n/a: You'll notice I'm bad at fluff. My original idea was doing this an all-Angst fic, but I changed my mind halfway through. Anyways, I hope I don't make you cry.
Disclaimer: do not own
Warning: Rated M for a reason – language and sex. Therefore, this is NC-17. Also, English is not my native language, so I apologize for further mistakes.
In chronological order, but the last "drabble" will be a flashback.
Here's to the Future Days
They can't deny they got their happiness, eventually.
It's surreal – and wrong – that they should think like that, of course. Happiness is not supposed to end. It's supposed to change.
And happiness does change between two states.
The first state is healthiness. It's all bright and shiny, yellow, pink, floral, and it smells like spring. That's the state of happiness when a father sees his child for the first time. That's the state of happiness people cherish and wish for.
There's also illness. It's sad and cold, black, gray, dark blue, and it smells like winter. That's the state of happiness people tend to mistake with sadness; it's ironic that, actually, sadness is happiness, only in a disguise. An ugly, frozen disguise. That's the state of happiness people cry for. People even try to exorcize it.
But it's there.
Everything that's healthy gets ill. It's natural.
Although, when she gets sick, it doesn't seem natural at all.
Actually, it feels like some sort of sin.
The first phase is passionate.
Sure, something had to compensate the rough patch they passed through just a couple of months ago, when she spent her last nights in Lima crying herself to sleep, pretending she doesn't know what's about to come and get her: New York. She wants to take a bite of the Big Apple and let its juice drain down her chin, but only if Finn could also taste that awesome and blissful liquid.
So, he does.
He gets into NYU with her, and somehow, they survive. Deep inside, she has no idea how. Of course, their apartment was the smallest thing in the world and the building didn't have an elevator, but they sure made most of the rusty king-size bed in their little room. A new era begins. Just like she dreamed of, they spend their days drinking Starbucks and nuzzling each other in the winter, taking long walks in Central Park and talking about the future, making love and observing the stars in their balcony.
It's one of those nights.
She's basically clutching him for dear life, but he's not the one who's going to complain. Her legs are spread wide open and her chin is resting against his chest; he notices her eyelids are about to close. He chuckles at her adorableness, 'cause she looks like a goddamn princess. Her eyes are two huge pools of chocolate staring right into his soul, and her pink, smooth, perfect lips turn into a hint of a smile.
"What?" She asks, blinking the sleep away a couple of times.
Finn narrows his eyes, trying to find the word to describe what he's feeling, but there's none. His vocabulary was numb, as his feet, but the warmth spreading through his heart was indescribable; he searched for a proper phrase to tell her, since she's still waiting for his answer, but there's nothing else to say.
They listen to the cars blowing their horns outside, their constantly awake Brooklyn.
The second phase is sweet.
So, so sweet, sometimes they were sure the time they spent together was the same thing as eating a cupcake stuffed with love. Hell, it's cheesy – but everybody needs some.
Both just finished college, he's working as a teacher – turns out lecturing seven year olds could do some good to your own soul – and she's auditioning for little show's everywhere, they buy a bigger apartment, and life's good.
Finn has no idea what to do when Carole visits them for the weekend and gives him the engagement ring, the same his dad used to promise to make a woman out of her. He's confused, sure, but deep inside, his heart damn knew it was time he asked her the precious question.
But he didn't need a ring. He could save that for later.
They're walking through Central Park, her head leaning on his arm and their hands coiled up together, her head crowned by a adorable beret, and as much as he appreciates silence sometimes, he's loving to hear her talk about that show she adores so much – Desperate Brides mates? Or Housewives? Whatever – when he stops walking.
And she continues talking.
"And then there's Susan, oh Susan she's definitely my favorite character –
"Marry me."
Her eyes widen.
"What?"
"Marry me, Rach." He says it again, 'cause he'll do it a thousand times if he has to. Rachel's mouth starts trembling and the tiniest hint of a smile appears in the corners of her mouth, salty water falling from her eyes through her face and neck. Rachel Berry was always a small box of surprises – and Broadway tunes – but when the answer slips out of her mouth; his hands are holding hers sweetly as she basically whimpers.
He figures she would understand him. She was Rachel, he was Finn, and they had their own language. His heart melts a thousand times while he waits for her expected answer as she squeezes his hand stronger.
"Yes, I'll marry you."
She understood him.
Cause she's Rachel, and he's Finn.
When they kiss, Rachel a mess of sobs and he feeling like the luckiest man in the world, it all comes down to them.
And no one's letting go.
The third phase is fire-burning.
Sure, they had just got married and it's quite normal for a twenty year old couple to have sex all the time, but they're so addicted to each other they actually make up excuses to not go to parties just so they could spend even more time together.
It's one of those summer nights in New York.
He has her hands coiled together on top of her hand so she's unable to touch herself, her breathing irregular and loud whimpers escaping the back of her throat as he moves in and out of her, thrusting deep inside her warm, wet and still tight walls – despite all the times they had sex – and moaning himself. He knew she couldn't deny how much she loved being treated that way.
"Talk to me, Rachel" He smirks, fastening his thrusts, knowing she was about to fall over the edge.
"F-Finn" She manages to stammer. "Oh God, Finn, harder, please, I'm so close."
He's done.
Besides Rachel's walls clenching and unclenching around him, her breasts bouncing up and down, her perfect body sweaty and her gorgeous self moaning underneath him, what always made him get off were Rachel's words. He never denied his girl could talk, she did it a lot, but during intimate situations?
Hell yes.
And the best of all that?
Prides tighten his chest 'cause his name's the only she'll ever moan.
The fourth phase is fearful.
They don't notice when it begins, though.
But it all started when Rachel settled a routine appointment to her doctor. She insisted it was necessary since it's been a while since she did blood tests and that sort of thing, and although she doesn't feel sick at all – due her balanced diet and exercises – she kept telling him it was for the better.
He goes with her, since he had to grade some papers, but he figured 7 year olds wouldn't be so mad at him if he didn't the paperwork about their favorite animals the next day. They sit on the waiting room's uncomfortable chairs for what it seems like decades when they call her to see the tests results.
"Sit" Dr. Smith, a serious fifty year old man, glanced at them, and they obeyed. "Ms. Berry, I would like to talk to you about contacting an Oncologist as soon as possible."
Finn frowns. Oncolo – what? Oncologist? Isn't that the kind of doctor who treats zebras or something?
But when he looks down at Rachel, she's not confused. She's crying an ocean of endless tears which seemed to never stop falling as Dr. Smith kept talking. He still doesn't understand, even though when he wraps one of his arms around her and she sobs into his neck as the doctor continues talking to him, for Christ's sake, he just wants him to shut the fuck up –
"… Since I'm not a specialist I can't say anything about uterus cancer treatment."
Cancer.
He gets it.
The fourth phase is pure anger.
He doesn't know when his face is not wet – or with his own tears, or with hers, since when she's kissing when they hopelessly try to make love, she starts crying and the salty water rolls down his cheeks as if it were their own.
For exactly two months, they barely leave their apartment. She's not auditioning anymore. He leaves for work in the morning and comes back by the end of the evening to try – and fail – comforting her, holding her tiny frame, but it's no use.
She promises him at least a thousand of times she'll call the Oncologist, but she's Rachel and she's so stubborn, also so fucking proud, when they're eating dinner quietly one day and she asks him to hold her for fuck's sake, he loses it.
"Don't you tell me that, Rachel" He breathes out, reaching for a glass of water, his hands shaky. She's looking at him confusedly from the table. "Not now."
"Finn –
"Don't you fucking tell me to hold you, Rachel!" He points his index finger at her, and he doesn't want to scream, but then he's doing it, and it feels so good, to finally let it all go, since she doesn't give a damn about her own fucking health, about them, about their future –
"F-Finn" She stammers, her eyes watery. She reminds him of a ragdoll.
"I can't hold you, Rachel." He leans on the kitchen counter. "I can't hold you. I can't make love to you. Hell, I can't even look at you. Sometimes I wish I had make a woman out of you and made you stop being so fucking stubborn, Rachel."
He's losing it again, and she's begging him not to leave her, not now –
"You are my wife, Rachel" Finn finds the strength in him to hold her tiny fists. "I won't leave you. But you're gonna pick up that damn phone and you're gonna call the doctor. Now."
She does.
They sit on the couch; she falls onto his careful embrace. She calls the doctor. It's almost midnight, but she does.
She just wants him to look at her again. She would call God, if she had to.
The fifth phase is all about choices.
She's going to the Oncologist regularly and they're still running some tests, but she can't deny she knows what's about to come. Finn holds her hand when they face the doctor together, a mix of hope and cry in their eyes in sync.
"You have two options here, Rachel" The doctor says.
Choices.
She never was the one who's good at making them.
"Since you decided to do the exams quickly, which was the best decision you could've make, I'm going to be quite frank." The man said, neutral, and Finn squeezed her hand harder as she gave him a nervous smile. "We can perform a radical surgery, which means we would remove the uterus permanently and you wouldn't need any medication or additional treatments, or you can choose radiotherapy, but there's no guarantee it would work. If it doesn't you'll have to do the surgery, either way."
Finn has no idea what was crossing Rachel's mind when she nods and bites her lower lip. "I understand" She murmurs.
But he doesn't.
And she doesn't, too.
"It depends on what you want for your future, Rachel" The doctor continues. "If you and your husband plan to have children of your own, radiotherapy is certainly the best option. Once your uterus is removed, it'll be impossible for you to carry a child."
She gets it.
He gets it.
"If you'd like sometime to discuss it with your husband –
"No" Rachel cuts him off gently. They've already talked about it, plenty of times. "I'm doing radiotherapy."
It's decided.
But he doesn't know.
And it hurts.
The sixth phase is sadness itself.
They move in to their new house on a Tuesday, and instead of celebrating, she crouches over to one of the boxes and starts to look at photo albums. He hesitantly sits beside her, 'cause he has no damn idea what to do. Again, one of his arms wrap around her shoulders as she opens their wedding album.
For a few seconds, she just stares at the first picture.
Finally, she speaks, smiling sadly at the photo. "We look so happy."
"We do" He agrees, his fingertips brushing against the fabric of the picture; himself and Rachel staring back at him three years ago. She has a strapless, white dress on, her hair tied up and most of all, a delicate smile on her naturally pink lips. He figures he's just standing there behind her, awkward and tall, holding her waist and glancing down at her. It's a simple, yet beautiful picture.
Yeah, they looked happy.
"I want this, Finn." She confesses. "I want this back."
His heart breaks into a millions of irreplaceable pieces, 'cause he deduces she's basically saying she's not happy. But he isn't, too. There's no denying anymore. He's not happy, she isn't. But truth was, at the end of the day, both were miserable and scared together. It had to be something.
"I want you back" She whispers quietly, head falling onto his chest. "I want you, so much."
"I want you too, baby" He breathes out, his fingers tangling in her hair – or what was left of it – gently, his eyes closing in attempt of controlling himself. "God, I always want you."
She'd begun radiotherapy five months ago and he hadn't touched her since then. The doctor says it's okay to have intercourse as long as she was feeling comfortable with it, but he's afraid of even kissing her, as if she was made of porcelain. But hell, he wanted her. He wanted her so badly. He wanted to kiss her the way he did before, hear she moaning the way she did before, and waking up by her side and she's right there with him, a huge smile on her face, telling him the day's gonna be wonderful.
"I want to be a mom" She sobs, holding his shirt possessively. "I want to see the look on your face when I tell you I'm pregnant. I want to hear our baby's heartbeat. I want to go baby shopping. I want to watch you painting the nursery pink or blue –
The node on her throat finally broke, her tiny body shaking slightly with her cries as he held back his own. He wanted all that, too, he couldn't lie. But most of all, he wanted her, just her. If he had her, everything else was going to settle, slowly, but still.
She continued.
"I w-want to hold our baby in my arms. I want to spend nights awake feeding it, loving it. I want to see how a great father you're going to be. I want to see our baby crawling, walking, and saying its first word." She explained, barely whispering, and he nodded, looking away, ashamed. He couldn't find the words. "But most of all, I want to give it all to you, Finn. It's not fair you're stuck here with a sick cancer patient when you could be happy –
"Don't" Finn quickly shushed her, rocking her body back and forward. "I am happy, Rachel." He told her. "I'm happy 'cause I have you. It's enough for me. Is it for you?"
In some sort of emotional wreck, she looked up at him, tear stained face. "Yes, it is. It'll always be."
"Then, we're good." He kept moving her body gently until she finally stopped hiccupping and fell asleep within is embrace.
They weren't good, but they would be okay.
Eventually.
Finally, the phases stopped. Now, it was all about events.
After one of her many radiotherapy sessions, he takes her to Central Park to get some ice cream.
He doesn't tell her why, but she doesn't ask. Her head is involved by a light blue scarf, since there's barely hair to show. Her eyes are swollen from the crying and her mouth is dry, but still, she looked gorgeous.
They sit in the very same bench.
He eats his chocolate ice cream in five minutes while she's still fighting with her spoon to get a little bit of the vegan-strawberry dessert she loved so much. He picks up her hand gently, getting a bunch of ice cream from the pot and taking the plastic spoon to her lips.
"Thank you." She says, but there's a frown on her face.
Eventually, she fights with the spoon again, since he doesn't even know how she manages to walk.
"Screw it" She swears lowly, throwing the spoon away, not even caring about the environment as she always did. He chuckles to himself, because hearing Rachel swear is one of the best things in the world.
In a content sigh, Rachel opens her mouth and takes in the pink ice cream either way, not caring her nose and chin were full with the vegan moisture anymore. She eats in silence, irritated, and he patiently waits.
When they get up to leave, she kisses his lips quickly.
He tastes like strawberry, hope, and Rachel for the rest of the evening.
She finally lets him touch her a month after the radiotherapy treatment is over.
Her body is shaking and he's spreading kisses all over her neck, sobs leaving her throat every now and then. He kisses her ear, and then her collarbone, and then her arms, 'cause he missed her body so much. Her hands desperately hold on his hair, caressing it softly as he takes one of her nipples inside his mouth, finally receiving a low moan from her stubborn-self.
"Finn" She simply says and he goes on.
When her small hands take off his belt quickly, she gathers courage to ask him.
"Finn" She says once more. "Tell me everything's gonna be okay."
He controls himself, 'cause when she blinks those puppy eyes to him, and even in a situation like that, such a fragile, yet wonderful situation, he has to be careful.
"Everything's gonna be okay." He promises her, entering gently, and surprisingly, her head falls back in pleasure.
"S-say it again." Rachel hisses, holding onto his shoulder for support.
"We're going to be okay." He tells her, figuring it was what she really wanted to hear.
And it was.
'Cause at the end of the night, his name's the one she's moaning, like it's always been.
Her hair begins to grow back three months after they stop with the radiotherapy.
They only notice, though, when he wakes up on a Saturday dawn and spots her on the front of their bathroom mirror, wearing white underwear, singing Mamma Mia and especially, running a purple hairbrush through her shiny, dark locks, and then, through her bangs.
"Rach, baby?" He frowns. "Come back to bed, it's two in the morning."
"Mamma mia, does it show again? My, my! Just how much I missed you!" She sung beautifully as always, using the hairbrush as a microphone, just to pass it through her long, full hair once more.
He chuckles at her adorableness. "What –
"I have hair again, Finn!" She exclaims, and she's screaming but god he doesn't give a shit cause yeah, he missed her hair, too, but mostly, he missed her.
She comes back to bed, eventually, with a loud squeal, jumping right into his arms. "Feel it, Finn" She grabs one of his hands, making him tangle it in her soft hair. "I have hair again." She repeats.
"It's beautiful, Rach" He laughs, feeling the most silly man in the world. "It's beautiful."
Rachel kisses him lightly.
"You're beautiful" He tells her before she unclasps her bra and he feels her milky skin in his fingertips.
They were going to be okay.
She gets her period again a year after the treatment is finished.
He just got home from teaching at the very same school to seven year olds when she's sitting on their living room's floor, a box of tampons in one of her hands and her face stained with tears, her long, shiny hair, which she refused to cut, spread through her back.
"Baby, what's wrong?" He approaches her quickly, praying for God's sake she isn't in pain again 'cause it's been over a year and he can't do it again, no –
She just hugs him, sobbing on the crook of his neck; then, she barely whispers.
"I'm cured, Finn."
"Yes, you are" He smiles, kissing her forehead and he sighs in relief, 'cause he'll never get tired of listening to the miraculous sentence.
"I'm cured" She repeats, handing him the pink box. "I got my period today. You know what that means?"
He smiles again. In a normal situation, it would be totally weird for a guy to come home and the first thing his wife tells him is that she's bleeding through her lady parts but it was a whole lot of information, this time. She's holding the future in those words. She's telling him she's finally 100% okay, she's finally certain she's fertile again; she's finally ready to talk about having a baby again, and most of all, she was basically screaming they were going to be fine.
It wasn't just a period.
"That's great, Rach" He pulls her down for a hug again, stroking her hair gently 'cause he knows how much she likes when his fingers tangle in her locks. "You're healed."
"I am" She sniffed. "And I love you."
"I love you, too."
And it seemed like an eternity since they have.
They're both twenty six when they find out.
For some strange reason, she buys them tickets to go and see Wicked for the millionth time, but he doesn't complain, since she's rambling about she had a great day at her last day of rehearsal – she has been playing Maria in West Side Story for a year – so he agrees.
She cries during all the songs and he lets her rest her head on his shoulder.
Due his constant want of being a good husband, he takes her out to dinner and he even eats a vegan dessert with her and she giggled adorably when he makes a face after taking each spoon to his mouth.
When they're walking home through Central Park, as they did before many times, the warm wind of spring embracing them, he's talking about an US Open game he's thinking of watching when summer came to the town when she stops walking, and he continues talking.
"I'm not a huge fan of tennis but still –
"I'm pregnant." She blurts out, her shoulders trembling under the white scarf covering it, matching with her dress.
"What?"
"I'm pregnant, Finn." A huge smile appears on her pink lips, waiting for his reaction, after all, she'd dreamed about that moment ever since they considered trying out for babies again.
Eventually, a smile appears on his lips as well. Both start crying at the same time, and their desperate kisses denounce all the pain and the entire wait for that precious moment, all of that time wasted sobbing over a cancer who seemed to take everything away it's fading, disappearing.
In that day, Rachel Berry finally knew the look on her husband's face she wanted to meet so much.
They were okay.
He looks like her.
Despite the fact she guarantees him their son will have his dimples, Christopher Aaron Hudson was a copy of Rachel, from the chocolate tone of his eyes to the way he smiled, even if he was too young to have teeth.
Rachel's been overprotective, sure, but there's one of those moments, those awesome father-son moments when she was too tired to take care of him and he gladly skips work to watch over the precious five month old human being.
He's watching a football game and he's sitting on the couch, Christopher nuzzled in his arms comfortably, one of his small hands reaching towards Finn's face, as he was trying to catch his chin, a smile crossing is tiny baby lips – Rachel's lips.
"What's wrong, Chris?" Finn frowns, turning the volume down. "You want something, buddy?"
As if he was answering, Christopher did a happy baby noise, yawning.
"He wants his daddy to stop watching TV." Finn heard a voice coming from the stairs, a sleepy Rachel dressed on a summer dress, giving him a quick kiss before picking up Chris from his arms and sitting beside him on the couch.
"Slept well, baby?" Finn asked, turning off the TV, admiring Rachel as he played with Chris.
"Yeah" She smiled, not taking her eyes off the baby, almost ignoring him. "And how are you, baby boy? Did your father take good care of you? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you want mommy to sing to you?"
Finn chuckled as Chris giggled at Rachel once. It was amazing to see how his son was attached to her.
"I think he's good, Rach." He said. "I checked his diaper a hundred times and –
"I know, Finn." Rachel giggled, pressing another kiss against his lips, making his heart melt every time. "You're a great father. I always knew you would be. And I love you, you silly man." She nuzzled her nose against his once.
His heart did melt.
'Cause he loved them so damn much it seemed unnatural.
"Finn, is it near?" Rachel asked, biting her lower lip, looking at him with glossy eyes while he drove.
He fought the urge to roll his eyes, 'cause it's like, the hundredth time she's asking him, but she looks so adorable glancing at the map and looking outside his truck's windows hopefully that he doesn't has the words to stop her. They've been driving from Lima to New York and the lights are just a couple of meters away from them.
"It is, Rach, I promise." He smiles back. "We're almost there."
"Oh" She clapped excitedly, kissing his chick softy before returning her attention to another Barbra Streisand's biography she was reading.
When they finally get to the end of the road, his heart's beating fast, 'cause damn, they're finally in her dream city, their city, the big and beautiful New York, the same city they've been dreaming since always.
"We're here, right?" She turns around to face him and he spots tears of happiness behind her eyelids.
"Yes, we are." He replied. "How do you know, baby?" Finn frowned, because judging by his girlfriend's geography and map-reading skills, she didn't even knew where they were heading in the first place.
"It smells like New York." She tells him, the happy tears she'd been holding finally falling down her cheeks.
He nodded, one of his thumbs brushing her tears away as he stopped the car on the side road, his hands cupping her face gently and giving the girl he loved an open mouthed kiss, which tasted like Rachel.
The city did smell like New York.
He could smell their future.
a/n: Review, please?