I'll give you this confession
I am taking you with me
Where we can contemplate our chemistry
And your eyes were lined with questions
With the blood rushing to waste
To take this feeling with us to our graves
To our graves
They spend the first night isolated.
He lets her have his room, hastily grabbing an armful of clothes that he dumps on the armchair in the living room while she stands awkwardly by the door, asking him for the tenth time if he minds.
"I don't," he says as he walks out with a pillow and a blanket, shooting her a reassuring smile. "You can stay as long as you like."
He would like to tell her that she could stay forever if she wants, but maybe it's still too soon for that.
She shoots him a small, almost shy smile and once again he is taken aback by how different she is from the Rachel that he used to know. His Rachel had never been so restraint. He wonders who she is, what she's like. He wonders if there's any part of her that she shares with the woman that used to love him.
She grabs her luggage, pulling it behind her as she walks and he catches the flash of pink dangling off the handle. Her tag is the outline of a star, pink and glittery, her name written in black cursive letters in the middle. He smiles.
He gets the feeling that things won't fall into place as easily this time around, but he doesn't mind.
Because just like before, he's in love with her already.
Xxx
He falls into a restless sleep and is wide awake by five. Lying stretched out on the couch, he tries to listen for any movement coming from the room, feeling just a little disappointed when there is none. Rachel used to wake up hours before he ever did, her morning routine usually starting as early as five thirty. Maybe this is just one of those things that are going to be different.
He makes himself busy, folding his blanket and placing it neatly on his pillow before heading to the bathroom for a shower.
By seven, he's whistling as he hurries up the steps, carrying the breakfast he bought downstairs. He pushes his door open and his whistling stops when she stands frozen in the doorway of her room. She looks surprised to see him, blushing as she looks down at her shorts and tank top.
"Hi," he says softly, walking in and closing the door behind him. She smiles, still looking mildly uncomfortable.
"Good morning," she murmurs. He grins, holding up the package in his hand.
"I made breakfast," he jokes. She cracks a brighter smile at that as she chuckles.
"I'll just um- I'll be right back." She makes a beeline for the door, closing it softly behind her.
"Okay," he says quietly to the empty room.
She comes out of hiding ten minutes later as he's pouring coffee in a mug, the food spread out on the table before him, and she's already well put together, in a yellow sundress, hair combed to a shine. He wonders if it'll ever occur to her that he's seen her in much, much less than those sinful boy shorts and tiny tank top, that he has seen her hair messy and wild and rumpled, or that he'll take her in any which way she wants.
"What's for breakfast?" she asks brightly. He grins, sweeping his hand grandly over the spread.
"All American," he tells her. "Pancakes, eggs and the best bacon this side of New York City."
He doesn't fail to catch the look on her face.
"What's wrong?" he asks. She shakes her head, smiling weakly at him.
"I'm a vegan," she tells him.
She's a what? He stares blankly at her.
"Um-"
"I don't eat meat," she says slowly.
"You don't?"
"I guess- I guess your Rachel did."
"Yeah she- you did," he says in dismay. So much for impressing her with food. He looks glumly at the mountain of food before them, wrecking his brain to find something for her. Did Kurt leave any of his shitty oatmeal behind?
Her sudden move startles him as she pulls out a chair to sit on.
"I'll have the pancakes," she tells him, smiling.
"You don't have to-"
"What the heck," she says. "Let's live a little."
He grins at that, pulling out a chair to sit across from her.
"Well then in that case, you'll need some syrup," he starts, pouring a generous helping of maple syrup over her pancakes. "And butter. Lots of butter."
Xxx
"So what's the plan?" he asks, shoving her share of bacon in his mouth.
"Plan?"she repeats.
"Yeah. You know, what are you gonna do?"
She looks thoughtfully at him, one hand absent-mindedly pushing a small piece of pancake with her fork.
"I'm kind of wigging it," she confesses, smiling ruefully. "Crazy, huh? I figured I've started over once before, you know? Granted, I remember absolutely nothing, but hey, that was probably how I started out six years ago anyway, so I could do it again. And this just- this just feels like the right place to start. Everybody thinks I'm crazy."
"Who's everybody?" he asks sharply, frowning.
"Everyone back home. They look at me like I'm a ghost, and I guess in some ways I kind of am. I mean, it's been years, and everyone's carried on, and then there's me, still stuck in time. I just- I don't belong there anymore." She shrugs. "I'm on my own now. And it's not as bad as I thought it would be."
"Jesse told me," he says quietly. "You know, some stuff about you."
"I know," she answers quietly, giving him a small smile. "He said he was going to. It's kind of the reason why I'm here right now. Well, aside from Santana locking me out of her apartment that is."
"Yeah, she's kind of a bitch like that."
"I like it," she says, her voice a little wistful. "I like her. She's fierce, fearless. That's what I want to be."
"Minus the heinous bitch part though, right?" he teases.
She laughs, her eyes twinkling as she looks at him and nods.
"Minus that."
"You are, you know," he says, leaning back against his seat. "Fearless. Just look at what you're doing. You're like, single-handedly taking control of your destiny. That's awesome."
She snorts, shaking her head.
"You're making me sound much braver than I am. But the truth is I'm terrified. I mean, I left everything Finn. Everything I ever knew."
"It's a good thing you're not alone then," he says nonchalantly, his tone belying the way his heart is drumming against his ribcage. She looks at him almost like she's in awe for a moment before the small, shy smile he's learned to associate with this Rachel stretches across her lips.
She looks down at her plate, blushing, and he makes himself busy, ignoring the heat he feels in his cheeks as he starts to clean up.
Xxx
"Finn?"
He turns his attention away from the dishes as he looks at her expectantly. She hands him her plate and he smiles, taking it from her as he turns back to the sink.
"Will you- I mean, could you tell me, about us?"
He doesn't move, but his hands still under the running water.
"You don't- you don't have to-"
"What do you want to know?" he asks huskily. He almost drops the plate when she touches him, feeling the palm of her hand imprinted against his back.
"Everything," she tells him, curling her fingers into his shirt. "I want to know everything."
Xxx
She tells him to start from the beginning, so he does.
"We met four years ago, on September 14th," he tells her. He's sitting on his armchair, and she's sitting on the far end of the couch, her hands clasped together on her lap as she listens to him intently.
"Do you remember the time?" she asks. He chuckles, shaking his head. This is just like her, thorough down to the second.
"Oh," she answers, a little disappointed.
"Maybe it was eight?" he offers. "In the morning. It was your first day on the job-"
"What was I doing?"
"You were the school receptionist. It was a temp job," he says when she wrinkles her nose. He laughs as he remembers.
"You thought I was the new kid, and you spent like, ten minutes telling me about the class schedules."
"And you just let me?"
"I tried to stop you, but you had that thing memorized to a tee, and you won't let me speak."
"That's embarrassing," she says, shaking her head as she blushes.
"Nah, it was cute," he says fondly. "I've never seen anybody talk that fast, not even Kurt when he tried to convince Blaine that spending three hundred dollars on a jacket was like, totally normal."
"Who's Kurt?" she asks curiously.
The question throws him off.
"Oh he's um- he's my brother."
"Oh. Who's Blaine?"
"His boyfriend."
"Ah. Then what happened?"
"Then Principal McGill came out of his office and asked me why I'm flirting with the new girl, which was about the time you realized that Finn Hudson is the music teacher."
He grins, remembering the way her face had turned beet red as she apologized to him.
"No problem Miss Berry," he'd told her in amusement, stressing on her name the way she had done. "You're just about the best one-girl welcoming committee I'd ever met. The new kids won't know what hit 'em."
"You wouldn't look at me the whole day," he informs her, grinning.
"Was I always embarrassing myself in front of you?" she asks with a smile, shaking her head. He grins, grabbing the back of his neck a little bashfully as he remembers what happened next.
"I think it was a pretty mutual thing," he confesses.
"Continue," she says, sitting up with a grin on her face.
"You caught me um- 'rocking out' in the music room during recess the next day. Air guitars and all."
She laughs.
"And just like that we were on even ground," she predicts.
"That's not even the worst of it."
"Tell me."
He pretends to groan, grinning as she looks at him in anticipation.
"You caught me dancing."
"So?"
"Well in the words of my dear brother, when I try, it looks like I'm trying to demolish a colony of red ants."
She giggles.
"You can't be that bad," she scoffs.
"Oh believe me, I really am."
"I'll believe it when I see it," she tells him, raising an eyebrow.
"Is that a challenge?" he asks, grinning.
"It sounds like one," she teases.
"I think," he says, shaking his head. "That it's time for another story."
"Chicken," she teases.
"Hey I'm trying to be appealing here, not put you off," he jokes. But not really, because his dancing really is honest to God terrible.
"You don't really have to worry about that," she says quietly. He looks up at her in surprise and she looks away shyly, her cheeks crimson red.
"That's good to know," he murmurs, his own blood rushing to his face.
Xxx
It takes them about a week to fall into a routine.
On Sunday he wakes up to the sound of her busily making breakfast in the kitchen. She smiles when she sees his sleepy state and goes back to scrambling his eggs for him.
She does the same thing on Monday, except it's toast, and when he comes home from work, he finds a fridge stocked full of groceries. She tells him that it's the least of her contribution, for now, as she doesn't intend to be a complete freeloader and take advantage of him. She even picked up some bacon and sausages for him, although she wrinkles her nose as she tells him this.
The rest of the week goes by in a relatively constant manner of him waking up to find her already piling his plate with whatever she's made for breakfast, the smell of coffee wafting through the air. They spend the evenings talking as she soaks up all there is to know about Rachel Berry, a woman she's still convinced is nothing like her.
"She sounds amazing," she tells him, eyes wide in awe when he told her about the first call back she ever got, of him sitting in the freezing cold out on the pavement with her as they waited for the director to leave. He shook his head but grinned when he remembered the way she had jumped up immediately, demanding that the small, alarmed man take a second listen to her as she belted out Streisand right there in the middle of the street at nine in the evening.
"You still are, you know," he says softly, but she shakes her head.
"I'm nothing like her."
A lot of things are different. The apartment isn't filled with the sound of her voice anymore, he never catches her bobbing her head along to whatever melody that's filling her head at any given time. She's calmer, less prone to dramatics, she doesn't let her feelings show so easily. It's harder to read her. She's insecure, and after everything she's been through, he guesses she has every right to be. Sometimes when he's talking he sees a sort of wistfulness on her face. It hurts, because it looks like the way he feels.
"Sometimes I wish I could give her back to you," she murmurs.
She thinks she's nothing like Rachel Berry.
And maybe she's not, not exactly.
He knows she thinks Rachel Berry was special, something she'll never be again.
He knows better than to argue, but he wholeheartedly disagrees. He looks at her and sees a woman strong enough to leave everything she knew to start all over again in a place she can't remember. He sees a woman awesome enough to go out there to find what she wants. He sees a woman brave enough to trust him, even though she doesn't really have any reason to.
He looks at her and he sees Rachel. Just Rachel.
But she doesn't talk about herself a lot. Or at all, really. Everything he knows, everything he guesses, came from one conversation with Jesse St. James. It frustrates him that she's still so secretive and yes, childish as it may be, it annoys the shit out of him to know that Jesse still knows more about her than he does.
But he knows her better than Jesse St. James ever will, and one day he knows she'll see this.
He doesn't mind waiting. Much.
Xxx
They reach just past the one month mark when he meets Star for the first time.
"Rachel?" he calls out as he closes the door behind him, dropping his backpack (the kids call it Mr. H's swag bag because of the candy he keeps in the front pouch. He's found that throwing candy at ten year old boys with short attention spans helps a lot. Rachel used to laugh at that and told him he needed to be careful with the way he phrased his sentences, but come on. He only wished he had a teacher as cool as him when he was ten. He would have paid more attention for sure.) on the floor. She doesn't answer and he drops his keys on the coffee table as he sits on the couch. He's about to lean forwards for the remote when something jumps at him.
"Holy shit!" He jumps back in surprise as he curses, his heart beating a mile a minute as he cautiously lowers his hands from his face to look at what attacked him.
It's white and furry and really tiny, and he frowns when it looks up at him innocently from his lap.
"Uh... Rachel?" he calls out, bewildered. "Did you know there's a cat in here?"
It makes a small noise as it makes its way towards his torso and he notices the brown patches of fur on his paws. Rachel strides out of the toilet, whistling for the first time in like, ever. She stops in surprise when she sees him before she smiles.
"You're home," she says warmly.
"Yeah. We've got a break in," he says, pointing down to his lap that the little furball has by now made into a comfortable bed. She grins when she sees this, before she looks back up at him, smiling a little hesitantly.
"I found her on my way home from the market this morning," she tells him. He can tell she's trying really hard not to sound too excited. "She was shivering, the poor thing, and starving too. I bought her some milk and she finished the whole thing in five minutes."
"Oh," he says blankly, afraid to move by now because he doesn't want to crush the little thing. She says nothing after that, but she's looking at it like it's the most perfect thing in the world.
"So this stray cat-"
"She's a kitten."
"Right. This kitten," he corrects himself. He looks at Rachel who's still looking down at the kitten, her eyes shining. "Do you um- do you wanna keep it?"
Her head shoots up towards him, colour rising towards her cheeks as she fails to hide the hope blooming on her face.
"Are you letting me keep it?" she asks quietly. "I mean, this is your place-"
"It's yours too," he cuts in. A smile grows on her face as she moves to sit next to him.
"I can keep her," she says quietly, almost to herself as she runs one finger over the kitten's tiny head. Her smile grows into a Rachel Berry beam when it purrs and his heart skips a beat, because that's the first time he has seen it in a long, long time. It stretches itself on his lap as it burrows its head between his torso and his thigh, and he chuckles.
"She's kind of cute," he tells Rachel softly, leaning back against the couch. "What are you naming her?"
"Star," Rachel says without missing a beat. He looks at her, his heart thumping furiously in his chest.
"Why?" he asks quietly, holding his breath. She turns to him and smiles, pointing downwards. Star is on her back, her paws up in the air he sees the patch of brown shaped like a star on her belly. He chuckles, cautiously scratching it with one finger.
"Oh," he says. "That's kinda cool."
"Also, I've always loved stars," she confides as she looks up at him, smiling widely. "They're just so magical, the idea of something so gigantic and powerful surrounding us, you know? But they look so small from where we are, and they're just so beautiful to look at. You know," she continues in a childish voice as she picks Star up and buries her nose in its fur. "I knew you were special when I saw that. It was like a sign, like a- like a metaphor."
"And metaphors are important," he murmurs, remembering what she used to tell him once, years ago. Rachel looks up at him and smiles.
"Exactly," she tells him, grinning.
Xxx
He steps into the bar hurriedly. He's late, and he knows how she hates it when people are late, despite the fact that she's late almost eighty percent of the time anyway. But whatever, she's a real bitch when she's cranky, and he tries to avoid that as much as he can.
He sees her on a stool at the bar, probably chatting up that Hell's Angel next to her, judging by their proximity. He rolls his eyes, smirking as he makes his way to the bar. He nudges her shoulder as he slides in next to her, and she turns with a nasty glare on her face until she sees that it's him.
"You're late," she tells him in a bored voice.
"Sorry. The kids held me back."
"Yeah, yeah whatever."
The Hell's Angel taps her on the shoulder and she brushes his hand away impatiently.
"My date's here Floppy-Hair. You should have closed five minutes ago."
He gives 'Floppy-Hair' an apologetic smile when the huge man glares at him.
"I thought you didn't roll that way," he comments, a little confused as he watches the dude walk away.
"I roll any way I want to. The straight and narrow path is a little boring if you ask me. Sometimes a girl just needs a good sized co-"
"How are you doing Santana?" he cuts in, grimacing. She rolls her eyes as she ignores his question.
"So I just came back from your little love nest, because apparently Berry-"
"Her last name's Corcoran you know,"
"Well Corcoran is a shitty name and Berry just sounds better, so I'll call her whatever the hell I want to. Anyway, apparently she's all domesticated now, and God forbid if she leaves the place for five fucking minutes, the little mutt will commit suicide or something."
"Star's a cat Santana."
"Whatever. She's still a pain in my ass."
He chuckles, nodding his head in thanks as the bartender hands him his drink.
"Well Rachel loves her," he says, grinning. They've hit the three month mark, and it's like she's a completely different person now that she has Star. He sees a different part of her as she fusses over the cat like it's her baby. Star for her part, has turned from a small, slightly slow kitten into a small, really fast one, who jumps his shoelaces like she's a ninja cat or something. He shakes his head, grinning as he remembers last week, when the cat had been puking furballs for two straight days and Rachel had worriedly asked him to accompany her to the vet. It had been nothing, of course, just that the little thing had been grooming herself a little too enthusiastically, but it was the first time she held his hand in what felt like years, as they waited for the vet to be done with Star.
His lips turn up on one side as he looks down at his right hand, flexing his fingers. Sometimes he still feels the warmth of her palm against his.
Santana smacks the back of his head and snaps him out of his reverie.
"The hell Lopez?" he exclaims, glaring at the woman.
"The hell you're doing Hudson?"
"What are you talking about?"
"How long has she come back?"
"Three months," he answers automatically. "And ten days."
"And what's going on?" Santana asks. She continues before he could answer. "I'll tell you what's going on. A big, fat nothing, that's what's going on. Really Hudson? You're letting a freaking mutt hone in on your territory?"
"We're- we're taking things slow."
"No, you're not. Slow, is getting somewhere, you're not even moving," Santana continues wryly. He rolls his eyes, grabbing the back of his neck.
"It's complicated."
"She's gonna think that you're not interested," Santana warns. He scoffs at that.
"That's ridiculous. I'm more than interested."
"Yeah? What do you spend your time doing? Other than fawning over the stray, that is."
"We- we talk."
"About what?"
"Well- lots of things. Like, like-"
"Like Rachel?"
He doesn't say anything to that, eyes focused straight into his glass.
"Look," Santana starts in a gentler voice. "I miss her too you know. But she's not coming back-"
"I know that," he answers quickly, his tone firm. "Okay? I know."
"Do you believe it?"
"What are you talking about? Of course I-"
"No, I know you know it. But do you believe that? When you look at her, do you see her? Or are you waiting for someone else to appear?"
"I-" he starts uncertainly. He thinks about it, about their nights together, about him telling her everything he remembers, about feeling wistful sometimes when he speaks, remembering the woman he used to love and still miss. He thinks about the look she has on her face sometimes, that unfathomable, inconsolable look she gets after he tells her a story, before she excuses herself and turns in early.
But he thinks about the feelings he gets too, the clamouring, yearning need to wipe that look away, or the way his heart kind of flutters and jumps when she smiles, or talks to Star in that little, tiny voice, or when he wakes up in the morning and sees her smiling face and hears her soft "good morning" the first thing. He thinks about her, about how he thinks about her always, all the time, what she's doing, how she's feeling, what she needs.
He thinks about her.
"I do believe it," he tells Santana, looking her straight in the eyes, convinced. "I see her."
"Well then you better move quick Stretch, or she's gonna think you're not interested. And I'm not just making this shit up out of nowhere," she finishes cryptically as she finishes her drink.
Xxx
Star mewls loudly from her place on the floor as she stands on her hindlegs, her front paws digging into his pants. He looks down and shakes his head at her.
"You know what Rachel says," he tells the cat. "No human food for you."
It's like she understands him or something, because she lets go and turns abruptly, walking away towards the end of the kitchen to sulk. He rolls his eyes, turning to look at Rachel who smiles warmly back at him. He thinks about what Santana said.
"Hey," he starts carefully, twirling the pesto around his fork for the tenth time. "Do you have any plans on Friday night?"
"Friday night?" she repeats, looking up at him. Her brows furrow and her temple creases as she tries to remember. "I don't think so. Why?"
"Well- the middle school is having a dance. And I kinda promised to chaperone-"
"I thought you teach at the elementary school?" she asks, confused as she cuts in.
"I do. But it's the sister school, and- and they've been having some budget cuts the last year or so and they were gonna cut the music program because they didn't have a teacher, so I kind of volunteered myself I guess."
"You're teaching those kids for free?" she asks softly. The way she's looking at him is making him blush, embarrassed.
"Well it's only one class a week, and they have to like, cramp all these kids together, which is kinda really shitty for them- but," he stops, smiling nervously at her. "But that's not the point. What I wanted to say was, I have to chaperone these kids on Friday, and well, these things kinda suck when you're alone."
"Are you- are you asking me to be your date?"
"I know it's like really lame. I mean it's totally fine if you don't want to-"
"Finn."
"Yeah?" He watches her nervously, grabbing the back of his neck as the small smile on her face stretches into a huge beam.
"I'd love to go to the dance with you Finn."
"Awesome," he answers, relieved. "So it's a date."
"Yeah," she agrees, looking back down at her pasta as she smiles to herself. "It's a date."
Xxx
Friday comes faster than he had anticipated, and on the day itself, he finds himself up to his neck with last minute emergencies. He sighs as he stands on a chair, fixing another lantern up against the fake lamppost they've lined all along the gym. How the hell did he get roped into this anyway? Since when is a chaperone part of the decorating committee?
"You're a lifesaver Mr. H," Caitlyn gushes as she hands him another lantern. "The rest of the committee are all leaving early to get ready, and I'm just not tall enough to reach those lightbulbs safely."
"No problem," he answers easily. "How many do we have left?"
He looks down at the young girl, who points her hand to the left. He looks, stifling a sigh when he sees the long line.
"Let's take a break," he suggests to Caitlyn, who pushes her glasses up her nose a little impatiently, but nods her head. He shoots the well-meaning, but slightly high strung girl a smile as he climbs off the chair, pulling out his phone from his pocket to call Rachel.
"Hi Finn,"
"Hey," he answers easily. "Where are you?"
"I'm um- shopping for my dress, with Santana- what? It's Finn. Yeah, yeah I told him. What? I'm not going to say that! What-"
"What's going on?" he asks curiously.
"Nothing," Rachel answers quickly. "Nothing at all. Santana's just being ridiculous-"
"She looks hot enough to eat Hudson!" Santana screams through the phone and he grins as Rachel shushes her immediately.
"Sorry about that," she answers breathlessly. "I just threw her out of the dressing room. What's up?"
"Nothing. Just- I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it home before the dance."
"Oh."
"I'm so sorry. It's just, this girl just asked me for help with the gym decoration, and her friends kinda bailed on her so-"
"Finn it's okay. I mean, it's not like you're standing me up or anything."
"God no! I just wanted to know- and I swear I'll make it up to you, I'm just wondering if I could meet you here? At the school?"
"Sure," she answers brightly. "It's no problem."
"I'm so sorry Rachel-"
"Finn," she cuts in again, her voice gentle. "It's not a problem. Really. I'll see you in a few hours 'kay?"
"You're pretty awesome," he tells her, smiling. "You know that?"
She doesn't say anything to that, but he pictures her smile, that small, shy upturn of her lips.
"I'll see you later Finn."
Xxx
He taps his foot impatiently against the linoleum as he watches the entrance. He had positioned himself next to the buffet table so that he could get a good look at her when she comes in, but it's been half an hour, and there's no sign of her anywhere. She didn't stand him up, did she?
"Hi Mr. H."
He looks to his left to find Caitlyn smiling at him as she piles her plate high with food.
"Hey! You look nice," he says. She blushes as she looks down at her dress, before looking up at him as she beams. "Are you having a good time?"
Her smile falters a little and he frowns as she continues to pile her plate.
"Are you okay Caitlyn?" Her shoulders quiver before she puts her plate down a little too loudly on the table as she looks up at him, tears filling her eyes.
Oh shit.
"Everyone in this school hates me," she mumbles.
"I-" he starts awkwardly. "I'm sure that's not true-"
"How would you know? You're only here once a week Mr. H."
Well that's true. She looks at him glumly, like she's hoping he could make her feel better or something, but he's never really been good with this kind of stuff. He's more the sing-what-you-feel type of teacher. He kind of gets why the girl would be annoying though, 'cause she can be a little overbearing a lot of the time, and she never does seem to sit with anyone in his class. But still. She's a kid. She shouldn't feel this shitty just yet.
"Well I like you," he says, shooting her a smile as he puts his punch down. "What do ya say to a dance with me?"
"No offense Mr. H, but you're kinda old."
"Hey! I'm not that old, and you know what, I'm kinda bummed 'cause my date's running late. Humor me a little. What do you say?"
A fast song is playing, and yeah, he's going to look like an idiot on the dance floor, but he's already got the seal of uncoolness from these twelve year olds, so whatever. Caitlyn's face lights up a little as she giggles at his signature shuffle-and-point move, and hey, it feels kind of worth it. The song finishes in three minutes and he has her, along with most of the kids surrounding then, laughing by the end of it, and she finally looks like she's actually having fun at the dance she'd spent so much time on.
"That was fun," Caitlyn concedes as they walk back towards the buffet table.
"Just put yourself out there," he tells her. "The universe loves positive energy."
"Who told you that?"
"My girlfriend."
"Is she like a hippie or something?" the girl asks, wrinkling her nose as she pushes her glasses up. He laughs, shaking his head.
"No. She just believes in karma."
"Oh. Is that her?" He looks up to where Caitlyn is pointing at and a smile grows on his face when he sees Rachel, standing by the buffet table, waving at him.
"Yeah," he says. "Yeah that's her."
"She's really pretty," Caitlyn whispers as they reach closer.
"She really is," he agrees, smiling at Rachel when he reaches her.
"Sorry I'm late," she says apologetically. "I got lost at the station," she continues sheepishly.
"You took the subway? In your dress?"
"Yeah, well Santana is busy tonight so..." She trails her words as she looks at the young girl looking back curiously at her, smiling pleasantly.
"Oh this is Caitlyn," he says as he remembers her. "Caitlyn, this is Rachel."
"It's nice to meet you," Rachel says, smiling as she shakes the younger girl's hand.
"It's nice to meet you too Miss Rachel. I guess I'll just go back to eating now," Caitlyn tells them drearily as she starts to turn around.
"Hey," he calls out. "Remember what I said, positive energy."
"Yeah, yeah," Caitlyn says dismissively, but she smiles at him before she walks away.
He turns to look back at Rachel, frowning a little. She's literally swimming in that jacket. Hey-
"Isn't that my-"
"Oh yes! Sorry, I forgot. I brought this for you," she says quickly, taking it off and handing it to him. "I just, you know, figured you'd like to wear something to look more formal. Not," she continues hastily, "that you don't look good, because sweater vests look great on you."
He barely listens to her as he takes in the dress she's wearing, a small, black little thing that reveals so much more than any of her sundresses ever do, but somehow still appropriate enough for a school dance. Go figure.
"Finn?" He snaps back to attention to find Rachel looking a little worriedly at him.
"Wow, you um- you look really good," he finishes, grinning as she blushes.
"Thanks," she murmurs. "Santana helped with this. Actually, she wasn't that much help. She kept wanting me to try on all these highly inappropriate dresses, but she found this one too, so."
She shrugs, smiling up at him. His palms are starting to sweat as he shrugs his jacket on nervously.
"You um- you wanna dance?"
"Finally showing me your legendary moves?" she teases as she takes his hand. He laughs, slipping his fingers easily between hers.
"I'm finally taking you up on that challenge."
Xxx
He steps on her toes five times during the first five minutes. For her part, all she does is wince and tell him she's fine. God, he's blushing. He's accepted the fact that he's a tragic dancer, but damn it, he had thought his feet wouldn't actually bail on him completely.
"I told you I suck," he tells her apologetically.
"No it's fine," she answers. "To be fair, you did tell me. And- and you look adorable trying," she tells him shyly. He chuckles.
"Is that a nicer way of telling me to never take you dancing again?"
"No," she murmurs, shaking her head as she looks up at him, grinning. "What're a few broken toes, right?"
"Are you mocking me, Miss Corcoran?"
"I am sir."
He grins at the cheeky smile on her face. A slow song starts to play, an old eighties ballad that he's pretty sure none of these kids have ever heard before. She takes his hand, smiling at him a little hesitantly before she places it just above her hip.
"I think I can take one more broken toe," she tells him in a soft voice. He smiles as she wraps her arms around his neck and he puts his other hand at her waist.
"Or we could just sway," he whispers. She giggles into his shirt, nodding.
He doesn't know if she could actually hear how wildly his heart is beating. Maybe it's the setting, but he feels just like a kid on his first date, dancing with the girl he likes and not knowing what to do. She told him that she went to only one dance while she was still in school and it had been bad enough that she wouldn't go to another one again. They're having fun tonight. It's like they're on neutral ground, nothing in their way but the prospect of getting to know one another.
"You know, you're a really good teacher," she tells him as they sway on the spot.
"Thanks. I try."
"I'm serious. If I had a teacher like you in school, I probably wouldn't have hated it so much."
"I liked school," he tells her honestly.
"Yeah you look like the type that would," she teases.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean you're tall, good-looking. You probably have been since you were like, fifteen or something."
"I played football," he confesses. She looks up, grinning.
"See? I knew it. You were the popular kid."
"What about you?"
"Me? I was the social reject." She laughs ruefully. "I guess that kind of never changed."
"It's changing now," he murmurs, pulling her closer as he tightens his grip on her.
"Yeah," she replies, leaning her head against his chest. "Yeah I guess it is."
xxx
Their fingers are interlocked as they walk together in the quiet of the night. The streetlamps cast shadows on the pavement, and he smiles to himself when he sees theirs, two shadows merging as one.
"I had a wonderful time tonight," she tells him, breaking their comfortable silence.
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
"Even with the really bad dancing?"
She laughs, shaking her head.
"That's my favorite part actually."
He grins.
"Last year, you took the stage when the DJ bailed on us at the last minute," he says, grinning as the memory comes to him suddenly. "You killed it, of course, and the kids loved it."
He looks down in surprise when his hand feels empty. She's gripping the lapels of his jacket as she looks forwards, a small frown on her face.
"Hey you okay?" he asks, concerned. She turns to give him a half-hearted smile as she nods.
"It's just- it's cold," she says, wrapping his jacket tighter around herself.
"Oh. Okay."
He looks at her nervously, contemplating putting an arm around her.
You are a grown ass man Finn Hudson.
Carefully, he inches closer to put an arm around her. She stiffens for just a second and he holds his breath, releasing it as she relaxes. Slowly, he pulls her against him. She rests her head against his side and he relaxes as they walk together.
"You look so beautiful tonight," he tells her quietly.
"Thank you," she murmurs. She's driving him crazy. She's been doing it all night.
"Rachel," he says as he stops abruptly. She halts in surprise as she looks up at him and he releases her, only to turn her body towards him. Her eyes are questioning as she looks at him in wonder, widening when she realizes that he's moving in closer.
"What?" she murmurs, her eyes fluttering down to his lips. He moves his hands from her shoulders down to her waist, wrapping them around her small frame to pull her even closer.
"I really want to kiss you," he whispers, his lips just inches away from hers. She says nothing, but she leans up towards him as her eyes finally close, and he takes that as a yes. Carefully, his lips find hers, pressing just a little. Her hands are gripping the front of his sweater vest, and God, he misses her lips. He remembers the last time he kissed her, when she was still someone else's wife, as he opens his mouth to deepen their kiss, swallowing her tiny moan. He thinks he's probably dead when her hand moves up to graze his jaw with her nails. He feels her tongue grazing his teeth and lets her in, kissing her with all the pent-up desire he's been holding in for the past three months.
He pulls away, just far enough so that their lips are still touching as they breathe heavily against each other.
"Rachel," he murmurs, his lips brushing hers with every movement. "Rachel."
Her eyes snap open, and she pulls away, surprising him.
"Wha-"
"We need to hurry," she tells him quietly, her eyes hooded as she turns away and continues walking briskly down the street.
"Wait. Rachel-"
"Star is waiting for me," she says, hurrying away.
He looks after her, his heart bursting to sprint right out of his chest. That was- that was amazing. Didn't she feel that?
Why is she walking away?
I get the feeling we're so misdirected
I get the feeling we have lost control
Til then I'll turn you to the new religion
We're dropping out into the so unknown
A/N: So I hit past the 6000 word mark and realized that this is just going to be too long for one chapter. So you know what that means. I'm not even promising anything anymore.
Lyrics to The So Unknown by Jack's Mannequin
