Author's Note: EEEEP! Finals got me down! I just finished my sophomore year of college and I'm a junior now... what? I've realized I uploaded the first chapter almost a year ago which is crazy! Thanks so much for reading and sticking by me, guys :)
The FINALE WHAT DID YOU THINK? It really motivated me to update, so here we go :)
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Summary: All Rachel wants to do is survive college and become a star, but now she's living in a messed up fairy tale with seven, socially inept boys, who are proving to be quite the distraction. Finchel, Klaine AU
Warnings: sexual content, language, possible self-harm, abuse, attempted rape
Rating: M (to be safe)
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Pairings: Finn/Rachel (Finchel), Kurt/Blaine (Klaine), Tina/Mike (Tike), Quinn/Puck (Quick), and so on and so forth as my wicked mind plots away
Crackedly Ever After
Chapter Ten
party planning
"We have to throw a party."
With Artie's statement, the room suddenly explodes with unexpected and unprecedented noise. Rachel nearly falls back from her position on the floor from the burst of excitement that seemingly stampedes at her from out of nowhere. The boys are like a force of nature, honestly.
"Abrams, that's actually fucking brilliant-" comes Noah's approving, manly and gravelly voice. "Props to you, dude—you've got a lot of balls and swag for a guy in a wheelchair and all. I'll get us a lot of booze-"
"How does my swag decrease because I'm in a wheelchair?" Artie objects, but he's overshadowed by Finn.
"Finally! A party!" emerges Finn's excited voice from the clamour of excited shouts. He's almost trembling in anticipation, Rachel notes. She finds his reaction more endearing and adorable than she should. "Football season's been so busy I haven't been able to go to any-"
"A party?" Blaine cries excitedly, clasping his hands together in a rather effeminate way. His eyes are so huge they look like they'll pop out of his head. "I can finally break out that martini set that Wes got me last Christmas that Kurt says is ludicrous! But I can-"
"Honey, those martini glasses are shorter than the length of my finger span! No one gets drunk off of those except you, my dear one-shot wonder," Kurt protests, placing a light hand on Blaine's shoulder, "you're a lightweight, Blaine, and while I do love it and come to appreciate it as you are a—in the classiest way possible—cheap date, I don't know that-"
"I can make butterbeer!" Sam howls, eyes lighting up wildly as though he's just received an acceptance letter from Hogwarts. "It tastes like drinking happiness with a buzz!"
"Will we get arrested?" Mike ventures timidly, raising a hand as though he's afraid to speak. "I can't afford to have anything go on my permanent record-"
"Actually, no, let's have a MARIO-themed Party," Sam nearly screams, his long blonde bags brushing over his eyes, "I have a Mario cap and overalls I've been dying to break out and Mike, you can be my Luigi-"
Mike looks horrified at the idea, and Rachel throws him a sympathetic look. She also decides it's only fair that she gets to interject at this point. "A party sounds like an incredible idea. I would love the opportunity to showcase my talent in front of a live audience to receive a much deserved standing ovation-"
"What? Girl, there will be no singing and performing and dancing," Artie interrupts her, looking almost scandalized at her suggestion, "unless it's the drunken singing to 'Red Solo Cup' or some Top 40 song that'll be indicating girls getting sprung and no dancing unless it's us boys grinding up on some ass," he makes some wildly inappropriate hand motions to Rachel's absolute disbelief, shock, and horror, and then hi-fives an eagerly nodding Noah. (Rachel doesn't know where this behavior came from; Artie seemed like such a nice, innocent boy—perhaps Noah is a terrible influence).
"I think Rachel should sing," ventures Finn defensively, "she's really good-"
"ORDER! I DEMAND ORDER!" shrills Kurt over the eclectic babble of enthusiastic conversations. He steps into the circle of boys plus Rachel, waving the talking stick as though he's a king and it's his scepter and everybody should obey him.
All of the boys swivel from where they're talking at/over one another, and place their undivided attention on Kurt. Rachel's a little surprised at how cooperative they're being, but perhaps it has something to do with: a) the fact that Kurt has proven in the past few days that he can not only stand his own ground but that he can be feisty (and very mean and bitchy for good measure) as well, b) Kurt has the talking stick which commands more influence and respect than expected, and/or c) Kurt and Blaine have stepped in for Noah and Artie in cooking this week because Noah claims he spent all his money on marijuana and booze and Artie claims he can't buy groceries without someone to drive him—which Noah absolutely refuses to do (namely because he's completely broke and has no money for gas. Rachel thinks about asking him how he'll get the money for alcohol, but decides it's better just to let it go).
Rachel suspects that it has to do with the food, but she doesn't say anything. Even though it is nearly impossible for her to do so, she shuts her mouth and places undivided attention on Kurt.
"First off," Kurt says bossily, waving his talking stick/staff/scepter around, "Artie, this party is a wonderful idea. Not because we are afraid of having the reputation as a house full of gays that is," he adds definitively, as though daring anybody to object (Noah almost does, but Finn elbows him in the ribs and Noah just glowers angrily and stares down at his hands which are tightly clenched into one another), "but because throwing a good party is important in establishing a reputable image for not only the Estate, but also the residents—namely us."
"Tell us something we don't know," grumbles Noah, who looks up from where he's apparently trying to burn holes in the floor with his angry, laser-like stare.
"Now Puck, there's no need to be nasty," Kurt says rather testily. "But since you are very gung-ho on this whole party idea, why don't you contribute first?" Kurt hands Noah the talking stick rather begrudgingly.
Noah stares at the stick in shock, as though he can't believe Kurt actually bequeathed the power and attention to him. Grabbing the wand and pulling it close to his body as though afraid someone will quickly usurp him and steal his undivided power, he says, "Booze. A shitton of booze and a truckload of girls. Hot girls," he specifies.
"Girls make me nervous," says Mike in a low voice. The top half of his head pokes out from behind his organic chemistry book which has apparently become his refuge. Rachel would miss what he'd said if she hadn't been sitting next to him. She places a hand on his in what she hopes is a comforting manner and smiles reassuringly at him. Mike makes awkward eye contact with her and then quickly looks away.
"And where do you propose we get said 'hot girls?'" asks Artie expectantly. There is a chorus of agreements and nods from the boys in the circle.
"Just invite chicks you know!" Noah says, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Or just, you know, walk down the Row and pick up some drunk girls. The ones with the really short dresses ususally put out right away." He smiles wickedly, his teeth white and wolfish.
"The Row?" Sam asks, his voice quavering audibly. He looks like he's about to faint. Next to Rachel, Mike emits a small whimper.
The Row is the line of fraternity and sorority houses that lays a little off of campus. The sorority houses radiate grandeur, with ostentatious shows of rosebushes and their perfectly manicured lawns. Rachel has never entertained the idea of becoming Greek, but then again, the girls who tend to run her college campus are the tall, pretty sorority girls. Rachel likes to think of them as the equivalent of cheerleaders in high school.
"Or, or," Rachel butts in, eager to calm down Sam who is turning green and beginning to hyperventilate at the thought of having to brave the line of sorority houses and pick up drunken girls, "you can ask any girls in class, or anyone you might want to get to know better-"
Her mind is racing. Obviously, obviously she's going to invite Jesse and he's going to fall for her at the party under the lights and a spotlight will shine right on them as they're slow dancing and it will be so perfect and so romantic in all possible ways...
"-I don't know how to talk to girls," Mike whispers again, his face turning as white as chalk as though talking to members of the opposite sex is equivalent to being held at gunpoint.
"ENOUGH!" screeches Kurt, flailing his arms around wildly. Blaine rubs his shoulders consolingly and looking at Kurt with a look of adoration that Rachel can't understand. She thinks absently that if Kurt were to suddenly sprout scales and grow a beak and become a vicious blood-sucking monster, Blaine would still treat him like a harmless bunny rabbit. The thought of Kurt as a monster is a bit unnerving (and so is the image of Kurt as a bunny rabbit), and she shudders.
"Okay, here is the plan," Kurt says, with a voice full of conviction. His tone threatens anyone to object, with the self-assured note that no one will. "We'll throw the party this upcoming Satuday night. All of you—yes, even you Michael—are responsible for inviting at least twenty people. Assuming that about one third of them show up, we'll have around sixty or seventy people here, which sounds reasonable, as that's probably the maximum occupancy for the Estate anyway. Blaine..." he trails off in a testing tone, and Mike stiffens next to Rachel. Rachel glances up and notices that Blaine is nibbling Kurt's ear, a delighted and mischievous smirk on his face. "And everyone needs to give Noah money for booze."
"Booze?" Rachel hears herself ask, "What happens if you don't drink?"
The room is immediately silent and Rachel feels every pair of eyes staring at her.
"What?" she says defensively, folding her arms across her chest. "Alcohol is terrible for my vocal chords and my overall health, not to mention the excess calories-"
"Shut up, Berry," Noah nearly yells, "we'll get you shitfaced on Saturday. You hear that? Shit. Faced." He emphasizes how wasted he presumes Rachel to be by pretending to stagger on the floor and then howling wildly and humping the air.
Rachel is not amused.
"I mean, even I've had a couple of beers before," Mike says offhandedly. "I need something to help destress and manage the lifestyle of a pre-med student-"
"Rachel, I'll make you some mixed drinks," Sam offers, "like good Elvish drinks and drinks from Harry Potter. They're really sweet and you can barely taste the alcohol-"
"Come on, Rachel," Blaine whines, "just one martini? I even have a set-"
"That martini set is not coming out! They're like glasses for Barbie dolls!" hisses Kurt. His eyes soften and grow wide as Blaine begins licking his ear, much to Noah's disgust and discomfort.
"You don't drink at all?" ventures Artie cautiously. "I mean, even I've had alcohol before and I'm in a wheelchair!"
Rachel is about to point out that being in a wheelchair has no relevance to drinking behavior at all and Artie should really stop using his handicap as a way to draw irrelevant conclusions when Finn's voice rushes to her defense.
"Rachel doesn't have to drink guys. Stop pressuring her." Finn's eyes meet Rachel's across the circle. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."
"Thank you, Finn," Rachel sighs, feeling a bit like a goody two-shoes destroying all the fun. But alcohol is not healthy in the slightest and she really doesn't need to drink to have a good time and Jesse—oh shit.
Jesse will want to drink, Rachel presumes. She pieces togther her scattered thoughts of what might be expected for this upcoming Saturday and thinks back to her freshman year at the A Chorus Line after party. Yes... if her memory is right, Jesse was wildly drunk that evening. Obviously he deserved it with the riveting performance he had delivered, but Rachel expects that this behavior is not uncommon for Jesse St. James. And therefore, in order to impress said boy, she must be willing to make some changes. Love's a two-way street after all.
"Actually, I'll drink," she manages to get out. "Ringing in the schoolyear with my new housemates and... friends, right?" She stumbles a little over the word "friends," because though she knows Kurt and Blaine and possibly Finn are her friends, she's not sure where the other boys fall.
If any of the boys notices her stammering her definition of their relationship to her, he doesn't say anything. Artie just claps with a wide grin, crowing, "That's my girl!" and while Kurt throws Rachel a suspicious look (she suspects he may know of her ulterior motives), Blaine quickly pulls him in for a kiss that diverts his attention.
"WOOOOO! BERRY GONE CRAZY! LET'S GET FUCKING WILD! HUDSON, MAYBE WE'LL ALL SEE HER NAKED THIS TIME!" Noah shouts, pumping his fist heartily in the air, much to Rachel's horror. When there's no response from his peers, he looks around furiously. "Come on, guys! What's wrong with you?"
Hesitantly, Artie's gloved hand meets Noah's in a high-five and is followed by Sam's fist, which is wrapped around the walking stick. One after another, each boy's fist is finally up in the air (even the reluctant Kurt's), and all of the boys look expectantly at her.
Rachel grumbles and manages a half-hearted fistpump.
She has no idea what she's getting herself into.
"How's your yogurt?" Rachel asks hesitantly, her eyes downcast. Finn is staring at his multicolored frozen yogurt with an expression she can't quite read, swirling the toppings around on his plastic green spoon. They're sitting across from each other at a small table in the yogurt place with its mint green and pink striped walls.
At her question, his eyes meet hers and positively beam with pleasure. Rachel feels her face flush in spite of herself.
"It tastes like magic," Finn says, his voice full of awe. He pops a Whopper into his mouth along with some chocolate yogurt and smiles as though he's been told Christmas has come early.
True to his word, Finn has treated Rachel to frozen yogurt. Even though she pulled out her star-studded wallet, ready to pay for her own portion, Finn nearly grabbed her wallet out of her hand and insisted that he pay.
"After all," he'd said with a wink, "stars should get treated to things." Rachel had blushed in spite of herself.
"How's yours?" Finn asks.
"It's good," Rachel smiles. "Thanks so much Finn. Thank you... for everything. I've just been so elated about getting the part." Her smile fades as her mind zooms off far ahead of her. "What if I'm awful, Finn? What if I'm a terrible Maria and Jesse thinks I'm not talented and I embarrass my parents and my dads waste a bunch of money to come out here and see me-"
She stops as she's suddenly aware of a large palm pressed over her petite hand. Finn's palms are a little warm and sweaty but it's not unpleasant. In fact, they almost fit, she thinks absently.
"Rachel, you'll be great." Finn's eyes are honest and genuine and he's staring at Rachel as though he believes she's capable of flying to the moon if she so desires. "And I'll be there in the audience, cheering you on."
"Thank you Finn," Rachel murmurs delightedly. "And thank you too... for standing up for me back there. I guess," she folds her fingers together, "if I need anyone to take care of me when I'm drunk I can count on you, huh?"
"Why I'd be delighted to," grins Finn. His eyes are wide and bright and gleam under the white light at the frozen yogurt store. He kicks her lightly and teasingly under the table. She kicks him back with a smile. "In case college doesn't work out, I can just be Commander of Vomit Crew."
"Finn, that's disguting!" Rachel can't stifle her giggles. "I'm glad we've decided to be friends."
An unreadable expression flits over Finn's face but as quickly as it appears, it dissolves. The lines of slight distress across his forehead smooth out to become placid, and his momentary frown is replaced seamlessly by his hitched smile. "Me too, Rachel. Friends it is."
Rachel thinks she detects a note of sadness at the end of Finn's statement, but quickly dismisses it. She reads too far into things and creates drama where there shouldn't be any and she should stop. At least that's what Kurt tells her.
Rachel watches as Finn spoons and impossible amount of yogurt into his mouth and then complains about brain freeze to Rachel's uprorarious laughter, and thinks she could get used to this.
Dear Friend/Classmate/Acquaintance/Person I Would Like to Know Better:
You are cordially invited to a party at:
The Estate
321 Drury Lane
Starting Time: 10:00 P.M.
Ending Time: Never
Join us for a night of music and dance,
Trust me, you don't want to miss this chance
To be with me, Rachel Berry, aspiring star
Don't worry, the walk to the Estate isn't that far
Come see Sam Evans in full action, with his abs
And Blaine Anderson whose dance moves are totally fab
Artie Abrams has all the swag you'll need
And Noah Puckerman will take the lead
With raising the roof and setting it on fire,
Trust me, this night is not the one to retire
To your bed, that is, just to be clear
Future Dr. Mike Chang would love to have you here
The Estate welcomes you with open arms
And Finn Hudson promises to pull the fire alarm
If things get too hot with Kurt Hummel on the dance floor
But trust me, with these boys you'll be asking for more
So come to the Estate and you might leave with a KISS!
This is a night you don't want to miss
Sincerely,
Rachel Barbra Berry
"You... made invitations?" says Mercedes, looking skeptically at the black stationary studded by... you guessed it, Rachel's signature gold stars. She pushes a strand of her black hair behind her ear, and continues to run her fingers over the gilded invitations in disbelief. "Why didn't you just make a Facebook event or something?"
"Kurt did," Rachel answers, failing to mention that the Facebook event only has 8 RSVPs—namely the boys and Rachel—and a bunch of offensive comments calling the whole house fairies and much to her horror, accusatory gestures at Rachel for engaging in obscene activities with her housemates, "I'll invite you all to that after online. I just wanted," she folds her skirt down, feeling a little self-conscious and ridiculous for even making these cards to begin with, "everything to be more... official."
It's their first cast meeting, and Mr. Schue hasn't arrived yet—some emergency about hair gel and vests, so Rachel took the chance to quickly hand out all the party invitations to her fellow cast members. She's actually rather proud of the poem; it took her a considerable amoung of time to write.
"Well..." Tina says, pushing a strand of dark black and purple hair behind her ear with a fishnet-clad hand. A necklace with skull and crossbones dangles across her chest, "I don't know. I mean, will we know anyone there?"
"Berry has no friends," Quinn Fabray says coolly, from where she smirks a cold smile in Rachel's direction. Rachel feels her blood begin to boil and struggles to find her patience. Grasping onto the remainder of her self-control, she sighs wearily and dejectedly under the scrutiny of her blonde nemesis with flawless, porcelain skin.
"Quinn, that is uncalled for. I'll try to go," Rory offers in his thickly accented voice. He holds the invitation in his hands, apparently reading the poem over and over. (Rachel is glad; it took her considerable effort to put it together). But his face is in a bit of a weird grimace, as though he's doing Rachel a favor by attending her party.
"Please come!" Rachel says, hoping she doesn't sound too desperate. (She does). "You'll have the opportunity to be graced by my presence, and as I am a budding young star, I assure you that you should get the chance to know me so I can help you out—only if you need and so desire—in the future!"
"Blah, blah, blah, Berry," Sugar Motta spits. She's a mousy looking girl with brown hair that stands up in all directions. Rachel tries to console herself by trying to ignore Sugar's bad attitude and telling herself that Sugar probably has a lot of split ends.
"I'll swing by," says an unfamiliar voice. Rachel looks up beseechingly to see Joe Hart wave her invitation. "I can come over with Rory." Rachel has the desire to hug the stranger—who is a cast members she will know soon—on the spot, even with his disgustingly long, matted dreadlocks and his unappealing shiny, silver nosering.
"Yes, thank you," Rachel replies, a little too quickly. Yes, she sounds desperate alright.
"Blaine's my very good friend and we go way back, so I will be in attendance," Wes says, looking proper and collected as ever in a button up and a tie. Not a single one of his black hairs is out of place and he doesn't have a single wrinkle on his shirt. Rachel's sure he doesn't fall into the category of "hot chicks" that Noah so desires, but she gives him a nod of gratitude regardless. Beggars can't be choosers, after all.
"You live with Blaine Anderson?" comes a cool, almost conceited sounding voice. Rachel's eyes glance at the speaker, a tall, clean-cut boy with a chiseled jawline, brown hair, and bright green eyes.
"Yes..." Rachel answers uncertainly. "He's dating my best friend, Kurt Hummel."
"I'll be there," says the boy smoothly. "I'm Sebastian Smythe, by the way, Rachel. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Even though something about Sebastian seems a bit off (and even oddly familiar) to Rachel—his suaveness is disarming and slimy, even—she doesn't care. All she needs is a decent number of RSVPs to the party, or else Kurt will have a bitch fit and Noah will throw a tantrum and her week will be miserable, and most importantly, Jesse won't go.
"There's unlimited alcohol." Rachel says desperately as a selling point. She watches as all of The Sound of Music cast members' eyes widen.
"Well why didn't you say that first? Why is the fact that there is booze not in this damn invitation? That's the most important part," Mercedes nearly sighs in exasperation, wagging her finger disapproval at Rachel. "Of course I'm going now!"
"Yeah, tell me about it," Brittany perks up, "gotta go get my drink on!" Lauren Zizes nods in agreement.
Rachel is about to explain how she doesn't like to publicize underage drinking in her invitations, but then decides to bite her tongue. She could care less about what her cast members think about her. All of her thoughts only rest on one person, who has stayed conscpisuosly silent this entire exchange. She raises her eyes to fix hesitantly on Jesse, and she can feel her heart pounding. "Jesse, will you come? I understand completely, if you're busy—a man of talent like yourself and I, uh-" she trails off as she realizes she's babbling.
"Hey, why not?" Jesse says offhandedly, shrugging one of his shoulders, "I'll be there, Rachel."
"Great," Rachel answers, her heart slamming in her chest and her body tingling in anticipation. "I can't wait."
This party is going to be great.
Author's Note: AIEEEEE I'm so sorry we didn't actually get to the PARTY, but that's next chapter I promise. And I'm sorry that this story seems a bit stagnant with its story line, but I promise the drama is coming and it will be great. I'm just trying to ease into things slowly and I get really caught up with a bunch of details... I hope you enjoyed regardless. Thank you all so much for sticking with me; I love all of you!
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Replies to Anonymous Reviews:
bueller: Thanks so much for the review! :) Hehehe, Puck needs his sex like most people need air. And OH MY GOD I met the cast of The Sound of Music recently, SO SO wonderful. Awww I adore Sam, and there was a tad more Quinn for this chapter so I hope you enjoyed. Thanks so much for reading; please continue!
Heres to us: I know you reviewed a long time ago, but I hope you're still reading! You should make a fanfiction account. Thanks for the review!
RachelBerry: That means so much, thank you for the feedback! :) Please keep reviewing
PeaceLoveFinchel: Thanks!
InaFinchelCraze: Thanks so much :) Haha I am so so so sorry I'm slow with updates. I just get so caught up with everything and writing actually takes me FOREVER. Oh gosh... I'm sorry about this chapter being another pointless filler :( but I hope you enjoyed regardless
Taylor: Your words mean so, so much to me. Thank you so much. Hehehee I ADORE Sam :) Hope you're still reading and reviewing
Mack: Here's an update!
finchelfreak: Thanks! Here's an update!
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-sf