A shout out as always to the fabtastic people who read and review! It's bumpy ride time, so feedback would be super duper.
xlix. On an infinite list of things that she needed to do before she turned thirty, Rachel wanted to ride in a limousine (preferably to the Tonys). There was something so glamorous about the secrecy and elegance of such a vehicle, which is why when said mode of transport pulled up outside her apartment building, she swore she was having heart palpitations.
It didn't hurt that the man that emerged was an absolute god. With his floppy, boy band blonde hair and his adorably large lips, Rachel found herself practically swooning as he took her hand and kissed it softly with a smile.
"You look beautiful."
She managed a dopey grin, but that was all she could offer him.
However, the drive was awkward, to say the least. Usually she was good at reading people, the body language and the appearance and the smiles, but Sam didn't seem to give anything away. He kept shooting her bashful smiles, but she put that down to nerves; at least he seemed as giddy as she did.
When they finally made it after eighteen and a half minutes of silence, he helped her out of the car as he led her towards the entrance of the club, their arms linked like they were the best of friends (or lovers).
Truth be told, the euphoria at his cuteness had soon worn off, and Rachel wanted nothing more than for the night to be over.
Maybe it was the realisation that his blonde hair wasn't as brown as it should have been. Maybe it was the lack of crooked smiles that his lips could offer (and a lack of dimples). Maybe it was because he wasn't overly tall.
Maybe it was because his name began with an S instead of an F.
They were admitted quickly, ahead of one of the biggest lines she'd ever seen, and as soon as they stepped into the club, the two of them both seemed to recoil.
Bright lights.
Loud music.
Lots of sweaty bodies.
"Looks... fun," Sam said, voice wavering with his smile. "My dad told me that it would be more- Never mind. Shall we dance, maybe?"
He held out one of his hands, and with a tight lipped grimace, she took it as he led her to the dance floor. She'd seen worse, and it wasn't as if they had to spend the entire night dancing. Besides, the cocktail menu looked appealing. Sure, she didn't usually drink whilst with clients, but he was the mayor's son! He would no doubt be drinking until he couldn't see straight, and she was entitled to do the same.
After some light dancing.
(And by light, she meant watching as Sam showed her his infamous body rolls that made her feel slightly nauseous).
It was worse when he began to show her his thrusting techniques, his hips jutting out in time with the dull beat of the music, but ever the professional, Rachel cheered him on relentlessly, ignoring other girls who tried to steal Sam away.
To prove a point to anyone watching (though mainly to herself), Rachel decided to just go with the flow. Ordering a shot, she downed it in one before joining in with Sam's thrusts, which soon turned into some of the dirtiest dancing she'd ever been witness to. His hands, resting on her waist, kept travelling down to steal the occasional squeeze of her butt, though she wriggled away every time he tried. He kept whispering things in her ear, too, things that didn't suit his rather innocent face, and the crudeness of his words seemed out of character. When he hissed about the things he would do to her 'pussy', she excused herself to order one of the biggest cocktails on offer.
She needed a breather. Normally she wouldn't stand for such behaviour, but Sue had made it her mission to constantly remind her of the importance of the client. Though not involved in politics in any way himself, Sam's dad was clearly a very important man, and it wouldn't be good for the agency if she reported him because of a few hormone-driven slurs.
At least three girls flocked around him as he danced on his own, shaking his body to the music while Rachel sucked slowly on the straw between her teeth. There was something off, something she couldn't quite fathom, and she knew it was going to bug her for the rest of the night unless she figured it out.
However, with every sip of cocktail she found herself caring less and less. She should have relieved Sam of one particular cougar who was practically hanging from around his neck, but she was too busy daydreaming about Finn. She hoped he was okay without her.
That sounded incredibly conceited, but he was a rather sensitive soul, and if he'd liked her even half as much as she liked him, he was probably missing her too.
Oh yeah, she was definitely missing him alright.
Especially when she finished her drink and headed back to the dance floor.
At least the alcohol had loosened her up a bit. She didn't mind rubbing her body against Sam's so much when everything was blurry and warm, and she pretended not to hear when he talked about motor boating her tits.
It was fine, it was his birthday, he was allowed to let loose.
Still, maybe she was a little too loose. Rachel stumbled in her heels, almost knocking over a boy who had been occupying the floor beside her. She clung to his arm and apologised over and over, only to see a familiar face peering down at her.
"Rachel?"
"Kurt!" she squealed, pulling him towards her in a sloppy hug (could hugs be sloppy? Maybe not, but it wasn't a very refined one to say the least). "I'm sorry for being so careless as to knock you while you were performing such beautiful dance moves."
He laughed as he held her up, though he kept shooting anxious glances in Sam's direction. "That's okay. I'm surprised you didn't come with Finn! He didn't mention you'd be meeting up with us. Um, who is this? A cousin, maybe?"
"I'm her boyfriend!" yelled Sam over the music, his sweat mussing up his hair. "Isn't she awesome? Hot, too."
Rachel was way too busy using Sam as a stripper pole to realise what was happening in front of her. Eyes closed as she swayed to the music, she didn't see the look of confusion on Kurt's face, or the pure, undiluted anger on his brother's.
"What the hell is going on?" yelled a voice that sounded terribly familiar, though she put that down to the cocktail (boy, she was experiencing such a buzz!).
"I'd like to know the same thing," said the Kurt voice, yet she still didn't open her eyes. She imagined dancing this way with Finn, pressing up against his body instead of the body of a gay boy, and-
Oh! She opened them in realisation. Sam was gay! She knew there was something different about him, and everything made sense (in her drunken mind, at least). His parents probably weren't aware, and maybe he wasn't so sure either, which was why he'd forced out such crude language.
He'd been trying to pretend to himself that he was straight.
Rachel was too busy wondering if she could get her dads to talk to him about being comfortable with his sexuality to notice Finn's fist smashing against Sam's cheek. In fact, the music was so loud and the lights so bright that she didn't register anything until Kurt started screaming his brother's name.
She blinked a few times. Finn was there! She hadn't expected-
Oops.
As if Kurt's shouting was some kind of sobering agent, everything clicked into place. He thought she was dating his brother, yet there she was, acting like a harlot with Sam. She'd broken up with Finn, so to speak, and he'd caught her with another man; the way he slammed his fist into Sam's face was probably out of jealousy.
Ah, yes, she supposed she had to put an end to that.
Gripping the sleeve of Finn's shirt, she tried to yank him away while Kurt simply stood in the same spot, screeching like a possessed harpy, which wasn't exactly helping matters.
"Finn, stop, you're hurting him!"
For what it was worth, Sam didn't fight back, but stayed still as the punches kept coming. Only when Rachel kneed Finn in the groin did the taller of the two stumble away with a string of curses, and Sam straightened up whilst mopping the blood from his split lip.
"Kurt, get him some ice from the bar and take him to the bathroom on the first floor. The sign near the door said it isn't yet open for public use, so you can get some privacy." Biting her tongue as she rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of her feet, she clicked her fingers in thought. "Towels, get towels too, the bartender should have a few spare."
Kurt didn't argue, which she was thankful for. His face was pale, even under the fluorescent lighting, and he scurried off like a mouse evading a cat. Sam just gave her this look, one of pity, of humiliation, and in the saddest voice she'd ever heard, he said, "I'm sorry for being so rude to you."
So she hugged him, and promised him that things would work out fine.
Once Kurt was fully equipped to play nurse to Mr Evans, Rachel turned her attention to Finn, who was doubled over, clutching a hand to his groin as he continued to spit out angry curses. Without saying anything, she pulled him towards the exit. He didn't fight, but followed her with an over exaggerated limp (God, men were such babies; had he never heard of period pains?).
She wasn't very familiar with the neighbourhood, but it didn't take them long to find an empty alley, save for a couple of stray cats that were feasting on someone's scraps.
Oh how she really wanted to take them home.
"Are you finally done now, beating up my friend?"
He spat on the ground, wincing as he nursed his no-doubt bruised hand. "Friend, right, 'cause it's completely normal to dry hump your friends."
"What is your problem?"
"You are my problem!" he yelled, and she recoiled at the venom in his voice. "How the hell can you do what you do and still have a conscience?"
Rachel faltered as she shivered; it was cold, she was emotionally hurting, and whatever they were doing, she didn't want to do it at all. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you go out with sad, lonely guys like me, and you do all of... this." Waving a hand in her general direction, he sniffled, and it hit her like a bullet when she realised he was crying. "You're effortlessly beautiful and you treat us like we matter, like we're special, but all you're doing is taking our money before you go and seduce someone else."
"That's not fair," she bit back, wrapping her arms around herself. "You said that you don't judge people for how they make a living."
"That was before you made me fall in love with you and kicked me to the side for someone else!"
Both of them sucked in a breath at the same time. He evidently hadn't meant to spill his secret, and she...
She had no idea what to think.
"This is my job, Finn, and you really hurt Sam in there."
He let out a humourless laugh that came out like a bark. "Right, sure, you grind up against every sucker that takes you out?"
"Stop being so mean!" she whimpered. She pushed back her hair and wiped at her eyes, slightly surprised to find that she was crying too. "Stop acting like such a victim when you knew what you were getting yourself into! You knew what you were paying for, you knew from the beginning, so you can't blame me for getting in too... too..."
"Too deep?" This time, it was quiet, like someone had just told him that Santa wasn't real. His face was weary, pale, sad, and as he shook his head from side to side, quiet, dignified tears trailed tracks down his cheeks. "I was stupid to think we had something special. I convinced myself that you were too good to be true, and I thought about giving up so many times but Puck kept insisting, and..."
Everything began to spin, partly because of the alcohol running through her system, and partly because of the name that rang in her ears like a warning siren.
Closing her eyes to compose herself, she took a deep breath. "Um... Puck?"
"Yeah..." Finn faltered, cocking his head in confusion. "You know him?"
"You complete jackass."
"What?"
"You utter pig."
"Rachel, I-"
"You lying asshole!" Charging at him like a bull seeing red, Rachel found herself slapping Finn's arm, again and again and again while he just stood there and took it like a coward. All of her energy seemed to drain away as sobs wracked her body, and then he had the nerve to try and hug her! "Get away from me!" she screeched. "Don't ever call me again, don't ever call the agency again, and don't ever think you'll see me again because I've dealt with enough motherfuckers to have to put up with another one."
Then she ran back into the club in a flood of tears, despite the tiniest speck of pride that she felt in her chest for using a curse word so effectively.
Finn didn't follow her, for which she was thankful. She didn't need him to try and win her back, not after that stunt, and all she was focused on was finding Sam and Kurt.
Even if her heart was hurting like nothing before.
She knocked on the door and whispered their names, and when she was allowed entry, she started crying all over again. Sam's face was already badly swollen and covered in bruises, and he could barely see out of his left eye.
"Calm down princess, you'll set me off again," muttered Kurt, who was delicately dabbing at the blonde boy's face. "Did you put my Neanderthal of a brother on the naughty step?"
Ignoring him completely, she took one of Sam's hands and ran a thumb over his knuckles. "Happy birthday."
He chuckled until he winced, and Rachel's guilt reached critical level.
"Sam told me everything." The tone of Kurt's voice wasn't one she wanted to engage in, but at the look he was giving her, she rolled her eyes and shrugged. "I knew you were too good for my brother. You're going to be a star one day, and Finn's going to be a fireman for the rest of his life; that's not exactly a fairytale waiting to happen."
She opened her mouth to defend him, defend the boy who risked his life every day to save others, but she didn't.
Nothing came out except a long, drawn-out sigh.
"He told me, about Blaine." Then it was Kurt's turn to stiffen. "He told me a couple of weeks ago. I'm sorry, Kurt, I really am."
"Who's Blaine?" asked Sam, his brow furrowed as he rubbed at his eyes.
"My ex-fiance, who I found engaging in a rather feral looking sexual position with our mailman, Sebastian."
Sam let out a low whistle and patted Kurt on the back while Rachel looked on, an eyebrow quipped. "Sorry to hear that dude, really. You deserve someone awesomer who'll cherish you and stuff."
She excused herself with the intent of returning once she'd cleared her head, but instead she went back to her apartment and cried until she had to change her soggy pillow cover.
l. They say that things always look better in the morning, right? Night time causes too much dwelling, and things aren't so bad in the light of a new day.
Right?
Wrong. Not only did Rachel wake up with a hangover, but she was bombarded with scenes of the night before.
Specifically the one where Finn announced his love, only to let slip that it was all a lie.
Well, not in so many words.
Grabbing her cell phone, she sent an angry text to Santana before slamming it down on her bed as she let out a high pitched whine.
Santana and Puck had played her all along! Thinking back to the early days, when all of her clients were jerks, the two of them had been there to insist that things would get better, that someone would come along and prove her wrong.
But oh, what a coincidence! A friend of Puck's happened to be sweet and kind and so very funny, and she'd fallen for his charm while he just played along.
The realisation slammed into her stomach, hard enough to wind her.
No, she didn't, she couldn't...
She couldn't have a crush on Finn!
Except she did, a big fat stupid crush, and she cried into her pillow until she had to use her very last cover.
Great; she could just add a huge pile of washing to the long list of things that had completely ruined her life.
li. "Just let me in, you've got this all wrong!"
"No!"
"Doc, stop being so stubborn and open this damn door."
"My name is Rachel! Not Doc or Dopey or Sneezy or Sleepy or whatever you like to call me. Please leave before I call security."
"Your building doesn't have security."
"Then I'll call my janitor!"
"Berry..."
"Leave me alone, Santana!"
She tried to pretend that the sound of her (ex)friend's fading footsteps was a welcome one.
lii. "He wasn't playing you!"
"Go away, Noah."
"He's a good guy, the best guy! You should see him now, all depressed and shit because he loves you, like, fucking loads!"
"Go away, Noah."
"You think he's smart enough to trick you into thinking he's all kinds of vulnerable? Quinn did enough damage to last a lifetime; he doesn't need to pretend with you."
Leaning against the door, she looked through the peephole at the familiar mohawk. "Quinn?"
"Didn't he tell you? Lemme in and I'll explain."
She had a feeling she was going to regret it, but after unbolting the door and turning every lock, she invited Puck inside (though she didn't offer him a drink; she wasn't going to be too hospitable).
"Nice place you got here."
"Just tell me what you want to tell me so you can kindly leave me alone. Also, please tell your girlfriend to stop sending me pictures of her 'saddest' face, it's not going to work."
Puck whistled, sticking his hands in his pockets as he lingered by the door. "That doesn't work on you? All she has to do is pout to make me go down on her."
With a wrinkled nose, Rachel waved him towards the couch (though she caved and made him a coffee), settling down beside him with guarded eyes. "He's upset?" she managed to ask, and any mirth from Puck's face was replaced with sincerity.
"Yeah. I've known him my whole life, and I've never... I mean, there was one time when it was bad, but..." He bit the inside of his mouth, eyes unconsciously scanning the room. "Quinn was his high school girlfriend. Quarterback and head cheerleader, fucking clichés galore, and he thought he was happy. I thought he was too, I guess, until..." He looked guilty, somehow, like he was betraying his best friend, and Rachel let out the smallest of sighs.
"Maybe I should ask him about it."
"No, God no, it'd kill him, especially after all this shit." She narrowed her eyes; he rolled his. "Okay, look, Quinn got preggers senior year. She told him she was gonna keep the baby, so he packed in his out of state football scholarship, got a job at some place that sold sheets, and basically handed her his balls along with his entire future."
When (or why) Rachel started crying, she had no idea.
"He was tired and lonely but he was still happy, happy that he was gonna be a dad." Puck's jaw tightened at the same time that the vein in his neck seemed to protrude from his skin. His fists were so tight that his fingers had gone white, and if he'd still been holding his cup, he probably would have smashed it in his hands. "He went to New York for his brother's birthday, and when he came back, Quinn wasn't pregnant anymore."
Rachel gasped in horror as she pressed her hands to her mouth, head shaking in denial. "A miscarriage?"
"If only." He winced at his slip, but Rachel said nothing. "She had an abortion while he was visiting his kid-fucking-brother. The baby wasn't his, it was some hockey jerk's, and she did it, just like that."
He didn't need to say anymore for Rachel to understand where Finn's insecurities came from. Her heartache came from no date to prom and defaced yearbook pictures, but he'd lost everything; his girl, his baby, and his future.
"I used to hate Quinn more than I've ever hated anyone," said Puck with a growl, "but I understood where she was coming from, eventually. She did right by Finn, even if she fucked up and did it in the worst way possible, and she did right for herself too. She went to Yale, met a guy, eloped and rode off into the sunset."
"But Finn didn't."
Puck's expression softened. "He told me he was moving to New York to keep an eye on his brother, and when he mentioned the NYFD, I tagged along for the ride and ended up working alongside him. He tried to be normal, you know? He tried dating, but that didn't work, and he tried being happy, but that didn't work either." Snorting to himself, he rubbed his temple while Rachel sniffed to herself. "God, if only you weren't such a stubborn bitch."
Mollified, she gasped. "Excuse me?"
"Remember the night we met, when I hit on San? I offered to set you up with a friend, but you shot him down before I even told you his name."
The breath caught in Rachel's throat as she lifted her legs onto the couch and pulled them against her chest. "That was... Finn?"
"Yeah. I knew the two of you would be good together, and you seemed crazy enough to distract him from his pity party, but the only way I could get you to meet was by convincing him to call for an escort. I had to hammer it into him every chance I got, and when he caved, I told him that a friend had recommended Rachel Berry, and the rest is history."
She wiped at her eyes, though whether she was crying from the new information, or from the fact that she'd rubbed them until they were sore, she didn't know. "So he wasn't pretending to be nice to me?"
"Hell no. I even told him to act like a cocky jackass to see if you'd buy it, but I guess he didn't listen."
Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, Rachel wasn't sure what she was supposed to do next. She'd been so incredibly harsh with him.
After a while, she ran a hand through her unruly hair, eying Puck with intrigue. "Why are you here?"
"God, haven't you been listening?"
"Yes, but what's in it for you?"
Dropping his bravado, he simply shrugged once as he ran his tongue over his lips. "I want Finn to be happy, and if you'd seen the change in him when he met you, you'd know it too."
"Know what?"
"That he fucking loves you, that's what!"
Rachel leapt at him in a hug, and after placing a kiss on his cheek combined with a soft, "Thank you, Noah," she retreated to the bathroom to get ready.
"Ready for what?" called Puck over the sound of the running water.
"Just tell Santana to come over, now!"
liii. Once her friends had come and gone (it was good to call them that again), Rachel readied herself to take a look in the full-length mirror that hung in her closet door. She'd, maybe foolishly, given Santana free reign on her appearance, and this would be her first glimpse of the girl that had a lot of grovelling to do.
She opened the door and gasped, though not because she was disappointed; it was quite the opposite. Santana had chosen one of her most subtle, simple dresses that hugged her curves and revealed a generous amount of cleavage, and coupled with the cascading curls of hair that tickled the bare skin of her shoulders, she looked hot. Her smoky eyes stared back at her in a way that somehow came off as sexy, and biting her pink tainted lip, she smiled at how adult she looked.
Now all she had to do was confront a certain man and apologise for her behaviour whilst admitting that she had an inappropriate crush on him. Piece of cake!
liv. By the time she'd mustered up the courage to hail a cab, give the driver Finn's address, make it to his door and rest her head against it before knocking (all with her heart in her throat, mind you), it was rather late, and the longer she waited for some sign of activity from his apartment, the more she realised that maybe she hadn't really thought things through. For all she knew, he had a nightshift at the station that meant he wouldn't be back until tomorrow.
When it really did seem like no one was in (why hadn't Puck told her that Finn was working?), Rachel was forced to admit defeat. He may have won the battle, but he hadn't won the war.
Turning away from the door, she bumped straight into a rather broad chest, and would have fallen backwards if it wasn't for a steady hand that grabbed her before it happened. Blinking a few times, she looked up at her saviour, only to see unfamiliarity in a face she knew so well.
Finn looked tired. The bags under his eyes were the biggest she'd ever seen on anyone, and considering she'd known one boy at NYADA who had gone three whole days without sleeping, that was saying something. The scruff on his chin was something she hadn't seen before, and while it made him look rather sexy, she had a feeling it was only there because Finn was having problems. His eyes were red and glum; she was sure she could see tear stains on his cheeks.
He didn't even smile as he sidestepped her and let himself inside his apartment, shutting the door in her face.
Well.
Her naivety was showing again. She'd expected a romantic, cliché 'let's run into each other's arms and declare our love before we fuck on the floor' kind of scenario, or at least a civil hello to one another. To be honest, the reality seemed just as unbelievable as her 'Finn proposing on a unicorn' fantasy.
Rachel was nothing if not determined. Banging her fist on the door, she waited for him to open it and apologise for his lack of chivalry, but no such luck; he didn't even tell her to go away.
"Let me in, we need to talk!"
Nothing.
"Finn, you can't leave a lady waiting so late at night!"
Silence.
"Open this door right now, Hudson, or I'll knock it down and-"
It opened before she was forced to kick it in, which was a relief in itself. She waited for the apology, but after taking one look at her, he headed back inside (though with the door wide open, she let herself in to follow him).
His apartment was a lot cleaner than she'd expected. When Puck had given her the address, she'd expected a dump of a place. A few socks were strewn across the floor here and there, but all in all, it seemed nice, homely even. It was bigger than hers, anyway. Since Finn and Puck lived together, they could afford somewhere half decent, whereas Rachel was still living in an apartment the size of a closet.
To be fair, she'd made enough to move to somewhere better, but she'd grown attached to her little hellhole.
There was still no romantic running of any kind, and Rachel's bravado began to wear off. She'd convinced herself (as had Puck and Santana) that Finn would welcome her back with open arms, and after having gone to so much effort, she'd assumed he'd be pleased to see her. Sprawled across his couch, staring up at the ceiling, he didn't seem to be... anything.
"I'm awful at apologies." She played nervously with her dress as she stared down at her feet, feeling enough embarrassment for the both of them. "My intense character means that I tend to believe that I'm always right, even when provided with evidence on the contrary, which means I very rarely have anything to be sorry for."
"You're right, you really do suck at apologies."
His voice was gruff, croaky, and he didn't sound like he was joking, but just to hear him was a relief, and Rachel found herself gravitating towards the couch. She hovered for a while until he made the slightest nod of his head, and she perched herself beside him (being careful not to accidentally touch his leg).
"I don't even know where to begin," she whispered, and she sucked in a breath while he gave her a rather strange look. "The wrong end of the stick is a horrible place to be, isn't it? The right end involves coffee at Starbucks and midnight screenings of awful movies and dinners with the family. But the wrong end... The wrong end involves believing that the person you've grown attached to was playing you all along."
"Been there, done that, got the t-shirt." Finn pulled at his hair as he let out a yawn, and then he closed his eyes. And kept them closed. And didn't say anything for a while. Rachel thought he'd fallen asleep, but after ten minutes had passed (and after she'd prepared a dramatic exit speech in her head), he opened them to reveal a shimmering veil of tears. "Today I nearly died." He wiped his nose on the back of his hand while Rachel stared at him in a mix of horror and relief (horror for what could have happened, and relief for what thankfully didn't).
"H-how?"
"Basic search and rescue job. An apartment building was on fire, we did a search of every floor while the flames were small, and after everyone had gotten to safety, we put it out. Except I went back in."
Shifting a little in his seat, Finn couldn't meet her gaze, though that was probably for the best if she was to stay composed.
"I made some bullshit up about double checking the third floor, and since everything was under control, my Chief let me go. I looked around to try and clear my head or whatever the hell I was looking for, and then I heard a cry. A girl, not much younger than me, was trapped under some fallen tiles and she kept going in and out of consciousness. I had no idea she was there, but I somehow found her anyway."
Rachel bit her lip with the tiniest of smiles. "You saved her life. You're a hero."
"She died in my arms." He didn't flinch, not outwardly, but she could see the change of emotion in his eyes, in his posture. "I tried to get her out, and then she whispered an apology and died in my goddamn arms. And I just stayed there, stroking her face while I wondered if I should stay there and do the same."
Oh God.
"What stopped you?" she asked in a small, shaky voice.
Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and pressed his head against the arm rest, a low hum in the back of his throat. "I saw part of the ceiling start to crumble right above me, and I knew that if I didn't move, I'd be trapped too. I tried to think of my mom, my brother, Puck, anyone to change my mind." He sat up and opened his eyes. "I saw your face, and I knew that even if I could never have you, it would be better to admire you from afar and watch you be happy with someone else." While Rachel choked on the swell of love and hurt and elation in her chest, Finn stood up, patted her once on the shoulder, then headed into his bedroom.
Yes, she could save it until morning, that was splendid. While Puck was out (no doubt with Santana), she figured it couldn't hurt if she borrowed his bed for the night.
lv. At 8am, an unfamiliar alarm started to beep incessantly, disrupting Rachel from a rather interesting dream about a cactus that enjoyed ballet. Stretching an arm out to turn it off, she was beaten to it by someone beside her in the bed, and her eyes were too heavy and her senses too dulled to put two and two together.
But oh, of course! She'd visited Finn the previous night, so who else could it be? Snuggling closer to the warm body that was pressed up against her, she buried her face in the crook of his elbow while he murmured something under his breath.
"Good morning, Finn."
"Wrong roommate, babe."
Like someone had doused her in a bucket of ice cold water, Rachel shot up with an indignant squeal, slamming her arm against Puck's nose in the process. Said boy howled in pain as he clutched his face and cursed to the high heavens, and as if things couldn't get any worse, Finn hurried into the room, a look of horror marring his features.
The 'couldn't get any worse' aspect came from the fact that he was wearing nothing but a very, very tight pair of black boxer briefs, proving the theory that big feet indeed correlated with having a large...
Well, you know.
"What the hell's going on?" he groaned, more out of exasperation than anger. He rubbed his eyes roughly as he yawned, and like the mature adult she was, Rachel pulled the duvet over her head to hide her utter embarrassment.
"I think my nose is broken!"
"Doesn't look like it to me, and it's not bleeding so you might be lucky. Can I ask you why you're uh... both in the same bed?"
Risking a peek, Rachel lowered the duvet, low enough to look Finn in the eyes. "The couch looked uncomfortable and I assumed that Noah would be away for the night to fornicate with Santana."
He snorted beside her, though it wasn't the smartest of moves, not when his nose was apparently causing him so much discomfort. "If only. After all that makeover shit I had to watch and endure, she said she just wanted to watch TV then go to sleep." He snorted again, only to wince in pain. "I didn't know you were gonna be in my bed, Berry, and I was too pissed off last night to notice." Raising his eyebrows, he tried to look under the covers, though lovely, thoughtful, chivalrous Finn smacked him across the back of his head before he could.
"Don't be such a pig."
"I just wanted to know if she was naked! Did you two fuck in here last night?"
"N-no!" Rachel spluttered, and she saw Finn's face flush in a similar way to her own.
Puck let out a low whistle. "Dude, you blind? After San was done with all the makeup and hair and dress and stuff, I would have screwed her myself. You gay or something?"
Finn said nothing, and didn't even offer Rachel a smile before he disappeared back to his own room, leaving her to Puck's dirty errant thoughts.
"Don't even think about it."
lvi. Breakfast was sufficiently awkward. For a start, she'd had to borrow one of Puck's NYFD shirts, which Finn obviously disapproved of. Oh, he didn't state his jealously out loud, but there really was no need; she could practically smell it in the air as she left the bedroom, and his eyes seemed to burn holes into her back.
For another, when she offered to make pancakes for the three of them, Finn claimed he wasn't hungry, and Puck insisted that he relied on coffee alone to set him up for the rest of the day (and they were apparently all out). Having already made the batter, Rachel was forced to make a stupidly large stack of pancakes for herself, despite only being able to eat three at the most.
That is, she could only usually eat three of her vegan recipe pancakes. She'd specifically used the eggs she'd found in the boys' fridge, which meant she wasn't about to eat them herself.
So the three of them sat at the table, each preoccupied with something else. Rachel's attention flitted between the two of them, waiting for anyone to strike up a conversation. Puck was distracted by the way his hand shook with 'coffee withdrawals', and though he held it down onto the table, it still quivered, craving caffeine. Finn just stared at the colossal pile of pancakes in the middle of the table. His eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw set, and by the way he kept his focus, never blinking, it was as if he was battling an inner breakfast demon.
"You're a vegan," he finally said, and both Puck and Rachel stared at him like he'd just grown a second head.
"I... why yes, I am."
Taking a fork, he picked up a pancake and sniffed it carefully.
"I promise I haven't poisoned them."
He ignored her silly comment and narrowed his eyes. "These have eggs in them... right?"
"Yes," she admitted, and she looked over at Puck, who was muttering something about coffee under his breath. "I made them for you, actually, but I should have asked you first."
"You know I love pancakes."
It wasn't a question, but more of a 'I told you that once before and you remembered it' kind of statement, and Rachel just nodded.
"Thanks."
And then he got to work on eating every last one until he had to go back to bed to sleep it off, and Rachel simply flashed him a bashful smile when he thanked her with a kiss on the cheek.
That was the second time he'd done that, perfect apart from the gagging sounds that Puck made in the background.
lvii. "Well kids, this has been fun but my shift starts in half an hour and I promised the Chief I wouldn't be late."
"For a change," quipped Finn, who was staring out the window of their apartment; Puck flipped him off, despite the frown that Rachel gave him.
"No fucking in my bed, I only just cleaned my sheets."
Before either Finn or Rachel could respond, Puck was out of the door, leaving the two of them, alone, in an empty apartment, their unaired differences hanging above their heads.
Great.
"Like I'd want to do that kind of thing in his bed anyway," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest with a snort. "There's dirty laundry all over Noah's floor, and I'm sure your room is much more agreeable."
Finn turned to look at her, his face nonchalant and unreadable, and he shrugged. "Wanna find out?"
So that's how Rachel found herself sitting on Finn's bed, though she was still fully clothed and her lips were yet to be kissed by the boy in front of her. In fact, despite all the ways that being in Finn's bedroom could have been perceived as morally wrong (she let out a mental sigh at the thought), they didn't do a whole lot.
It probably had something to do with the fact that he'd left as soon as she'd entered, and after shouting something about the shower, she was forced to leave him to it.
It was presumptuous. It was terrible. It was one of those moments that you saw in movies and TV shows which that made you roll your eyes at the character's stupidity. Because really, why would you root around someone's personal belongings without their permission?
Ah, that's right, to snoop on them and find out more while they no doubt lathered their naked body in soap in the next room.
The less thoughts about that the better.
Temporarily pushing aside her guilt, Rachel took a tour of his little room, and by little, she really did mean little. Most of the space had been taken up by a king sized bed, though due to the height of him, it wasn't hard to tell why. A small, wooden, 'I look like a hand-me-down' table had been squeezed between the bed and the wall, and on top sat a simple lamp, digital alarm clock, and a New York Fire Department badge.
Glancing over her shoulder, she opened the small drawer to find a box of unopened condoms (a note attached in the terrible handwriting of Puck that said 'I got the ones with the shortest expiration date to force you into using 'em.'), an old pager with a crack right down the screen (she gasped out loud when she saw the way it had melted under a high heat), a few phone numbers scribbled onto pieces of scrap paper, and a-
A, uh...
A photo of Rachel.
Ever wondered why it was rude to intrude? This was a perfect example. She recognised the image from the agency website (one of many that Artie had taken to advertise herself to potential clients), but the frame that it was in was of Finn's own doing.
"Busted," came a soft voice from the door. Rachel dropped the picture like a hot coal as she turned around to face him, and if Santana had been there, there was no doubt that Bashful would have been her nickname of the hour. "You think I'm a total loser."
"N-no, Finn, I-"
He took three large steps towards her. His eyes looked down at her lips, licking his own, and she readied herself, readied herself for what had to be coming.
He grabbed the picture, pulled it out of the frame, and folded it over roughly before shoving it into his pocket. "I'm actually gonna go shower now, so it'd be cool if you left."
And then he left, without so much as a goodbye.
The urge to be nosy had long since gone, and with a bitter taste in her mouth, Rachel let herself out and rubbed her eyes until they dripped with tears.
So much for a grand declaration of love.
lviii. Two can play at this texting stand-off.
it's not a stand off.
Then why are you being so hostile and un-Finnlike?
if you need me to go into details then i think you're talking to the wrong guy.
Finn, please?
i have work, see ya.
Please.
i'll be alright, don't worry about me.
Easier said than done.