Sorry for the delay in updating! Thanks for your patience, my dear readers!
Part 13 Summary: Finn and Rachel are locked out of her house, leading to Rachel's attempt to reach an open window by climbing atop Finn's shoulders, and consequently falling when her dads find them thus. A trip to the hospital for her injuries results, where Finn and Rachel declare their feelings for each other, and Finn suggests they go on a real date to establish their relationship.
Warning: Spoilers regarding Santa and the Tooth Fairy. Read at your own risk.
Part 14- Tighty-Whities Are Too Sexy
"Faith in self and others lacking." Uh-huh. Yeah. Let's talk about faith. My panache for googling words strikes again. Faith is defined as complete trust and firm belief in something for which there is no proof- like Santa or the Tooth Fairy, for example. I'd as soon believe in either of those questionable characters than the man who may or may not have gotten his degree in psychology from an online ad he clicked while looking for porn.
Anyway, I don't know what Dr. Stab-Me-in-the-Fucking-Forehead-with-My-Own-Writing-Utensil was talking about. I had faith in lots of things. For example: I had faith that my bagel with cream cheese would land cream cheese side down every damn time I accidentally dropped it on the floor. I had complete faith that Kurt and I would be roommates in New York City while pursuing our dreams as a fashion designer and Broadway star respectively. But did I have faith that Finn Hudson and I would have sex in the near future and not break each others hearts in the process? Well, not so much. Let's just say, I wasn't in a rush to call my bookie (Mr. Fedderman, dance partner/accountant extraordinaire) to place a bet on Finn and I doing the nasty and settling into a stable relationship afterwards. I had hopes; I had wishes; I had longing, but to say I had faith would be overstating the case a bit.
Two days after my fall from grace and from Finn's shoulders, I found myself gingerly sitting hip to hip with him on his bed in his room after school and football practice for him, and after a mind-numbingly boring albeit frustrating day at home for me. I was seriously finding the whole bruised ass, sprained wrist, broken thumb, and mild concussion thing fucking annoying. I never realized how much I used my left hand, and with it splinted and often in a sling, I was like a bird with a broken damn wing or something. Couldn't drive, so I was basically on house arrest. Eating was an ordeal! Food wasn't supposed to move, but it did. Try spreading cream cheese on a damn bagel with one hand, I dare you. Don't even get me started on how hard it was to dress and undress one-handed. Pulling up panties with one hand- not recommended. Speaking of undressing and panties, I cast a side-long glance over at my newly-minted boyfriend, currently absorbed in a rather violent video game on the screen sitting on a small table across from his bed. It was so sweet of Finn to pick me up, after I had whined about how fricking bored I was having to stay home from school as per doctors' and dads' orders for a second day of recovery. Only so many times a girl can re-watch The Way We Were before it becomes depressing and maudlin. Also, I was beginning to think all men had the potential to be slack, self-absorbed tools a la Robert Redford's character, which was not a healthy mind-set for someone officially in a brand new relationship with a man (or tool- yet to be determined).
Finn and I decided it would be best to seek refuge at his house. Both my dads were still more than a little miffed at Finn for the role he'd played in me falling almost 6 feet and actually having to be hospitalized. The way I figured, Finn and I shared the blame, but being my dads' little princess made them less than impartial. When Finn asked what I'd like to do when we arrived at his house, I made the colossal mistake of answering his question with: "Whatever. What would you be doing if I weren't here?"
Silly me! Should have asked what he'd do given I was there. Might have involved making out or something interesting, but as it was, he suggested a short Black Ops session before dinner and homework. Never let it be said, that being a girl, I didn't see the appeal of blasting the shit out of stuff. Good stress relief, especially with the McKinley playoff football game set for the next night. Finn was wound pretty tight about it, though he tried not to let on. Black Ops it was then- for now.
Well, this girl could entertain herself by watching her boyfriend's long, sinewy fingers move deftly over an Xbox controller to expertly chuck grenades at hostiles. I swallowed hard, practically choking on my desire to have those fingers on me, moving over me, touching my skin. Mmm... Meanwhile, Finn sat obliviously next to me on his bed continuing his crusade to Prestige in Black Ops. I pressed my thighs together and suppressed a little groan.
"You alright, Rach? Thumb or wrist hurting or any other err... parts sore? " Finn flicked a concerned glance at me before returning his attention to the death and destruction on screen (Drat! Really I wanted to make love, not war!), "I'll be done in a few minutes. Just need to get this last asshole who tried to snipe-kill me when I re-spawned, then we could play something else. I think Kurt has Sims 3."
"I'm good," I said in a higher than normal voice. Oh, fuck a duck! I yawned theatrically and stretched my arms over my head in a languorous fashion (not so easy when one was in a damn sling!), nice and slow and cat-like, making sure my shirt rode up to show my ruby navel ring along with an expanse of bare abdomen. I didn't do crunches 5 mornings a week merely for my own amusement, after all.
"Hey, Rach, if you're sleepy, you can lay down behind me here, and I'll wake you up when I'm done," Finn offered helpfully, oblivious to my bare skin displayed solely for his benefit. Clueless as fuck this one was. I wondered if he'd notice if I took off my top and paraded the girls in his face. I was afraid to find out, honestly.
"I think I'll do that," I said with heavy sarcasm, "Don't let me sleep too long, now..."
"Sure," Finn responded absently as he flicked a thumb on the controller, ducking to avoid a helicopter gunner, "I'm on an awesome kill-streak here. Puck will be so fucking jealous!"
"Well, I'll be back here- on your bed- napping," I huffed softly as I fell backwards on Finn's bed with a little bounce, pulling my splinted wrist out of its sling and flinging it over my eyes theatrically, not that he noticed. F-ing Black Ops zombie.
"I think that's a good idea, seeing as you just got out of the hospital yesterday morning, and you're still on the pain meds." His eyes never leaving the explosions flashing onscreen, he reached over to pat my bare thigh below where the hem of my skirt ended. Whimper.
Really? An absent pat was all I got? I'd spent 15 minutes changing out of my Hello Kitty pj's for this? Next time I wouldn't bother.
I must have dozed off, because when I woke with a start sometime later, the late afternoon light had become almost complete blackness, and the room was dark except for dim light filtering in from Finn's bedroom window. The light was not the only thing that was different- somehow I did not have a stitch of clothing on, and strangely, the unfamiliar weight of a long muscular arm was wrapped around my torso as the warm hand attached palmed my bare breast, while a distinctly masculine, definitely naked body was spooned at my back. What the hell! If I had somehow had sex with Finn, and now had no memory of it, I was going to be seriously pissed! Damn painkillers.
I tried to sit up, but the strong arm tightened around me and a gruff mumble came from behind me, "Rach, it's not time to get up yet. We have at least another hour until the twins will be awake. That midnight feeding really seemed to knock them both out. 'Course, if you hadn't been so insistent about Mommy giving Daddy a little treat of his own, we'd have gotten more sleep...not that I'm complaining. My wife, the total MILF- and did we ever prove that last night! Mmmm..." A naked Finn snuggled against my bare back. Oooh...hell-o there. The man wasn't lying. I was evidently still a MILF. Whoa- this wasn't right! Focus on what he just said, Rachel!
Finally, when his words slowly percolated through my sex and sleep addled mind, my eyes went wide in horror and confusion, while my entire body tensed with fear. Had I woken in a parallel universe in which Finn and I had twin children and I was a...a MILF? That was the only comforting thing about the whole situation. Well, that and a naked Finn rubbing certain key body parts against my backside.
"Babe, you alright?" Finn leaned over me to brush a bristly cheek against mine, "Did you have another nightmare? Thought we were done with those after the twins were born. It's been over 4 months, after all. Want me to rub your back? That seemed to help before."
"Uh, s-ure. Thanks," my voice cracked a little in panic. I felt Finn shift his upper body away from me a little as his strong fingers moved over my bare neck. I might as well get a back rub whilst freaking out in this bizarre where-the-the-fuck-am-I alternate reality. If I got up and turned on the light to look at naked Finn, this might really turn out to be real or something.
Even while reeling from the mind fuck that was this parallel universe, I couldn't help but truly enjoy Finn kneading my shoulders and neck with those big strong hands of his, until he started speaking, anyway, "Damn, must have been a bad one. You're in knots. Good thing it was your night. I'd hate to think what you would have done if I'd been with Quinn."
"W-with Quinn? As in Quinn Fabray? What?!" I stammered like a damn idiot.
Finn leaned over to brush his lips across the base of my neck in a feathery kiss. Okay. Needed to concentrate here. What the fuck did he just say about Quinn?
"Fabray-Hudson-Berry, now. She's been nagging me about a threesome. Maybe tomorrow night we should try it? I'd hate to think of you waking up alone after a nightmare on Quinn's night with me. What do you say, babe? There's plenty of me to go around, and I want to make both my wives happy." He languidly nibbled on the sensitive skin where my neck met my shoulder, and I shivered with …. well, revulsion. My body was twanging with sexual joy at what he was doing, but what he was saying- just... eww!
Oh, my fucking holy shit! Apparently, I had awakened in an episode of Big Love, Finn being my polygamist husband with whom I had twin children, and Quinn Fabray-Hudson-Berry (!) was my sister-wife. Dread crashed through me as I finally figured out where I was, and it wasn't good. Succumbing to my injuries from my topple from Finn's shoulders, I had died, and I was in hell, that's what this was- Rachel Berry-Hudson-Fabray's (double !) own personal hell.
"Rach. Rachel. Rach!" Finn's voice seemed far away and a little worried now, "Rachel, wake up!
Everything seemed to tip crazily around me, and I opened my eyes to find myself again in Finn's room, this time sitting upright next to him on his bed with the dusky early evening light slanting through the window, and his Black Ops game paused on the screen across the room. Huh? So confused. Finn put out a hand and brushed his fingertips down my cheek, "You were mumbling in your sleep and kind of squirming around against my back, which at first, I thought was all kinds of hot, until I realized you must be having a really bad dream. You okay?"
"Oh, Finn," I reached out trembling hands towards him, "We aren't married are we? Please tell me we aren't married with twin babies. Quinn isn't married to us, too..." I babbled before taking a shuddering breath, trying to slow my hammering heart. I must have been dreaming. Please, God that had to be a nightmare.
"What?" Finn looked confused and a little disturbed by what I just said, "I don't understand. You just fell asleep about a half an hour ago. I think the pain meds make you sleepy. It was just a bad dream, I guess."
His long fingers gripped my shoulders and rubbed soothing circles there. Oh, that felt like … the dream. Maybe I was still there! I drew back and looked hard at Finn, noting we both had clothes on. I didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved. He returned my look with one of his own, laced with concern and a kind of wariness reserved for mental patients.
Pull yourself together here, RB! It had all been just a brief, albeit freaky-assed dream, nightmare, whatever. Taking slow breaths in and out I crossed my wrists behind Finn's neck and pressed my cheek against his solid chest, letting the dub-dub of his heart soothe me. I felt his lips press a soft kiss at my temple just at my hairline, as his hand stroked down my hair. Mmm... almost worth having unsettling dreams for this.
Time to lay off the pain meds for my broken thumb! No joke. Time to call my gynecologist to discuss birth control. Hell, yes! Time to stop watching the Big Love DVD's with Kurt. Perhaps. Time to avoid Quinn Fabray (Just plain Fabray- thank God!) like the fucking plague from Bitchland that she was. Definitely!
"Finn," I murmured into his soft shirt, smelling of Finn and laundry detergent (I just could not bring myself to remove my face from the boy's chest. He smelled incredible!), "Sorry for the temporary insanity. I had the most bizarre dream that we were married with twin babies, and to add to that, we were in this weird polygamist relationship with Quinn where she and I shared you, and you wanted to have a threesome like in a bad porn movie. Beyond bizarre- it was hair-standing-on-end, don't want to ever sleep again disturbing is what it was."
"I don't think I could pick just one thing to be creeped out most about what you just said, Rach. Even if I understood what you're talking about." he drew back and looked down at me teasingly before continuing, "A threesome, huh?" A lopsided grin broke across his features. Such a man! He would focus on that.
"Don't even joke about it, mister! Dr. Head-Shrinker would probably have a lot to say about it, that's for sure," I tried for a dry tone, and only partially succeeded, "I know he'd be more than a little interested in the fact that in my dream, we had some sort of twisted menage a trois with Quinn Fabray. Apparently, my subconscious didn't get the memo that you two broke up."
"Well, we did break up... obviously," Finn said with conviction, lowering his chin to stare pointedly in my eyes, "I don't know what else I can say to reassure you."
"I know," shaking my head with self-disgust, "It's just Quinn is, well... Quinn. Beautiful, popular, a Cheerio, every guy's wet dream, and I'm me. Slightly neurotic, not-so popular, and though Jacob Ben Israel did say he had a sex dream about me last week, I hardly think that counts, since he took his mom to the spring dance last year."
"Rach, why do you do that?" Finn said with no small amount of frustration, and then mused softly to himself, "Need to find out who this Jacob guy is, so I can put some fear into him..."
"Why do I do what?" I asked, being deliberately obtuse, while secretly a little pleased that Finn was jealous.
Finn's brows were drawn together in irritation. And here we go. "Cut yourself down like that. It's really, well... it's annoying."
"I'm just trying to be realistic here, Finn," I went on the defensive, "You have to know what happened last time when we were sort of together, and that wasn't even really official or anything. Do you know how people, your friends specifically, look at me when I'm with you, like... like... I'm something that crawled out of the damned dumpster behind the school where they routinely chuck my friends into?"
Finn shrugged, "Puck doesn't do that anymore, and Kurofsky and Azimo are assholes, who have never been my friends. I don't think anyone will care much about us, and if anything people will be a little surprised you took my sorry-ass back. It's just that you and I aren't an obvious combination, kind of like grilled cheese and pickle sandwiches, and you know how much I love those."
Wrinkling my nose, I joked, "Guess I'm a sucker for guys who eat weird food combinations. I still can't believe you eat that, but who am I to judge, right? I wonder, who is the pickle and who is the cheese in this relationship sandwich."
"Exactly. Who are you to judge?" he asked. I could hear Finn's smile in his tone, as his arms tightened around me in a fierce hug, "And I'd like to think I'm the pickle. A very big, thick, juicy pickle."
"Why, Mr. Hudson, did you just make a sexual innuendo involving your pickle? I'm scandalized," I drew back fluttering my eyelashes at him, while I fanned myself with my injured hand.
"Hmpf. The day I scandalize you is the day I walk down the hall at McKinley in my tighty-whities," he mock-frowned down at me.
My boy was on fire tonight with the funny. Good thing, too. After that dream, I needed all the humor I could get. "Tighty-whities? Really? What are you like six?"
The laughter died in my throat when I saw how hurt Finn looked. He moved out of our embrace to sit up stiffly, red staining his cheeks, and replied defensively, "I like support, okay. And I have other colors besides white, too."
"Point taken," I quickly backpedaled, glancing down at his groin area, "Besides, I think you're right, tighty-whities probably are a good look for you. I'm sure they'd be very...tight."
I know I licked my lips while looking down at the fly of his jeans. Oh, my fruit of the loom! The mental image of Finn's equipment encased in soft white cotton really did get the juices flowing. Who knew tighty-whities could be so damn sexy? Come to Mama!
I mentally smacked myself, "Anyway, as appealing as that image is, I don't want to share, so no public flaunting of your tighty-whities in the school hallways, if you please, my love."
Ack! Pain meds strike again! God, was I blushing? I was blushing.
A slow smile spread across Finn's face before he moved closer, his fingers lightly brushing over the bare skin above my knee, "As soon as your hand is better, maybe I'll give you a ...what did you call it?... um... a private flaunting, my love."
I reached down and put my good hand over his, trapping it between my palm and my bare thigh, "Why wait?"
Nonplussed, his mouth opened and shut a few times, "Uh... um, Rach, I... uh..."
I took mercy on his predicament, "Something to look forward to then?"
"God yes! I mean, absolutely. In fact, I was thinking about our first official date on Saturday," Finn smiled a little secretively, "I wanted it to be special, you know, not just a trip to BreadStix and a movie or something like that."
"Whatever we do will be fine with me, you know," I demurred, though special sounded great.
"Well, I kind of want it to be a surprise, but I need Kurt to help me with what you wear, so it doesn't give away the surprise, like it would if I told you." Ooh, better and better. "So, I'll send him over Saturday afternoon to get what you'll need from your room, and he'll bring it to me, okay?"
"Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this," I said with a smile. So sweet. "I can't wait to see what it is. Generally, surprises aren't my thing, but I think I can definitely make an exception here."
He looked a little nervous, but then he seemed to shore up his determination in saying, "You've never had a Finn Hudson surprise, though."
"Well, now that you make it sound so intriguing, I'm looking forward to it," I was already mentally hopping up and down with excitement of a 4-year-old at the circus- thus my dislike of surprises.
How would I stand it?! I hated waiting the two minutes for my tea in the morning, much less my first official date with Finn that was still two whole days away.
It didn't help that one of those days included the playoff football game in which Finn was the starting quarterback. I felt a combination of pride and nerves. Finn had worked so hard with the rest of his team to get to the playoff game taking place the next night. I would be going and sitting with the Hudson-Hummels, of course. Blaine, Kurt and I were even wearing matching red scarves to show our support. My two friends had promised to distract me whenever Finn got sacked or was otherwise under hundreds of pounds of gear and muscle when he was tackled. I felt sick just thinking about it.
"Finn, about the game tomorrow..." I began hesitantly, my eyes moved to the pile of dirty clothes on his floor and then to his shelf of dusty sports memorabilia- anywhere but looking him in the eye, not sure exactly how to phrase what I needed to say, "I know you're a big, tough guy and all, but only one of us is allowed to be injured at a time here (that's it, go for the lame joke). So, please... please be careful out there, okay? I'll be the one sitting in the stands with my hand over my eyes, wincing every time you get hit."
I had expected him to dismiss my expression of concern for his safety with some male posturing or some gruff comment about how tough he was, so when he looked like he might cry and hugged me tightly to his warm chest, I was a bit taken aback, "Rach, no one, other than my mom, and she's my mom, so it doesn't really count, has ever worried for me at a game before. Quinn certainly never did. She just got all pissed at me when we didn't win, saying it was hard to cheer for losers. You telling me to be careful- That feels kinda... awesome."
"Not from where I'll be sitting, Mr. Hudson. Of course, I worry. Anyone who reads the news knows that football has one of the highest injury rates of any sport. Just watch yourself out there, and try not to be too much of a hero. Promise?"
"You got it- speaking of you being in the stands, I have something for you," he stood and walked over to his dresser, picking up a jersey lying there neatly folded and holding it out to me, "I'd like you to wear this tomorrow, that is... if you want to, I mean. It's one of my old jerseys. I had Mom hem it, so it wouldn't be like a dress on you. It'll still be really big, so I get it if you don't want to wear it. That's totally okay... I mean."
My heart melting at his nervous gibbering, I took the slippery fabric gently from his outstretched hands, gazing at the big number 5 embossed on the front, "I'll be proud to wear it! I need to thank your mom for altering it for me. That was so sweet of her and...really sweet of you, too...," I gently pushed him to sit down on his bed, so I could slip his shirt awkwardly over my head with my braced hand to give him impromptu fashion show, "It's big, but I think it's great! See?"
I twirled in a circle and then carefully perched myself on his knee, mindful of my bruised butt. Wrapping my arms around his neck in a loose hug I chirped, "Thanks, Finn, I love it!"
"You do look pretty cute in that, Rach, and way sexy, actually. Just knowing you'll be there in the stands wearing my number and cheering for me, caring whether I get hurt or not, really makes me so proud, babe. I mean it," he murmured shyly before swooping in and planting a firm kiss on my unsuspecting lips.
My head was spinning when we broke apart a few minutes later, as I gasped out, "Tell you what, Number 5, I promise to give you a special, private jersey-only fashion show some time soon, if you do the same for me in your tighty-whities."
"It's a date," he replied with that lethal grin of his.
"Oooh, two dates to look forward to now. Lucky me," I quipped against his lips, as I moved to kiss him again.
Felt the need for some fluff and silliness. Thanks for putting up with me! If you could find it in your heart to leave a review, that would be great!