a/n: So this chapter spends a lot of time examining what exactly Finn and Rachel are thinking, but I couldn't help myself. I sat down to watch the episode and write out an outline, and the more I watched the more I found that I really wanted to explain their motives, so . . . here's my best go at that. Hopefully it isn't a complete snorefest, and I promise the later sections are more legitimate "missing scenes" rather than trips inside Rachel's and Finn's heads.
Also-there's some locker room talk that gets really bad, and I apologise if it offends anyone.
:: 2.02 - Britney/Brittany ::
i.
She accidentally brushes the volume dial and the car radio blasts some stupid top forty hit.
Finn doesn't care.
'Cause it's been frickin' ages since he and Rachel made out — like, really made out, and it would take a tornado and a hurricane, and maybe a fire or something, too, to get him to stop.
He licks her lips a little and, score, her mouth opens under his. Her hands curl into his shirt and she lets him pull her a little closer, his hand slipping under her skirt to grip her thigh — her skin's so soft. His hand starts to climb up, even as she nips at his tongue and takes it into her mouth, sucking on it in this way that makes his insides pop and twist and twirl, and his fingers brush the edge of her panties, and holy shit maybe this is it and —
Someone taps on the window.
Rachel jumps away from him, banging her knee on the steering wheel, and Finn turns to glare hazy, foggy death at the culprit, at the fucking idiot who just ruined his day, at — at Puck, who grins lecherously and makes kissy faces as he walks off again. Puck is totally gonna die. Like, a really painful death. Finn was that close to some butt action.
"Oh, really," Rachel says, exasperated. "Noah can be so juvenile sometimes." She runs a hand through her hair and then settles back in her seat. "I suppose we should head in, though. The bell will ring for homeroom in less than ten minutes, and we really ought to have gone in earlier. It's important to arrive promptly." She grabs her backpack and opens the door of his truck.
"Yeah," Finn says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he reaches back and grabs his own backpack. He was gonna try to catch some sleep in English, but now he's totally gonna plan Puck's death instead. There'll be, like, chainsaws involved.
This day is gonna be all downhill from here on, he just knows it.
He hates Wednesdays.
There's no Glee, and he doesn't have second, forth, or sixth period, so he doesn't get to see Rachel at all. Well, he'll see her at lunch, but that's always been the best part of his day anyway. He takes her hand as they head into the school, and he pretends not to see Azimio and Karofsky watching nearby when she leans up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss goodbye.
He starts to open his locker. Puck walks by. Finn gives him the finger, and then glances around to make sure Rachel has already turned the corner and doesn't see that. He's in the clear. Seriously, though, Puck's an ass.
Still, he and Rachel are bound to reach second base soon, right? Like, if they almost made it this morning, maybe this afternoon he can go over to her house and she'll finally let him touch her boobs. He knows she's not, like, against that stuff religiously or anything, 'cause he still remembers that speech she gave in the celibacy club over a year ago — how could he forget that?
Maybe he should say something to her.
He shrugs off his letterman jacket.
No, he can't say something. It'd be, like, hugely awkward and probably just awful, and what if she thinks that he's pressuring her or something? He never wants to be that guy, 'cause that guy's a jerk. Plus, what if it scares Rachel away or she thinks that he isn't as mature or something dumb like that, and he has to go even longer without any second base action?
He sighs and wonders what the cafeteria's serving for lunch. He hopes it's chicken nuggets.
He puts his jacket in his locker — and a moment later someone slams him backward and grabs the jacket away. It's Azimio and Karofsky, probably the two people Finn hates most. They should never have even made it onto the football team mid-season last fall. As they tear his jacket, he wants to tear them; he wants to punch them both in the face and shove them to the ground and just — God, he's not a violent person or anything, but he hates them.
What the hell is their problem, anyway?
Fine.
Fine.
He takes a swing. He misses, but he doesn't give a damn; he'll keep swinging until he punches their faces in, and — "Sorry to interrupt!" Artie says, rolling in front of Finn. Azimio and Karofsky back off, and that's probably good, 'cause he doesn't need to get suspended or something for fighting. And his hand is, like, on fire.
But then Artie looks up and smiles at Finn, and Finn kind of can't really deal with Artie right now, because this is all sort of Artie's fault. Okay, so that's a totally bad thing to say. Artie just wanted Tina back, and Finn knows all about losing your girl to some other guy and wanting to do anything to get her back, but — "I'll see you around," Finn says, slamming his locker shut.
Artie nods sadly as Finn walks off. He manages to get a seat in the back row of his English class, and he slumps in the chair, his hand still throbbing. He used to rule this school, and as only a sophomore, too. He was pretty much the coolest dude around. And, yeah, sure, he gave some of that up when he joined Glee, but he was still decently cool.
Quinn's pregnancy took away a lot more of that, though, and dating Rachel hasn't helped in any way, and now that he's off the football team 'cause he's the Glee guy, all cool points he has left are totally down the toilet.
And he wants to be cool, okay? He likes being cool. People treat you better. They say hi in the hallway and high five you in the parking lot, and they don't slushie you or call you a homo or mess with you at all. People want to be your friend. People look up to you. He wants that. He really wants that.
Is that really so bad?
It's not like he wishes he still threw people in dumpsters or something.
Like, it's not that he'd quit Glee or trade Rachel for somebody more popular or anything — of course he wouldn't. But how can he be a leader in Glee and the boyfriend Rachel expects him to be if he's a frickin' nobody for the rest of his life?
He feels good about himself when he's cool, and Rachel always says that's important. He should feel good about himself. He should. He's not gonna feel bad about wanting to feel good and wanting to be cool to feel good . . . if that even makes any sense. He frowns and shifts in his seat. He glances at the clock. Damn. It's only been six minutes.
See, if he's cool, then people respect him and look up to him and it makes him more confident. 'Cause, honestly, he's not actually that confident with himself. He's actually sort of maybe actually a lot self-concious, which is totally the definition of not cool. But it's the truth. If he can be the star of the football team, though, then he can be cool, and maybe, like, inversely he'll be confident.
He thinks that what inversely means, anyway.
(Rachel has all these SAT flashcards, and she's like an SAT study slave-driver, and it's actually kinda working. Seriously. Somebody, quick, ask him what ameliorate means. He needs to do something to ameliorate his coolness situation. Let's go, SATs. Bring it.)
He needs to be confident. Rachel's confident. She's so confident it pours out of her. That must be the problem. That must be why she doesn't want to move past making out — her boyfriend's a big coward who doesn't feel comfortable in his own skin. Why would she want somebody like that touching her skin?
He loses his train of thought for a second, 'cause he thinks of Rachel naked, but . . . he's never gonna get to see her naked for real if he doesn't get his shit together. Jesse was confident, too, and Rachel gave it up to him. Finn's sore hand tightens into a fist at the thought. He needs to be confident. That's it. And to be confident, he needs to be cool.
He needs to be cool.
He needs to get back on the team. Soon.
ii.
She can't believe he did that.
He lets Santana insult her — Rachel doesn't even understand the cheerleader's reference — and then he laughs and tells her it's the truth. How can he have done that? She always thought he liked the way she dressed. The tears well again and she wipes her eyes, taking a slow breath to calm herself down.
She smiles at herself in her bedroom mirror.
Studies show that people who smile more are happier — the very facial movement can produce more confidence and happiness within a person. Her smile seems off today, though.
She can't believe he did that.
How can he have done that? How?
Okay, maybe she shouldn't have said what she said. It obviously upset him, and she really should have known it would. He's been so down lately, though, ever since the new coach kicked him off the football team, and she likes that she can always cheer him up, that he's clearly come to count on her to cheer him up. She likes being that one good thing in her life.
Is that really so bad?
Yes, it probably is. She sighs. It's probably insanely selfish, isn't it?
Of course, it's not as if she would wish ill upon Finn or hope that he suffers in any way or for any reason. But how can Rachel possibly be enough for him if he's the most popular boy in school, if he's the star quarterback and has two dozen Cheerios vying for his attention?
She is a good girlfriend. She bakes him goodies, and she tries to show interest in his interests. She makes sure to compliment him several times a day so that he can know how attractive and smart and talented he really is. She helps him study for classes and for the SATs, too. She works to impress his mother and even to have as good a relationship with Kurt as possible in case Burt and Carole ever become serious to the point of marriage.
She loves him. How can she possibly be a better girlfriend?
She's not sexy, though. She knows it. She's always been comfortable in her appearance — well, comfortable enough, and she's never felt bad in her clothing. Actually, her clothing generally makes her feel more comfortable in her own skin. The fact remains, however, that she isn't sexy. Her attempts in the past have led Finn to declare she looks like a sad clown hooker.
But that same day, that very same day she wore that ridiculous outfit and completely humiliated herself in front of him, he said he liked the way she usually dressed. Didn't he mean it?
She tries another smile. Studies also show that guys find it more attractive when girls smile.
But if she isn't sexy, and he wants someone who is, someone like Santana, then her only appeal to him lies in her ability to be someone he can turn to when all else fails. If he isn't cool, then he has the chance to realise how wonderful she is and there's no way to try to tempt him and tell him otherwise. Is she really so heartless, then, to enjoy the turn of events that have knocked him down slightly on the high school totem pole on which she resides at the very bottom?
She sighs.
Her mind flickers to her fantasy at the dentist's office that afternoon.
She had starred in her very own music video, and she had certainly been sexy. One day she will be in her very own music video. She stares at her reflection. The idea starts to form. She smiles again, and the familiar dazzle that she's perfected lights up her face. There. One day she will be in her very own music video, but she doesn't have to wait for that one future day to be sexy.
She can be sexy tomorrow, if she so chooses.
She'll show Finn. He wants her to be sexy?
Fine.
Fine.
She narrows her eyes and whirls around to face her wardrobe. She finds a white, button-down blouse quickly, and grey knee socks, too. She isn't so sure about the shoes, but it turns out she has an old pair from middle school that will work very well. She picks one of her shorter skirts, and then all she needs is . . . ah, yes. Her aunt, who always buys Rachel these sorts of gifts, gave her a lacy red bra two years ago.
She's never worn it before.
But it will make it's debut tomorrow.
She smiles at herself in the mirror, and her reflection shines.
The next morning, when she skips into the kitchen, Dad chokes on his coffee and spits it out all over the table. "Good morning!" she sings. No one says anything for a moment.
"Good morning," Daddy says slowly. He pauses. "This is certainly a different look for you, pumpkin."
"Stars have to be comfortable in all looks," she replies matter-of-factly. Daddy nods and smiles, satisfied, and Dad stays silent despite the disapproving edge in his eyes as he looks at her. She disregards his gaze; she's already positive that this will be an absolutely wonderful day.
When Daddy pulls the car up to the curb at school, however, she feels anxiety spring to life inside her. Maybe this isn't such a good idea, after all. She's never managed to be sexy a day in life. Can a drug-induced fantasy at the dentist's office really change that? Really?
But Daddy drives off, and there isn't any way for Rachel to change her mind now. She straightens her back and starts towards the school. Someone whistles. Someone else exclaims, "Damn girl!" More and more eyes turn to her, and she starts to smile. This is the attention she has always deserved and always sought to no avail whatsoever.
She walks into McKinley and catches a Cheerio looking at her with wide, shocked eyes. Rachel's smile grows larger and she adds something of a strut to her step. Yes, that's right, she, Rachel Barbra Berry, future Broadway star, is as sexy as they come.
"Rachel?"
"Hello Noah," she greets, sending him a winning smile.
Her smile only widens when she passes him by and hears him mutter "Motherfucker" under his breath. His language is deplorable, yes, but she can't help but appreciate his appreciation.
"Hey! Take my hoody — you look cold!"
She smiles, because he really can be so sweet, and then her smile changes. "Don't you like my new look?" she asks, perhaps somewhat smugly. He tries to talk her out of it, he tries to point out all the attention, but she doesn't mind the attention. She rather enjoys it, in fact. (In all honesty, however, she does not appreciate the sexist comments from Azimio. He really is a pig, that boy.)
But maybe she can be a little more popular now.
And this is what he wanted, isn't it?
iii.
And he thought things couldn't get worse.
They're worse.
He storms down the hallway and shoves his way angrily into the bathroom, slamming his fist into the door the moment it closes. (It hurts like a bitch — he really needs to stop doing that.)
He can't believe she came to school dressed like that. It's like she walked out of one of his fantasies. In those, though, she comes to his house dressed like that, and then they have lots and lots and lots of sex in a hundred different positions. This is so not that. And now other guys are gonna have fantasies like that about her, which is just . . . not allowed.
It doesn't help that he's hard now, despite everything, 'cause she had been wearing —
Why did he ever say that line about her clothing? He should have defended her, like she wanted. He likes her clothing. It's so . . . her. It proves she doesn't care about what anyone thinks, and he's always liked that about her. He's always loved that about her.
Is she gonna start dressing like this all the time?
Oh, God.
Is she gonna become a Cheerio? She can be one. She's got a great body — the whole school knows now — and she can definitely dance and everything, probably better than most of those girls. What if Ms. Sylvester sees her in that outfit and —?
Rachel the Cheerio is so messed up he can't even think about it. Like, it would make her cool, but — it'd be like she'd sold out. She's supposed to be better than that, better than Cheerios and being cool and, yeah, and him. She's supposed to be better than him.
She is better than him. She's smarter, and she's more talented, and she doesn't let anybody talk down to her. What if she becomes cool 'cause some senior wants to date her and she leaves him? What if she doesn't become cool but some senior still wants to date her and she leaves him? What if anything happens that means she leaves him?
She can't leave him.
She's, like, his best friend.
He spends all his free time with her.
They do homework together, and she's learning to play Call of Duty and he watches Dancing with the Stars with her. Her dads taught him how to play Candy Poker and he comes over for their Berry family games nights now, and she comes over to his house to watch OSU games with him, and . . . and there's no part of his life that she isn't a part of and. . . .
Chill, Finn.
She's not gonna leave him. She just told him she loved him. She's only making a point — that she can be sexy. He already knew that, but . . . but he was an ass, so she thought she had to prove it. And she has. She really, really has.
He's not a bad guy. It's not wrong for him to hate that guys are drooling over her in that outfit. It's not wrong for him to hate that guys are objectifying her. She's the one who explained that whole concept to him. Does she even want creeps like Jacob Ben Israel panting after her?
He's seen the way that guy looks at her. This is only gonna fuel that. Finn should totally, like, talk to Israel and tell him he better back the fuck off. She can't call him out on that, can she?
Maybe she'll come over after school and they'll talk. He'll make her see reason, and he'll tell her that he really likes her old clothing. Like . . . like that sweater with the two giraffes — that's cute. He's pretty sure it's supposed to be a mother and a baby giraffe or something. He'll tell her that's cute, and she should wear that tomorrow, 'cause he really likes it. And they'll kiss, and she'll still have on that outfit, and. . . .
He glances down.
Shit.
He can't go to class likes this.
The door pushes open suddenly. "— I mean, God, yes, it'd be totally awesome to get with that, but come on, dude, she's totally out of your league! She's a junior, for starters, and she's dating the quarterback —"
"No, he's not the quarterback anymore! He got kicked off and —"
The freshmen freeze when they see Finn. He grinds his teeth to keep from losing it, and he glares at both as he shoves his way past them. He's gonna talk to Rachel, and he's gonna get back on the team, and everything will go back to normal.
iv.
Rachel Berry does not leave school before the day is finished. She does not miss classes. She does not skip classes.
Today, however, she has to leave McKinley early. She has to get away from all of it. She has to get out of this ridiculous outfit. She calls her dad and demands he pick her up to take her home because she feels sick. He promises to leave work right away, and she stands outside the school, waiting miserably.
It was all such a stupid, stupid experiment! Finn was upset, which she initially wanted, sure, as she meant to prove a point, but . . . but she proved how sexy she was and what did it do? Finn made it back onto the football team, and then Santana — Santana, of all the horrible people! — said he suddenly seemed more attractive.
And he looked at Rachel and he smirked and . . . and he's left her for Santana before.
Don't think like that, Rachel.
He won't leave her again. He won't. He loves her, doesn't he? He's chosen to be with her. And he made that choice long before she came to school dressed like Britney Spears. Besides, this outfit makes her feel so uncomfortable, as if she's on display or attempting to seduce the masses. It's ludicrous. She isn't this girl. The only person she wants to see her like this is Finn.
She crosses her arms tightly over her chest. Her daddy should be here any minute.
What if she had worn this only for him?
What if she had gone over to his house after school and she had — her mind twirls with a thousand different ideas, and she takes a slow breath, only to feel her eyes burn with the sudden overpowering, overwhelming need to cry so bad it makes her head hurt. Who is she kidding? She can't be sexy.
Because sexy girls aren't terrified to be intimate with their boyfriends.
And she is.
She loves him so much that sometimes it feels as if she'll burst with the feeling. He's her best friend, her confidant, her everything, and when he touches her it does things to her head and to her heart and to her body, and it's so different than when she was with Puck and even than when she was with Jesse. They never made her feel so wound up. They never made her want to. . . .
One time, after a heavy make-out session, Finn left her house and Rachel — she — she started to — to — to touch herself and . . . but it had all seemed so silly and she had taken a shower and pushed it from her mind. If he knew, she can only imagine what he would think. He would probably be excited. He would probably want to touch her.
She knows he wants to touch her, even now.
He wants to touch her and she wants him to touch her. She does. And she wants to touch him. She wants to tear off his shirt and she wants him to tear off hers and she wants to lie down on her bed with him and — but what if he's disappointed? What if —?
She's always felt confident with herself sexually, and she's never been hindered by the sorts of idiocracy like abstinence that Quinn, to no avail, even personally, promote. Yet the thought of going all the way with Finn, of even going part of the way, terrifies Rachel, and she doesn't know why. Well, she has an idea, but she doesn't want to examine that.
She doesn't even want to tell the family therapist.
Because Finn does love her, and that's that, okay?
Her dad's volvo pulls up.
She shakes the thoughts from her head and slips into the car quietly. She needs to go home. She needs to change. And then she needs to talk to Finn. She has to explain that she was in the wrong. She shouldn't have tried to make such a point, at least not so publicly, and she'll tell him that she doesn't want him to leave her, and she was scared . . .
. . . and she'll ask him not to play football.
It seems selfish — it probably is selfish — but she's never claimed to be a selfless person. And it's the only way any of this will work. It's the only way they'll work while under all the pressures of high school. She'll wear her own wardrobe, however much her fellow students might disapprove, and he'll quit football.
They can be nobodys together.
And they'll worry about the rest — about intimacy and physical milestones in their relationship and her own unexamined fears — later.
v.
She's not really like that, he knows.
She's not really so completely selfish. She's already done so much for him, so much that's never said or acknowledged by either of them and never even known by anyone else. He remembers all the weeks he spent with her last year. He remembers when Quinn was pregnant and he thought he was the father and he knew he shouldn't find himself lounging across the floor of Rachel's living room while she explained chemistry to him quite so often.
It would have hurt Quinn if she had ever known, and it probably hurt Rachel. After all, he never explained to her why he liked to spend so much time just, like, with her, you know, in the same room or something. Like, how did she feel after he would come over to her house to watch the old Star Wars movies and she would make popcorn and he would spend half the film pretending he wasn't aware of the way his hand could brush her thigh if he moved just a little to the left?
She had to have thought he was stringing her along. And he was.
But, jeez, it's like she tied the string around her own wrist. She's always been there for him, even when he didn't deserve it, even when he stupidly thought he didn't want her there. She was there during those months, and she was there when the babygate drama came to a head, and she was there when he was jerk in the weeks after.
That's not selfish.
That's the opposite.
Even if nobody else knows, Finn does. He knows she isn't like that. She just acts like that sometimes, because . . . because why? She doesn't know how not to?
Like, does she really expect him to quit football for her? How can that idea have even crossed her mind when she knows how much he loves it? She has to have known it'd be selfish. She's too smart not to know. So why'd she ask it?
"Hey, Hudson!"
For the first time in, like, half an hour, Finn actually hears Coach Bieste. "Kid, you going in are you just gonna sit there like a jackrabbit with three ears and no tail?" She stares at him with this look on her face, and he realises that the rest of the team is headed for the locker room.
He stands quickly and smiles, hoping he doesn't look too stupid or awkward or anything like that. "Ah, yeah, sorry, Coach. I was just, like, lost in thought."
He's worried she'll be pissed that he didn't listen to her pep talk or whatever, but she only smiles and nods. "Go on, then," she says, and he nods quickly and hurries towards the locker room. He's not gonna mess this up. He's made it back on to the team by some miracle, and even if he's not the quarterback, he'll take what he can get.
He goes into the locker room and weaves his way towards his old locker. Puck nods hello and then turns towards the shower as Finn pulls open his locker and starts to tug off his shirt. He's got to be optimistic about all this. Who knows — maybe he'll be able to make quarterback again.
And as for Rachel and her whole ultimatum . . . well, he'll figure it out. He can talk to his mom about it. She can give him the girl perspective or whatever. It'll probably be awkward, but sacrifices have to be made sometimes, you know?
"She's asking for it," somebody says, and Finn starts to tune out the talk, 'cause he hates listening to the guys go on about this stuff. Like, sure, he'll participate a little, maybe brag some when it's just Puck and Mike, but he doesn't want to go around saying stuff about girls that's . . . stuff that's so, just, bad. It's uncool, yeah, but he'll just tune them out.
"—oh, you know she gets it, too. If she doesn't, I'll give it to her. I bet a tight little pussy like that'll feel real good!" There's laughter. Mike looks at Finn and rolls his eyes. Finn nods and waves goodbye as Mike leaves. "And, hell, if she wants to put that Glee club mouth of hers to good use for once —"
Oh. Fuck. No.
Finn's only half dressed, but he slams his locker shut and whirls around.
Azimio sees and starts to grin, all wide and slow. "You got a problem?" he asks.
"Yeah," Finn says. "Yeah, I got a problem."
"What's the matter?" Karofsky asks. "Can't we . . . appreciate the school freak?"
"You shut your fucking mouth," Finn says, stepping towards them angrily.
"Ah, it's all good, man," Azimio says. "We just want you to know that we finally get it. We get why you shuffle around holding hands with that little wacko. The girl looks good in her little skirt. Tell me — she look that good when you're fucking her ass?'
Finn lunges towards him, but Sam, of all people, holds him back. "He's not worth it," Sam mutters.
"Ooh, look at that — he really is a homo. Did you get kicked off the team just to get your boyfriend on?" Karofsky asks, grinning as Sam steps back, uncomfortable.
"Look, dude," Sam begins.
"Hell, Hudson, I guess you probably have no idea what that little white ass looks like," Azimio says, laughing. "It'll be even easier than I thought. She'll probably beg me to fuck her like a little slut —"
Finn springs forward, slamming Azimio into the locker as hard as he can. "Don't talk about my girlfriend like that!" he snarls. He's gonna kill him. He's gonna fucking kill him.
"Okay, whoa, the Bieste is not okay with this!"
Coach Bieste stands there, glaring at them all, and it's Puck who grabs Finn's shoulder and tugs. Finn backs off, his breath still heavy, and he glares at Azimio, who glares back. "What the hell is going on?" Coach Bieste demands.
"Nothing," Karofsky volunteers quickly.
"Yeah," Sam adds, "nothing," and a few others nod and mumble something or other.
"Finn? Azimio?" She looks back and forth between them.
Finn lets his fists relax. "Nothing, Coach. We were just messing around."
"That's right," Azimio says. "Just messing around." Bieste starts to turn away, apparently satisfied, and it's like Azimio wants Finn to kill him. He lowers his voice and adds, smirking, "It's not my fault Hudson's girl is a fucking cunt."
Finn jumps him.
But Puck gets there first, and Finn hears the crack as Puck's fist collides with Azimio's face.
Finn starts to pummel the jackass, and people grab at both Finn and Puck, trying to pull them back. Finn pushes them away, but it's only seconds until it's Coach Bieste who grabs him and drags him off Azimio. She has Finn by the shirt in one hand and Puck by his shirt in the other, and her eyes are on Azimio, who stands slowly.
"I don't know who you're talking about," she says, her voice so low and dark it's scary, "but I don't care. You don't call a lady that. Ever. You don't even think it. Do you hear me? All of you?" She glances around the room. Everyone is silent. "I said, do you hear me?"
They all nod and murmur and assure her they do.
"Good," she says. She looks back at Azimio. "Get dressed," she tells him. "And then come with me. We're gonna have a talk with Principal Figgins."
Azimio's eyes go wide. "Coach —"
"You heard me!" she yells. She releases Finn and Puck. "And the rest of you! I don't know how this team was run last year, but things have changed. There's not gonna be any fighting in my locker room, you hear?" She glares until everyone nods. "Get changed and go home. And don't let me see something like this again."
She stalks off, but she stops at the door and stands there, arms over her chest, waiting for Azimio. Finn rubs his hand, which is bound to be broken or fractured or just totally screwed up. "One of these days," Puck says, "there isn't gonna be anybody to stop us, and that boy is gonna get it." His lip curls.
"Yeah," Finn mumbles. He looks at Puck. "Thanks, man," he says softly.
"Don't worry about it. I got your back," Puck says. "Plus, I'm not about to let anybody talk about a girl Jew like that. That shit's not kosher."
Finn slowly opens his locker again. He's still all, like, full of adrenaline and stuff. He wonders if Rachel will call him tonight to talk before bed like she does sometimes. He glances over at Puck. "Hey, don't — don't tell Rachel about any of this. I don't want her know that Azimio and Karofsky talked about her like that."
Puck nods.
By the time Finn gets home, he doesn't want to talk to his mom about all of this, and he really doesn't want to play Sorry! with his mom, Burt, and Kurt. He plays, though, and tries to act happy, and Kurt covers for him when his mom asks how he bruised his hand.
Rachel never calls.
She doesn't call at all that weekend, in fact.
vi.
"Oh!" Quinn claps her hand to her chest, closes her eyes for a moment, and then looks at Rachel as if Rachel's something unpleasant that she's stepped in.
Rachel isn't bothered in the least; she has long since become accustomed to the various expressions of haughty disdain and cruel hatred that Quinn reserves only for her. "Hello Quinn," she greets. She has to be quick about this, as she only has five minutes before first period starts.
"Do you need something?" Quinn asks. "Or did you just want to scare me death by lying in wait as I came out of homeroom?"
"I do need something, actually," Rachel tells her. "I need a favour."
Quinn stares at her. "You . . . want . . . me . . . to do you . . . a favour?" she asks, saying each word slowly and with so much disbelief that Rachel has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Must Quinn be so dramatic? Honestly.
"That's right. I know you and I have never been good friends, and I am more than willing to admit my part in that. As fellow Glee club members, however, we ought to have, at the very least, a relationship that isn't entirely cold and unfeeling, and I thought we could start today, as I very much need your help, and yours alone. It concerns — it concerns Finn."
It's quiet. "Go on," Quinn says slowly, her face appraising.
"I know that Finn loves me," Rachel says, "but sometimes I fear that his inability to ignore the asinine opinions of so many students at this school will —" She pauses. She takes a shaky breath. This isn't as easy as she thought it would be. If she's going to do this, she might as well go for broke. "Last year, he left me just because Santana wiggled her finger. And I don't want that to happen again. I can't let him break my heart like that again."
She doesn't look at Quinn. She keeps her gaze on the floor.
"And what do you want from me?"
"I had hoped perhaps you might go to Finn and say a few lines I've prepared for you," Rachel says, "in order to give me the proof that I refuse to allow myself to believe, if that makes any sense." Again, it's quiet, and Rachel finally looks up.
Quinn sighs. "I guess I do owe you for not being terrible to me last year, when it would have been so easy. Let me see these lines."
Rachel nods quickly and pulls the notecard from her backpack. She hands it over to Quinn. She devised this whole plan over the weekend after her seventeenth failed attempt to call Finn. Her script isn't too much to memorise, and Rachel suspects Quinn can act well. She did keep her pregnancy from Finn a secret for an astounding length of time.
Quinn looks up at Rachel, and she has that guarded gleam in her eye that makes it impossible to know what she's thinking. Rachel hates that gleam.
"Look, Rachel," Quinn says, "why would Finn be with you if he just wanted to be cool?"
"Why wouldn't he be with you if he could be cool?"
"Maybe because you claim he loves you?" Quinn suggests.
"Right," Rachel says. The first period bell rings. She glances up, surprised. She hadn't even realised . . . but it doesn't matter. She focuses on Quinn. "I know he does, but I just . . . I —"
"Oh, seriously, don't — don't cry," Quinn's guarded expression gives way to annoyance and distinct discomfort instantly. "You don't even have a good excuse," she mutters. "I'll do it, okay? I'll catch him by his locker before third period."
Rachel beams at her. "Thank you," she says. "Thank you so much."
"Don't mention it," Quinn says. "Really, don't." She starts to walk off.
"Quinn, I —"
"Okay, we have already talked way too much today," Quinn says. "And I'm late for first. I'm going to help you. And after this, we're even. I don't have to feel bad for pornographic bathroom stick figures anymore. Okay? Okay." She stalks off, and Rachel watches her walk away with excitement.
And then the dread drops inside her like a dead weight.
Because if Quinn does deliver her lines and Finn takes the bait, then Rachel will lose him.
But that won't happen. Right?
vii.
He can't believe this is his life.
He can't believe that there's this girl, and she's so incredible, and she can sing so good, and she's standing there, singing to him, pouring her heart out to him, in love with him. He knows it's totally unmanly, but he kind of wants to cry, and he tries to keep himself in check.
She starts to cry, though, and he knows that all the rest doesn't matter.
Azimio and Karosfsky and all the rest of those jerks, football and Britney Spears and everything, it all doesn't matter, not when there's her and there's him, when there's Rachel and there's Finn and together they're Rachel and Finn. He thinks maybe they're gonna get married, which is totally random and completely freaky and she looks at him as she belts out the final words and . . .
. . . and, yeah, he can't believe this is his life.
She finishes.
The whole room is quiet.
She takes a hesitant step forward.
"Damn, boy, kiss her!"
Mercedes grins, Tina and Mike laugh, and all eyes turn to Finn. But he really doesn't care about any of them right now. Rachel bites her lip shyly, and he stands even as she suddenly races to him.
She nearly tackles him.
He lifts her up off the ground and clutches her, 'cause they've been fighting for too long as it is and that song — he loves her so much. Artie whoops and Brittany exclaims, "It's like a movie!" and Rachel laughs a little as she turns her face into his neck and presses a kiss there. She pulls back, then, and he knows she doesn't like this kind of PDA, but he can't help it.
He kisses her, a real kiss, a long, slow, open-mouthed one, and somebody wolf-whistles, which makes Rachel giggle and break away. Finn doesn't care. He'll kiss her again as soon as he has the chance. "Okay, okay, that's enough," Mr. Schue says, a small smile on his face. "That was very good, Rachel. I think you really proved the kind of potential in this music. Now, can anyone tell me . . . ?" Finn sits and Rachel quickly claims the seat beside him, her fingers intertwining with his.
The rest of Glee passes by slowly, and Mr. Schue talks about the '90s grunge movement, but that's about all Finn knows. He pays more attention to Rachel, to her head on his shoulder and her leg pressed to his and their clasped hands. They don't talk, though, until Glee is over.
"That was really good," he tells her. "I mean, like, you sang really good."
He sounds like such an idiot. How can he show her . . . how can he put any of it into words?
"Thank you," she says, and she beams up at him, swinging his hand a little playfully as they cross the parking lot. "And I meant everything I said. I'm sorry I ever tried to make you —"
"It's cool," he assures quickly. She definitely doesn't need to apologise anymore. "And I'm sorry, too. For, you know, for not being a good boyfriend lately. The whole football thing totally messed with me."
"It's okay," she says, and they both inadvertently stop walking. She smiles a little and leans up. He dips down to kiss her once more, and her hands push down on his shoulders as if she wants to hoist herself up. He smiles a little into her kiss moments before she nips his bottom lip gently and then runs her tongue smoothly over her bite.
His hands travel from her arms to her waist, and he picks her up. Her legs wrap around his waist, which is one of the most awesome things in the history of planet, hands down, and angles her head as she kisses him.
"Okay, seriously? Once was enough."
Rachel pulls her lips from his and he sighs as she glares at Santana. "Go away," she says. And she kisses Finn again. So, yeah, she's totally the greatest girlfriend ever. But she draws back a few seconds later, and he sets her gently back down.
"Did you drive?"
"Daddy dropped me off."
"Want a ride?"
She smiles. "I was kind of counting on it."
He grins and takes her hand.
tbc
a/n: disappointing? y/n?