A/N:I owe so many thanks for the help on this part it is straight up ridiculous. I never imagined it would be this hard to write this kind of a scenario but it totally kicked my ass. Jen (wants2beawriter), Ali (joshsgrl), Kenz (egyouppt)… thanks for telling me I don't suck. Lizzie (Paceismyhero), thanks for telling me I don't suck, letting me derail your own writing and reminding me about Lovestoned (I Think She Knows)by Justin Timberlake for some much needed inspiration. I also listened to a fair amount of Harder to Breathe by Maroon 5.The songs mentioned within, even if I didn't name them, are We Didn't Start the Fire by Billy Joel, Your Song by Elton John, and Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough by Patty Smythe (feat. Don Henley). Last(ish) but not least, thank you for the simply astounding amount of reviews, replies, follows and alerts. It's amazing.
**Also, sorry if anyone received duplicate notifications for this part. Me and the Document Manager had a fight. It was a standoff with ransom involved. I won. Eventually.**
Disclaimer:I own nothing. Seriously, nothing. And this seems like a great place to remind you this is rated M for a fucking reason (giggle) so if you're all innocent and whatnot, just don't read it. Mmkay? Thanks.
Never Let You Go
Finn kicked at the chairs in the front row of the choir room and let out a growl. "Fuck this song!" He said.
And he wasn't the only one with that reaction; they were going on all around at the same time. There were three of them who had messed up the lyrics—again—all at once and in different ways. It was just days before Regionals and they were still a total mess with this song.
"Finn!" Schue busted out. His frustration with his male lead was obvious and had been all day—all week really. "You need to figure out whatever is going on because this is the song we're doing. End of story. And it's going to be ridiculous if you screw up the lyrics."
"Maybe we should just have someone different for lead," Santana said. "All of the girls are doing just fine."
"We're not having two female leads!" Rachel barked. Her arms had been folded across her chest as she took in the scene around them. As of that moment, Rachel, Mike, and Brittany were the only ones who weren't having trouble with the choreography in any part; Rachel, Artie, and Puck were the only ones who could get through all the lyrics without screwing up. Brittany was the only one who wasn't angry at anyone or about something and that was only, they guessed, because Artie had calmly reminded her about something called a magic comb.
"Well, your hands are manly enough you could probably take the lead. No one would notice the difference if you were dressed like a boy anyway," Santana scoffed openly. "In fact, it might be an improvement."
Schue, Puck, and Finn all burst out at her at the same time, and the combination of "Fuck off", "Shut up", and "That's Enough!" came out sounding like just as garbled of a mess as the song had.
Rachel was only marginally sure Finn was the one who had said "shut up." His attitude was about ten notches below terrible and she just didn't understand it, but she was sure sick of it.
Finally, she held her hands out. "Okay!" She yelled over the chaos, her voice immediately commanding their combined attentions. "Finn—you're coming with me. Now," she lowered her voice and shot him a deadly serious look. "Artie and Brittany, help the girls clean up their choreography and lyrics. Puck and Mike, do the same for the boys. Finn and I will be in the auditorium. Boys in the dance room; girls stay in here. Go!"
"Rachel, I'm the teacher," Schue protested. She turned to look at him with an arched eyebrow, her look virtually daring him to speak at his own peril. "Okay, everyone split up like she said," he demanded with a wave.
Rachel turned on her heel and marched off toward the auditorium. Finn wasn't right behind her, but she knew he was on his way. She made her way to the stage and she was already pacing back and forth with her hands on her hips by the time he got there.
Finn approached her slowly, his frustration and annoyance finally burning off when it was down to just him and her. He let out a long, deep, and loud breath to let her know he was there.
"What is your problem today?" She demanded. He stepped even closer to her, and without a word, grabbed her arm and crushed her against him for a blistering kiss. His tongue was relentless until she let him slide it into her mouth with a squeak of surprise. He was rarely that forceful and he never clung to her arm just like that.
He finally let go of her arm and her lips and stood up to his full height.
"God, thank you," he breathed out.
She raised an eyebrow and tried to fight her smile. "Really? That's what I needed to do?"
He sighed and closed his eyes, hanging his head from the tense line of muscle that connected his shoulder. "I'm never going to get this and every time I see you turn your skirt gets shorter and I can't concentrate already and then I have to touch you and does the dancing really have to call for you to run your hands down my entire body again and then I can't get the fucking words right and how can I lead the team in Regionals if I can't even get the fucking words right and—"
She ran her hands up his chest and he let in a long breath even though his chest heaved with the effort.
"Let's take this one thing at a time," she said, fighting to keep her voice under control. There was no point in both of them being frustrated and it was clear he was probably frustrated enough for all twelve of them. She saw his eyes come into focus as they locked on hers. She hooked her finger through his belt loop so they were still touching but not very much. "Let's start with lyrics. I think those are going to be harder because they're so fast."
"Okay," he agreed. He flashed a small half smile. "Sorry…for back there."
She gestured toward the piano bench and he wanted to know if she honestly planned to try playing the demanding Billy Joel song. She slipped her hand into his as they walked the few steps and gave it a small squeeze.
He sighed as he sank down onto the bench. "I wish Schue would just let me play drums for more than the beginning," he muttered.
She leaned a little closer to him. "But then you wouldn't get to do the crazy dancing with me."
"Exactly," he said simply. He rolled his eyes and sighed. "I mean, is he serious with that? It's all I can do to get the lyrics out and I only have most of them. The dancing is just going to… what if I trip over you again?"
"You can do it," she said simply. "We just have to work on it more."
"And when would you like to do that with my mom keeping me on a freakin' electronic leash?" He demanded, but his tone was less frustrated than it had been and Rachel took some comfort in that. There was very little she could actually do to provide comfort while they were at school because it would just risk too much. New Directions was hanging on by a thread and all they wanted to do was get the group to Nationals. That had to be their priority during school hours; they could take care of the rest later.
"Aren't you supposed to go to the doctor again soon to get cleared for baseball?" She inquired. She couldn't help it—she had to touch him. She reached her hand up to brush against his hairline and, as his head dropped and his eyes closed, she slid her fingers all the way into his hair and he groaned under her soft touch.
"Yeah," he breathed. She heard his breath catch as her hand reached the nape of his neck. "Are you sure you don't want to come with me?"
"I feel fine," she said gently. "There's a whole window with mono but…I feel just fine. I promise."
He nodded. "Okay," he said with a sigh. "Let's get to work."
She had only muttered through the first verse when he dropped his hand flat on keys and the dissonance made her stop and turn her head.
"What?"
"What is this song even talking about? It's just like, a list or something," he grumbled in frustration.
"Exactly. It's a list of all the things Billy Joel had been affected by during his life up until the point he wrote the song. His point is that there is always something going on… this all ties into the US History lesson." She scowled as she looked at him. "I know they talked about it in AP, and Puck said they mentioned it…have you been skipping history?"
He sighed and looked down at his lap. "Maybe," he mumbled.
"Finn!" She barked out. She flew up off the bench and put her hands on her hips. "Fine! Here's what you're going to do. You're going home tonight and you're going to look up everything in the song lyrics. Google it, ask your mom, actually crack the binding on your undoubtedly brand new history book, I don't care. Just write it down."
"Weren't we supposed to go to that play at the community theatre in Van Wert for English tonight?"
"You can find a way to the one Kurt's going to next week for Dalton."
"How do you even know this crap?" He asked, watching her move. She was not particularly happy with him. He knew that's what this looked like and he sighed. Pissing his girlfriend off was totally the last thing he needed right now; he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger even as he fought the urge to grin (his girlfriend had a nice ring to it and no he wasn't going to admit that out loud, now or probably ever, okay?). "So why am I going to do this?"
"Because I said so," she said. She sunk back down on the bench next to him.
"Because no," he retorted, before he could stop the words from coming out of his mouth.
"Then because I better have it in my hands with all the words spelled right before you get to have sex with me again. And it's your history assignment from last week."
"Again – how do you actually know this crap?"
"I helped Sam with it, okay?" She asked. She rubbed his arm. "I know you've been taking nap breaks during school and trying to make sure it was only during classes you couldn't afford to miss. But you're better now, you can make it through the entire school day and if…" she sighed. "You just need to get your grades back on track."
He heard all the words she wasn't saying. She wanted him to get out of Lima as bad as he wanted it and she had been pretty disappointed about the slide in his grades both without her and while he was sick. If he wanted to go with her, he needed to work harder do better be better. She made him want to. She didn't even have to say it out loud.
"Wanna come over and help me?"
"I have to go to a play in Van Wert," she replied automatically. "But maybe I could offer you incentive."
His head was still dropped down but he could see her moving, could feel her next to him even when they weren't touching, like he was sitting too close to a campfire and feeling all the heat radiating from it, and he turned his head just a little more as he cocked his eyebrow. "I'm listening."
She shivered a little at the low, intimate timbre of his voice. Finn giving her goosebumps at school in the auditorium didn't seem like keeping a low profile, but she couldn't help lowering her own voice in response. "What do you think would be a suitable reward?"
Finn couldn't stand to not be touching her when her voice sounded like that, even if they were at school and fuck not telling anyone. He leaned down and kissed her, his fingers slipping up into her hair as he groaned against her tongue. He knew where they were just as well as she did, though, and he finally pulled away with one last, soft nip at her lips.
"I think that."
She gave a small smile. "Okay," she agreed.
He nodded once then closed his eyes tight and let in a shaky breath. She frowned.
"What did I miss?" She asked softly, mindful there was still not much distance between them. She didn't need to speak loud.
"There's something else bugging me," he admitted. "I can't not tell you."
Her eyebrows frowned with the rest of her face. "What? You can tell me anything."
"Well, Quinn found me at lunch today," he started slowly. He pulled in a deep breath. "And she seems to think that I want to be part of the prom court with her."
Rachel raised an eyebrow slowly and tried really hard to control the sharp breath she let in. "And do you want to?"
He shook his head slowly. "No. Even if I wanted to go to prom, I wouldn't want to go with her or dance with her or..." his breath out was ragged. "I'm still mad at her."
Rachel put her hand on his thigh and rubbed it back and forth. "So what did you say?"
"I told her no. She got all scary about it, though. I think she's going to ask again. I don't want to talk to her."
"Finn…you kissed her. You said…you said it felt like fireworks," Rachel reminded him, her voice soft and weak. He felt like he responded to that voice of hers more than any other—because it just wasn't right for her to sound that way. He made her sound that way. He still felt guilty for making her sound that way.
He sighed and pulled his eyes open. "Let's not talk about this. I told you she asked, I turned her down, I hope that'll be the end of it, okay?"
She looked at him, her voice still low and her eyes still wide as she spoke. "Do you even want to go to prom?"
"I-I…if you want to," he stammered. His eyes roamed her face. "You're the only one I would want to go with," he admitted honestly. "I would way rather go to Nationals."
Her smile broke wide open. "Me, too. So let's make a deal?"
"Another one?"
"Yes," she said simply. "If we place at Nationals, we'll go to prom. If not…we'll make some excuse not to go."
He couldn't tug the corners of his mouth down. "Rachel Berry doesn't want to go to prom?"
Her smile was as hard to control as his. "Not especially. Why would you think it would be that important to me?"
He sighed and looked at her honestly. "I don't know. I mean… you would be totally hot dressed up. And you like to dance and be the center of attention. Like you would be the princess for a day or something, you know? I guess I thought you would like it."
"You don't think Quinn would try to ruin our good time?"
He sighed and looked at her with annoyance all over his face. "Well, I do now."
She laughed. "I know it might be hard for you to believe, but…I would rather go and have fun with my friends than anything else. If you want to come up with something for us to do that means I have to get all dressed up, then so be it. If you don't want to, we can do something else. As long as we're together, I don't care either way."
"Awesome," he said, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "Camping it is."
"Umm…" she started to protest when Schue clapped his hands together loudly from the middle of the auditorium where he was walking toward them.
"Show me what you've got," he said simply. Finn looked at Rachel with wide eyes.
"We'll show you tomorrow," Rachel said primly. "Finn has some homework to do before he'll really know the words. How are the others coming along?"
"Just fine," he said easily.
"Okay, then you get to help Finn dance," Rachel said simply, jumping off the stage. She threw a glance over her shoulder at Finn.
"Call me if you need more help later," she said. She tossed a wink with her glance and was out of the auditorium before either of the men could say another word about it.
Schue dropped himself down to sit right on the edge of the stage, a few feet out from where Finn was sitting on the piano bench, the image of Rachel's retreat (and okay, maybe her ass, but he wasn't going to tell her or anyone he'd even been looking) still flickering behind his eyelids whenever he blinked.
"Are you two back together?" Schue asked quietly. "Because Quinn just came to talk to me."
"Okay," Finn said slowly. He really wasn't sure he liked where this was going.
"She's refusing to continue participating in Glee if you and Rachel have a duet at regionals. She wants to sing with you instead."
"That's a bad idea." Finn didn't want to get into the details, not really, but he really didn't want to sing with Quinn for a lot of reasons and really, Rachel was the female lead anyway so why were they having this conversation?
"Are you and Rachel back together?"
"Doesn't matter. Me and Quinn singing together is still bad."
"She said she would quit because she needs to focus on her campaign for prom queen. Do you know anything about that?" Schue was looking over his shoulder, but he looked as confused as anyone would and as annoyed as Finn felt.
"Yes. I'm not getting involved. I want to go to Nationals," he said. He was glad that he and Rachel had just finished this conversation. "And yes, me and Rachel are back together but we aren't telling anyone just yet because…well, because of stupid stuff like this. Rachel deserves to win even more than the rest of us do and I can give that to her."
Schue nodded. "Has…has she played anything she's writing for you?"
"A little bit," he said. "I think she's mostly just working on the group thing, though. She keeps thinking she needs to write about pain and well… things don't hurt so much right now."
"Good," Schue whispered. "How.. um… are you guys still going to be able to sing your duet then?"
They were supposed to be singing Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough. They had practiced and it sounded pretty tight, but Finn had to admit that he probably couldn't pull off the emotional content of that song when he was so happy. Well…all right. He was frustrated. But overall he was happy.
"Yeah…maybe… well, maybe we could change that."
Schue sighed. "You want to learn something new days before the competition?"
"I think the boys should sing something for the girls," Finn said quietly. "The girls deserve it. Most of us are paired off, and even the ones that aren't… well, I think without the whole Kurt-is-gay element we could do something new."
"Okay," Schue said as Finn moved to sit next to him. Finn draped his long legs over the edge of the stage. "Did you have a song in mind?"
"I think the cheesier the better. My mom said my dad always sang 'Your Song' by Elton John to her,' Finn said softly. He shrugged. "Rachel made me watch Moulin Rouge a couple times. Maybe we could do the one they did on there since it had a few guys singing and more dancing or staging or whatever."
Schue raised an eyebrow. "You surprise me more and more all the time," he commented with a laugh. "Okay. Well, let's work on the dancing for this one a little, okay?" Schue hoisted himself up onto the stage and Finn did the same before they got to work.
Later that night, Finn had his laptop on and zeroed to a Google search for Dien Bien Phu, his history book open to a small, colored block biography of Dwight Eisenhower, and he was busily writing in a notebook when Burt came into the kitchen. His eyes stopped on his stepson and finally, a snort of amusement brought Finn's head up from his work.
"What's so funny?"
"Who wanted you to study so hard?" Burt asked. "I think that's the first time I've seen that text book and we've lived together for the whole school year."
Finn smirked and shook his head. "Yeah, well… I have to learn the words to a Billy Joel song like yesterday and Rachel thought this might help."
Burt pulled up a chair at the table. "How's it going?"
Finn sighed and shook his head. "It's taking forever. I think this song has a million words and every single one of them is something I have to look up. Like…did you know that Coke and Pepsi had, like, some epic battle for customers way back in the 80s?"
Burt chuckled. "I might've heard something about that….while it was going on." He cleared his throat. "Rachel, huh? So…are you two…"
Finn finally set his pen down and looked at Burt straight up, sucking in a steady breath as he did so. "Are we what?"
Burt apparently decided to reroute his question at the last second, opting for the much safer "Are you guys back together?"
Finn just nodded. He was telling two people in one day and he actually felt…conflicted maybe? Well, either way he had already told him. It's not like he could get out of it now. And besides, Burt was… Burt. Who was he gonna tell?
Ugh. There was someone.
"Please don't tell my mom. I mean….she already sort of knows but she's still all over me about the mono thing and it would get worse if she knew I had someone to make out with," Finn said even as he tapped the pen, rocking it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger so the tip and the displaced cap hit the table.
"I think she might be okay with it being Rachel," Burt said easily. He gestured to the stuff spread out everywhere. "She makes you do crap like this to earn the making out."
Finn shrugged. It was true. That was one of the things his mom liked about Rachel. And neither girl had been quiet about it—any of it. Rachel loved Carole back. He sighed. "Yeah. Well… do you think you could help me with something?"
"Like what?"
"Well, here's the thing. Me and Rachel aren't really telling anyone we're back together yet. Quinn has crazy eyes and she wants me to do some stupid prom royalty thing with her. Plus, regionals is a huge deal and it's just a couple days away now and…well, Rachel told me today she doesn't care about going to prom and I want to spend time with her but mom won't let me do anything until after that doctor's appointment next week and…" he huffed out a long sigh.
"I guess it makes sense you're frustrated," Burt said. He ducked his head to hide his smile. He waited a little while before he answered. "I'm not very good with girls. I never really was. Even me and your mom…we just hit it off because we have a lot in common."
Finn sighed. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Me and Rachel just… we don't."
Burt nodded. "Yeah, I kinda got that." He lifted the baseball cap up from his head long enough to smooth a hand over the fuzz of short hair on his head before he tugged the well-worn cap back into place. "Rachel is hard work. Maybe you should ask your mom."
"I don't…" he sighed again. "I don't want her to be all mom-like about it with, y'know, squealing and stuff."
"You just want Rachel to get that way," Burt said. Finn didn't reply; he didn't have to because the flames creeping up his neck and cheeks did it for him, not to mention the fact that the five ways Rachel would end up squealing that were running through his head like lightning.
"Well, let's think about when you could do this. When is prom?"
"Six weeks or so. I don't know the exact day."
Burt nodded. "That's plenty of time."
Finn sucked in a breath. Maybe it was Burt's question about when, but it had jogged his memory. "So I guess I have a question to ask you." He rubbed his hand over his neck and looked away. "I'm not sure it would be cool to do a takeback, but…when me and Rachel were together before I bought some really expensive tickets to see Mary Poppins on Broadway while we would be in Columbus for regionals."
"Please take them!" Burt bursted out immediately. It made Finn chuckle. After the disastrous Christmas tree lot excursion, Finn had given his mom the tickets (she didn't seem thrilled but she couldn't say no either) and sworn he would never spend that much money on something again. At least, not until he had a better job than the barely-part-time nonsense at Sheets N Things. "Seriously, that would be fine."
Finn nodded. "I promised Rachel something where she could dress up and feel like a princess."
"Well there's something you two don't have in common," Burt said with a chuckle.
"I know," Finn agreed. "D'you think….well, would mom maybe let me get a couple of hotel rooms in Columbus? I'm guessing the show would get out pretty late and I'm not supposed to drive after midnight."
Burt frowned. "Yeah…" he sighed. "I'm not sure how well that will go over."
"I can already tell you it just won't," Finn said. He shrugged. "Oh well. We'll figure it out."
Burt sighed and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket with an awkward rock to the side. "Let's just do this. Use my card to get a room with two beds. I'll handle your mother."
Finn reached out to take the credit card. "But…"
"No," Burt said. "Let me play good cop here for a second. You and I haven't always gotten along the greatest, I know that. We had some problems at first. It wasn't entirely my fault, but consider this, me doing you a solid. Just please don't give that girl mono. Your mother is so worried about that."
Finn didn't dare say another word. Getting caught in the relationship by giving her mono was sort of the least of his concerns at this point. Just plain old getting caught was climbing higher on that list.
Eventually, he realized he ought to at least say something else. "Thank you."
"Welcome," Burt half-spoke, half-grunted. As Burt moved to the fridge to see what could be for dinner (Carole was working an afternoon shift), Finn realized this conversation would've been virtually impossible the first time or maybe even the second time he'd dated Rachel. But now… now everything was different. First Kurt had helped him out, now Burt was helping him out.
He had been so frustrated, but at least he wasn't alone. There were people helping. He had a family. Not to mention the fact that Burt had just hooked him up in a big way. And sure, Finn knew he would barely be able to pay his car insurance and for the hotel room with the money he had in savings, but somehow he felt more adult and like maybe Burt was closer to being his dad, like a real dad, than he had ever let on. He stopped writing, even though he wasn't sure what he'd been writing in the first place, and took a second to appreciate the opportunities he had right now. He had an awesome dad and mom, a brother who didn't totally suck (at least not sometimes), and yet another chance with the best, coolest, hottest girl in the world. It hadn't been that long since he felt like the biggest loser ever, but somehow his frustration was clearing and it felt like maybe, just maybe things were turning around. And he'd better make the most of the new perspective.
It was almost surreal to be standing here again, a year later. Last year, he had just told Rachel he loved her and then the world around them had fallen apart and left them to sort out everything later. Now, things were pretty much sorted out, so he just had to wonder what was left to fall apart. Standing on this stage made him feel like something had to happen.
Truth be told though, he had checked out as soon as they were done performing. He had gone over the plan with her dads (who graciously kicked in with the funds for a second hotel room that he was pretty sure they were probably busy rigging at this very moment with a nanny cam or something so they could make sure Rachel actually stayed in it after the show) and they had barely kept their smirks or comments about how well Finn knew Rachel to themselves. Neither could refute that a Broadway Across America show would be a great victory celebration, nor could they do anything but laugh when Finn admitted that if New Directions for some reason didn't win (he felt the sting of blasphemy just in his own thoughts), she would need something to distract her from Monday-morning quarterbacking their performance until…well, Monday morning.
How he had managed to keep any of it from her when she was looking at him like that—like he was spacing out during a key life moment or something—he would never be entirely sure.
Third place … Aural Intensity!
He could only see the back of the short blonde woman's over sprayed head, but her words went through him. They had posted the list earlier of the bottom eleven teams and they were still part of the last three, now the last two standing. As the team dressed all in red accepted their (small-ha ha, suckers) trophy, he looked over to the side and caught Kurt's eye.
Should he feel worse for hoping he squashed his own brother's hopes?
Nah. This was just healthy competition. This wasn't, like, standing by while someone threw him in a dumpster.
No, this was probably closer to tossing him in the dumpster and then closing the lid and walking away or something really, really bad, but it wasn't his fault they went to rival schools. It wasn't his fault Kurt had transferred for his safety (because really, the bullying stuff he had participated was so harmless compared to everything else and God, anyway, this was all water under the thing and whatever… overness.)
Finn sighed and felt hands slip into both of his. He was sandwiched between Mercedes and Rachel in the front row and he sucked in a breath in time with their squeezing either of his hands. He felt like a frickin' mountain of guy standing between the two of them and maybe his hands would be crushed.
Second place goes to the Dalton Academy Warblers.
The groups broke apart and no one on the stage could hear the stupid lady declaring New Directions the 2011 Regional champions. Some people were jumping and screaming. The Warblers group was more subdued, but they were intermingling with New Directions and offering their congratulations. He saw Puck slap Blaine on the ass and chant "good game" (somehow they at least knew each other from something football related way back in the day), and he would've laughed but he felt Rachel's hand still in his and turned his head down. When he saw that wide, bright smile of hers, he couldn't not kiss her.
If the kiss sucked all the air out of his lungs, it was nothing compared to what it did to the entire group around them as they watched and seemed to understand immediately. He and Rachel were standing right in the middle of the stage, and as his head ducked down, it was pretty obvious. It was also pretty obvious this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment, over-friendly congrats.
Rachel nipped at his bottom lip and he opened his mouth to her, their tongues tying together in bows, ribbons of fire and lust and made out of familiarity more than anything else. His heart throbbed in his chest and his hands curled into the stiff, silky material of her dress, and he was only aware of that comfort and the need it brought with it whenever they kissed. He felt her feet shift as she stepped toward him, her hands slipping up into his hair, and he locked his arms around her waist. He loved that she was so tiny he could hug and kiss her at the same time. He made a mental note, even as he knew he would forget to say it, to tell her how much he loved that exact thing.
Finally she was peeled from his grasp by Mercedes who wanted Rachel to bounce and squeal with her. He licked his lips and sucked some of the staid air around them into his burning lungs as Kurt stuck his hand out.
"I already know mom and dad are taking a picture of this exactly, so congratulations. And turn away from the front of the stage because it's obvious something is going on…." Kurt said.
Finn glanced down, despite the fact he could feel what Kurt was talking about and automatically slumped. Not cool, Rachel. But at the same time, totally cool, Rachel. He sighed. His fault anyway, he started it.
"Thanks, man. You guys were awesome. Your duet was solid," Finn said, shaking off the discomfort of realizing Kurt was looking in the first place and offering a genuine smile.
"I thought you and Rachel were going to sing a duet?"
"Nah…last second change."
"And was tongue raping her in the middle of the stage a last second change, too?" Kurt asked curiously.
Finn's eyes went wide. "I..uh…"
"Well, Quinn looked like she was going to do something drastic, so…" Kurt warned with a shrug. He gave a small smile before he moved over to where Rachel, Mercedes, Tina, and Brittany were gathered around Artie. There was some weird bounce-roll-shift thing going on as they celebrated together and all mixed in he could hear shouts of "New York City—here we come!" and "We kicked ass". There was a chorus of screams once Kurt reached them and he was enfolded in the group automatically. Finn kind of wished there was a way to have Kurt there with them all the time; and he even had to admit Blaine was cool and should tag along too.
Once the group congratulating (and in his case, group harassment about the kiss and people pulling him aside for gossip he didn't provide) was done, there was a whirlwind of activity, especially for the co-captains who were responsible for getting everyone on the bus along with the ten tons of crap that was required for them to actually perform. He had to find Rachel and tell her there was a surprise waiting for her in the form of her dads having a dress for her to wear to the play. They would go to dinner first with the Berry dads and then head to the play afterward. It had started off, months ago, as an epic date night. After everything that had happened, they still got to do it and who was he to complain if there was a family dinner involved first? Plus, whatever Rachel had said to the dads had the positive effect of reinstating him as a trusted boyfriend. He was grateful for that.
He was still keeping the hotel a surprise.
Dinner was great, her gasp and the instant tears in her eyes when he handed her the show ticket was even better, and really, the whole night was what he had predicted when they talked about prom: it was a night for her to feel like a princess. He took every chance he could to tell her how much he loved her, how much he adored her, and how much fun he was having. The musical wasn't his favorite thing, but everyone he watched or went to made it a little easier. He was positive by the time she was the star in them, he would love the theater.
Her gasps, her singing along quietly with the songs and fumbling for his hand during her favorite parts all had nothing—nothing—on the heart-stopping heat of her gaze when she realized they were spending the night alone in a hotel. (One bed, not two, but Burt didn't need to know that. All parents were on board with the two-room plan anyway. And Finn had been assured by the hotel staff there were no cameras or bugging devices in either of their rooms.)
"How long have you been planning all this?" She asked reaching down to peel the tall peep-toe high heels from her feet one at a time. Once both her feet were on the ground, he smiled. There was something to be said for heels and what they did to show off the muscles in her legs, but barefoot and undone was how he was more used to seeing her, and truth be told, was his favorite Rachel archetype.
He let in a breath. You couldn't actually sound like a sissy to your girlfriend, right? So it was okay. "Well…I bought the play tickets when they went on sale in October."
"Are…" she shot a confused and amused glance at him. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah," he mumbled. "My mom and Burt were more than happy to give them back." He lowered his voice to a teasing volume. "I think maybe my mom was afraid Burt would think Mary Poppins was hot."
"The actress was beautiful," Rachel agreed. She gave his hand a squeeze and walked away from him and further into the room.
"Too tall." He said immediately. He toed the shoes off his feet and tugged at his tie. "Anyway, the rest of it I planned after we talked about not going to prom."
"That was just a few days ago."
"I know," he said quietly. He dropped down onto the king-sized bed and shrugged. "I guess it's just a little taste of the future. Best I could do on short notice."
She had tugged the curtains apart to peek outside (it was just a Target parking lot, nothing special) but let them fall so she could come over to him. "What do you mean?"
"Y'know…I'm sure some day we'll be dropping onto bed after your show and wondering out loud if we have to have sex or if we can just go to bed." He smirked in her direction and she realized he was teasing, at least about the last part. But her heart had settled on the first part and it thumped loudly in her chest. She went up on her knees, tucking her feet underneath her neatly as she turned to look at him.
"It's amazing that you can start off so sweetly and end up so clueless."
He raised an eyebrow, his hands and fingertips finding the forearm she had draped across his chest. "What?"
"Of course we're going to have sex." She rose up on her knees to place a gentle kiss on his mouth and his breath caught in his throat.
Even back in October, there was no way he could've predicted this. And there was no way in hell he wanted to change it.
He inhaled a deep breath through his nose as they kissed. He was determined to take control of this. For once, they literally had all night; he could take his sweet time—they could take their sweet time. It seemed like everything had been so fast, so rushed. None of it was bad, but it was just always rushed and he always wanted it to last forever.
He leaned back, pulling her to sprawl on top of him, never breaking their kiss and only heating up more. Her knees landed to either side of his hips and she pressed against him insistently as he gathered the lacy fabric of her skirt into his fist. He sighed against her lips as the slow burn of her touching everywhere finally flashed; he pressed his hands on her butt insistently so she pressed more tightly to him. Even as she did it, she broke away with a ragged gasp that ended in a whimper.
Finn had loosened his tie but hadn't taken it off, leaving the shining aqua draped around his neck; she didn't bother with it now either, just brushed it out of the way with her fingertips so she could work on the black buttons that lined his shirt.
He watched her, his eyes moving from her hands clawing at his chest and back up to her face as she paid attention to what she was doing, and his breath caught. He had been patient all day—well, hello, other than the one kiss—and he had burned through his supply of patience. He wanted to flip her over and just…
They hadn't really done that before. He wasn't sure how she would react.
The next thing he knew, somehow she had looped the length of the silk tie around both of his wrists and woven it through the wooden slats on the headboard. She settled back against him tilting her head as she surveyed her handiwork.
"Um… Rach?" He asked in confusion. That wasn't the plan. He didn't want to be tied up. Or maybe he did. He'd never really thought about it before, honestly.
"You've made all these plans and been in charge of my entire day," she said. Her head was still tilted and there was something in her voice he hadn't heard before. "It's my turn now."
Whatever it was in her voice, it burned right through him. She was hot.
She pulled her little black dress off with one arm over her head and one quick fling of the other arm and his eyes slipped closed. She shifted back just enough that she could undo his belt and her weight pinned him almost painfully. He bounced his head against the pillow and found himself having to think of the mailman for the first time since they started hooking up.
"Jesus, Rachel…" he groaned. "Untie me."
He couldn't even open his eyes but somehow he knew she was shaking her head. If he hadn't known it, he would've for sure when all of a sudden, the pressure was gone. All it did was make him ache harder, somehow. He dragged his eyes open and watched as she tugged his pants away from his hips. With his hands tied as they were, she couldn't take his shirt off, but it hung off him loosely anyway. Once his pants were gone, she climbed back up his body and ran her hands over his chest, awakening white-hot trails of fire. His hips rolled up into her out of his control. She had settled with her knees on either side of his stomach though, kneeling on the tails of his untucked shirt, and rolling his hips did no good. He grunted in frustration.
"Well, I guess the good news for me is I can take my time deciding what I want to do first." She said her voice thick with false innocence.
"No," he protested. At this point, he could feel how damp her underwear were against his stomach. His abs clenched painfully as the realization that she was as aroused as he was sunk through him. "No, just… just untie me." Flipping her over and getting his own way had never sounded as appealing as it did at this exact second.
Instead, she rose up on her knees and leaned forward to give him a scorching kiss, her tongue barely sneaking out to tap against his lip.
Heat was pulsing off her skin and it was just out of his reach. He could feel how hot she was as she hovered over his chest, but her lips were the only part of her that was actually touching him. He had never noticed it before but his hands wandered when they kissed. His hands fisted uselessly somewhere up above his head. Her hair…her chest…her hips… all these places he wanted to touch and what the fuck kind of knots did she tie anyway? How did she know this shit?
"Rach…" he gasped out as she pulled back just a little to lick her own lips. His throat was parched and his hands were aching and burning, but all he could manage to touch was where part of the tie dangled uselessly, the open edge from one of her expert knots. "Rachel, please," he begged. He wanted to undo her bra, wanted to feel the hard line of her spine, her smooth skin. He could smell her, he could almost feel her against him, and it was killing him.
Her response was not her voice, not that low sexy timbre she used while they were fooling around that he'd come to love in such a short time. Her response was another wet kiss, and this time her tongue meant business.
His hips rolled up uselessly again and again, and she dropped her head to kiss at his neck and his ear.
Her tongue traced along the red outer edge of his ear and even as warm as it was it felt cool to the touch of his superheated skin. His eyes fluttered and he tugged down hard on the tie to no avail.
He thought he might die as her tongue made a trail all the way down his chest. She inched, moved so slow he thought he might pass his seventeenth birthday before she got where he wanted her to go. But wait, did he really want that?
If her tongue touched his erection, this was going to be over in no time. No him having his way. No watching her face and hearing her barely breathe his name. That just would not do.
As it turned out he had nothing to worry about, because she only danced around his chest and stomach with her tongue before she was rolling a condom down over his length and fuckthat was way worse than her tongue would've been. Especially when she slid back up his body easily and the straddled him without taking him in at all.
He finally pulled his eyes open to look at her, his breathing irregular and panting hard now. Her eyes were almost coal black, singed in desire and then she started talking and her voice was velvet smooth and so low. "I've been thinking."
You usually are. I love that about you. He couldn't say it.
"I haven't been on top yet. Not really," she said simply. She gave a little shrug and kept looking at him. "There are a lot of times in life I haven't really cared about being on top…"
Now is not the time for this conversation. His head bounced on the pillow again and he thrust up, this time making contact of some kind, but it wasn't satisfying because everything he wanted was still just barely out of his reach.
"But with you…with you I think I care." She reached a hand out and pressed her finger to his lips. "I think I care a whole lot." She tilted her head, and finally when her finger made contact with his mouth he felt like he could do something so he flicked his tongue out and then folded his lips over her before she could protest. Her breathing sped up and her voice slid closer to its normal range. "Do you want me to be on top?"
He just nodded.
She nodded in response and reached the hand that wasn't in his mouth down between them. And then she proceeded to use every single abdominal and leg muscle she had to slide down so achingly slow he thought he might literally die. The first time they'd had sex, he felt like every part of him was on the verge of explosion and she had just reignited that feeling again. He hated her. God, he ha—loved her.
She pressed all the way down and he flexed his hands again. Maybe he should've listened to Popeye a little closer, eaten more spinach or something, so he could flex his arms and break the goddamn tie.
"Being on top is good," she said slowly. Her head tipped back and her hair slid back over her shoulders with the motion. "But I need something else." He thrust up as hard as he could and she pulled her head back up to look at him. "What would you do for me?"
"Untie me and I'll show you," he practically growled. All he could see were bouncing breasts and her finger was still drawing smoky rings around his mouth even after he pulled away enough he could answer.
"Maybe in a second," she said. She left her finger against his lips, the one contact he could actually choose to make, but dropped her free hand to where they were joined together. It was the weirdest thing to have that kind of…perspective…where he could feel her body responding to her own touch. He could feel the muscles in her body gripping him tighter and he could barely breathe. His vision was turning orange and hazy and… he had a feeling that being able to really touch her was the only way he would actually be able to get off. Otherwise, he was going to just stay here in this half-baked, scorching, fiery hell forever. It felt like it had been forever. It felt like it hadn't been long enough.
"Please, baby…" he gasped out. "Please untie… uh… please untie me." He begged. "I… please."
"You want to touch me?" She asked—it was almost a demand.
"So bad…."
She leaned forward and the change in angle was enough that he was seriously going to fucking die already. All of a sudden, the blood rushed into his hands and he felt the tie go slack and she sat back up. His hands landed on her hips and dug into the tight flesh, the feeling of her under his fingertips finally providing some sort of relief to the ache that was building. He slid one hand down and used it to knock hers out of the way so he could touch her and she was so wet and so hot and it all ignited in an instant.
He didn't even see stars. He went blind.
At some point later, neither of them knew how much later exactly, he could see again and he was aware of her still all tangled up in him. His arm was around her, tucking her into his side and her leg was flung over him, draped over his waist. They were both panting hard and covered in sweat as they cooled just a little from the firestorm.
"Where did you learn how to tie knots like that?" He asked. He still didn't recognize his own voice.
What? It was the first question he could coherently ask.
She gave a little giggle, pressing into him a little more tightly as his fingertips drew a random pattern on her sweat-slicked upper arm.
"I had to tie some ropes for a pulley on a set when I was doing Les Mis at drama camp. The whole set was operated by the actors and…you have to be good at knots."
"You should teach me how to do it," he said off-hand.
"Not a chance," she giggled. "Then I would never get to be on top."
He kissed her forehead. "Well, as far as I'm concerned, you're always on top of everything."
He could practically feel the embarrassed blush dancing in red patches across her face. "Thank you for all of this, Finn."
"You're welcome," he said softly. They both dozed off just where they lay, the three unspoken words lingering on their lips and the hope that this was the first of many nights like this to come burning brightly between them.