Summary: After seeing Quinn outside Sam's motel room, Finn wants to makes certain that she's really his. To help him, he enlists the help of one Rachel Berry; however, his 'brilliant' plan yields entirely unexpected results. A little twist on the Faberry scheme in Britney/Brittany. Faberry in the end.

A/N: I saw somebody bring this up as a joke and it struck me as a perfect one or two-shot. So. This will be a two-shot. And it's kind of crap. Finn and Rachel never dated, they're just best friends. Also, to anyone who might be reading them, If It Hadn't Been For Love will be updated on Wednesday, and More will be updated on Friday. Enjoy :)

Finn sighed heavily and ran a hand haphazardly through his hair. He was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to decipher the enigma that was Quinn Fabray. She loved him and he loved her, right? I mean, that's what she said, anyway, and Quinn wouldn't lie to him. Still, he'd be lying if he said his and Rachel's little stakeout the other night hadn't left him a tad unsure; what other reason besides cheating could Quinn possibly have for visiting Sam at a run-down motel in the dark of the night? Well, he couldn't think of one.

But Finn was one to always see the good in people, always trying to justify their actions. So he reasoned that, before confronting Quinn about the whole ordeal and instead of just flat-out demanding the truth from her, he'd put her through a little...test. Okay, so that sounded a wierd, but you get the idea.

The more the boy thought about his plan, the more it seemed it was fool-proof and void of any room for deviation. There was one small proble, though: he needed someone's help. But who? He certainly couldn't use Puck; that was just asking for complications. He couldn't ask Artie or Mike; they were taken, and he definitely couldn't use Sam, the other potential culprit in this situation. So...who?

"Ugh!" Finn growled in frustration and childishly kicked his covers off the bed. Serves them right! Damn covers. Those stupid little cowboys printed endlessly over the sheets were almost mocking him, cementing his insecurities about not being able to handle or solve any problems life might throw his way, using his own devices, at least. Well. He'd show them, Finn Hudson was a lot of things but he was not stupid.

There was a knock on his bedroom door, "Finn, honey," came his mother's voice, "remember how I showed you all about separating the whites," she held up a white sock for emphasis, "from the colors before you put things in the washer?"

Finn nodded slowly, unsure of where this was going, "Yeah, why?"

"Well," Carole patted his back, "let's just say, I hope you like wearing pink, because a rather large portion of your wardrobe has been tinted so."

Finn's eyes widened, "What?"

Carole chuckled, "You put one of your red football socks in the white wash, sweetie."

Her son ducked his head and blushed lightly, "Oh, sorry, Mom."

"It's fine, just...remember next time?" She smiled and set the hamper full of pink clothing by his bed and left the room, gently closing the door behind her.

Finn gingerly picked up a pair of pink tighty whiteys (well, pinkies) and eyed them distastefully before throwing them down and leaning back against his headboars.

"Who can I ask?..." He murmured thoughtfully. It was then that his eye caught a photo on his bedside table, one a kind stranger had taken for him and Rachel outside the Lima Theatre the tie they had all gone to see 'A Christmas Carol' together. He gasped, "That's it!"

Then he picked up his phone and dialed her number with a gleeful glint in his eye.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Finn, if you're not going to inform me of what this impromptu meeting is about then I'm going to have to leave. I am not one for being kept in the dark." Rachel huffed as Finn lead her up to his room.

"Relax, Rach. I need your help." He eased when they reached his bedroom. He closed the door behind them and turned around to look at Rachel.

The brunette flopped down on the bed and kicked her shoes off, grabbing a pillow to sit in her lap. She looked up at him curiously, "My help?"

"Yeah."

She sighed, "With what? Please tell me you're not going to ask me to explain the difference between metaphors and similes to you again, Finn. I love you, but we learned that in like, sixth grade and you should know by now from the numerous occasions I've had to map it out for you."

"They're confusing! How're you supposed to remember which one uses 'like' and which one doesn't? But, that's not the point, not what I called you here for," he shook his head, "It's about Quinn."

Rachel furrowed her brow and cocked her head to the side, "...Quinn?"

Finn nodded.

"Elaborate," Rachel commanded.

"Okay well, you know how we were spying on her a few days ago?"

"Yes. Which, I might add, I still think was dirty and creepy and I still feel like a stalker."

"Whatever," Finn lightly punched Rachel's shoulder. " Anyway, it made me kind of...uneasy about her. She says she's mine and mine only, but...how do I really know?" Rachel looked confused as ever, wondering where this was going. "So then I was thinking, the only way to find out is if somebody, you know, like asks her out or something while I'm not there, and see what she says, then tell me." He smiled, pleased with himself and his logic.

The tiny girl slowly drew her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on top of them. The action was so adorable that Finn couldn't help but think that if he didn't have Quinn, he knew he would have fallen in love with Rachel; he smiled dazedly. Then she looked at Finn all scary-like and mysterious and the smile fell away, as did all thoughts of adorableness. "Are you asking me what I think you're asking me?" She said lowly.

Finn swallowed,"Um, that depends? What...do you think I'm asking?"

Rachel met his eye, "You want me to...ask your girlfriend out...on a date, to test her loyalty to you?"

Finn scratched his head; when she put it like that, it sounded kind of dumb. Oh well. "Well...yeah. Pretty much."

She eyed him, "And you think I'm the best person to ask to do this? Neither of us are even gay, what makes you think she won't just decline because I'm a girl? Or just...me?" She asked incredulously. Finn winced as the obvious flaws in his plan were pointed out to him. He felt retarded. But...he couldn't think of anything else! He had to sell Rachel on this.

The boy straightened his posture and put on his game face, "Rachel, I'm on the rocks here right now, and regardless of what you might think, you are the only one who can help me."

Rachel crossed her arms, still unconvinced.

"Name one guy I can ask to do this." He tried again.

Silence.

"Girl?" He asked.

After a moment of deliberation, Rachel threw her hands up in exasperation, "Ok fine! This is completely and utterly ridiculous, even moreso than the time you convinced me to go out on those atrocious river rapid boat rides with you or that godforsaken trip to Chuck E. Cheese three months ago!"

"Hey! I love Chuck E. Cheese!" Finn protested indignantly.

"Finn, you're too big for everything except ski-ball." She said pointedly.

Said giant narrowed his eyes, "You're just mad because you're small enough for everything." He smirked. "And cause I beat you in ski-ball. Quite badly, I might add."

Rachel threw her pillow at his head, missing by at least a foot. She pouted, "Keep it up and I won't help you." She said smugly, knowing it'd get him to stop. Predictably, he sobered up and looked aasked seriously,

"So is that a yes?"

Rachel exhaled long and slow through her mouth. She could not believe she was going to say what she was about to say. This was by far the craziest thing she'd ever been asked to do, but Finn was her best friend, and she'd be damned if she would let a friend in need down.

"I...yes."

Finn squealed in a unnervingly high pitch and tackled Rachel in a hug.

He spoke into her shirt, "Awesome! So here's what you'll have to do..."