A/N: Basically, I hope the long wait is worth it!

His eyes are making holes through the back of her head. Or at least, that's what it feels like as she smiles at her dad's tennis partner, nodding when the woman compliments her on her cheese rolls. He's standing on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall next to Noah, whom she hasn't seen in years (She didn't know which was more surprising, the fact that he had a head full of hair now or the way he seemed to have learned the ability of stringing together a few sentences without being offensive), and it's unnerving her. She's trying to ignore it, the way his eyes are following her, focusing instead to the middle of the living room, where daddy and Beth are both wowing their audience with their spirited, albeit clumsy, swing dancing.

She starts when her dad grabs the tray of hor d'oeuvres from her hands, setting it on the coffee table before he pulls her into the middle of the makeshift dance floor.

"Dad!" she exclaims, giggling as he twirls her. "Stop."

"What, now that you've been on the Broadway stage next to seasoned dancers, I'm not a good enough partner for my little girl?" he asks teasingly.

"Don't be ridiculous," she admonishes, taking his hand as she taps her feet to the beat. "You know I'm terrible at swing dancing."

"My baby girl isn't terrible at anything," her dad says proudly and she lets out a joking sigh, giving in as the guests clap their hands. She never was one to turn down applause.

"We have competition Beth," daddy tells the little girl in front of him. Rachel laughs when a familiarly competitive gleam overtakes the young girl's eyes as she tells Hiram that they're going to 'do the jump'. Her eye catches Finn's and she raises an eyebrow when daddy picks Beth up in a decidedly less 'swing dance' and more 'dirty dancing' move while the crowd goes wild. He shakes his head, grinning.

"Oh, now you're asking for it!" she calls out jokingly as she grabs her dad's hands. "What do you say dad? The old lindy hop?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

She wasn't being modest when she said she isn't a good swing dancer, she really isn't. Her moves are clumsy at best and she almost slips on her feet if her dad didn't have such a strong hold on her. It doesn't take long for the entire living room to be converted into a dance floor, once one of daddy's colleagues decided to push all their remaining furniture to the edge of the room. She watches in amusement as Finn and Puck, both easily the strongest men in the room, dutifully listen to the woman's instructions. She gasps when her dad dips her backwards, and when she's pulled back up again, giggling madly, she can't seem to find them anywhere.

"Finn looks very handsome in blue, doesn't he?" Her head snaps back up at her dad's noncommittal comment. He's looking straight ahead, but she catches the twinkle in his eye.

"Dad," she mutters quietly, blushing.

"I'm just saying Ray, your old man knows a good looking young man when he sees one." She says nothing to that, hiding her burning face in the fabric of his sweater while he chuckles, holding her close. "And sweetie, I think you're the most gorgeous lady in any room, but I'm betting I'm not alone on that."

She looks up in confusion at her father, and he turns her strategically so that her eyes meet Finn's, standing behind her all this while as he leans against the wall. Her heart stutters, leaping up to her throat at his scrutiny, and the fact that getting caught doesn't seem to fluster him at all. Daring herself, she shoots him a small smile, watching as his sober expression breaks with a reciprocal turn of his lips. He pushes himself off the wall, and her heart beats in short, staccato notes as she braces herself.

Beth suddenly jumps into view, and Rachel listens as she pulls her surprised father by the hand, demanding loudly that he dance with her. Her heartbeat evens out when he allows himself to be pulled away, but not before he glances back at her, an apologetic smile on his face. Beth pulls him to the middle of the crowd, three bodies away from where she's standing as the little girl gingerly steps on both of her father's large feet, wrapping her small arms around his waist while he sways. Unwittingly, Rachel sags against her own father's chest, breathing out a sigh. She's just not sure if it's one out of relief or disappointment.

Xxxx

"Is it true?"

She pauses her movements, hand frozen in mid air when his voice fills her ear. Picking out her textbook, she shuts her locker, turning around with a smile on her face.

"Hi Finn," she says brightly, ignoring his slightly put-out expression. He ignores her greeting, falling in step with her as she makes her way to class.

"Is it true?" he asks again. "About Jesse taking you to prom?"

"Who told you that?" she asks calmly, ignoring the frustration in his voice.

"Kurt did," he says impatiently and she rolls her eyes. She knew that boy couldn't be trusted to keep her secret.

"Yeah," she answers noncommittally. "He- he asked me during lunch actually."

"Rachel-"

"He's back from UCLA. Apparently the theatre department there left a lot to be desired-"

"Rachel, he turned you into an omelette. "

She stops short at his dry words, turning to glare at him as she stands on her full height. They're standing in the middle of the hallway, students weaving around them to get to their classes, and the stubborn look on his face is infuriating.

"He's apologized for that," she tells him tersely. Finn rolls his eyes, his hands on his hips.

"He's still a douchebag."

"Finn!"

"He is. Rachel, don't you remember what he did to you? I-"

"He apologized!"

"And you think he's really sorry?" he asks sarcastically. "An 'I'm sorry'. That's enough for you?"

"Oh! So it's okay for me to forgive you for throwing eggs at me, but it's not okay when it's Jesse?" she asks angrily. He steps back like she'd just slapped him at those words, and she sees the instant hurt clouding his face, but she steels herself. She's not about to let him think he could get away with trying to tell her what to do.

"That's different. You know it is," he says. She sighs, looking around her to see that the hallway is clearing up. Clearly, she's going to be late for English.

"Why do you even care?" she mutters under her breath. His eyes widen just a little, one hand going up to gently touch her shoulder. The expression on his face changes from angry to earnest, and she looks away when he opens his mouth.

"Of course I care, Rach," he says quietly. "You're like my best friend okay. I don't want to see you hurt."

She softens just a little at his words, the earnest way he's looking at her cancelling out any anger she felt. She hates the way he keeps doing this to her, how just one look from him can make all her frustrations disappear.

"I won't get hurt, okay?" she says softly, forcing a smile on her face. "I mean Jesse and I, we're working things out. I know what I'm doing Finn."

He doesn't look happy at all as he straightens back. His eyes are scrutinizing hers, and the intensity in his gaze is making her conviction waver.

"Do you like him?" he asks quietly.

"Of course I like him-"

"No, Rachel," he cuts in impatiently, putting both hands on her shoulders as if to make her really listen. "Do you like him?"

She stays quiet, hugging her book to her chest while she looks up at his determined expression.

"I think he likes me," she finally says. "I think he really likes me, this time around. And face it Finn, I'm not exactly miss popularity around here, and it's better than not having someone to go with. Boys in McKinley just don't like me. So yes, okay, I like him."

"That's not true," he argues. "I like you."

She smiles, ignoring the bittersweet pang in her chest at his words.

"Well," she says lightly. "It's too bad you already have a date."

"Rachel-"

"Drop it, Finn. Okay? I'm going with Jesse, and that's that."

He seems frustrated, running a hand through his hair as he glares at the wall behind her, but she stands her ground. Finn shifts his gaze back towards her, his expression unreadable.

"Fine," he answers quietly. "But if he hurts you, I'll kick his ass."

The words are at the tip of her tongue, always at the tip of her tongue. Jesse St. James can't hurt her, or at least, it's quite impossible for him to hurt her any more than the boy in front of her already has. No one ever hurts as bad as Finn. But she holds her tongue, nodding once before she turns and walks away.

Xxx

The timer on the oven goes off, alarming her and pulling her out of her memories. Bending over, she pulls the angel food cake out of the oven, grinning when a loud whoop could be heard coming from the living room. It's a rip roaring party, if she does say it so herself, and her dessert-

"Thinking again?"

She almost drops her cake, gasping out loud when she looks up to find Finn standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

"You scared me," she hisses, annoyed by his uncanny ability to keep sneaking up on her.

"Sorry," he says with a smile, not sounding sorry at all. He strides over to where she's standing as she turns to place the dessert on a cooling rack.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asks, flustered now that the initial shock has worn off. He is so close to her, and it's unnerving when he places a hand on the counter, right next to where hers is.

"A while."

"Why didn't you call my name? You know, like normal people."

He shrugs, grinning at her dry tone.

"You looked like you were thinking pretty hard," he teases. She rolls her eyes, thanking God that people can't actually read minds or else he would have known that he's been the subject of most of her thoughts lately.

"What are you doing in here?" she asks nonchalantly, moving to the sink to place the empty pan.

"Hiram asked me to check on you. He wanted to know what was taking so long."

She fights the urge to roll her eyes. Her fathers' insistence on trying to play matchmakers are so obvious, she wonders how he couldn't have noticed.

"Well it's almost done," she says. "I just need to cool it for a few minutes, so you can tell him that he'll have to wait."

"I think he's figured that out for himself," he says, smiling as he leans back against the counter. She stays quiet, uncertain of what to do. Why is he here? Is he seeking her out on purpose, trying to make her uncomfortable? Because if it's so, he's doing a wonderful job.

"Why aren't you out there swinging with the rest of the cats?" she jokes weakly. "I see you're quite the dancer these days."

"Letting my daughter step on my feet and swaying while trying not to bump into people is not dancing Rach," he scoffs. She laughs, turning towards him with a playful smile.

"You're still miles better than you were back in high school," she teases.

"Ouch," he winces, mockingly pressing a hand to his chest. They're smiling at each other, the atmosphere filled with familiar warmth that comforts her. It was always like this with Finn, she thinks wryly. He's always either flustering or comforting, there's just no in between with him. He keeps her on her toes, but he doesn't even know it.

"'I'd say the party's a great hit," he says, moving a little closer. "Congratulations."

"I know right?" she gushes, excited. "I've always known I'm an amazing planner, but I've never planned a Cabaret party before this, but it's really swinging!"

"The amazing Rachel Berry," he says softly, shaking his head. There's a twinkle in his eye as he looks at her, and it's making her feel warm all over. "Everything she touches turns to gold."

She turns up her face to look at him, bemused.

"You got that from somewhere," she murmurs, her heart racing as she waits for him to confirm her hunch. He chuckles.

"New York Times," he confirms. "For your first Broadway role-"

"Anita on West Side Story," she finishes quietly, eyes wide as she watches the slight tinge of his cheeks. She feels her heart threatening to leap out of her throat, but she tries to be calm.

"I didn't know you keep up with the New York Times," she says lightly, trying to smile. His stare is inscrutable as it falls on her, and she feels it boring into her skin, right through her.

"I don't," he murmurs.

"Finn-" she starts, but he holds up a hand to cut her off.

"Why didn't you- Just-" He shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts, before straightening himself as he walks closer to her. "Just tell me why," he finally says.

"Why what?"

He's so close that she can't breathe, as she cranes her neck to look up at him. He stares her down, eyes determined when he opens his mouth to speak.

"Why you left," he says, his tone firm. He's hunched over, head bending close to hers, his eyes daring her to look away. "Why you didn't show up. Why you disappeared off the face of the universe for five fucking years. Why you left me. I just want to know why, Rachel."

She starts when a sudden cheer erupts from the living room, but he doesn't even acknowledge it. The house is crowded and noisy, but it's like they're trapped in a vacuum, the two of them, and she can hear his heavy breathing, see the rise and fall of his chest from where she's standing. He's waiting for answer, waiting for her, eyes wide open and unrelenting, but she can't seem to find the words she needs. They're trapped somewhere deep inside of her, and she can't find them.

"You know," she whispers, tears suddenly threatening to spill out of her large brown eyes as she dares herself to catch his gaze. "You know why."

Xxx

She shivers in the cool night air, standing in front of the closed garage, wondering what she's doing here. She left her shawl in Jesse's car, and in her haste, forgot to pick it up. She thinks of Jesse and she shakes her head, shaking away the guilt she feels at leaving him in the middle of the dance floor. She laughs derisively to herself. And for what? All because she caught him, pushing his way out of the crowd, the most heartbroken look etched across his features as he strode out of the hall.

And now here she is, standing in the middle of the cold night in front of a closed garage, not knowing what she's doing here. She listens intently, and when her ears catch the slight clanging noise coming from inside, she breathes in relief. She found him. The sound grows louder and louder and as she hurries forwards, she hears the sound of glass smashing against a hard surface. Alarmed, she quickens her pace, her heels clicking loudly against the pavement as she reaches the side door.

It's quiet, and she takes a deep breath before she knocks. Once, twice, three times.

"Finn?" she calls out in a loud voice. "Finn, I know you're in there. I can hear the noise you were making. Finn open-"

Her words are stuck in her throat when the door suddenly swings open. She takes a loud intake of breath, hand going to her chest at the sight of him. His jacket long gone, Finn stands in front of her with his dress shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up and his tie hanging loose around his neck. His hair is dishevelled, eyes bloodshot as he looks at her.

"Rachel?" He sounds confused, but distant. "What are you doing here?"

His voice is hoarse, and she can smell the slight reek of alcohol on his breath. Before she could answer, her eye catches the blood seeping through his sleeve. Gasping, she moves forwards to grab his hand, turning it over to find a long gash along his palm.

"You're bleeding Finn!" she exclaims, pulling on his hand as she marches inside, going straight to the first aid kit that Burt keeps behind the counter while he follows dutifully behind. She rummages through the box looking for a bandage, ignoring the way he seems to be staring blankly at her.

"We need to wash your wound," she tells him. "Or you're going to get an infection, and that will take a longer time to heal."

She's aware that she's babbling as she pulls him towards the sink, but she doesn't know what to do, or what other way to communicate with him when he's being so… unresponsive. Daintily avoiding the glass on the floor, her eye catches his prom King crown thrown underneath one of the cars. She looks up at him to find him still looking down at her, that blank look still on his face. Quietly, she pulls his hand under the running water, grazing her fingers gently around his wound.

The silence in the garage is deafening, the only sound coming from the tap, and her hold on his hand tightens.

"Do you ever wish for things to be different?" he asks suddenly, voice hollow. Rachel looks up sharply, catching the momentary wistfulness that crosses his features as he looks down at her.

"What are you talking about Finn?" she asks airily, gently pulling his hand out and patting it dry with a hand towel. She pulls him back towards the counter, pushing herself up to sit on it while he stands in front of her. He shrugs, but it's jerky, his shoulders tense.

"Everything. Do you ever wonder what it would be like, if things were different?"

She should lie. She should tell him no, that she never dreams of a different life, of one where he isn't a father and she isn't just a best friend, but she knows better by now than to think that it could fool him. She smiles, but she can't quite let it reach her eyes as she focuses all her attention on applying the bandage to his hand.

"Sometimes," she whispers. From where she is, she sees him moving, watches as his shoes shuffle forward, until his knees are touching hers. She jumps just a little when his free hand suddenly lands against her jaw, grazing against her skin in a soft caress. He pulls her jaw up towards him, and the look on his face seems to have stopped her lungs from working.

"What do you think about?" he whispers, his voice barely legible. She doesn't answer him. She doesn't know how to. His eyes are magnetic, and she can't look away, can't move an inch as he leans closer.

"I think about you," he murmurs, and she closes her eyes, willing for the tears that are welling up to go away. "I think about how things could have been different, you know, with us. "

She lets out a slow breath, her hands static on his wounded appendage. She can't move, doesn't dare to.

"Finn," she breathes out. His wounded palm curves up, wrapping themselves around her small hands in a vice grip.

"If you could change it," he whispers, so close now that his warm breath is blowing against the fringe of her hair. "Would you, Rach?"

"I- you're drunk," she stammers. "You're not thinking straight."

"Why can't you just answer the question?" he asks impatiently, eyes wild as they roam over her face.

"Yes," she says. "I would."

"What would you change?"

"Finn."

"What would you change, Rachel?"

She feels the melancholy slowly turning into anger, inexplicably upset with how he's putting her on the spot. What is he waiting to hear? That she sometimes wishes that Beth never existed, that Quinn never got pregnant and Finn never became a father? Does he want her to selfishly admit that yes, sometimes she thinks about that, sometimes she thinks about what it would be like if he could be hers, only hers, like he never is (or ever will be. What was it that Quinn said? Oh that's right. She'll be heartbroken. She is heartbroken). What does he want from her?

"I'm leaving," she snaps, bracing herself as she pushes against him forcefully, trying to push him away. He holds his ground for a few seconds and it's like fighting against a brick wall, engulfing her, suffocating. She can't breathe.

"Finn," she chokes out. "Please."

He steps back, and she releases a long breath, trying to keep her nerves in check as she tries to stand.

"Rachel," he says quietly. She ignores him, wobbling a little on her feet, accidentally stepping on the train of her dress, and slipping. She pitches forward, closing her eyes tight as she resigns to the perfect ending of a terrible night when she feels his arm winding around her waist, pulling her back up firmly against him. They freeze, and she feels his fingers subtly tightening around the fabric of her dress.

"Let go," she whispers.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles against the crown of her head. "Rachel, I'm so sorry."

She frowns. His entire demeanour has been perplexing her from the moment she stepped foot in the garage. He mumbles another apology and she sighs, sagging against him, emotionally spent from whatever this is that's happening between them.

"What is up with you?" she asks, utterly vexed by his behaviour.

"I just- something happened."

"What is it? Finn?" She pushes his arm away when he doesn't answer, turning to look up at him, demanding an answer.

"We can't change things, right? It's too late for that. But-" he stops, sighing in frustration as he pulls at his hair. His eyes refocus on her, a steely expression on his face.

"I'm going to do something, okay?" he says softly. "And we're both going to forget about this tomorrow. I'm going to forget about everything tomorrow, but tonight."

His face softens, a small smile curling his lips upward.

"Do you trust me?"

She hesitates, her mind moving a million miles per second, wondering where he's going with this.

"Yes."

"Close your eyes."

"Finn-"

"Please."

Her gaze is piercing, and his is unwavering, so she sighs, nodding while her eyes close.

Nothing happens.

"Finn," she mutters, annoyance and dread growing in the pit of her stomach. "Hurry up."

She starts when his fingers graze against her throat, curving around her neck. His other hand is pulling her forward by the waist, and when she feels his breath on her face, her eyes flutter.

"Don't open," he whispers.

She doesn't.

His mouth brushes against hers so softly that she barely feels it. She sucks in a breath, parting her lips when he kisses her again, pressing harder this time, stealing the air away from her. She feels his fingers moving up from the curve of her neck to tangle in her hair, the hand on her waist tightening as he pulls her flush against him.

She doesn't know exactly when it was that her hands moved up his chest, fingers fisting against his shirt to pull him even closer, their tongues clashing together, teeth grazing against lips as they kiss furiously. She feels hot, like she's on fire, like every nerve in her body is burning, yearning for something more, yearning for the feel of his hands on her skin and his mouth on her. His lips are making a trail from the side of her jaw down to the juncture of her neck, his teeth grazing against her skin and when she moans his name, his hold on her tightens.

"Don't open your eyes," he whispers against her skin and she nods, hot tears seeping out of the corner of her tightly shut eyes as she feels him slowing down, kissing up her neck again until he reaches her lips, pressing a kiss so hard against her mouth, she wonders if it will bruise her. He lingers, their mouths pressed together and she feels the dread, the refusal to pull away. His grip tightens again, pushing so hard into her skin that she knows his prints will be there long after this night ends, before it loosens, his hand in her hair dropping to his side.

Slowly, she unclenches her fists, releasing the fabric of his shirt.

Cool air fills the space around her, and she knows that he has stepped away, but her eyes remain close. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, trying to hold back the sob that's threatening to escape, every move he's making echoing in her mind. She doesn't open them until he wraps his jacket around her shoulders, his scent invading her. They flutter open by degrees, and Finn comes into focus, the desolation on his face disappearing so quickly, she wonders if it was all just a dream.

"C'mon," he says, "I'll walk you home. Sorry I can't drive. I didn't have a lot but-"

"It's fine."

She stands still, wrapping his coat tighter around her as she waits for him to turn off the lights, her mind still dizzy from the effects of his kisses, her heart heavy with the knowledge that she'll never be able to forget it. She'll never be able to forget tonight.

"Let's go," he says, taking her hand and pulling her quietly along with him as they step out into the cool night.

"You look beautiful tonight," he says, eyes focused straight ahead when she looks up at him sideways. "But you always do you know."

Xxx

She turns abruptly away from him, walking briskly out the back door, ignoring his calls and the cake still waiting to be served.

"Please don't follow me," she says in a strangled voice when she hears his footsteps. He stops, and she continues, pulling the door open almost viciously as she stumbles out into the backyard. Closing the door behind her, she leans against it, banging her head angrily against the surface.

There's no in between with Finn Hudson.

Love and heartbreak, it's always so entwined.

A/N: As you can see, this is a pretty pivotal chapter. Things should move faster with the two of them from here on out =). Any feedback, as usual, is much appreciated!