CLARRIFICATION: For those of you who didn't see this the first time around, no, Artie is NOT in a wheelchair in this fic… thought I'd spice it up a little that way
Thanks for all the positive reviews everyone! Your reward is a WICKED long chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the songs I'm about to use!
Rachel had known from the beginning that being in a band with three other teenage guys (hey, they were 19, the term still applied) wasn't going to be easy. And she'd been prepared, or so she thought, for the challenges something like that was going to throw her way. Always being the awkward third wheel to any and all conversations they had about cars, beer, or sports. Never being included when they wanted to have 'guy time' in the man cave. Eating cold pizza for just about every meal she'd have with them. Having to put up with the nonchalant approach most guys took to personal hygiene, even pretend like it didn't totally gross her out. She'd even thought, maybe, she could get used to the idea of some of them bringing girlfriends around from time to time. Yeah, Rachel thought she'd been totally prepared for just about anything her band mates could dish out.
Except the weekly Puckerman Parade.
The horrifying and sometimes downright disturbing show occurred every Monday afternoon rehearsal, so Rachel had at least learned not to eat right before coming over to Finn's place anymore. What it boiled down to was an epic monologue during which Puck (no, she did not consider him human enough to call him by his first name) would retell, in excruciating detail and sometimes with photographic evidence, all of his weekend's escapades. Artie had warned her about the possibility of the tradition not stopping once she joined, and he seemed to have been right. Puck couldn't care less that a girl was now around to listen to his lewd and disrespectful stories. Not even when she'd pulled him aside and mentioned that she found some of his stories offensive and asked that he tell the stories to Artie and Finn in private if he simply could not contain himself; all she'd gotten back was a innuendo-laced comment about how he had trouble containing "himself" when she wore short skirts to rehearsal. Gross. Thanks but no thanks.
"Alright kiddies, gather round, Uncle Puckerman has a mythical adventure to share with all of you!" Puck's voice announced as he strutted into the garage, backpack dangling off one shoulder, causing Finn and Artie to stop fiddling with the amp plugged into the bass and Rachel to glance up from the magazine Finn had let her borrow. It was Sports Illustrated, so she was pretty lost, but it at least had pictures for her to look at while they waited for Puck to get there.
"Gee, maybe if you spent more time in reality, you'd get to rehearsals on time." Rachel snapped at him, shutting the magazine quietly and placing it next to her on the couch. "But I suppose your depravity doesn't have a place in the real world, does it?"
"Oh please, keep it coming…You know I like 'em feisty, Berry." Puck fired back, sending her a wink that made her stomach turn. She rolled her eyes in frustration, standing up and folding her arms across her chest as she glared at him from across the garage. It was always like this it seemed. Puck would roll in late, Rachel would call him on it, he'd make some underhanded comment, and they'd be at each other's throats. Neither of them could honestly tell you how anything ever got done in an environment like that. Or how they hadn't killed each other yet.
"Really? I thought you liked 'em desperate and drunk?" she replied, giving him the fakest smile she could muster before quickly replacing it with a glower. She really hated how worked up Puck could make her sometimes; she wanted to hate him so badly, and you'd think she would, given all the negatives she found in his personality. He was loud, cocky, obnoxious, rude, impolite, chauvinistic, and hundreds of other things she despised. But there was some part of him, the Noah side to Noah Puckerman that he didn't let anyone see, that came across in their music. He could be vulnerable, open, and had a stunningly unique take on the world that came across in his lyrics. And she couldn't hate someone that complex. So she was stuck in this ridiculous no man's land – she admired and respected Noah…maybe even liked him and wanted him as a friend. But she wanted Puck to burn in the deepest pit of hell. And since the two were inseparable from each other, she settled for this, verbal sparring.
"Don't knock it till you've tried it, my virginal princess. Those are the best candidates for some really kinky shit."
"Ugh, you're disgusting." She huffed, trying to block out the mental images that Puck's comments always seemed to inspire in her while not purging her stomach all over the concrete.
"Oh come on, don't be so jealous Rachel. If Finn and Artie would kindly excuse us, we could borrow the nice couch inside and-"
"Hey! Lay off her." Rachel turned her head, surprised to find that it was Finn who had come to her rescue this time, not Artie. He had taken a few steps away from the amp to position himself between Puck and her, and his hands were balled into tight fists. She watched as Puck shot him a flabbergasted look, as if his buddy had just slapped him clean across the face, and it only took Finn about two seconds of silence to panic. All the determination of his stance washed away, and he quickly shoved his hands into his pockets. "Let's uhh…let's can the Parade until later, okay? Rachel's right, we're running way late." he covered, shooting her a shy smile before heading back to the drum set. Puck growled his disapproval, but dropped his backpack on the couch in defeat.
Chalk one up for Finn. Rachel thought to herself, returning his smile as she made her way over to where her guitar was waiting on the couch. He could really surprise her sometimes. She'd assumed after meeting him that he was Puck's lackey and nothing more, since he'd always seem to go along with whatever half-baked scheme his friend came up with and never stopped him when Puck would do things that were pretty questionable (that poor waitress at the diner was probably in therapy now, and Rachel could never look at maple syrup the same way again). He seemed to be pretty content with just playing the drums and quietly nursing his ginger ales in the corner. He never got involved in the artistic direction fights that Rachel got into with Puck, and stayed out of the friendly brawls that always started over radio station choice during their pizza dinners. But slowly, in the month she'd been with the guys, she'd started to see the other side of him too. And unlike Puck, it wasn't that he had an alter ego – it was just that the one and only Finn was hard to understand sometimes.
What she had figured out though, was that he couldn't be more different than Puck. He was kind, and always genuinely interested in whatever Rachel had to say, even when it felt like she was talking for hours. He was immensely respectful to women, especially to his mother who had agreed to let them keep using the garage to rehearse while she was out at work, despite the fact that Finn had moved out to a nearby apartment with Puck right after his high school graduation. He laughed at her jokes, and not the fake kind of laughs Artie gave her to shut her up. He always answered her texts, even if she never had anything important to say. And he was a passionate person; Rachel knew from the first time they played together, at her audition, that he put everything he had into everything he played. It was …refreshing. No wonder she found herself gravitating towards him more and more with every passing rehearsal.
"Fine. We have all night, I can tell you three then."
"Woah woah woah, hold up…all night? I thought rehearsal was going until 8 like always. Am I missing something here?" Rachel asked, raising her eyebrows at the three boys in front of her. Finn and Puck glanced at each other once, obviously confused, before their shared gaze morphed into aggravation and they turned it on Artie, who had suddenly become very nervous.
"Oh, umm, Rach, wow, did I uhh… did I forget to text you about this? Nah, no, I could've sworn I told you…Right?" he stuttered, wringing his hands together nervously and biting his lower lip.
"Told me what?" she pressed, instinctively turning to look at Finn, who she knew would give her the answers. That was a bad idea, though, since the attention made his cheeks turn slightly red and he too seemed at a loss for what to say to her. "Come on, you guys are freaking me out." she begged.
"Well, I mean, we have to write a new song before our gig next Friday…" Finn offered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as Rachel shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She exhaled loudly in relief, and laughed a little bit as she relaxed.
"That's it? That's not such a big deal." she smiled, turning around to pick up her guitar. But even as her fingers were closing around the neck of her baby, she knew there had to be a reason that the tension hanging in the air hadn't dissipated. There was something they weren't telling her. Leaving her guitar in its case, she wheeled around and faced them all again, arms folded across her chest. "That's not all…is it?" she asked, not really sure she wanted to hear the answer.
"Well, we're uhh…we have a system to how we go about accomplishing that." Artie filled in, having sat down on top of the amp he and Finn were messing with not ten minutes ago. "And it's not…umm…conventional."
"Yeah, we…well, it's worked for us in the past, but I don't…umm, I mean, I doubt you would have ever done something like this before." Finn added, shrugging halfheartedly and becoming redder around the ears the more she watched.
"For the love of god, will someone just tell me what's going on here?" Rachel shouted, her hands moving to her hips in frustration. "Because whatever it is, I bet I'm imagining something worse."
"We're locking ourselves into the garage, Berry." Puck finally cut in. She whirled around – he wasn't standing where he'd been a minute ago. He'd gone back to the driveway, and was producing a king-sized mattress from his truck's bed. "All night. Until we've got something good. Hope you brought your pajamas."
*******
"Hey, does it fit okay?" Finn's voice asked her through the bathroom door. She laughed a little bit, her fingertips running over the hem of the shirt he'd lent her. It far from fit; it swamped her. Despite the fact that she'd been assured it was the smallest shirt he owned, the faded grey long-sleeved William McKinley football t-shirt skimmed her knees and she had to push the sleeves way up her arm to even get her hands to poke out the ends. The matching red gym shorts had been rolled six times, and the drawstring pulled as tight as it would go so they would finally stay on her slender hips. She unlocked the door, pulling it open as she twirled around once so he could get the full view of it.
"It's a circus tent." she laughed, flapping her arms once so the carefully pushed up sleeves fell over her wrists, and her flailing limbs were lost under way too much cotton for her body. Finn shook his head, laughing along with her as he leaned against the door frame, watching her. Not in an uncomfortable way, it was almost natural.
"And to think, that shirt hasn't fit me since sophomore year." he told her, moving off the door frame and taking one of her arms in his hands so he could roll the sleeve back up for her. He repeated the action with the other arm, not saying a word as Rachel waited for him to finish. Just as he was rolling the last sleeve up, his finger slipped and brushed over the back of her palm. Rachel's stomach dropped out of her body, and she glanced up to gauge his reaction. His eyes were just as wide as hers, and he let go of her immediately as if she'd burnt him. "Well, uhh…they probably aren't what you sleep in at home, but they'll…ummm…do." He shrugged, his hands already awkwardly back in his pockets.
"Yeah…thanks Finn." She smiled, trying to shake whatever had just transpired between the two of them out of her system. It was probably nothing, she was just tired. Right? He nodded, and waited for her to scoot past him before the two of them made their way back to the garage. Finn had already changed into his pajamas, a plain white t-shirt and long grey sweatpants, before he had offered to take Rachel to his old bedroom to pick out something for her to wear, since she was obviously not prepared to spend the night.
How the boys had managed to trick her into doing this, she didn't know. They'd lowered the garage door and locked it, eaten some pizza, and brainstormed for hours; it wasn't until around 1 AM, as she and Artie were putting together their section of the music while Puck struggled with the lyrics for the bridge and Finn tapped away mindlessly on his drums, that they'd decided to call it a night and get back to work in the morning. And at 1 in the morning, Rachel had realized how much she really, REALLY, didn't want to drive home. All she wanted was a bed. So here she was, in Finn's old clothes, standing in the garage with her three male band mates, waiting to crawl into bed with them. Artie was dressed similarly to Finn, but Puck had insisted on sleeping shirtless and in his boxers ("You bitches can sweat it out in the summer heat, but I won't" he'd argued). Awkward.
They each had their own pillows, but were going to share sheets and one giant comforter between the four of them. Where she was going to end up in this arrangement, Rachel had no idea. But she was so tired right now, she didn't even really care. "So…where do I crawl in?" she asked, stifling a yawn as she stumbled towards the mattress.
"I call right side!" Puck shouted, jumping on top of his desired sleeping location and diving under the covers before Finn, Rachel or Artie could do anything about it. He rolled his eyes at their expressions, folding his arms under his head and looking up at the ceiling. "I'm not dealing with any more body heat than I have to." He explained, shutting his eyes briefly. "You should really invest in air-conditioning for this place, Finster."
"Yeah, you said that last summer." Finn laughed, falling on top of the mattress next to his friend. "Now move over, you're hogging way more of the mattress. We have a fourth person again, remember?" An annoyed grumble was the only response he got, and the mattress bounced lightly as Puck turned over onto his side, facing away from Finn and the rest of them. Finn slid down under the covers, plumping his pillow just the way he liked it before glancing up at Rachel. Her heart immediately started hammering loudly in her chest at the unguarded gaze he was sending her way. She could only stare back, awkwardly curling and uncurling her toes, biting her lip hard as he watched her. She had no idea what that look meant, all she knew was she couldn't look away.
"Rachel?" Artie asked, surprising her so much she jumped an inch in the air. Her hand immediately flew to her chest in a desperate attempt to calm her nerves, while the other ran through her hair as she tried to collect herself again. What the hell was wrong with her? Thankfully, the interruption had helped her tear her eyes away from Finn, before she did anything embarrassing.
"What?" she asked, trying to hide how frazzled she was. Artie clearly didn't buy it, but let it go.
"I was asking if you want the inside or the edge." he told her again, although to be fair she hadn't heard him the first time. She didn't even glance at Finn before she answered.
"Oh, I'll uhh…I'm fine with the inside. Don't wanna have one of you brutes roll over and push me off the mattress in the middle of the night." She laughed, dropping to her knees on the mattress and crawling over towards Finn. She met his eyes again, only for a moment so as to avoid that awkward endless look thing they'd just shared, before slipping under the sheets as well. She could feel Finn's eyes boring into the side of her skull, but Rachel just kept her focus on the garage door opening device that was suspended on the ceiling above her and tried to breathe.
"Alright, lights out. Goodnight everyone." Artie announced, clicking off the wall light before getting into bed next to Rachel. She immediately rolled over, facing away from Finn and towards Artie's back, so she could settle down enough to sleep. Whatever the hell was going on between her and Finn today was seriously freaking her out. She'd never experienced this kind of thing with anyone before; how him defending her today had made her heart skip a beat, how his touch in the bathroom had lit her skin on fire, or how his glance just now before bed had actually impaired her hearing.
Not good, not good, not good. She repeated to herself, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Oh man, if there was one thing she knew, it was that falling for a band mate was never a good idea. Every great band she had ever loved seemed to have been torn apart some way or somehow by romance, whether it was within the band itself or a Yoko incident. And even if Puck literally made her want to burn down a building in frustration, she loved being a part of this group with them. It was the best thing she had going for her right now, and the guys were turning out to be the best (and only) friends she had. Getting involved with one of them, especially the closest one to her (sorry Artie, you've been replaced) was, as far as precedence could tell, a monstrously bad idea. It's probably nothing…I'm just tired, and he just happened to be the one I was with in the bathroom…it doesn't mean anything. Rachel tried to convince herself, snuggling into the warmth of Finn's oversized t-shirt as she started to drift off to sleep, determined not to dream about any of the boys she was currently sharing the mattress with. Especially not Finn. But she didn't fight it when she felt a strong hand wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against the muscular body behind her.
I, Rachel Barbara Berry, can NOT have a thing for Finn Hudson… Starting tomorrow...