I posted this on tumblr and never on here and I think that's whack so here ya go!
Disclaimer: In my dreams.
She's about four years old when she realizes that she's not alone in her house.
Well, of course her daddies live there. But they aren't the only ones.
Sometimes she wakes up to find her socks mismatched and scattered all over the floor. The Sour Patch Kids in the candy drawer inexplicably go missing. The sports equipment in the garage ends up sprinkled across their front lawn. When her daddies make banana bread, half of it is gone before it even has time to cool. Doors open and close. Lights turn on and off. Chocolate gets smeared on the counter.
None of it can ever be explained.
Her daddies blame it all on her. She ends up getting yelled at all the time. Even though she's a good girl and she always brushes her teeth and feeds her goldfish Barbra on time. It's so unfair.
She hates it.
But sometimes when she cries because that mean blonde girl pushed her over in dance class or that boy with the weird hair from the JCC pulls her hair in the sandbox or her art teacher didn't pick her picture for the display, she can feel the warmth of a small arm wrap around her shoulders and she can't hate what lives here. She can't hate it at all.
By the time she's eight, they've worked out a system.
They help each other out.
It drums out rhythms for her to hum along to. Reaches for things that are just a little too high on the shelf. Eats the yucky foods her daddies expect her to eat. It'll eat anything really.
And she provides tons and tons of food. Sings them both to sleep. Gets books on drumming at the music store on the corner.
They set up a drum set in the basement made of Tupperware and pots and pans. They cling to each other when the thunderstorms in Lima get too loud and scary.
It's her best, truest friend. Her only friend. She imagines what it looks like. What it sounds like. What it is. Why it is.
One day, when she's finished a rousing performance of I'm the Greatest Star to his thunderous applause, she finally plucks up the courage to ask. "Do you have a voice?"
She's greeted with only silence.
"Because, if you had a voice, I think it would be the most beautiful thing in the world," she smiles timidly, but thinking, tacks on, "besides my singing voice, of course."
More silence.
"And you're my best friend in the wide world." She pushes, hoping.
"I don't think I'm supposed to talk to humans," finally, she hears a boyish voice. She smiles, she was right, his voice is perfect. "And my voice is not beautiful, it's manly," he adds.
She giggles. "I'm not a human. I'm a kid. So you can talk to me!" she smiles widely, knowing she's presented an airtight argument. "You're not a kid," she says in wonder.
"Nope," he says, popping his P, and he sounds so young and so, so… lovely, even as his words make her brow scrunch in confusion.
"Then what are you?" she asks, her tone a little curious, a little in awe of him.
"I'm a ghost." The confession is not nearly as startling as it should be. And she thinks maybe she knew all along.
"But you're the good kind, right? Like Casper."
He chuckles "Of course I'm good!"
"Are you white and puffy like Casper?"
He laughs "No silly, I look like a boy." She giggles. She bets he's handsome like Nicky Arnstein. And it's great that he's not really a boy because now she doesn't have to worry about cooties.
"What's your name?" she asks excitedly.
"I don't have one."
"How on earth do you not have a name?"
"I wasn't named before I died."
Her response is cut off by her dads calling her down for supper. She gets up and heads for her door, "Don't leave, I'll bring up some peach cobbler," she disappearing down the hall.
That night they give him a name.
They're reading a story about a brave prince named Finnegan who rules over a far, far away land and she makes the decision for him.
"You're Finnegan. Because you're really kind and strong like him and you always protect your princess," she says excitedly.
He's quiet for a moment, "Only if you're my princess."
Rachel giggles a little. "Well, duh! And you're my Finn."
"Your Finn," he says, like he's tasting the words in his mouth. It's quiet for a second before she can hear the warmth of a smile spread into his voice. "'Kay," he murmurs.
She's twelve when she sees him for the first time. It's the first day of junior high.
When she gets home from school, she runs straight up to her room, drenched to the bone with every flavor of slushy known to Lima.
The moment she collapses on her bed, a loud sob rips from her throat. It's all so unfair. She's never done anything to hurt anyone. She doesn't understand why people don't like her. She even wore her best sweater today; the pink one with the unicorn jumping over a rainbow. The bullying at school has always been bad. She doesn't know why she thought it would get better when she moved up to the bigger school.
It came out of nowhere. One moment she was singing Phantom of the Opera quietly at her new locker and the next she was having slushies thrown at her from all sides. And then these three girls werelaughing at her! And one called her Man hands!
She feels his presence before he even announces himself. "Go away, Finn." He ignores her. She can feel the bed dip next to her. "I want to be alone," she says miserably.
He only pulls her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He tries to stroke her hair but the dried slushy makes it all sticky, so he only rocks her gently, waiting for her breathing to steady.
"What happened, Roo?" he asks softly, using his special nickname for her.
"N-nobody at my new school w-wanted to be my friend," she cries. "They laughed at me and th-they called me Man hands and T-Treasure trail. And then, I w-was packing my backpack to leave and- and all of a sudden out of nowhere a g-group of boys just c-came up and…" she trails off, crying harder.
Finn just holds her closer. "N-nobody likes me," she whimpers.
"They're stupid."
"They're n-not all stupid."
"Yeah, they are," he whispers, "They're all jealous because your voice is so pretty and your hair is super shiny and you make them feel bad about themselves because they're not as good as you."
"No, they…"
He cuts her off, "And they're stupid 'cuz when you're famous, the whole world is going to know how dumb all your classmates were for not being your friend."
"L-like Barbra with all the managers that told her she'd never make it without getting a nose job," Rachel adds.
"Yeah," he says excitedly, "You're just like Barbra."
"But you'll always be my friend," she says quietly, a smile tugging at her lips.
"Always, Roo." She tugs him a little tighter before releasing him. All of a sudden she feels his rough tongue on her shoulder.
"Yuck! Never mix the grape and mango flavors," Finn exclaims.
"Finn!" She reaches out to slap his chest but he dodges it. It's pretty simple to do when you're invisible to the hitting party.
"Not fair!" She giggles, "I can't even see you." She hears him chuckle from the foot of her bed. She sighs. "I wish I could see you."
It's quiet for a long while. "Y-you can," he says uncertainly. "Actually only you can."
"Wh-what?"
"You can see me. But I couldn't show you until you really wanted to see me. That's how it works."
She takes a deep breath. She thinks about that. She's always imagined it. Imagined what it would be like to see the boy she's loved since she was four. But she didn't yearn for it. Not the way she longs for it now. "Come here," she says.
"No, I-I think I'll stay over here for now."
"O-okay. I'm ready, Finn," somehow she feels like everything is about to change.
"Close your eyes," he says, and he sounds… nervous.
She does. "Okay… open them."
When she does, she can't help but gasp.
He's… the most handsome boy she's ever seen. Better than Nicky Arnstein. His brown hair is a mess, his amber eyes shining with mischief, affection, and nervousness, his long limbs sprinkled with freckles.
Rachel moves toward him, raising her hand, but pauses, unsure, "Can I- Can I touch you?"
"You do all the time," his little smile almost knocks her over.
She nods shyly, reaching up to brush her fingers against his cheek with the softest pressure. Finn lets out an unsteady breath, closing his eyes. She can feel heat sparking in her fingers and settling in her belly.
The doorbell rings. She snaps her hand back and turns instinctively, and when she looks back, he's gone. "Finn?" she asks. The doorbell rings again.
She runs down the stairs. When she opens the door, it's Mrs. Puckerman from the JCC and she holding… oh, she's holding one of the boys who slushied her by the neck of his t-shirt. Noah.
"Hi sweetie, are your dads home?" she smiles pleasantly. Noah scowls.
"No, my fathers are still at work. They'll be home in an hour if you want me to have them call you."
"No, no. We just came to apologize, didn't we Noah?" she tugs a little at his shirt. When he says nothing she repeats it louder, "Didn't we Noah?"
"Moooom, I told you it's Puck. Noah's stupid."
"Apologize right this instant."
"Why? She's just a stupid girl-"
All of a sudden Rachel's hears the impact of a fist hitting a face and Noah drops to the ground, his mother standing there dumbstruck. He cries like a baby, thrashing on her welcome mat while his mother tries to soothe him. She eventually gets him up and ushers him into her minivan. Rachel stares on, flabbergasted at what she just saw.
Then she hears it; Finn's quiet chuckle. "What a baby. I didn't even hit him that hard."
"Finn! You hit him?" she asks, shocked.
"Yeah. He called you stupid, Roo. He had it coming."
She shuts the door and he reappears, a small smile on the corner of his lips, and she can't help it. She lets out a little laugh. When she sees on his face that he thinks he's off the hook, she sobers.
"Even so, Finn, violence is never the answer," she says sternly, heading toward the kitchen for a snack.
"I know, I know, but if it was, it would be the answer for Noah," he says, nodding his thanks when she handed him a Little Bite muffin. Rachel giggles a little.
"And what was up with his stupid hair anyway?"
Two weeks later, she kisses him for the first time.
They're sitting at her kitchen table doing homework. Well, she's doing homework; he's licking the cream off all the Oreos. He doesn't technically need to eat. He just likes food so much that he empties half the cabinets. He's just finished off the package of cookies when she states, "You grow up with me."
He just looks at her like she stated the sky is blue. "I mean, is that normal? For ghosts to age? I haven't come across any cases like yours in my research." She's done a lot of research. Books and articles and endless conversations with him about what he knows of the afterlife (nothing, he tells her, all he knows is his life here) if he's come across any other spirits (no) and how he knows the things he knows about himself (he just knows).
But none of it really explains even basic details of Finn's existence.
"That's because I'm not here to haunt a place," Finn answers in his maddeningly simplistic way that only creates more questions for her.
"How do you know?"
"There's a different kind of magic at work for me."
"What do you mean?" she says exasperatedly, and Finn smirks at her irritated tone.
"I can't really say."
"Well, you've broken every other rule, why not this one?" Rachel prompts.
"It's not exactly a rule, it's just… I don't know how to explain it right. It's like, when you asked to hear my voice, I needed to speak. I couldn't have refused you. And when you wanted to see me, I had to show myself. I can't deny you. I never want to. I think… I think that I'm here for you. That's why only you can see me or hear me. We were supposed to be together. My death was an accident."
She stares at him in awe when he quietly adds, "Being here is a way to fix what went wrong. Being herewith you."
Rachel lets the conversation end there because for once in her life, she has no idea what to say.
But that night, as she lies in bed, wrapped up in Finn's arms, she thinks about what he told her.
All the puzzle pieces seem to fit. They were supposed to be together. But something went wrong, a missing stitch in fate's tapestry. He was supposed to grow up in this house. He was supposed to try out for little league and play on his miniature drum set. He was supposed to go to high school.
He was supposed to fall in love with her. And she with him. She sees how they were inevitable. How no matter what direction their lives had taken their paths would have intertwined. The way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it's sent away. They would always be drawn back to each other.
She turns in his arms and shakes him awake. When his soft eyes slowly open, he whispers, "Rachel, wha-"
But he's cut off by her lips pressing softly to his own. He gasps, shocked, until he pulls her closer, opening his mouth just a little, an offering. Her lips close around his again tentatively, her fingers brushing against his neck. His fingers dance along her back. He licks her lips shyly and she moans a little into his mouth, the heat rising in her skin as their tongues brush against each other. She loses her breath, loses her head, moves in closer. She accidentally bites him and pulls back to apologize but he only pulls her back to him, whispering her name.
Neither of them sleeps a wink that night, but as they curl into each other, still panting a little, Rachel can't help but be glad fate won this battle.
From that day forward, they spend as much time kissing as possible.
Any moment not spent doing that, they're doing research.
They figure out more about him. About their history.
Finn was delivered in this very house. Something went wrong. He died just minutes after he was born. His mother, Carole Hudson, sold the house shortly afterward and moved back to Toledo, where she grew up. She loved Finn very much, his obituary said so.
Right around the same time, Leroy Berry got a job offer at a firm just outside Lima that came with a handsome raise. They moved in.
They were also right about his link to her. Wherever she calls her home is where he will "haunt."
"I promise I'll make being shackled to a dead guy as pleasant as possible," he smirks, but his eyes give him away.
"And I promise I'll make being shackled to an uptight diva as tolerable as I can," she nudges him.
"But I mean…" he trails off, until he picks up again, his voice strained, "I'll never be able sit in the front row on the opening night of your first Broadway show. I'll never be able to take you out at all. I can't give you babies. I can't go out and buy things for you. We'll never be normal. If you ever decide that I can't give you what you need, I'd completely underst-"
Rachel cuts him off, "You can give me you, Finn. That's all I ask." She reaches up to brush his cheek with her fingertips, just like the first time she saw him. And she's overwhelmed with just how much she loves this boy. She always has and always will. "And since when have I ever wanted to be normal?" She questions, stepping closer to him. "Only you can give me what I really need." She holds her breath, "You can love me back."
"Yeah," Finn reaches up to cover her hand with his, smiling his little smile, "I can do that."
The summer before high school they have sex for the first time.
They're tangled up on the hammock, kissing hungrily, and Rachel doesn't want to stop.
She shifts to straddle him, the hammock swaying slightly as she does so. She trails open mouthed kisses across his bare chest, watching how the hickeys appear and disappear on his warm skin as he whispers he loves her. She reattaches her mouth to his, coaxing his tongue into her mouth, tugging lightly on his soft hair.
"Finn, touch me," she moans. She feels his hands move down to brush her thighs, teasing, before he presses his thumb to to where she needs it the most, making her whimper into his mouth. And they've done this before (having a boyfriend who's invisible to your parents is extremely convenient) but there's something different about this time. She wants more.
He continues to move his thumb in small circles as her chorus of moans grows louder. Rachel reaches her hand into his boxers, gently running her thumb over his tip before gripping him firmly. He grunts quietly as she begins stoking him up and down. He can't help but buck his hips against her hand. Until suddenly she stops. "R-Roo?"
"Make love to me, Finn," she breathes. His swollen lips part in shock.
"A-are you sure?" he whispers, eyes wide as he brushes her hair from her forehead.
"Yes. I want this."
Finn's lips crash onto hers. "I want you," he groans, and he wraps her in his arms tightly as she grinds against him desperately.
"I love you, Finn," she whispers, tracing her hands down his hard chest until she reaches the elastic of his boxers, tugging them down, before she takes off her own panties.
"I love you, god, I love you," he breathes as she resumes stroking him, lining him up with her entrance. And then suddenly he's inside her. She freezes at the pain, an acute sharpness that spreads through her lower half. He stares at her, his eyes so soft, kisses her, tells her that she feels so good butis she okay and should they stop. No, no, she nods, she wants this. More than anything.
Finn brushes her tears away with his rough thumb. As the pain subsides, she lifts her hips experimentally, nodding that it's okay for him to move, feeling something really, really good begin to spread through her entire body. He places sloppy, wet kisses on her mouth, his lips sometimes missing hers, kissing the sides of her mouth, her chin, her cheeks, leaving a hot trail across her face. She wants him to hold her closer and she tells him so. He does, shifting down onto his forearms, but it's still not enough. She presses her hand to the small of his back and kisses the baby skin behind his ear.Closer. Closer. Closer.
He hits a spot inside her and she arches up. "Finn!" He reaches his hand down, his fingers finding her swollen bundle of nerves at the same time he sucks a nipple into his mouth. The lights in the sky blur and she feels him swell inside her, her entire body shaking as she comes undone beneath him, her hands gripping him for dear life, afraid she'll float away if she doesn't cling to him. The whole universe is Finn as they collapse back into the hammock, into each other.
They stay there for a long time. The crickets play them a song and Finn strokes her hair as they watch the fireflies dance in her backyard. "I think it's good that I'm dead," Finn whispers, "Because that probably would have killed me."
Rachel buries her face in his neck. "I know what you mean."
Four years later, they're packing her boxes for New York.
"Are you sure this is okay with you?" Rachel questions, "I mean, you're leaving your home behind, too."
Finn just chuckles and shakes his head. "After all this time, you still don't get it."
Rachel puts down the CD she was holding and looks at him questioningly.
"You are my home."
Ze end.