A/N: Hi! Okay, this is based off the Children's Hospital prompt from finchel-prompts. Special thanks to Kelsey, for nudging me towards this prompt! It's AU, Christmas-based, and... yeah, I hope you like it! Reviews are always so appreciated.
-x-
Every love story has an epically adorable start, correct? That's what all the movies say, anyway, and Rachel Berry is quite the connoisseur of romantic comedies. She's had every line of When Harry Met Sally memorized since she was fourteen years old, and she's watched Pretty in Pink more times than should be legally allowed.
Seriously – once she got past the twentieth viewing, her dads tried to throw the DVD out. Luckily, Rachel caught them as they were just about to commit the heinous act, otherwise she's sure she would've called child protective services and claimed child abuse. She was a bit of a dramatic fourteen year old, you see.
But that's neither here nor there. The point is that every love story is supposed to start amazingly and romantically. The moment you lay eyes on your true love, you should feel like – like everything's right in the world, that nothing can go wrong. That you're invincible.
This is how Rachel always thought it would go. She knows that might sound a bit naïve, but honestly, it's just how she felt. One can only watch Julia Roberts swoon over Richard Gere so many times without, at some point, thinking that scenario will happen to you, too. (Not the prostitution and all of that, obviously. But the good, funny parts, like shopping on Rodeo Drive and being able to take baths in that amazing tub.)
She knew right off the bat that her high school boyfriend, Noah, was absolutely not her true love. First off, Rachel refused to believe that her true love was the boy who liked to hang around at the 7-11 for fun, and who liked to burp the letters of the alphabet during silent study hall. And besides, while Rachel certainly appreciates the time she shared with Noah, she knew they were never going to last past high school.
They met at a high school party, when Rachel was in the bathroom vomiting up a couple of tequila shots and Noah was trying to hide from Quinn Fabray. That is not the type of story that Rachel envisions telling her future children, alright?
Anyway. After Noah, she dated this boy at college (whose name she prefers to not even think about at this point) who apparently thought that Rachel's dreams of medical school were absolutely beneath his dreams for stardom. And he left her, the day after college graduation, to join some sort of entertainment cruise line.
She might still be just a bit bitter. She never admits to that, though. She's too strong to be brought down by memories of a boy who was never good enough for her in the first place.
She hasn't dated anyone since him, though. Her love life has been about as dry as the Sahara desert ever since she started medical school, and honestly, she's not expecting things to change too much now that she's in residency. It's not that she doesn't want someone; it's more that she doesn't need someone, and right now, she doesn't have enough time or energy to spend with simply wanting a guy.
Besides, she's not sure how many true romances start in a hospital. Yes, she's seen ER and Grey's Anatomy, but most of the relationships on those particular shows did not end up too terribly well and she'd rather like to avoid that fate. And anyway, all the boys (and yes, they're boys, because they're immature and gross and have not yet earned the title of man in Rachel's eyes) in her med program were most certainly not worthy of even being considered a potential true love.
(Years from now, when Rachel looks back on the very first time she ever saw Finn Hudson's face, she'll have to laugh at herself. Because to think that she met her soulmate, her true love, when she was literally crying in the break room over spilled milk, is completely ironic. For the girl who thought that meeting her true love would be all sunshine and roses… well. Meeting Finn certainly proved her wrong.)
-x-
It's two thirty in the morning on a Tuesday night (morning?), and Rachel's already had about two mental breakdowns. She doesn't think this is a sign of good things to come for the rest of her shift.
It's just that she - she made a mistake in her last rounds. It wasn't a massive, huge, life threatening one, and a nurse quickly caught it for her, but it was still stressful and it set Rachel entirely on edge. She doesn't make mistakes. She hates mistakes. And now, here she is, in her first week of residency and she's already making mistakes galore.
Her professors told her she'd make mistakes in residency. They said that she would screw up, she'd cry, and that being in her intern year would be a rude awakening for a girl who has an allergy to being wrong. And Rachel laughed with them, said she completely understood that she'd make mistakes, and that she wouldn't let it eat at her.
That was a lie. In the back of her mind, when she was talking to all those professors, listening to all those anecdotes, she was thinking: these people don't know me. They don't know what I'm capable of. I am not going to make the mistakes that they all made, and I am absolutely going to be the best pediatrics doctor that Children's Hospital has seen.
She hates that she's proving all those professors right.
It's stressful. It's unquestionably eating at her. And now she's on her break for a half hour, and all she wants to do is sit, drink coffee, and read trashy magazines that make her realize that while her life may be difficult right now, at least it hasn't reached Jersey Shore levels of ridiculousness.
But, of course, the coffee machine is now working against her, as well. Probably in cahoots with the computer that completely deleted her notes on the one room on the third floor. It's like this hospital just loves to make Rachel miserable.
The coffee machine's broken, or it's just being irrationally difficult on purpose. Either way, it's pissing her off, and at this point in time, it's a little more than she can take. She hits it, nudges at it with her finger insistently, before sighing and just smacking it a couple of times with the side of her palm.
She knows that's pointless. She does. She may not be the best with technology, but she is aware that hitting electronic items with blunt force usually doesn't make them miraculously cooperate. But – has she mentioned that she's having a bad day?
The coffee maker better fall in line or it's going to end up in the trash. It's a harsh response to a probably relatively minor problem – Rachel understands this – but there aren't any other doctors in the room right now, and she's pretty sure she could make it look like an accident somehow.
She's at the end of the rope and she's thinking about edging the machine over into the trash can that's conveniently located right to the left of the cabinet. Would anyone notice? Really? Honestly? It's not like this coffee machine makes that good of coffee, anyway, and maybe this is doing all of the doctors a favor.
Caffeine addiction is detrimental to a person's attention span in the long run, you know. In a way, throwing out the coffee machine could be considered a good thing.
Rachel's just about through rationalizing the murder of the coffee machine when the door to the break room swings open. She's startled, like she's just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and she whirls around; and for the love of God, she actually holds her hands up in the air, as if signaling her guilt.
In the process of raising her hands in the air, however, she knocks over the little carton of milk that had been resting by the coffee maker. And, because this is just the kind of day that Rachel's having, the carton shoots off from the cabinet and drops onto the floor, spilling liquid all over the tiles.
Rachel looks up at the intruder – some other new resident, she thinks – and then down at the floor, where the milk is currently seeping into her crocs. And she lets out a hysterical cry, a huge hiccup of a sob, before whirling back around and grabbing the roll of paper towels off from the cabinet.
"Hey – hey, it's okay," the guy says, and he walks up behind her, tries to grab the paper towels from her so that he can help her clean up.
That's sweet of him, really, it is, but Rachel would rather wallow in her early morning embarrassment by herself. At this point, she thinks that she needs a good ten minute cry before she can even think about returning to work, and while she is known for being a bit dramatic – crying onto the shoulder of a coworker she doesn't even know is stretching it, even for her.
And there's milk in her crocs, and she still doesn't have her coffee, and she's sure that she forgot to do something in the last room… and there she goes, she's crying, right there in the middle of the floor with the spilled milk soaking into her scrubs and this stranger looking on at her with what looks like the most confused expression that Rachel's ever seen.
She wipes her hand across her face and she tries to get a hold of herself, but she seriously can't stop the tears that are falling down her face right now. The guy awkwardly claps her on the shoulder, and he bites at his bottom lip, looks at the milk on the floor.
"Isn't there a saying about um. You know. Milk and floors?" he asks, and he's trying to inject some sort of levity into this situation, which Rachel does truly appreciate. "No point in whining over it," the guy continues helpfully.
She's not whining, she's crying, and he got the saying slightly wrong, but – she's sure he was just trying to be nice, because he's smiling at her and he looks like he's a good person. There's no mocking or teasing in his tone of voice. He's being somewhat comforting, which is a bit shocking. Rachel has to admit, if she walked in on a girl having a meltdown over spilled milk, she'd probably ask for an IOU and back out of the room slowly.
He sort of rubs his hand against Rachel's shoulder, except he keeps his hand there for maybe a moment too long, considering the fact that they don't even know each other – he quickly pulls his hand away, almost as if he's been burned, before looking back down at the tiled floor.
He wipes at the spill with a couple of paper towels and Rachel sniffles, drags her hand underneath her nose. She takes a deep breath and she lets it out slowly, and she tries to think of some excuse to give this man, for why she was having a meltdown in the break room.
But it's two in the morning and not many people do their best thinking at two in the morning. Not even Rachel Berry.
So when the man asks her what's wrong, she just lets out another sniffle and she says, wearily like she's a seasoned war veteran, "That coffee machine hates me."
She lets out a self-deprecating laugh, touches her fingertips to her forehead lightly. "I thought that I'd have enough time to make a cup before my next rounds, but I can't figure out how to get it to start. And then I briefly, briefly considered setting the thing on fire, or maybe dumping it out back, but you came in before the damage could be done."
She's talking quickly, rambling even. She does that when she's nervous and it's always been a bit of an embarrassing personality trait. But this guy just looks like she's amusing him – not annoying him. So she gives him a small smile because, after all, they're coworkers. And it'd be nice if she was able to walk away from this situation knowing that he won't leave and go tell all of the people on the floor about the craziness that is Rachel and her life.
"And… the crying over the milk?" the guy asks, as he stands up and tosses the soggy paper towels into the garbage can. He leans over then, taps his fingers against the tiled floor to make sure that all the milk was wiped up.
Rachel lets out a sigh and says, "It's been a difficult day. Night. Morning." She pauses, then says, "You know what I mean."
And he does, just like every other person who works at a hospital does. Night shifts, while part of the territory, are still completely horrible and no one ever truly adjusts to them.
He nods and laughs, offers her a hand to help her stand up. She takes it, then brushes her hands against her thighs. It doesn't do anything to help the fact that the milk's all soaked into her pants, but still, it makes her feel a little better.
She looks up at the guy; she actually does have to literally look up, because he's way, way taller than her, probably over six feet. She gives him another smile, and she holds out her hand, says,
"I'm Rachel Berry, by the way. I figure since you just saw me at possibly my lowest point, you should probably have a name to put with the face."
She tries to stand up confidently, puts a hand on her hip so that she's putting her best face forward, even though she currently smells like a five foot two dairy product. The guy smiles at her, and says,
"I'm Finn Hudson. And – we've met, actually. At orientation. We're both new residents, we just haven't worked together yet."
Rachel can feel herself blushing and she looks down at the floor, at her purple shoes and her soppy socks and she says, "So we're going to be together for the rest of our shift, I assume? Since your tone of voice and use of the word 'yet' implies that we'll be seeing each other a lot today."
She glances up at him, and he has one of those guilty smiles on his face. Rachel sighs, pushes a hand over her head, tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "Well," she says finally. "I apologize that your first impression of me is as a crazy lady who harbors deep, resentful feelings towards the coffee machine."
He lets out this genuine laugh, tilts his head back and closes his eyes a little, like she's just told him the world's best joke. He's very cute and Rachel thinks that he's probably very good at handling all of the kids on the floor. He just looks like a nice guy, you know? Certainly someone you'd trust your life with.
She thinks that she must be blushing.
He tells her, "We all have rough mornings. Don't worry about it – seriously. Wait until you see me in the copy room."
She nods and she's not sure exactly what else to say. She thinks that they're getting off on a good foot, minus the whole milk incident, and she doesn't really want to ruin this progress she's made in showing him that she's a normal and perfectly functioning human being.
He gives her a little nod, motioning for her to move to the side. She does, and he reaches over, flicks the coffee machine on with practiced ease. Rachel can't help herself. She lets out a pout and says,
"That's not fair."
Finn grins and he says, "I had enough fights with this thing last night. It knows when it's met its match."
Rachel giggles, and she pulls a mug out of the cupboard, then glances over at Finn. "When do you have to go back to work?" she asks, her hand hovering next to the mugs.
He smiles at her and he says, "Ten minutes. I'll take a cup, too."
-x-
There's a little boy on the third floor. His name's Lucas, and he's dying of this particularly rare and nasty form of cancer that seems to never gives anyone a break. It breaks Rachel's heart and every time she goes to see him, she has to steel herself before she walks into the room. Because, you know, she always has hope that a patient's going to pull through. But in the bottom of her heart, she's too pragmatic to think that will always be the case.
And she can't cry in front of them. And she can't cry in the hospital. So she has to make sure that she stays as strong as she can while she's doing her rounds, but sometimes that's easier said than done. Especially when it comes to patients like Lucas.
Finn's working with her today; he slips into the elevator just as about the door's about to close. He gives her a tight grin, nods at the laptop that's tucked underneath her arm. He tries to make a joke, says,
"Not going to delete any information today, right?"
It's sort of a running joke between them now, about how Rachel's computer magically tends to eat up some of her files. Usually it makes her giggle just a bit, lightens the mood a touch, but today she's not in the mood. She just gives Finn a weary smile, hits the button that will take them to the third floor, and then leans against the wall.
She lets out a rather hearty yawn, and Finn bumps his hip against hers. "You need more sleep."
"Sleep is for the weak," she retorts, and then closes her eyes, lets out another little yawn. "I just bought this kitten the other day? Well, rescued him, actually. I saw him on the side of the road when I was driving home from work. He stays up half the night and he's always meowing about something."
Finn frowns and he says, "Is that safe? What if it has fleas or something?"
Rachel laughs as the elevator doors open, and they head out onto the floor. She says, "He's not an it, Finn. And he did have fleas, but the vet prescribed him this medication that's supposed to cure of him them."
Finn wrinkles his nose, smiles and waves at one of the nurses walking by. He glances down at Rachel and he protests, saying, "That means those bugs are all over your apartment, though. They're probably like, in your food and stuff."
She rolls her eyes, and this time it's her knocking her hip against his. She says, "At least that'll make you think twice before you try to steal my guacamole again."
Finn smiles bashfully at her, scratches at the back of his neck with his clipboard but doesn't say anything. He'd never in a million years admit to it, but Rachel knows for a fact that it's him who always sneaks half of her guacamole from the break room, whenever she brings it in for lunch.
He, rather unskillfully, tries to switch the topic back to her kitten. "So, he stays up late and everything?"
Rachel nods. "And then he's always jumping all over my bed, trying to bite at my feet. I swear, if he wasn't so absolutely adorable, I'd have kicked him out of the room by now."
And she's thought about it, too. But Newton's very good company, and sometimes Rachel gets lonely after her shift. It's not like she has too many friends in this city – she moved to Lima and started her residency immediately, so it's not as if she's had much time to make connections to people outside of work.
While Newton is a bit… rambunctious at times, at least spending time with him means that Rachel isn't spending her time at home alone. And with her job, if she was alone all the time, it'd be easy to ruminate over every single little thing that happens at work, which would just end up driving her absolutely insane.
Finn tells her, "I have a dog; Carly. But she's trained and shit, so she doesn't bite at my feet. And she's flea-free."
Rachel looks up at him, narrows her eyes in a teasing manner. "Is this supposed to be a dig against my parenting skills? Because I assure you, Finn, that had Newton been in my company from the beginning of his life, he would not have fleas."
"Keep telling yourself that," Finn says. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
He flashes her a quick grin, before peeking over at her chart. "We're in Luke's room first today, right?"
Rachel nods as they round the corner towards the east wing of the hospital. She says in this quiet sort of voice, "Does it – I mean. Does being around him ever…" and she trails off, because what she was about to say is completely inappropriate. And while her and Finn are friendly now, and have been ever since that highly embarrassing milk incident – it's still not right to talk about patients like this with him.
But he responds anyway, says, "It kind of breaks my heart, too."
He looks at her when he says that, and his brown eyes are just so warm and – and understanding. It almost takes Rachel's breath away, to be honest, because she really can't remember the last time that someone looked at her that openly.
So, she looks away and knocks on Luke's door once or twice before entering.
(She can't fall for someone at work. She can't. This job is difficult enough as it is without having to worry about romantic drama on top of it.
And besides, true love stories don't have beginnings that start with spilled milk, remember? Or at least, that's what Rachel's telling herself.)
Luke's lying in bed with a pirate hat on, an eye patch over his eye. The eye patch is necessary, of course. The hat is just for decoration. Rachel can feel her heart splintering into about a hundred little pieces, and she actually almost takes a step back when she sees him.
Finn pushes her forward, subtly, as he walks into the room, too.
"Hi. Hi," Rachel says, twice, because she's an idiot and at times, not so good at all of those interpersonal skills that she should've learned at some point in her college career. "Dr. Schuester will be in here in just a moment, but I thought we'd come by a bit early to see how Luke's feeling today."
His mom's sitting in a chair by the corner, eating a sandwich and drinking out of a grape juice box. She wipes her hands on a napkin quickly, stands up and crosses the room so that she can shake Rachel and Finn's hands.
This also breaks Rachel's heart. Because Santana, Luke's mom, doesn't have to act as strong as she does. She could cry, scream, punch; do whatever she wanted, and it would all be completely justified because her child's life is slipping away, right before her very eyes. But Rachel hasn't seen her crack, not once, since the couple of weeks that she's been at the hospital.
And in this sort of situation, with this sort of case, it'd be very understandable if Santana was cracking just about every other day.
Santana glances back at Luke, who's snoozing now, and then back at Rachel. She folds her arms across her chest, frowns and says, "He's said that he's in a lot more pain this morning. I thought that the new medicine was supposed to help take care of that?"
She sounds like a woman who's balancing very precariously upon a very tight, very thin rope. Rachel quickly tells her that the medicine sometimes takes around twelve hours to adjust before its full benefits can be assessed.
"But if he's in pain, we can see if there's something else we can put him on," Finn says, jumping in.
Rachel looks at him and she's kind of annoyed because she was just about to say that, and he didn't have to talk over her. It's not like he cares about Luke any more than she does. It's also not like he knows any more than she does, and she'd appreciate it if he let her speak without trying to make this look like a competition over who got the better grades at med school.
Finn gives her a quick, apologetic look, before looking back over at Santana, who's still looking stressed as all hell. She runs her hands through her hair, pulls at the strands for a few seconds before nodding.
"I mean – yes, please, put him on something else. He's sleeping right now but I know that he'll be waking up again soon, and the nurse said that there's only so much – so much pain medication she can put him on."
She's tripping over her words and she bites at her bottom lip, shakes her head at herself. She apologizes and Rachel says,
"There's nothing you need to apologize for, Ms. Lopez."
Santana purses her lips, shakes her head again, trying to maintain control of herself. Rachel doesn't say anything, just looks at Finn, who's looking at the floor. It's an awkward sort of situation, being in a room with a parent who's trying to look like they have all the answers when it's clear that the answer that they so desperately want is never going to materialize. Sometimes it's best just to let them have their ways in matters that they can control.
Finally, Santana says, her voice managing to sound somehow controlled and desperate at the same time, "Please let me apologize."
Rachel nods and she says, "Okay," before walking over to where Luke is. He's starting to stir awake, and she makes a note of his vitals, before smiling at him. She leans over and he reaches a hand out, touches her stethoscope. He's at that age where he thinks that doctors are still super cool; he isn't scared of them, which is completely shocking, considering how many doctors he sees a day.
"Applesauce for breakfast again?" Rachel teases, looking over at the empty container that's on his nightstand. Luke smiles at her, a tired little smile that seems to take up almost all of his energy.
"It's my favorite. You know that," he says, and he tells her that she's silly.
Rachel crosses her eyes, and touches her tongue to the tip of her nose – a skill that the kids at the hospital think is the absolute coolest thing in the world.
"The silliest." She straightens up and looks over at Finn, who's making a couple of notes on things. "Dr. Schue's gonna be in soon, okay?" she tells Luke. "Make sure you let him know how you're feeling. And no lies, mister, I mean it."
She says this warningly because Luke is very much his mother's son, even at four years old, and he doesn't like when people make a fuss over him.
Luke crosses his heart, and Rachel fixes his pirate hat, making sure that it's straight on his head. Her fingertips graze against his soft, downy hair, and she looks over at Santana, who's still looking like she's holding on by a quickly shredding thread.
Rachel knows that it'd embarrass the woman if she started to cry in front of her and Finn. So she tells Santana that they'll be back in a while, before motioning to Finn that's it time they leave the room.
Finn exchanges a quick high five with Luke and tells him that it looks like pudding's on the menu for dinner tonight, before heading out of the room with Rachel.
He shuts the door behind them, looks over at Rachel. She can tell that her anxiety's written all over her face but she can't even help it. The other doctors are so much better than she is at hiding their feelings, at wearing a poker face. Rachel's not like that. She wears her heart on her sleeve and she never realized how difficult it would be to change that once she started working.
Finn doesn't say anything for a moment, just looks at her. And then, rather suddenly, he says, "We should get a beer after work tonight."
Rachel's thoughts are still with Luke, Santana, the next child they have to see. She says absentmindedly, "I don't drink beer. Too many carbs and not enough flavor."
He doesn't give up though, as they start to walk towards the next room. "Okay, I'll buy you one of those fruity drinks that has like, cherries stuffed inside the glass and one of those paper umbrellas." She looks up at him, laughs at his eagerness because she can't not, and he says, "Look, all the other new residents here are kind of – weird, and I'm trying to save you from another night alone with your cat. It's a win-win situation."
Rachel tells him that he doesn't know she's just spending her nights alone with Newton. Finn gives her this look and says,
"You named your cat Newton," as if that is explanation enough for why he thinks that she's sleeping alone.
She acts as if she's offended for all of five seconds (because honestly, Newton is a fine and distinguished name – much better than Carly, she thinks) but then he offers to buy her an order of sweet potato fries, too. And while Rachel does usually maintain an extremely strict diet, some days call for a bit of a splurge.
"I suppose I'll go with you," Rachel concedes and Finn nods, and says,
"Cool. Just make you don't spill any milk on your scrubs before we go out, alright?"
Rachel rolls her eyes, pinches him on the shoulder. He lets out a yelp and she says, "I do have clothes other than scrubs, you know."
"Prove it."
-x-
She does prove it. She wears a pair of dark skinny jeans and a tight red sweater, and Finn lets out a low whistle when he sees her walking up to the bar. She blushes, hits him lightly with her clutch before she sits on a barstool.
"Don't be an idiot," she says warningly. "I can walk away just as easily as I walked in."
He laughs, nudges a drink towards her. She takes a sip and she laughs, says, "Sex on the beach? Really, Finn? Do I seem like that kind of a girl to you?"
He shrugs and he tells her that she shouldn't act like she doesn't love it. She just rolls her eyes and takes another sip. She's not going to pretend that the drink doesn't taste good – it's fruity and pink, and really, what more could one want in a mixer?
She looks around the bar as she takes another sip of the drink. It's nice, small; understated. There aren't too many people here, and the bartender, some guy who Finn says is named Mike, isn't as much of an asshole as bartenders tend to be. Finn nods towards him, then looks at Rachel.
"I went to school with him," Finn tells her, and Rachel nods in realization.
"I keep forgetting you grew up around here," she says. She looks down at her drink, spears one of the cherries with the plastic umbrella and pops it into her mouth. She chews slowly before looking up at Finn. He was watching her, she knows he was, because he quickly looks away the second that she started to look at him.
She can feel herself blushing, and honestly, they're not in high school and she should not be feeling this many butterflies in the pit of her stomach. They're coworkers – newly introduced coworkers involved in their first year of residency, and she absolutely should not be thinking about him the way she is right now.
But he's cute. He really is just extremely, extremely… cute. And other adjectives that aren't appropriate to be thinking about a coworker and that she doesn't feel comfortable verbalizing.
Finn takes a drink of his beer, looks at the television screen as he tells Rachel, "Yeah, I went to high school just down the road, actually. Me and Mike were on the football team together and everything."
Rachel looks over at him, and she says, "You do look you'd be a football player type."
Finn laughs, narrows his eyes. "I think you're saying that I look like a dumb jock."
Rachel just raises her eyebrows, giggles, bites at her straw because she's a lightweight and he's funny and after the stressful couple of weeks she's had, joking around with a friend at a bar doesn't seem like such a bad idea.
Finn flicks a stray peanut from the bar at her, and Rachel swats it away when it lands on her jeans, gives him this warning look that he promptly ignores as he flicks another peanut at her. Rachel brushes it away again and she says,
"We're not that good of friends yet, Finn."
"Is that your way of saying I better check myself?" Finn asks, and he's leaning towards her and taking another sip of his beer, and his eyes are so impossibly brown that Rachel thinks they almost look like some sort of mixture between caramel and chocolate.
She leans back because she doesn't want to lean forward and do something that she'll regret.
"Before you wreck yourself?" Rachel asks, finishing the saying. "Yes, I'd say that it is." She takes a sip of her drink, chews on an ice cube for a few seconds. She thinks that she needs to be doing something to distract herself, or she's going to start saying things she regrets.
Because there's really just something so innocent and fun about Finn. She's not sure if it's the way that he always makes her coffee for her now on her breaks, or talks in Australian accents to the children in the hospital who are having bad days; but there's just something about him that sort of speaks to her, if that makes any sense at all.
But at the same time – she's in a very demanding situation with this job. It's high pressure, high anxiety, and she might be drawn to him simply because he's going through the exact same situation that she is.
Clearing her throat, she asks, "So, what else is there to do in Lima for fun?"
He shrugs, tosses a couple peanuts into his mouth. "I dunno. There's a lake we sometimes go swimming in, but it's November, so… that wouldn't really work right now. And there's a drive-in movie theater a couple miles away that's pretty cool." He looks over at her, and he says curiously, "How'd you end up here, anyway? Aren't you from New York?"
She nods. "Yes, I was – I mean, I am. But I got into med school at OSU, and I just… I'm not sure how to put this without sounding like a complete sap, but I actually fell in love with the area. I'm sure at some point I'll want to go back to the city, but right now… right now, Ohio's good."
She takes another sip of her drink and she says, "And besides, Newton's getting all settled in here. It'd be unfair to leave Lima now."
Finn laughs and he says, "I think I need to meet this little guy at some point. It sounds like you're sort of obsessed with him."
Rachel thinks that actually might be true. She went to the pet store the other day and she spent over a hundred dollars on random cat toys and treats that she thought would be particularly appealing to her baby. But she's not going to tell Finn that, of course, because she doesn't want him to think that she's absolutely insane. So instead, she says,
"I think I want another drink."
"Another fruity explosion?" Finn asks, and he's already grabbing his wallet out of his back pocket. Rachel thinks that there's something inherently adorable about boys who pay without making a big stink about it.
She says, "Surprise me," and Finn calls over for Mike, hollers at him to start paying attention to this side of the counter.
Mike gives him a dirty look, leaves the blonde girl who he'd been talking up. He comes to a halt in front of Rachel and Finn. He gives Rachel a nice smile, but then glares at Finn.
"You rang?"
"Another beer," he says, "and a blueberry martini for Rachel."
Mike looks at her, and says, "You have a name," as if he's a bit shocked.
She's not exactly sure to respond to this, to be perfectly honest. So she just nods slowly, to ensure that yes, she does know that she has a name. Mike laughs and he bends over, grabs the beer from underneath the bar to hand to Finn, before going about to make her drink.
"Finn told me that you were the hot doctor he's been working with lately. For a while, I thought that was your name – hot doctor. But now I know that you definitely have a real name. And that he also wasn't lying."
Finn closes his eyes and looks as if he's literally in agony, and Rachel can feel her cheeks flaming bright red. Mike slides the drink in front of her, grabs the umbrella that was in her previous drink and drops it into her current one. He gives her a big grin, like he's the cat who just ate the canary, and he says,
"Did I just let that secret slip? Silly me. Just yell if you need anything!"
And with that, he's gone back down towards the end of the bar to converse more with the blonde. Finn sighs and after a second, he opens his eyes, looks over to where Rachel's sitting.
"Well… you're still here," he says. He doesn't say anything after that, so Rachel's not sure if he's just embarrassed or waiting for her to make the first move. She's good at the talking thing, but the first move thing is something that she's never truly accomplished.
But Finn's still looking as if he wants to be buried into the ground immediately, so Rachel bites the bullet.
She takes a sip of her drink, winces as the vodka slides to the back of her throat. She tells Finn, "I'm perfectly aware that there's this… thing between us," she says, motioning her hand back and forth between them. "I think you're cute, you think I'm – hot, apparently. I'm not completely oblivious."
There's a 'but' that belongs on the end of that statement, and Finn's not nearly drunk enough to ignore the fact that there's one coming. He sighs, beats her to punch.
"But we're coworkers and we should just stay friends." He doesn't look upset or pissed; just kind of sad, and he downs the rest of his beer impressively quickly. He taps his fingers against the counter, trying to get Mike's attention.
Rachel doesn't want him to feel embarrassed, and she reaches out towards him, places her hand against his arm. "Hey – I'm not… this isn't a brush off," she says emphatically. "Please don't view it as one."
She's speaking as sincerely as she can after having a drink and a half, and Finn nods, looking over at her. He tells her, shrugging, "I know this is going to sound weird because we've only known each other for a few weeks… I just really, really like you. Working with you – it's fun, you know? Like, even when we're dealing with the shittiest and saddest situations, you have this way of making things better."
She probably shouldn't be doing this. Actually, she definitely shouldn't be doing this. But she's emotional and stressed, and Finn's so nice and he sounds so honest, and she thinks that kissing him would be nice, too.
So she does, and his lips are soft and his face is so smooth underneath her fingertips, and she whispers, "Please don't tell anyone that we're doing this."
Finn pulls away slightly. He looks a little dazed, his eyes all sweet and confused, and he says, "Then we should probably get out of here, right? So nobody sees?"
If that line came out of anyone else's mouth, Rachel would be convinced that they were just looking for a quick hookup. But she knows that Finn's just genuinely curious, genuinely asking. She nods, and he drops another ten dollar bill on the bar counter. He grabs her hand and she laces their fingers together, and they walk out of the bar.
Finn holds the door open for her as she heads outside, but she doesn't let go of his hand once. He makes her feel steady and for the first time in three weeks, she feels like she actually has control over herself – she's not stressed, she's not nervous. She's just happy.
And to be clear, Rachel's positive that it's not the vodka that's making her feel that way.
-x-
Finn's afraid of Newton. Well, of course, he'd never admit to being afraid – he simply says that he and the kitten don't see eye to eye on most things. But Rachel knows better, because every time Newton jumps onto the couch, Finn slides onto the floor. Or if Finn's lying in bed with Rachel, and Newton tries to climb on top of the pillows, Finn suddenly has to go to the bathroom, or get something to drink.
It's both adorable and strange, to find a six foot three guy afraid of a three pound kitten. Rachel teases him about it every single chance she gets, and as Finn's driving her to work on Monday morning (because they do that sometimes now, because they're friends and… you know, friends do this sort of thing for each other), she asks him if he wants to go to counseling with Newton.
"I don't want you two to hate each other," Rachel says, pushing her sunglasses up farther on her nose. The light from the snow's hurting her eyes, and this nine a.m shift isn't exactly doing wonders for the headache she currently has.
Finn rolls his eyes but laughs and says, "I don't think there is such a thing as cat counseling."
Rachel tells him, "You can find anything on Craigslist, you know."
He doesn't say anything, just pulls up to the entrance of the hospital and puts the car into park. Leaning over and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, he says, "Hope you have a good day."
He's already looking back out the windshield wiper and his fingers are tightening on the steering wheel. Honestly, just the mention of Newton is enough to get him all in a tizz. It's ridiculous - a twenty-seven year old man, afraid of a tiny little kitten named after an old dead guy.
"You can't avoid this conversation forever."
"I think I'm doing a pretty good job."
"You're afraid of Newton. That's abnormal. He's an absolutely wonderful cat, and you need to get over this irrational fear at some point, Finn Hudson," Rachel says, and she gives him a quick kiss. "I'll see you after work?"
Finn nods. "I'll be here." He taps his fingers against the steering wheel and Rachel can tell that he's thinking about something that he doesn't know how to verbalize. She's been seeing a lot of Finn over the past few weeks, and she's gotten to know his mannerisms.
And right now, he's trying to stop himself from saying something that he thinks will upset her. She sighs and looks at her watch.
"I have ten minutes before my shift officially starts, mister. Say what you need to say or forever hold your peace."
Finn bites at his bottom lip, gives her this guilty look that reminds her of a puppy who's been chastised one too many times. She sighs, reaches over and brushes her thumb against the back of his hand. Sometimes she's too intense with him. She knows that. She's always been too intense with everyone and especially during these past few weeks, it's felt like her high strung nature has reached epic proportions.
But she doesn't mean to take it out on Finn. He's her friend, a good friend, and she doesn't want to push him away. While Newton's lovely, it's nice having an actual human friend, too. None of her friends from college live close enough to Lima to hang out on a regular basis.
"I'm just saying, if you have something to say, tell me," Rachel says, a bit more nicely this time. She smiles encouragingly at him, and Finn says,
"Can you text me? Let me know how Luke's doing? Santana brought him in again last night, and... just let me know how he is, okay?"
(They don't have favorites. They're not allowed to have favorites, first off, and with their job, it's not always the best idea to get too attached to people. But there's something about Luke, and his little personality, that just tugs at Rachel and Finn's hearts. And it kills them, it kills them, to see Luke in so much damn pain.
They never talk about it outside of work. They try not to bring their work outside of the hospital with them home, try not to let it overtake their lives. But it's difficult to follow the rules when it comes to Lucas.)
Rachel pulls away from him and nods, tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. She gives him a tight smile and she says that she'll keep him updated, before grabbing her messenger bag and heading out of the car and into the hospital.
She takes these deep breaths as she's changing into her scrubs, smiles and exchanges pleasantries with a few of the other new residents. They're nice and everything, but they're a bit odd, a bit full of themselves. Anyway, she doesn't get along with any of them nearly as well as she does with Finn.
She thinks that maybe it's because these other residents – they're very clinical, very harsh. Unfeeling, almost, if that makes any sense at all. And that shouldn't bother Rachel, because that's how she should be. It's just that when she's around the children, when she's around the families; every intention she ever had of remaining a calm, cool, and collected doctor flies out the window.
Of course, she never, ever breaks in front of the families. But she's empathetic, she feels, and she can't hide that. She can't hide her obvious and unrelenting concern for her patients. And Finn understands that and it makes her feel more comfortable around him, because she knows that he feels the exact same way.
Luke's room is actually the last on her list today. She has to check on a little girl who's not adjusting well to chemo (her name's Lacey and she has these big brown eyes and the most perfect dimples, and Rachel's quite sure that she's never seen such an adorable child) and a teenager who had to have thyroid surgery. A couple of patients with a whole smorgasbord of issues are next before she finally gets to the one room that always, always manages to threaten her resolve to remain calm.
She's not sure why, exactly, she feels this connection to Luke. She's not sure if it's because of how sad she feels for him, for Santana, for their situation, or what. But she knows that when he's in the hospital, going into his room is always the best and worst part of her day.
Knocking on the door, she sticks her head inside after a moment, flashes a smile at Santana. She's currently lounging on the bed with Luke in her lap. There's a movie playing on the television – Elf, Rachel thinks. Luke's giggling every so often, every time he hears Buddy say something especially funny.
(Because he can't see anymore, not since last week. The end's coming now; Rachel knows it is, as Luke's cancer marches steadily on towards its inevitable conclusion. It's something she thinks that Santana hasn't fully accepted yet, though.)
She walks over to the bed, smiles a greeting at Santana, brushing a hand gently across Luke's head as a greeting to him.
She takes note of his meds, asks him (well, more like Santana) a few questions, then tells him that she'll try to sneak him an extra pudding cup tonight.
"I have a secret stash in the break room," she says, in a coconspirator type of tone. "I'll see if I can get one of the nurses to drop it off for you, alright?"
Luke smiles sleepily at her and says thank you, in a small voice that seems to get stuck in his throat. He's on such strong meds now, he keeps falling in and out of sleep. Rachel doesn't think she's had a legitimate conversation with him since a couple weeks ago, when he was in for a routine checkup.
Rachel forces a smile and she looks over at Santana, who's rubbing a hand absentmindedly against Luke's chest. He's pulled up on her lap, all curled up like he's a little baby.
Santana says, "Dr. Berry, if it's alright, I'd like to speak with you for a moment."
Rachel nods, holds her laptop close to her chest as Santana arranges Luke on the bed, pulls away from him. She drops a kiss on his forehead, brushes her fingertips against his brow. "I'll be back soon, baby," she says, her lips moving against his pale cheek. She gives him another kiss on the forehead before following Rachel out into the hallway.
Santana takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, pushes her hands through her hair before letting her arms fall down by her sides. She shakes her head and she closes her eyes, and she looks like she's almost in physical pain. And she's lost weight, a lot, since Rachel first met her at the beginning of November. Her wrists are skinny, her jeans look like they don't fit right, her eyes always look harried and stressed.
And Rachel has to try to stand in front of her and look confident and calm.
(She loves her job. Truly, she does. She likes making a difference in peoples' lives, she loves knowing that she's helping people survive. She just hates when she has to let people go.)
"Is everything alright?" Rachel asks, and the question sounds hollow, even to her. Santana lets out a snort, raises her eyebrows as if to say, 'yeah, okay'.
It looks like she's carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. And Rachel knows that nothing she can say, nothing she can do, can really and truly help. She hates that.
"Dr. Schuester was in an hour ago or so," Santana says, scratching at her arm. She takes another deep breath and she shakes her head, bites at her bottom lip as the tears well up in her eyes. Rachel looks away. She doesn't know Santana that well, truly, but she does know that the woman doesn't like other people to witness her pain.
"What'd he say?" Rachel asks, even though she already knows in the bottom of her heart the news that the doctor shared.
She looks up at Santana, watches as a tear snakes down her cheek and down towards the corner of her mouth. Santana lets out a shuddering breath, wipes her hand across her face. Her voice is wavering, and she says,
"They don't think that Luke's going to make it to Christmas. We're moving him into a hospice room tomorrow."
God, Rachel wishes Finn was here right now. She doesn't think she can handle having this conversation on her own. Medical school trained her for a lot of things, it really did. It didn't exactly prepare her well enough for this.
Rachel nods and she places her laptop down on a cart that's resting outside of Luke's room. She takes a step closer to Santana, and she places a hand on the young woman's arm. Santana doesn't say anything at first, just stares at the floor as the tears continue to silently fall down her face, gathering at the corners of her mouth. Her lips are pressed into a firm line, her eyebrows are quivering, and she looks like she's about to burst apart.
She opens her mouth to say something, then looks at Rachel, shakes her head with her mouth agape and her eyes wide. She lets out another shuddering breath and she says, her voice barely above a whisper,
"It's always been just me and Luke. Always."
She starts crying now, her hands flying up to her face as she falls apart, her shoulders shaking as she lets out hysterical sobs. Rachel doesn't think she's ever seen such a horrible sight in her entire life and she wants to – God, she wants to run away, she wants to fix things, she wants to come up with a cure, she wants to make everything better. It's a terrible realization, to come to terms with the fact that there's honestly nothing she can do, nothing at all, to fix Luke, to fix this problem that has no solution at all.
She knew what she was doing when she decided that she wanted to become a doctor. She knew she wouldn't be able to save everyone – truly, she did. She's not that naïve to think that she can magically save every child who comes into her care.
She just didn't think she'd have to deal with losing a patient so soon.
-x-
Finn comes over that night, with a bottle of wine and a new bag of treats for Newton.
"I think he's getting fat," he tells her, as he scoots around her in the entryway so that he can make his way into the kitchen. "I know you told me not to, but I fed him some of my yogurt yesterday? He really likes it and like, he gets all into tearing the empty cups apart afterwards. Anyway, I think he gained like two pounds from that – seriously, look at his belly, it's all jiggly and stuff."
Finn gets down on the ground, stares at Newton seriously and pokes him on the stomach. Rachel thinks that this momentary reprieve in their rivalry will last about two seconds until Newton hisses and Finn jumps up and hides behind the kitchen island.
She takes the bottle of wine from him, and for a second she considers placing it in the fridge to chill it a little. But who is she kidding? After the day she's had, all she wants is to start drinking the wine as quickly as possible. So she grabs a wine glass, drops a couple ice cubes inside, and then pops the cork on the wine, pouring herself a glass that maybe consists of about half the bottle.
Finn glances up at her from where he's lying on the floor, watches as she takes a big gulp of the wine. Newton lets out a little meow then turns around, prances out of the room. Finn stands up and moves to wait behind Rachel as she pours him a glass, too.
He asks, "Long day?" and Rachel nods, hands him his glass.
"Beyond. Schue was bothering me about not writing something exactly to detail, and – well. Everything with Luke that I texted you about."
She takes a deep breath, forces a smile at Finn before walking over to the fridge. It's frustrating. She tries to eat as healthy as she can, because she likes to make sure that she's not ingesting complete and utter filth, but right now?
Honestly?
She could really go for a fucking Twinkie.
Finn doesn't say anything for a moment as Rachel pulls out all the fixings for a salad, but then he says, rather suddenly and unexpectedly, "If I dress up like Santa Claus, would you dress up like Mrs. Claus?"
She glances up at him, frowns. "I'm Jewish, Finn."
And he knows this, too, because just yesterday she was telling him about how she still has to mail her fathers' their gifts for Hanukkah. Finn may be a bit oblivious at times, but he doesn't just forget whole conversations.
He nods, tells her that he doesn't want onions on his salad, and then says, "You couldn't – I mean, I'm not asking you to dress up like the Virgin Mary or something."
The minute he says that, no, the very second, he starts to laugh to himself, so hard that spit practically flies out of his mouth. It's disgusting. Rachel rolls her eyes and hands him a napkin, because she knows what he's thinking, and he doesn't have to say it.
But of course, he's Finn, so the minute he gets control of himself, he adds, "You and I both know that you're not qualified for that role, anyway."
He's teasing her, or trying to. Sometimes he's a horribly awkward flirt, but it's probably one of the most adorable things about him - even though, of course, Rachel would never tell him that.
He leans towards her, tries to give her a kiss on the cheek as a way of forgiveness. But she turns her head away because even if he thought that his little joke was funny, it was still mildly offensive, and besides – she has to make him work for it occasionally, you know?
She places her glass of wine on the table, pushes her salad plate out of the way, leans on her elbows and stares at Finn with an eyebrow raised.
"Why would I be dressing up like Mrs. Claus?" she asks, and Finn says, his eyes bright,
"I was thinking on the drive over here – we should give Luke a Christmas. All the kids in the hospice rooms, actually. I know they're hiring a Santa to come in there on Christmas, but some of those kids… they're not going to make it to Christmas," Finn says. He won't look at Rachel when he says those words and he pauses for just a second, before continuing on, his voice forcibly light, "So we should do an early one for them, give them some presents, dress up and – I don't know, sing carols or something."
Rachel's eyes narrow. "I didn't know you could sing."
That's actually a good thing for Finn. Had she known, she already would've worked on harmonies for them together. Singing has always been a passion of Rachel's and any time she can find someone who can sing, she always enjoys partaking in a few sing-alongs.
"I mean, I'm not the best," Finn says, blushing a little as he steals a lettuce leaf from Rachel's plate. He chews on it obnoxiously loudly, just to be silly and because for some reason, it always makes Rachel laugh. He smiles and then says, "I think it'd be fun. It'd be good for them."
Rachel thinks about it for just a moment, before nodding in agreement. The next thing she knows, Finn has his phone pulled out, and they're looking up costume rentals online and deciding about what type of food they can ask the cafeteria to make for the party.
They're lying in bed now, Finn's head resting on Rachel's stomach as he flips through some more pictures on his phone. He frowns as he asks whether or not he'll have to rent boots too, or whether his sneakers will suffice.
"I mean, the boots look cool and all, but it kind of grosses me out. How many people have worn those things before, you know? They might smell pretty rank." He sounds very thoughtful as he reasons this out, and he looks up at Rachel for her thoughts.
She thinks for a moment, looking up from the magazine she's flipping through. "I mean, if we're going to do this, Finn, we're going to do it right. And that means wearing boots, the fake beard, and having a big belly. Besides, it's not like your feet smell like roses or anything," she says, giggling. Finn mock growls, turns his head and bites at her shirt in response.
"My feet smell awesome."
"You're joking, I hope," Rachel says, and Finn frowns, tosses his phone onto the bed and pulls himself up so that he's leaning up above her; his hands on either side of her head and his breath washing over her face.
(Rachel feels like her adrenaline's racing throughout her body, her heart pounding. She thinks that she's falling for him much too quickly but she can't seem to stop herself, and for the first time, she thinks that maybe meeting over spilled milk is just as good of a meet-cute as any of the movies she's watched.)
Finn presses a kiss against her lips, slips his fingertips up underneath her night shirt. Rachel lets out a soft sigh as he holds her closer to him. And ten minutes later, when Finn leaps off the bed because Newton leaped onto him, she can't stop laughing for at least five minutes – and when Finn stomps into the bathroom and says that he refuses to come out until she gives him an epic apology, she starts laughing even harder.
-x-
They haven't told anyone at work that they're seeing each other. If that's what they're actually doing, anyway. They've never really put a label on their relationship, and to be perfectly honest, that doesn't really bother Rachel right now.
Hanging out with Finn, it's fun. It's easy. And she thinks that it doesn't need to change, that they can just keep doing what they're doing for the foreseeable future. She assumes he agrees, because she doesn't hear him complaining, and also because she knows that he feels the same way. Residency is difficult, getting adjusted to this hospital and all her coworkers is stressful. She thinks that telling people about her and Finn would just add to all of that stress, and that's something she doesn't want right now.
So, they keep it quiet. And she prefers it that way. It's like a little secret, that only the two of them know about. It's sort of thrilling, you know? Refreshing; like nothing can harm them and their relationship (or… whatever it is, exactly) if nobody knows.
But they act like a couple outside of work. They hold hands and they kiss around Lima because none of the other doctors at the hospital live around their neighborhood, and it makes Rachel so, so happy, from the top of her head down to the tips of her toes. This thing between the two of them is new, ridiculously new, but it's making Rachel think that for once, maybe wanting someone by her side isn't such a bad thing.
(She's still a bit leery of the fact that they met over spilled milk, but she's hoping that one day she'll be able to overlook that. Or, at the very least, come up with a way to tell the story that makes it seem more romantic than it actually was.)
It certainly helps that Finn understands what she's going through at work, because… well, he works with her. So when she comes over to his apartment, and she's upset or annoyed or just plain frustrated, he gets it. He doesn't try to fix her mood, doesn't try to make everything better. He just accepts that she's in a horrible mood, and waits for her to work her way out of it.
But she's not in a bad mood right now. She's actually in a ridiculously happy mood, because for the first shift ever yesterday, nothing went wrong. Nothing. She did everything right, she didn't get reprimanded by Dr. Schuester at all, and her laptop didn't completely work against her. She almost had to pinch herself a couple of times, to make sure that she wasn't dreaming.
It feels good. She's only been here for a short while now, but she's starting to feel more confident, more self-assured. More like an actual doctor. She doesn't completely fall apart now when a parent yells at her, doesn't want to hide underneath a stretcher when she hears a child start to cry. She feels in control, like she can handle things, like she knows what she's doing.
She's a doctor. And it's all starting to click in her head, you know, that this life she's living is the one that she's prepared for, that she's ready for – that she is, in fact, doing what she's supposed to be doing.
Of course, she never envisioned herself wearing a huge, velvet red dress and stuffing her hair underneath a wiry gray wig. But, come on, do many people envision that?
One of the nurses, Tina, comes in to help her with the wig. It's scratchy and itchy and Rachel's convinced that she's going to get some sort of skin disease from having it on her head. She tries not to act too paranoid though, even though the thought of this wig touching hundreds of other heads is making her want to run screaming from the room.
"They wash these," Tina tells her, laughing, as she tugs at it a little more. "Stop freaking out."
Rachel looks at Tina in the mirror, gives her a brave smile. "Well. If I contract some sort of irreversible skin condition from this, at least it's for a good cause."
Tina bursts out laughing, but she quickly straightens up when she realizes that Rachel is being serious. She nods and says, "Yep. I'll make sure to have that written on your gravestone."
Rachel can't help but laugh now too, and she hits Tina lightly on the arm with her (well, Mrs. Claus's) spectacles. She takes one more look at herself in the mirror – she actually did a very good job with her makeup, and she looks exactly like how a Mrs. Claus should look.
She sighs. "Thank goodness my daddy isn't here to see this. I think he'd have a heart attack."
Her lovely, lovely, very Jewish father, who used to have panic attacks every Christmas season whenever her papa tried to read her The First Noel. Rachel thinks this little Santa moment she's having is best kept as a secret. Forever. Until the end of the time.
Tina arranges the back of her gown, and then nods her approval. Rachel takes a deep breath, smiles, and then heads out of the bathroom to where Finn is waiting. He's been texting her for the past ten minutes, asking her where she is; clearly he doesn't understand that regardless of the occasion, a girl is always going to take longer to get ready than the guy.
When Rachel finally sees him, she can't help but start to laugh. He's six foot three and the Santa pants barely are long enough to tuck into the massive black boots he's wearing, and his big, fake gut looks like it's almost bursting out of the seams of the jacket. The fake beard he's wearing actually looks quite legitimate, though, and Rachel tugs at it gently to make sure that it'll pass the test with the kids.
"Ow, okay, yeah, that hurts," Finn says, trying to get away from her. "That glue stuff has it stuck on pretty well, but you're… Jesus, Rach, you're like pulling skin here," he says, trying to get away from her hand.
"I just wanted to make sure that you applied it properly," Rachel says, brushing her hands against his suit jacket, straightening it out. "After all, it'd be terrifying to those kids if Santa's beard suddenly falls off during the middle of one of his visits."
Finn rubs at his jaw, gives Rachel a little look, but allows her to grab at the beard one more time. Honestly, she's not trying to hurt him, she's just trying to make sure this little scheme of theirs goes perfectly. And to Finn's credit, he doesn't wince once when she pulls the beard as hard as she possibly can.
(She likes to be thorough.)
After she's done, he flicks a finger at her wig and says, "I'm a nice guy so I won't pull at your hair. But if it falls off during our visits, you owe me."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," Finn says, and he's smirking at her, and it's actually a little creepy to have Santa Claus leering at her. Rachel giggles and she says quietly, so that no one can hear,
"You can't be sexy when you're wearing that suit. I'm sorry. I can't take you seriously with your bowlful of jelly."
She pats at his tummy and Finn lets out a very good 'ho, ho, ho'. Some of the doctors walking by even give him a little applause. Finn grins brightly and then looks over at Rachel.
"Alright, let's do this."
He pulls his sack of presents over his shoulder, and nods towards the hospice unit. "We have two hours before our shift starts. I figure we can get through everyone pretty easily and then double back around if people want to see us again."
Rachel nods, and she says, "Yes, that sounds good. And listen, Finn, we have to make sure the kids don't know it's us. The entire effect will be ruined if they realize that Santa Claus is actually Dr. Hudson." She points a finger at him warningly. "So no give aways. No calling Luke 'buddy', no asking Lacey about how her stuffed bear's doing today."
Finn nods seriously, gives her a mock salute, and then leads the way into the hospice unit. There are a few parents waiting outside the rooms, and they give Finn and Rachel excited waves as they walk by. They'd warned the parents a couple of days ago that they'd be going through the unit as Santa and Mrs. Claus, and some of the parents had been so excited, that it almost broke Rachel's heart.
She knows that this day has to go perfectly, and when they enter into Mark Lynn's room, she makes sure to talk with a voice so similar to her grandmother's that it shocks even her for a second.
Mark smiles tiredly when Finn hands him a package. "Thanks, Santa," he says, sleepily, his eyes blearily opening and closing. Finn smiles and he glances over at Mark's brother; this sixteen year old kid named Ryder who hasn't left his brother's side once since he was moved into hospice.
"You want to open this up for him?" Finn asks, and his voice is so low and unrecognizable that Rachel's determined that had this whole doctor thing not worked out, Finn would've made a great character actor.
Ryder nods and he wipes his hand across his eyes quickly, picks the package up from Mark's bed. He glances at it, then at his little brother. He rips open the wrapping paper, and he bites at his bottom lip, holds the soft blanket in his hands for a second before unfurling it and tucking it in gently around his brother.
"Man, it's a Spiderman blanket. It looks so cool," Ryder says, his voice breaking. Mark smiles at him, then looks over at Finn and says thanks.
Finn smiles brightly and says sincerely, "Merry Christmas. I hope you have an awesome day."
Ryder nods and he walks over to the other side of the bed, gives Finn a huge hug. Finn's talked to Ryder a few times about Mark, and Rachel knows that the teenager views Finn as one of the good guys – even if he couldn't find a way to save Mark.
"Merry Christmas," Rachel says again as they're leaving. Ryder gives her a wave, then turns back to his brother, who's mumbling about Spiderman and Peter Parker.
They make their way through the hospice ward rather quickly. Most of the children are asleep or halfway there. But they make sure that each child gets some sort of present – it's a perk to being a doctor, having a salary that allows Rachel to buy a specialized present for each child.
They go to Luke's room last, of course. They hold hands when they walk in.
Santana's lying on the bed next to her baby, brushing her hand over his head every few seconds. Her parents are in the room, too, with their video camera on, wearing their best clothes. Rachel forces a smile, waves to them, before walking over to Luke.
Santana presses a kiss against Luke's forehead. He stirs a little, opens his eyes and lets out a sigh when Santana whispers that Santa's in the room.
"Really?" he asks, and Finn walks up to Luke, presses his hand against his. He talks in a low, soft voice, says that he's so proud of Luke, that he's been such a good kid this year for his mom. He says that he and Mrs. Claus can't believe how brave he's been, and that all the people at the North Pole have taken notice.
He doesn't break character once. Meanwhile, Rachel's in the corner, and she's trying to think of anything that won't make her cry.
They give Luke a new pirate hat, and when Santana places it on his head, he smiles widely and says that this is the best Christmas ever.
"I've never met Santa before," Luke says, with all the innocence that only a four year old can muster.
Santana holds onto him tighter.
-x-
Finn's apartment is generally very clean, even though he has an eighty pound dog who likes to shed everywhere. Finn vacuums every day, but still, there are always little fluffs of fur all around the apartment. Normally, this would disgust Rachel, but Carly's so adorable that she can't help but not get annoyed by the dog.
Rachel's lying on the couch and Carly's lying with her (thank God Finn has an extra large couch, that's all Rachel can say) and Finn's on the floor by the television, trying to get the blu-ray to work. He's determined that he absolutely needs to watch A Christmas Story tonight, no matter what.
"I don't get why it's not working," Finn says, annoyed. He kicks his legs up in the air behind him as he messes with some more wires. "I just watched a marathon of Shark Week the other day, and I didn't have one problem."
Rachel bought him those DVDs last week for his birthday. She's the best non-girlfriend ever. She knows.
"Maybe this is a sign that we should be watching the Barbra marathon that's on AMC," Rachel says, smiling to herself. Finn looks over his shoulder to glare at her before going back to work on the machine.
Carly lets out a wide yawn, and then hops off from the couch, walking over to the kitchen to start in on her dinner. Rachel stares at the dog for a moment before saying,
"I think she'd eat Newton if she ever met him."
"Probably. I've told her about his evilness. She's not a fan." Finn then lets out a triumphant noise, as the main title page of the movie flashes on the screen. "Sweet. Okay, I'm grabbing a beer – want anything?" he asks, as he heads over to the kitchen.
Rachel requests a glass of wine and Finn gets that for her, along with a plate of hummus and pita chips. He gives her a kiss on the cheek and says,
"Thanks for being so cool about today. Seriously. I know the wig was super itchy and stuff."
Rachel smiles at him and she runs a hand over her hair. She's washed it about three times since she took off the wig, and she's planning on going for a fourth and fifth wash later tonight. But she gives Finn a kiss and then hands him a pita chip and she says,
"It was my pleasure."
Finn smiles at her, and he looks happy, and he says, "I'm glad we met, you know? Like, the minute I met you, I knew I wanted to be friends. And I'm just… glad it's worked out like this."
He looks at the plate of pita chips all nervously, takes a long drink of his beer.
She takes a sip of her wine, drapes her legs over his lap, and she says, "Finn Hudson. Are you about to do some sort of romantic speech, leading up to you asking me to be your official girlfriend?"
He glances over at her, smiles sheepishly. "Maybe."
"Unnecessary," Rachel says, leaning over and placing her wine glass on the coffee table. She scoots up closer to him, places her hands on his cheeks. "You're the person who saved me from losing my mind these past two months. Honestly. That first day, when I spilled the milk? I thought about walking out of that hospital and never returning."
"But you're an awesome doctor," Finn says, protesting lightly. "Even if you are a little clumsy sometimes."
Rachel giggles, kisses him. He tastes like red peppers and cheap beer and Finn, and she's positive, she knows, that she's never felt like this before about anyone.
He pulls her closer, gives her another kiss. He says, "We'll still keep this quiet at work, right? I'm not ready for all those judge-y looks from the nurses' station."
She laughs, wraps her arms around his neck. "Sure. It'll be our secret."
He says, "I mean, not totally our secret. Luke knows. He asked me the other day when we're getting married."
She brushes her nose against his, places a hand against his chest so that she can feel his heart beating against her palm. Its steady rhythm seems to steady her, and she thinks that when she's with him, she feels like she's on solid ground.
And that's how a relationship should be.
(Finn tells the story about the spilled milk at their wedding. And, it's funny, but it sounds a whole lot more romantic coming from him – this story of how they helped each other, gave each other strength during their first months of residency. It all sounds romantic, really, besides the part where he tells the crowd about how funny she looked in her bright purple crocs.
But she laughs, because then she tells the story about how silly he looked in his Santa suit, and she thinks they're even after that.)
-x-
A/N: Hope you liked! Reviews are appreciated :)