeth over her soft skin there, not biting – wanting to leave her skin perfect until they were in a better position.
"Upstairs…the right." She moaned out, trying to get his lips back to hers, but he didn't move his…leaving them open and wet on her neck.
He walked up the stairs, holding her by the backs of her thighs, his fingers barely brushing her core, driving both of them to near insanity.
Once at the top step, his foot faltered as he tipped, Rachel leaning her arm out and slamming it to the wall, trying to balance them as he moved faster to her bedroom, slamming her against the door as he got there. As the wood hit her back, she winced and yelled, gripping his arms with her nails.
"Shit, Rachel…I need to…I want to fuck you." He said, his voice thick with need, desire, heavy with anguish.
She tore her arms from his as she leaned back, pulling the material from his body, tugging it down his arms quickly, needing to feel the warmth of his skin against hers. Once she got it off, she realized that he had many more tattoos than she thought. There was a large cross on the inside of his forearm, his veins bulging as he held her weight in his arms, and another on his bicep, a tribal wrap, thick and winding. She also made out the footprints on his back as he held her, and she looked across the room into the mirror. She knew those footprints. It was the footprints of their son.
She said nothing as she pushed at his chest, looking at him with fury in her eyes, almost begging him to touch her. She hadn't let a man touch her since him.
He reached between them and lifted the hem of her loose white sweater, and lifted it over her head, tossing it below them as he reached around her back to un clasp her bra. Once it was free, he pulled the black lace away from her body, the swift movement making cool wind breeze her skin, raising her nipples to peaks.
He felt her harden against him, and he moved to toss her down onto the bed, hovering above her as he noticed her – her curves. Her breasts were fuller, larger, thicker, and he loved it. He dipped his head down to one and wrapped his lips around the rosy bud, fucking it with his tongue as his teeth nipped at it gently, rolling the other between his thumb and pointer finger, before grabbing both with his palms, and kneading them in his hands. She moaned and writhed on the bed, groaning and moaning as he continued his movements on her chest.
He knew that having their son had made her body into a wonderland, and he loved the thought of that – the fact that something so perfect made his girl so much more unbelievably perfect and beautiful.
He moved his hands down her body, grazing his finger along her stomach, feeling the flat pane of her – so different than how he last felt her. He moved his hands to the tops of her pants, and pulled the black spandex down her legs, taking her panties with them, exposing each part of skin to him like it was the first time. She was tanner, more toned than he remembered her. Her legs were like silk, and they shined like gloss under the dim lights. He tore off her last garments with a swift pull, and tossed them aside, moving his hands to her calves as he ran his hands slowly up, pressing his thumbs into her skin, pushing her muscles and relaxing her. He got to her knees, and he kissed them both as he moved his hands to separate them, her knees slowly parting as he exposed her to him.
He nearly came apart right there as he looked to her center, glistening with wetness and it was practically calling for him. He looked to her stomach, seeing it roll with havy breaths, rising, falling, and squirming.
"Finn, please!" She finally moaned, bucking her hips up and off the bed, his hands finding her hips as he pushed her down.
He rolled his hands over her hip bones to the insides of her thighs, only centimeters away from where she needed him most. She could feel his hot breath on her, the air mixed with her juices causing it to feel cool, jerking her his forward. Again, he pushed her down, and looked up to her, smirking up at her as she groaned and leaned her head back down onto the bed.
He pulled her thighs swiftly down the bed, her legs hanging off as he pushed them back up, her feet flat on the bed as he kneeled in front of her – right where she needed him.
He moved his fingers to her pussy, and ran a finger slowly down from top to bottom, pushing all the way into her with one finger, curling up and hitting the small nub of nerves that caused her to scream out loud, fisting sheets in her hands.
"Fuck! Finn…enough!" She yelled at him, and he smirked to himself before pushing his face into her, his tongue flicking and licking at every part of her he could, her hips moving up into his face as she moaned and screamed his name over and over, flicking her clit with his tongue as he inserted another finger into her warmth. He hummed against her, the vibration causing her to near the edge. He lapped at her, his tongue covering her entire slit in one swift motion, his warm tongue against her, moving up and down as she grabbed his hair in her hands, pushing him into her. His nose was at the top of her, inhaling her sweet scent as she screamed that she was close.
He blew hot air onto her and resumed his lips and tongue on her pussy as he flicked his tongue vigorously and swiftly, his fingers wiggling around inside of her as she was about to come undone. In one swift movement, he stopped his actions, leaving her breathless and panting, about to ask him why in the fuck he would stop, when he quickly unzipped his pants and yanked them down his legs, moving to her as he tugged her legs to him, catching them both as they fell to his sides, both hands underneath her knees as he held her to him, positioning himself in front of her entrance before connecting his eyes with hers as he entered her in one long swift thrust.
Trying to keep her eyes open but failing, Rachel collapsed against the bed, her shoulders digging into the mattress as he filled her, her legs held by his strong and callused hands, as he moved in and out of her quickly, filling her to the brim with want and need, hearty and deep groans of his own filling the air as they escalated in volume, his hips moving quicker against hers, his skin slapping hers, slick with sweat as he blew his hair out of his face, raising her knees up and over his shoulders, leaning down over her as his face was above hers.
She pulled him down to her quickly, pushing her lips fiercely into his, moaning into his mouth as he filled her with each swift and hard thrust, pushing her body up each time, smiling against her lips as he looked down at her.
"I love you I love you I love you." He repeated, looking into her eyes as he reached his orgasm, holding her hips against his as he pushed her up into him, connecting them deeper, causing her to buck her body up into him, screaming "yes" over and over in the air, loud and thick around them.
"I wanna cum, Finn…I'm gonna…I'm so close…God, I… Ohhhh, Finn!" He could feel her contracting muscles around him as he groaned out "fucks" and "yes, Rach" again and again into her ear as he held them together as he shot his hot stream of seed into her as she milked him of every last drop, her orgasm following his, their juices mixing together perfectly. They both groaned against each others' skin, clammy and slick with sweat from their movements. He was bigger than she remembers, his huge body towering over her, compelling her completely.
They stared into each other's eyes as they relaxed from their high, connecting their lips softly, the sounds of their kisses filling the room. They could feel each others' smiles against each others lips.
He was still inside her, his cock still hard, never tired of her. She pressed open mouthed kisses along his shoulders, over his traps, to his neck, and up to his lips again.
"I have to pick up Liam from school." She said softly, running her nails over his chest. "I want you there with me." She smiled to him, and entwined their hands together, holding him to her.
"Okay." He said, leaning down to her, kissing her once more, passionately, as if he would never get to kiss her again.
After they got out of bed, and got changed, it was awkward – not like stranger awkward…but there was something in the air. They had just had mind-blowing sex, and now they were going to get their son – the boy that he hadn't seen since he was born. This wasn't supposed to happen, but he took it with open arms. He was so thankful that she took him in with open arms, and he couldn't explain the feeling of cloud nine he was on right now.
The whole car ride was filled with silence, as his large hand enveloped the knee that was closest to him, earning her glances over at him every other slight squeeze.
She pulled up in front of a school – this giant, mansion looking place that looked like little princes would attend, and she shut off the car and opened her door. "Are you coming?" He heard her say, bringing him out of his tizzy.
"Yeah, I'm coming." He said back, getting out of the car after her. He walked to her, and enveloped her small tan hand in his own, smiling down at her as she smiled back up at him.
"He knows you, Finn. He'll recognize you. You don't have to hide from him, or act like he's not your son. You can hug him…tell him whatever you'd like…I won't stop you from that. He is your son too." She said softly, squeezing his hand as they made their way into the school.
He was nervous – to say the least. He thought he was nervous when he first saw her…this was a whole different level. He had no idea what this little boy looked like – how he acted – nothing. Thinking about it, he hated it. He didn't know anything about his own child…
"Mommy!" The high voice snapped him back to reality as he watched a small blonde haired little boy run towards them, a striped green and blue button neck tee shirt and a pair of light kaki pants cladding his small body. Finn couldn't help but smile as the little boy ran into her arms, his face snuggled into her hair as he gripped her neck, wrapping his legs around her as she picked him up.
She moved to face him, and smiled warmly up to him. She stroked his blonde hair – blonde hair - just like his when he was a child. That was when it hit him. This was his son. This was the little baby he left in his crib five years ago.
"Sweetheart, there's someone I want you to meet." She said as she held his face, smiling down to him. The boy turned his head in Finn's direction, smiling at him, his teeth visible to him. He could see the small little white squares, and he smiled back.
"Hi, Liam…" he said nervously, looking at the small boy in his arms before continuing. "…I'm your dad." Finn said, offering the boy a smile.
The little boy giggled and wriggled out of his mothers' arms, walking to Finn. "I know who you are." He said, his small voice was surely the cutest thing that Finn would ever hear. He crouched down to him, looking at him as he reached out his arms, the boy walking into them as he raised back to his feet, now holding his son in his arms.
"Do you, buddy?" He asked, looking the boy in the eyes, noticing the flecks of green and amber – a reflection of his own eyes.
He laughed and nodded his head, hiding his head in Finn's large shoulder. He looked down to Rachel, and watched as tears slipped down her face as she smiled wide, nodding to him that it was okay. This was his family – right here. This moment he had wanted since the day he met her. Sure, it was a long road to get here, but he got there, and he was never going to veer off again.
:::
"Fuck!" She heard him curse out loud as she jumped from the bed, grabbing the sheet to cover herself, grabbing her robe from the armchair next to her, wrapping it around herself as she peaked out the bedroom door.
"Finn?" She called out, and stepped out into the hallway, peering over the railing.
He smiled as he looked up at her, and he couldn't help but smile back at her, even though his foot was throbbing after stepping on one of their son's trucks. She descended down the stairs, and wrapped her arms around him, her fingers finding their way into his hair, smiling at the fact that he had agreed to keep his long hair for a little longer. No matter how dirty it made him feel, she fucking loved it, and he was determined to give her anything that she wanted.
It was nearly a year ago that he came back to her, and life had been amazing. Of course, it has its difficulties, and sometimes they argue about why he parked his car in her spot, but they work through it.
Liam is a handful – he realizes that more and more every day. He's messy, he's loud, he's a little devil. Finn loves him to death, but sometimes he really annoys the shit out of him. With all of the "but why, daddy?" questions, it makes Finn's ears steam. But that smile and that little laugh is what makes him realize how lucky he is.
It's the morning hugs, and occasional tug on his pant leg that reminds him that he's a dad, and it's his job to make his son happy – no matter what.
"Finn…you really need to watch where you step, baby." She says with a giggle, leaning up on her tip toes to press a kiss to his lips.
"Rach, baby you really need to tell your son to put things back where they belong." He said back to her, his dazzling smile sending her into a tailspin.
He kisses her back, and pulls her to him, their stomachs touching as their skin sets fire and their tongues dance together happily.
He grabs her hand, and feels the stones dig into his fingers as he brings them to his mouth and kisses her ring finger, smiling down at his own wedding band on his left hand.
He pulls away from her and runs his flat palm against her stomach and rubs gently, leaning his lips to her ear. "I think we made a baby last night, darling." He tells her, winking with a smile sweeping his lips.
She giggles back at him, and wraps her arms around his neck, kissing his face until she reaches his lips, pecking a quick kiss to them.
"You wish, honey." She says, walking past him into the kitchen and sitting down at one of the bar stools as he follows and playfully slaps her bottom with his hand. She laughs and swats at his hand and leans on her elbows to lean into his face.
"So, baby…what's on the menu this morning for mommy?" She asks, winking back at him as he pulls her face closer to his, not kissing her.
"I think I can think of something." He says, flashing her a crooked smile before he picks her up listening to her laughs and callings of his name as he places her on the counter, pulling apart her robe, pulling her body flush against his his as he kisses her feverously.
I can't believe it's over! If I add anymore, I'll be writing until the wee hours the morning, and this story will be 500 pages. I hope you all enjoyed this, I worked so hard on it and I love the outcome! Let me know what you want to read next.
Reviews make my soul feel good! xoxoxoxo