A/N from JannP: Back again. Super grateful for everyone (especially my partner in crime's) being patient and encouraging. I think I forgot to mention it sooner, but the title of this whole thing and some of the inspiration on this come from the song Wedding Dress by Matt Nathanson. The rest of the inspiration, well, it's Jen's. Because she's a genius. I'm just stealing a ride on her bandwagon, really.

A/N from wants2beawriter: I have no real words to express how much I appreciate all of the fabulous support for our story. It has been a pleasure to work on this with my awesome co-author. What a fabulous journey and we are only half way through! Hope you all enjoy!

Rated: T for some language

Disclaimer: nope, we don't own Glee

Her phone lit up and vibrated, buzzing against the nightstand and startling her from half-awake to entirely awake. Based on the shroud of night over the room, it had to be very early in the morning. She quickly scrambled to her feet and glanced over at Finn who was sprawled out on the couch. He was so much larger than the piece of furniture; it seemed impossible he could be comfortable. His comfort was the least of her concerns just now, though. She tiptoed as quietly as possible to the bathroom and answered the call breathlessly.

"Hey, is everything okay? It's what…two in the morning?" Rachel asked in a whisper, hoping her voice didn't carry too much.

"Yea, give or take and everything is…okay, I guess, but…"

"…but what? Either it's okay or it's not," she snapped, louder than she had hoped. She immediately felt terrible for taking out her fear on him. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried and not there and…"

"S'okay. They put him on oxygen and—before you panic, it's a low setting—but you know how he gets in the hospital."

Rachel closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. "He can't sleep."

"Right, and I wouldn't let the docs give him a sedative 'cause…well, you know how he reacted last time."

Rachel lowered herself to the edge of the oversized bathtub. "No…you're right. You did the right thing. Have you tried reading to him?"

"Yea, I tried it all: read to him, sang to him…I even crawled into hospital bed and you know how small those things are. My back is gonna hurt for a month."

"I am not rubbing your back for the next month," Rachel said with a slight laugh. She felt better when he chucked back. She really did miss him.

"I know… but hey, it doesn't hurt to try," he replied. He continued quickly to clear the tension, but it didn't really work because of his words. "You know what he wants."

She cringed slightly. Of course she knew what her son wanted. She had only been comforting him the same way for the past 4 years.

"I…I can't."

"Why not? Not alone?" He asked pointedly. She felt a baseball-sized knot form in the pit of her stomach.

She was going to have an ulcer by the time this was all said and done.

"Of course I'm alone. It's just…this is a hotel and people might complain," she argued softly, wincing when she heard him speaking to Caleb in the background.

"Rach, I don't give a damn about anyone in that building—or that city, for that matter. Our son is in a fucking hospital bed wanting his mommy to take care of him and you aren't here and…" She felt her eyes well with tears and he must have heard her sniffle because he whispered his apology. "Babe, I'm sorry, it's just so hard to see him like this and I…I can't do a damned thing for him. I feel so helpless."

Rachel covered her mouth so Finn wouldn't hear her crying. "I…I know and…and…put him on the phone. Just tell him I have to be quiet."

She walked over to the bathroom door and peered out in the darkness. She could still hear his steady breathing, so she figured she was in the clear. The last thing in the world she needed to explain was why and who she was singing to (and especially why that song.)

She closed the door quietly and let out another sob.

"Mama?"

"Hey, baby. What are you doing still up?" Rachel said, keeping her voice low and hoping to keep it even for the sake of her son. It terrified her to hear his labored breathing through the phone. "You should be asleep; you need your rest to keep your strength up."

"Can't…mama….please…" he breathed softly. He could barely even speak through the struggle of breathing.

"Okay, but do you promise you'll try to go to sleep after?" She asked, then heard him shuffling into the bed.

"He's in, babe," Noah said from Caleb's bedside, loud enough for her to hear through the phone speaker.

"Okay sweetie," she sighed. She looked back at the closed door, steeling herself for the onslaught of memories; she never could stop them from flooding through her.

Why was she doing any of this again?

"Sing it again," he pled as he pulled her back onto the massive king sized bed.

"I sang it five times already. Aren't you sick of hearing it?" She laughed when he flipped them over so she was caged beneath him.

"Never," he said seriously before lowering his lips to hers. "I will never get tired of hearing you sing."

She wrapped her legs around his bare torso and smirked slightly. "Well, how about we make a deal?"

"Depends on the deal," he mumbled, his mouth trailing along her jaw to her neck, sighing when she squirmed and whimpered. "I am gonna love finding all of your spots."

"You…you aren't playing fair…."

He shook his head and continued his downward decent ignoring her pleas. "See, you make the best sounds when I find them and…" When she arched and dug her fingers in her shoulders he smiled against her skin, "…and now, I have a lifetime to discover all of them." Then he stopped moving, so she nudged him to continue.

"What…you…you can't tease me like that…are you going to keep being a mean husband?" She questioned and whined with a pout at the same time.

"Nope, I will be the best husband ever….but only if you sing the song again."

Rachel propped up on her elbows and narrowed her eyes at her very sexy and very smug husband. She wondered why that didn't sound weird to say given they had only been married for a few hours and had only known each other a few hours longer.

"Fine, but you owe me."

He gave her a grin and she sighed. She seriously needed to learn to defend herself against that smile.

"Close your eyes….give me your hand darling…"

Caleb's sniffle pulled her from the memory. He was her reason for everything now. There was really no going back.

"Mama?" Caleb said weakly; she had to bite back a sob. He sounded so fragile and she wasn't there. What was she doing? This wasn't actually going to solve anything.

"Sorry sweetie, I'm here. Ready?" She waited for his murmur of agreement, no more than a short and labored breath, before she sang.

Close your eyes, give me your hand, darling. Do you feel my heart beating, do you understand? Do you feel the same or am I only dreaming? Is this burning, an eternal flame. I believe it's meant to be darling. I watch when you are sleeping, you belong with me…

The night had actually gone better than he had planned or thought it would, especially after their dinner fiasco. They got back to the room around ten or so and talked into the early morning about pretty much everything and anything except her life with Puck and Caleb (whoever the hell that was—he still didn't know and wasn't sure he wanted to know.)

Instead, he pretended to be understanding but he found himself on a new and very dangerous path—one with no real plan at all. She told him about her career and how she had started teaching, but she deflected every question about where she was teaching. Apparently, the where of that was as important as details about her home life. It was like she was giving him a sneak peak at her life without allowing him to read the whole story and he was fighting every second not to be consumed with curiosity and frustration.

He guessed he really wasn't much better, though. She had asked for more details about his life more than once and he skirted around the issues. He didn't want her to know how empty his life actually was because he didn't want her to piece together why he was putting her through all of this.

So, they both said a little about their present, definitely didn't talk about the future, but got lost in the past. He had to admit, that part had been pretty freakin' good. At one point, she was literally curled in a ball laughing hysterically after what had to have been their second bottle of wine and hundredth recollection.

"Finn, don't…I swear if you…you paint me again—so help me God—you will be cut off," Rachel threatened as she backed up towards the newly painted wall; it didn't stop his approach. "Finn."

"Rachel," he replied mockingly as he dipped the paintbrush into the pan. "You started it."

Rachel shook her head, grabbing her own brush in defense. "I most certainly did not. It was an accident," she pled, but he watched as she eyed the paint pan next to her. It was full of bright blue paint.

"An accident, huh? Is that why my entire back has a giant streak?" Rachel let out a nervous giggle when she realized if she backed up any further she'd be covered with red paint.

"Yes, I…I was listening to music and didn't realize you were standing there. It was completely innocent."

He tapped his chin. "Hmmm…see, I find that hard to since I wasn't standing in front of you!"

Rachel glanced sideways looking to see if she could make a beeline to their bedroom, but his legs were longer and therefore faster.

"Oh no you don't…" he drawled as he grabbed her from behind, lifting her in the air.

"Finn, no…no please…you love me remember?" She pled as she kicked her legs wildly, unknowingly wiggling against his groin.

"Don't try and use the 'love me' routine. You're going down," he growled playfully in her ear. He ran his paintbrush from the top of her shoulder and down her arm. She wiggled in his arms, finally breaking his hold, and stomped her foot in a huff.

"Fine. You want to play…" She dipped her brush back in the tray and flung it in his direction. "Then let's play."

He glanced down his now paint-splattered body, then narrowed his eyes in response. His wife wanted to play…well… clearly, she had no clue who she was messing with. She must have seen his lips curve into a wicked smile because her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect little 'o' before taking off in the other direction. However, with the ground covered in newspaper, she slid and ended up on her ass.

"Truce?" She giggled and held her hand out to him. He sighed…he was such a sucker. When he reached for her, she slapped the wet brush into his hand and tried scrambling to her feet.

"You cheater," he snorted; he scooped up the entire pan of paint and poured it over her hot little head.. She looked up and pushed her paint soaked hair away from her face; he could have sworn he heard her fucking growl. He probably should have been mad, but he couldn't stop himself from laughing.

She stood up and with a wicked smile of her own sauntered over towards him.

"Baby, you know what?" She whispered, tracing her paint-covered hand across his t-shirt covered abdomen.

"What?" He croaked. They had only been married for two months and he was sure now he would always lose himself in her touch.

"This…means…war…" she breathed before launching herself at him, tackling him to the ground. After the initial shock of such a tiny thing being able to take him down he noticed that she was straddling his lap with a triumphant look on her face.

"What?" He croaked out for the second time, totally focused on the fact she was on his lap, pressed directly against him. She glanced down and gestured to his body.

"I won," she said, crossing her arms in triumph. He looked down and saw his entire body was covered in paint.

"Babe, you forgot one thing," he said, complete with an 'I know something you don't' smile.

"What?" She asked, a little wary of where he could be going. He gripped her hips and swiftly flipped them over so he was hovering over her.

"I'm still bigger than you."

She glanced away and bit her lip.

Yeah, he was a total goner.

And he could still just feel her, so of course he heard her shuffling around the hotel suite around what had to be two in the morning. He cracked open one eye, watching as she hustled around the room and felt his breath catch in his throat when she paused to look at him. He couldn't be sure, but it didn't look like she was checking to see if he was sleeping. In fact, her eyes roamed his entire body before glancing back towards her bed. He could have sworn he heard her sigh and mutter something about the bed, but she shook her head and ran to the bathroom.

On one hand, he really didn't want to listen to her conversation. It was more for his sake than hers because he knew she was talking to Puck and that was the last fucking thing he wanted to hear; there were reasons they had agreed not to talk to other men or women. On the other hand, he needed to know what the competition was. He needed to know how close they actually were, to see if he had a chance in hell of destroying their relationship—even if he wasn't sure what the ultimate goal was anymore.

He knew he didn't want to be with her. He didn't, alright? The more he said it, the more he might actually believe it. He also wasn't sure if he wanted her to hurt as bad either, though. She seemed to have genuinely fond memories of their marriage, so maybe it had meant something to her. She seemed to really hurt over its ending, too; maybe she wasn't just a cold-hearted bitch like he'd thought for so long.

Still, she had cheated and wouldn't own up to it. How bad could she really feel about the whole situation? Then, on top of it all, some other guy was involved now; a guy he had no fucking clue how to deal with. Caleb. What kind of guy would get involved with a woman who was married but living with a man she wasn't married to. Did the Caleb guy even know about him or Puck?

Maybe this was all a fucking show. God, she had his thoughts running in circles; he was probably right where she wanted him.

He heard her whisper something as the bathroom door opened and he knew she was checking to see if he was asleep. Yeah, she totally knew she was breaking the rules. Fuck her. He closed his eyes tightly and slowed his breathing down 'til the door closed again. He let out a ragged breath and pushed himself off the tiny couch. Fuck it—he was sleeping in the damned bed; screw the whole 'gentleman' thing. If she wasn't going to show some basic fucking courtesy, then he wouldn't either.

As he approached the door, he felt his heart slamming against his chest. He just…he was going in because the curiosity was going to kill him more than anything. He prepared himself for hearing her say she loved Puck, or she missed him, but he couldn't prepare himself for what he actually heard.

He never thought she would be so fucking heartless as to sing the song she first sang to him on their wedding night of all nights—he didn't give a shit who she was talking to. Some shit was sacred and should've been off limits.

He blinked back those fucking tears again. God, why couldn't he just forget? It just…it didn't matter what he tried anymore. Drinking, fucking, sleeping…he somehow always fucking remembered. Even, apparently, when he was just listening.

"By the power invested in me by the great State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Finn didn't need to be told twice he scooped her in his arms and slammed his mouth on hers. She giggled momentarily and he knew it was nerves, but as soon as his tongue brushed against the seam of her lips she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and melded against him.

He didn't do things so hastily. Hell, this was beyond hastily, this was something out of a movie, but it wasn't. He was kissing his wife. A woman he had met and fell in love with instantly.

When they heard the chaplain clear his throat, they finally broke apart. Rachel smiled against his chest then looked over at the man who had just married them.

"Sorry. I…"

"Don't apologize, young lady. I've seen worse. In fact, you two are probably one of the few couples I am actually pleased to have married."

Rachel smiled and looked up at Finn, mouthing 'I love you' when their eyes met. He kissed her forehead then led her out of the gaudy chapel on the Las Vegas strip.

"I…I can't believe we did this," she whispered, clutching onto his arm as they walked down the insanely busy street.

"Do you regret it or anything? I mean, we could go have it annulled and…"

Rachel stopped in front of him. "No, I'm not saying I regret marrying you. I…I just never thought it would happen like this for me. I mean, I don't even know what kind of ice cream you like and now…now we're married. It all just seems like…"

"Like a movie?"

She smiled; it wasn't so bad if he could finish her sentence with the same thought. She clutched his arm and leaned her head against him.

"Chocolate," he said casually as he opened the door to a restaurant. She looked up at him with pure devotion.

"Chocolate," she echoed with a nod and followed him to the noisy room filled with drunk couples performing really bad karaoke, although they all seemed to be taking a break.

"Oooooh, Finn…come on! Do you sing?" She squealed, dragging him inside and then going immediately to the song selection book.

"Not in public," he whispered against her ear, as his arms wrapped around her from behind. "But you like to, right?"

She turned and stared at him with an incredulous expression. "'Do I like to? Oh, wow. You have so much to learn about me," she replied teasingly, then clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, I…I have the perfect song!"

She turned, kissed him quickly then dragged him to a table closest to the empty stage. "You sit here."

He saluted her with a smile. "Yes, Ma'am."

She giggled and kissed him again, but pulled away before he could further it then bounded towards the MC.

"Ladies and Gentleman, seems like we have an up and coming Broadway star on our hands, or so she tells me, and she would like a turn."

The crowd clapped and whistled as she stepped up on stage beaming.

"Thank you for the lovely introduction. My name is Rachel Berr…"She paused and looked over at Finn, "Actually my name is Rachel Berry-Hudson, because as a star I must have name recognition. Sorry honey, I know we didn't discuss this," she said, her aside pointed directly to Finn. He laughed and mouthed for her to continue. She nodded and held the microphone to her lips. "I would like to dedicate this song to my new husband. I hope you like your wedding present."

He watched as she seemed to get lost in the music; her eyes closing before looking at him smiling; then she sang and his heart literally stopped. Her voice was angelic but powerful and, from the look on everyone's faces, they were just as mesmerized by her.

However, none of them mattered; he knew she was singing directly to him. His wife…

"Close your eyes, give me your hand darling. Do you feel my heart beating, do you understand? Do you feel the same, or am I only dreaming…or is this burning an eternal flame? I believe it's meant to be darling. I watch when you are sleeping, you belong with me…"

He watched in awe as she worked the crowd, all the while her eyes never left his and when she finally came to the end, she walked off the stage and stood right before him and he could feel every emotion pouring out of her.

"…do you feel the same, or am I only dreaming…is this burning an eternal flame?"

He shook his head, desperately wanting to clear the memory, at the same time the door knob started turning. He wasn't ready to confront her. He didn't want to face it himself, so he ran in a panic to the couch. He would just pretend to sleep and deal with whatever this shit was tomorrow. He wasn't ready.

He heard her stumble back towards the bed, but instead of being quiet she was sobbing hysterically and his first thought was wanting to beat the shit out of Puck for making her cry. God, he was seriously fucked up. He wanted to hurt the guy, who stole his wife in the first place, for hurting her. He opened one eye and saw her sit on the edge of the bed, her eyes trained on his supposedly-sleeping form. He thought he saw her stand momentarily as if she was going to come over to him, but she sighed and crawled back into the bed again. He should have—could have—just closed his eyes and buried his head in a pillow to drown out her tears, but he didn't; he just actually couldn't. Instead, he stood up and crossed the room to the bed.

"Move over," he ordered softly, no bite in the gruff words.

"You…you don't…have to…" she whimpered, sliding over despite her weak protest. He let out a ragged breath and slid underneath the covers beside her.

"I know I don't have to, but I can't sleep if you're crying, so…" He argued and even he knew it was pathetic. He couldn't see her hurt because of someone else.

She nodded and murmured her thanks as she curled into a ball next to him. He knew he should've left well enough alone. Fuck, she sang their wedding song to another guy; she just looked and sounded so broken he couldn't stop himself from reaching out.

"C'mere." He lifted his arm slightly and she looked over at him timidly, but crawled over to curl her entire body against him. He shuddered at the contact, not because he didn't want it but because he still did, despite everything she had done to him. He wrapped his arm around her and lowered his lips to the crown of her head.

"Night, Rach."

She didn't answer because she had already fallen asleep in his arms.

He groaned. At least one of them would get some sleep tonight.