A/N - Dedicated to our beloved Finny Bear, who has a birthday coming up Saturday. HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY TO FINN HUDSON, AUGUST 24TH! ️❤️🎂❤️
Mondays just plain suck.
Finn hates Mondays because he just got to sleep in for two days in a row on the weekend, and now his sleep schedule is all messed up but he can't sleep late now because he has to get up for school. He's too tired to wake up on time because he only just fell asleep like a couple of hours ago or something. So he inevitably hits the snooze bar repeatedly, which means his mom's gonna be in his room screaming at him and threatening to dump ice cubes and snakes in his bed or something horrible like that, and honestly, he doesn't mess with his mom because she means business – and yeah, she's done it before. So...
Usually by the third reset of the alarm, he decides he'd better drag ass outta bed soon because his semi-conscious brain knows from experience that the fourth slap of the snooze bar absolutely equals angry mom time and ice cubes or worse. But it also means now that he's done three prior snooze-slaps, he's too short on time to get a shower, get dressed and have breakfast. Which means he only has time enough to maybe do two of those things if he's super quick. He figures at least one of those things HAS to be the getting dressed part, because, yeah, he's so not streakin' his naked ass to school like a perv (and the only person besides himself who should ever be privy to the color of his boxers or the shape of the birth mark on his left ass cheek is Rachel).
From there it's a no brainer. In the choice is between getting wet and getting fed, he's picking food every time (unless of course, there's a naked Rachel in his shower, in which case the entire debate is moot and he's probably not even making it to school that day at all; the choice between food and sex isn't even a choice – though it could be a close call). Besides, he has gym second period and he can shower afterward (and like seriously, who ever decided it was a good idea to schedule GYM CLASS that damn early on a Monday morning anyway?).
Even if he manages to find time for breakfast, it's probably going to end up being the portable kind that he can eat while driving (typically of the pop-tart variety – untoasted, because if he had that kind of time to burn he'd be in the shower already).
Usually he runs straight for the cabinet over the stove once he's done completing his whirlwind tango dance of wash face/brush teeth/pee/get dressed as if he were some kind of octopus (and it really sucks when he forgets the toothbrush is still hanging out of his mouth when he's pulling the shirt over his head, especially when the damn thing slips and he manages to get toothpaste in his eye).
Since his hamper and the dresser containing his clean shirts sit side by side in the closet (really bad logistics there; he makes a mental note to reconsider that configuration), and because the time crunch means he's just gonna grab whatever first available clothing finds his hands (except underwear; those he takes the time to ensure are actually clean), he'll do a shirt and pit sniff-check and if he needs to. He'll just douse himself in a little extra Axe body spray – because like, that's what it's for after all, isn't it? If he's too pressed for time, he may opt for the all-in-one pulling the neck of the shirt over his nose while he's wearing it sniff check, although that maneuver has landed him the toothpaste in the eye more than once, so he uses it sparingly.
Another reason Mondays suck eggs is because it's the one day of the week he does not drive Rachel to school. She has some obscenely early extracurricular club to attend on Monday mornings (which, if he were a better boyfriend, he'd probably know the name of by now. The most he can recall is it sounds like horny vultures which is super weird, but he thinks it has something to do with gardening, maybe?).
True, Rachel will be waiting for him by his locker when he arrives at school, but not driving her to school means he has to wait like twenty minutes longer before seeing his smokin' hot girlfriend to start the week off on the right foot. Not to mention, the days he does drive her to school, she usually gives him incentives to be awake and on time picking her up. Rachel Berry is NEVER late you see, and she is extra good at rewarding him for punctuality – meaning he not only gets early morning kisses, but he might also score a few other special 'girlfriend treats' depending on Rachel's mood.
Of course, there's also one other possible hurdle for him to navigate in the mornings... Depending how much he saw his girl over the weekend (and how much of her he got to see - if you catch his drift), this means Mondays are a danger zone day for the whole morning wood situation. And if he wakes up having to deal with that, especially after the third snooze-slap, well, let's just say this kind of slap will pretty much always take precedence over food. He'd need those extra 97 seconds of time otherwise spent routing around the pantry to put them to better use, uh... handling other things. (Yes. Spanking the Monday morning monkey into submission is nearly as vital as the getting dressed part of his day – maybe even more so, depending on whether he slept long enough to dream and what she was wearing in said dream.)
So to recap: Mondays suck because he's tired, hungry, horny, not so clean, and potentially sporting minty fresh eyeballs.
Yes, Mondays suck enough all on their own. But the WORST ones are the ones like the present, when he wakes up and knows he is sick. Those are the ones where no amount of alarm slapping or snake laden ice cube attacks by an angry mom or even naked Rachels in the shower are getting him out of bed (well, to be fair, he's never actually tested the naked Rachel theory – though he'd like to someday).
"Finn! You're oversleeping and your alarm is still blaring! Honey, are you feeling okay?" Carole asks as she notices her stone-still son buried under the blankets and shuts off the ear-splitting sounds of AC-DC ripping through the house and her eardrums. How the hell does he sleep through that noise? Must be all the years of drumming.
There's only two things that cause him to sleep through his alarm like this: big time fights with Rachel and illness. Given that all the furniture in the room is still intact and she hasn't heard any recent gossip from Kurt related to the former, she's going with the latter.
She walks over to the side of the bed careful not to trip over his electric blanket wires, and sits on the edge. He feels her cool hand rest on his fuzzy fevered forehead and it sends an uncomfortable aching shiver down his spine that he retracts away from with a groan.
"Moooommmm... doooon't, it hurts," he whines as he tries to burrow his head further under the covers. His voice is nasally and groggy, rough with congestion and sleep. A sneeze punctuates his protests.
"Oh my, you're burning up, sweetie. I'll grab the thermometer and the Tylenol, but I guess you're staying home today, so I'll call the school and Rachel to let them know."
Somewhere in his fever-melted brain, Finn gives a silent thanks to his mom for thinking of Rachel.
His mom is all kinds of cool. She seems to just know things sometimes, like the fact that his girlfriend would probably freak out in an epic diva-like way if he just didn't show up for school without any pretext or some form of communication to let her know that, in fact no, he wasn't eaten by bears, or involved in a massive freeway pile-up, or sucked up in a freak tornado (although Finn thinks that third one could be kinda cool to live through – assuming he could LIVE through it).
Those are just some of the crazier things he imagines Rachel 'rationalizing' to explain his unexpected absence. (Truth be told, he's not even exaggerating her exaggerations much; she actually did jump the gun on that tornado theory once – but he blames the Wizard of Oz marathon her and Kurt watched during a bad thunderstorm when he was away at overnight football camp. He'd gotten a flat tire on the way to meet her for breakfast the next morning and didn't bother to let her know he'd be late; lesson learned.)
Some of her less dramatic machinations he's had to quash have included NO, he definitely did not break up with her by abandonment and move out of the state, and NO, he didn't slip and fall in the shower and is not in the hospital bleeding to death or in traction or anything. At least not so far. Given the current state of his dizzy, fuzzy head he decides he should probably avoid the shower, for today at least.
. . . . .
Carole ferrets around in the medicine cabinet to locate the Tylenol and Nyquil (she'd swear there was some Sudafed in the cabinet too, but she can't seem to find it now). She then heads to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water for him to wash the medicine down with and stops to call Miss Harper, the school secretary, to report his lack of attendance for the day, then dials Rachel.
Rachel's always bright, sunny voice is a little shocking at this early hour of the morning, though not at all unexpected by now. Carole's gotten to know the small brunette quite well over the past year and half and understands the girl is QUITE the morning person (which only makes her laugh picturing her son and future daughter in law in their first year of marriage wondering just how well that's going to work out).
— "Good morning Carole! I hope you're doing wonderful on this fine autumn morning, though it is unusual to hear from you so early – though not unwelcome. But oh gosh, is everything alright? Your house isn't on fire, Finn isn't hurt is he? Oh please tell me Finn's okay and not suffering third degree burns or smoke inhalation!"
Carole chuckles to herself at the tiny girl's theatrics. How on earth does Finn keep up with this girl? She said all of that in one breath! "Hi Rachel dear, yes I'm just fine, thanks for asking. No, no the house isn't on fire, however Finn's forehead is. I'm afraid he's got a bit of a fever, and he'll be staying home from school today, possibly for the next couple of days."
— "Oh my goodness, my poor Finn! Does he need to see the doctor or should I call 911? You know high fevers can cause seizures. Do you need me to stop at the pharmacy or–"
"Slow down honey, breathe! It's nothing that extreme, I promise. He's just got a fever right now and sounds like a bit of congestion. It's probably a nasty cold or flu, maybe a seasonal bug. I'll make him an appointment with Dr Jeffries tomorrow if his fever doesn't break or he isn't feeling any better by then. I've already called him off school for today, but I was hoping you would collect his homework – not that I think he'll be up to working on it tonight, but–"
— "Oh certainly, I would be happy to gather his school work. And don't you worry, I'll ensure he gets all of his missed assignments completed the moment he's feeling up to it! This is an important year for college applications, after all."
Carole smiled. She really likes this girl and thinks her son better keep his head screwed on straight this time. "I knew I could count on you, sweetheart. Also, since I have to work a double graveyard shift tonight and Burt's out of town this week, would you mind looking in on him? You know how he tends to be quite helpless when he's sick. In fact you're welcome to spend the night if that's alright with your fathers."
Rachel doesn't even hesitate. There was a time when she would have been aghast at the mere suggestion she expose herself to anyone's germs lest it mar her vocal chords, but for Finn, she would walk through fire without a protective oxygen mask.
— "My daddies are out of town right now anyway, but I'll be sure to send them a text; I'm certain they wouldn't object, especially knowing how ill Finn is. And of course I'd be more than happy to help any way I can to nurse Finn back to health. Just leave it to me. I'll make him a batch of my famous chicken soup! It always helps my daddies feel better when they're sick. In fact, I'll make it a double batch so you won't need to worry about cooking for the next couple of days."
"Oh honey, how thoughtful of you, you're just an angel. That sounds perfect. You know, it warms my heart the way you care so much about Finn. He's very lucky to have you."
She could hear the smile in Rachel's voice when she replied softly, "Well, I'm positive he would do the same for me... i-if he could cook that is; although I suspect I'd be subjected to meals consisting of burned pancakes, grilled cheese and peanut butter sandwiches, but I know they'd all be made with love. And that's why I love him so much. It's the thought that counts, right?"
Carole did her best not to tear up as she laughed out loud. "Yes, he probably would, and I suppose you're right. Thank you so much Rachel, I really appreciate your help. Now, you still have your spare key to get in, right?"
— "Yes, it's on my car keyring. And no need to thank me at all, it's my pleasure. I'll just stop by the market on the way over and pick up everything I need. Finn will surely be back on his feet in no time. Have a wonderful day Carole."
. . . . .
Rachel's trip to the market included quite the laundry list of supplies. Aside from the chicken soup ingredients, she picked up a number of over the counter cold and flu remedies; echinacea, vitamin C and other supplements to fortify her own immune system; Vapo-Rub (just in case they were out of it at Finn's house); kale, beets, spinach, blueberries, ginger, turmeric, and other healthy superfoods to make an immune system booster juice. She also grabbed a value pack of tissues, oranges for fresh-squeezed juice, ginger ale, and tomato soup with the little oyster crackers Finn likes so much, and of course, a box of cherry Jell-o (personally she found the stuff disgusting and it certainly wasn't vegan, but for some reason it was Finn's favorite thing on earth when he was sick). She also picked up some bananas and raisins, deciding a batch of her banana bread might be a nice treat for him to wake up to when he was feeling better.
. . . . .
Finn spent the day in bed tossing and turning, slipping in and out of consciousness. He'd taken the Tylenol his mom gave him in the morning, along with the Nyquil which helped him sleep for another few hours, but by noon he was waking up too much and couldn't decide if he was starving or too nauseous to eat.
His sinuses were swollen with congestion and his head was pounding again. The body aches and chills were keeping him burrowed under the blankets, but after a while he'd sweat too much, so he'd throw the covers off, then almost immediately he'd decide he was freezing so he'd pull them back up. It was all quite exhausting.
His electric blanket was set on high and yet he was still freezing. He'd gotten up to use the bathroom once and tripped in the tangle of wires from the blanket, making a mental note to do a better job of hiding them under the bed later when he was well again.
While in the bathroom, he briefly considered taking a hot shower, but the idea of stripping out of his warm comfy flannel jammies sent a fresh wave of chills through his body and he didn't really have the energy to stand up that long anyway (not to mention those visions of him bleeding and unconscious in the shower), so he opted against it and returned to the warm cocoon of his bed.
He knew his mom was already gone for work, and for just a moment he'd thought about making himself some toast but decided his legs were far too leaden to make the journey downstairs to the kitchen and back, so he opted for a second dose of Nyquil and Tylenol instead, and allowed the medicine to pull him back into listless slumber.
. . . . .
By the time Rachel arrived at the Hudson-Hummel home, she was a bit tired herself. Her pre-dawn early morning horticulture club activities meant she was already awake two hours earlier than usual, and this impromptu shopping trip was an additional drain, but she knew she would power through. Finn needed her, so it was a worthy sacrifice.
Once she unloaded all the groceries and put them away, she tip-toed into his room to find him snoring loudly. The room was quite dim with all the blinds and curtains pulled closed. The TV was still on, but with the volume turned down very low, tuned into some all-day cartoons channel. She gazed warmly at her patient to find him nestled deep under the blankets and swimming in a sea of used tissues strewn all over the bed and floor.
As she approached his bed, she remembered to watch out for the wires to his electric blanket (she'd warned him that he shouldn't plug the device in across the room due to the trip hazard it presents in case he'd get up during the night half asleep, but accessing the outlet needed to properly hide them under his bed meant he'd need to move the furniture to reach it, and he was in no hurry to do that yet; especially since he'd need to clean out from under the bed in the process. She'd offered to help and he'd refused to let her, but if she was being honest, she was a little afraid to know what she might find under there anyway – he was a teenage boy, after all).
Once she made it safely through the sea of trip wires and snotty tissues as gracefully as that French guy in that laser dance scene in Ocean's Twelve, she sat on the edge of the bed and leaned down to place a sweet kiss on his temple. He still felt pretty warm, and she decided she wasn't going to disturb him. She started to make a move to stand until a large arm lassoed around her waist and locked her in place, like a child clinging to his favorite teddy bear.
One of his eyes barely cracked half way open and his sleep laden voice greeted her with a semi-crooked smile. "Mmmm... hey beautiful. Where you goin'? Stay. Snuggle. Keep me warm, I'm freezing."
She giggled softly. "Hi Finny. Honey, your bed feels like the surface of the sun; I hardly think you need me to keep you warm."
He sort of snorted a laugh and his eyes closed tight. After a beat she heard his raspy voice mumbling, "Come on baby light my fire... try to set the night on fi-yahhhh..." He quieted again and she heard his breathing go deeper, then a light snore escaped his lips. She had to stave off a full belly laugh at how quickly he slipped back into slumber, then she noticed the bottle of Nyquil on his bedside table and the pieces clicked into place.
She whispered softly, "Are you singing me The Doors in your sleep again? Silly boy." She stroked his matted hair a few moments and when she was satisfied he was fully unconscious, she gently peeled herself out of his tight embrace and stood up, noting the pout that suddenly appeared on his sweet face. He mumbled something incoherent and she whispered, "Rest for now, baby. I'm making chicken soup for you. I'll be back in to check on you shortly."
. . . . .
An hour into washing, peeling and chopping ingredients, she swore she heard the muffled moans of her name coming from upstairs. She washed her hands and dried them, then ran up to check.
"Finn, baby? Did you call me?"
He groaned and rolled around, seeming a bit bewildered, then looked up at her with the most adorable confused face and hair sticking in all directions. "Rach? Babe, what're you doin' here? You're gonna get sick," he mumbled and then launched into a sudden sneezing frenzy.
She smiled, navigated the wires and snot rags field once again, then placed a hand on his still-too-warm forehead. "Honey don't you remember, I was already in here to check on you earlier. I've been here for quite some time already. Don't you worry about me getting sick, I'll be fine. I brought an arsenal of vitamins and herbal supplements. Also, it helps that I happen to have an incredibly potent immune system. Do you need anything right now? I'm sort of in the middle of–"
"Thirsty."
"Okay, I'll fetch you some oran–"
"Gingy-ale?"
Looking at his little boy face and his hair sticking in every wrong direction, she could never deny him. She giggled softly, "Of course honey, 'gingy-ale' it is. Let me run down and get it for you. Do you think you can handle something to eat yet?"
He blew propeller sounds with his lips as he exhaled. "I'm kinda starving, but I think I already tried to barf once. Unless I dreamed that part. Mmm... but I could go for some cherry Jell-o though?"
She smiled knowingly. "It's still chilling in the fridge, baby. I'll check to see if it's set yet, and if it is, I'll bring you some."
"I like it soupy," he whined.
"I know you do, which is weird by the way. But you won't sit up properly and it'll spill in your bed, then you'll need to get out so I can change the sheets, and you won't want that, will you?"
He huffed and rolled over, curling the blankets tighter around him. "Noooo... guess not."
"Okay. Sit tight, I'll be right back with your drink in a jiff."
Rachel returned with a slew of supplies arranged on a tray. The ginger ale, some saltines, a large stainless steel mixing bowl (just in case, now that he mentioned barfing), the vitamins and cold remedies she just bought, and a steeping hot mug of herbal tea with honey and lemon.
He was writhing around kicking off the covers when she came back into the room.
"I thought you were freezing, Finn?"
"I am... but then I got too hot. It's hot in here," he protested as he sat up and started to pull off his t-shirt.
Rachel turned to set the tray down on his desk – which was no easy feat, since she had to clear a space from the cluttered surface with one hand while balancing the tray with the other. "Well maybe that's a good sign, maybe your fever is finally break–"
When she turned to face him again, she noted his dampened hair from his sweaty forehead and took in the sight of his now very naked chest. "-ing." The sight of her now half-naked very handsome boyfriend caught her off guard and her heart began to flutter in a delightful way. Just seeing Finn's smooth, slightly defined abs always made a heat coil within her, and her mind began to wander, thinking of the feel of his warm skin under the palms of her hands, and the slightly salty sweet Finn taste as she kissed along the ridges of his ribs down to his...
"Raaaach, I'm really thirsty." Finn's sudden whining snapped her out of her reverie.
"Oh! Sorry sweetie. Here you go. I even dug through the kitchen drawers and found your favorite crazy straw."
He smiled his crooked grin at her and eagerly slurped away on the curly straw. "I know you like your soft drinks, but I also thought some nice hot herbal tea would soothe your throat and chest and help clear your sinuses. I added extra honey for you. Why don't you sip on this while I finish dinner?"
He frowned and sighed a little, but then gave in. "Okay. You're cooking?"
"Yes, I'm making my famous get well chicken soup!"
"Awesome. You're so awesome babe. I love you... But where's my Jell-O?"
"And I love you. Your Jell-O wasn't quite set yet. Honey, why don't you work on your tea and take this medicine I got for you. Hopefully by the time the soup is ready your sinuses will be clear and your head will feel better."
"Fine. But I still want my Jell-O."
. . . . .
Another hour later, the soup was simmering and Rachel had finally gotten the kitchen cleaned up. She scooped a generous portion of the nasty jiggly cherry goo into a bowl and headed back to Finn's room. The soup would need to simmer a little while, so she finally had an opportunity to rest herself while it did.
When she returned to his room, he was sound asleep again, this time with a little drool coming from the corner of his mouth. She had to dig around his blankets to find the remote control for the TV. Once located she settled herself on the edge of his bed again.
"Rach?"
"I'm here baby, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"Did you bring my–"
"Your Jell-O is right here." She hopped up to grab the dish from his desk and returned to find him pushed up with several pillows propped behind his head and very eager looking eyes.
"You're the best. I would kiss you, but I really don't think you want my nasty germs."
He scooted over a little bit and motioned for her to sit closer. Once he emptied his bowl making NOM NOM sounds the whole time that made her giggle, he set it on the other bedside table and rolled over wrapping himself around Rachel's middle again, essentially burying his head in her lap. She made sure to set an alarm to go check the soup and changed the channel on the TV to TCM where Singing In The Rain was playing.
"This movie agaaaain? But I haaaate this movie," he pouted.
"No you don't. Anyway, you always like when I sing to you. And for someone who enjoys drizzle so much, you know you secretly LOVE this movie."
"Maybe... but that's a secret between you and me. Nobody's s'posed to know that."
She giggled and stroked his hair softly as she sang along to the musical parts. She swears he hummed along a little too, and he exhaled exaggeratedly several times as his head fell heavier and heavier against her. She wasn't sure if he was actually sleeping when she started to feel his hand beginning to wander under her shirt, fingertips lightly grazing the skin of her torso and tickling up her side. When he kept going she finally caught on to the fact that he was grinning from ear to ear, clearly NOT sleeping at all.
She started giggling. "Finn Hudson! You're sick; this is not the time to be copping a feel."
He simply doubled down on the snuggling and held her tighter, nuzzling his head deeper into her lap, which sent electric tingles all through her. "But it makes me feel so much better babe," he said so innocently that she had to laugh.
"I'm so sure it does... But there will be plenty of time for that when you're well again – and preferably mucous free."
. . . . .
Rachel had closed her eyes for about fifteen minutes when the alarm she set went off. Despite Finn's protests, she managed to squirm away from him and went down to check on the soup. While she was there, she pulled out the blender and made her super secret kale smoothie, something that she was sure would help jumpstart Finn's immune system and have him on his feet again in no time. She made enough for two servings, considering she hadn't eaten much at lunch today and was feeling a little hungry herself.
"Finn baby? Sit up. I want you to drink this for me."
"More gingy ale?"
"No. This one will really help get the gunk cleaned out of your system."
She handed him the opaque orange tumbler with the straw in it. He reluctantly sat up and took a big sip without further question, then pulled a face and turned to find the basin she'd set on the nightstand for him, promptly spitting it all out. "ACK Rach! What the hell babe, are you trying to poison me? That was just horrible! And so so... green!"
"Finn, of course it's green. It's kale – and it is NOT poison! It's very healthy, full of antiox–"
"Rachel it's GREEN for god's sake! I don't do green stuff, you know that!"
She huffed. "You're just too stubborn and ridiculous for words sometimes, Finn Hudson. You could at least drink some of it. I just want you to feel better faster. Would I ever steer you wrong?"
"Well, no, but baaaabe, it's green... AND chunky... like, who drinks stuff with chunks in it? Sorry but I just can't–"
"What if I rewarded you for drinking it?"
Interest piqued, his eyebrows shot up into his messy hairline at her proposition as his red-rimmed skeptical eyes stayed trained on hers. "Wwwhat kinda rewards are we talking about?" he snuffled.
"How about... I'll rub some Vapo-rub into your chest."
He folded his arms and sat deep in thought for a moment, his expression unreadable. "It's green Rach. And CHUNKY."
She countered with "Okay, I'll throw in a nice massage – a back rub."
He leaned closer to her, not so subtly eyeing her chest a moment, then a devious crooked smile graced his face as his amber eyes tore away to find her chocolatey brown ones. "Topless."
"Well of course you'd have to be topless for a massage Finn, that's how it–"
"Not just me," he cut her off, stroking a finger over the buttons of her blouse.
She gave him this really shrewd grin while she thought for a beat. "Drink up. ALL of it. And NO complaining."
"But what if I puke?"
"You won't puke."
He scoffed, "Hey most of us – unlike you – actually have a gag reflex, you know." The little smirk he tacked on at the end at the unspoken reason he knew about her non-existent gag reflex didn't escape her attention and caused a little rush of heat to surge through her.
She began unbuttoning the top buttons of her blouse then paused. "Fine, your call. But rewards await, Finn."
Watching as a third button was plucked open, he quickly pulled the lid off the tumbler, took a deep breath and began gulping the horrid stuff down like a frat boy at a kegger. He tried hard not to think about that show Fear Factor and some of the disgusting shit he'd seen contestants be force-fed, like cow testicles and eyeballs and stuff (and seriously how did people not DIE from eating that crap? It had to be fake).
He got three quarters of the way through the drink when a particularly large chunk hit the back of his throat and he felt the urge to heave. He stopped then, forcing down that last gulp and held the cup away from himself like a bomb with a lit fuse.
"Can't, no more... too disgusting... please make it go away. And seriously babe, NEVER make me do that again!"
She peeked into the tumbler and smiled to herself. He'd done far better than she expected, despite all his protests and childishness over it being green, she knew it tasted quite sweet and delicious – she even added some of the oranges to up the sweet factor.
"So where's my reward?"
"I have to check the soup again, it should be ready. You need to eat dinner first."
His face dropped and his hands flapped down against the mattress defiantly. "Heeeey, that wasn't the deal!"
"I said I'd reward you for drinking ALL of it. You didn't quite finish it, but it was a valiant effort, so I won't renege. But I also didn't say WHEN you'd get your reward; you'll just need to wait a little until after dinner."
"You suck." She gave him a hairy eyeball and he recanted. "Well you don't suck, just, you're a tease." He realized that comment was only digging his hole deeper so he reverted to whining again. "Can I at least get some more gingy-ale to wash the nasty green away?"
She sighed and stood up from the bed and he caught her by the wrist. "I love you," he said with a sweet dimpled smile and kissed her knuckles.
She reached a hand down and ruffled her fingers through his unruly russet hair. "I love you too, you big baby. I'll be back with your soup, and your drink."
. . . . .
After dinner and another dose of medicine including more Nyquil, he passed out again. Rachel was feeling a bit fatigued herself, having made at least two dozen trips up and down the stairs to cater to his every whim. "Soup's too hot... some butter bread would be nice... too much butter... more cherry Jell-O?... need some water... need an extra pillow..."
Rachel had already put in a very long, very full day and was looking forward to a hot shower and some sleep. She'd thankfully utilized her time well at school, completing her homework before she even left for the day so she could fully dedicate her time and attention to her patient. She knew a sick Finn Hudson was quite a handful (this wasn't the first time she'd been around him when he was sick; it was however, the first time she'd been tasked with his care for such an extended period of time alone. And really, if he didn't quit trying her patience so much, it might just be the last).
As she watched his once again sleeping form, she decided to set about filling that Vapo-rub reward she'd promised. Fortunately he'd never put his undershirt back on, but compromised and put on his button down flannel pajama top instead at her insistence. This worked to her advantage now as she plucked the buttons apart and exposed his gorgeous naked chest once again.
She took a generous scoop of the smelly ointment into her hands and began rubbing it in using slow, purposeful, circular strokes. Just the feeling of his broad muscular chest against her hands made her breathe funny (which had nothing to do with the menthol vapors in the air).
His hands suddenly came up to meet her wrists and he opened his eyes, gazing up at her. Without opening his eyes, a devious smirk formed as he asked, "Rachel Berry. Are you vapo-raping me in my sleep?"
She giggled and blushed slightly. "I was simply making good on your reward. I never said you had to be awake."
He narrowed his puffy eyes, feeling a bit duped and trying to find a rebuttal to her technicality, then grinned and threw in "Okay true, but you DID agree to certain OTHER terms, which included a back rub. AND let's not forget, you are far too dressed right now. Naked time, baby. A deal's a deal."
Rachel sighed, but smiled at his tenacity. "FINE. You're right, I did agree, and Rachel Berry is never one to back out of a promise."
He sat up a little and pulled his sleep shirt the rest of the way off and she unbuttoned her top and removed it, leaving her in her bra. He waited with anticipation, but was flummoxed when she reached to continue rubbing the vapo-goo onto his chest.
"Heeeey, no no no, you're not done yet," he whined in protest. He ran a finger over the strap on her shoulder down to her collarbone. "It's sexy and all, but you forgot something," he said, gesturing to the lacey pink garment.
"Um, no sir. I believe the deal was TOPLESS. As you can plainly see, my TOP is now laying at the foot of the bed. I'm holding up my end of the deal as promised – in spite of the fact that the original agreement was that you drink ALL your kale smoothie but you only drank most of it."
Crap.
Well, a mostly half naked Rachel was better than nothing he supposed. He pouted and muttered defiantly about her way too sneaky smartness, but allowed her to continue rubbing the smelly stuff on his chest anyway, enjoying the feel of her little hands smoothing across his skin. He also took the opportunity to return the favor, rubbing his hands over her chest, something she put up absolutely no resistance about.
Then she ordered him to roll over on his stomach so she could give him his back rub. As much as he wanted the back rub, he kind of didn't want to lose the warmth from his electric blanket. She solved that for him, making sure he was laying on top of it, and then straddled his low back and laid her still bra-clad chest across most of his upper body, essentially becoming his Rachel blanket. He stopped complaining at that point and enjoyed the feel of her little hands working their magic on his aching shoulder muscles. She occasionally pushed the massage up higher to his neck and scalp and even his earlobes and temples, and before long he was snoring beneath her again.
She discreetly rolled away from him, covered him back up and decided to take that opportunity to get her shower.
. . . . .
She was under the shower spray for maybe ten minutes, partially lathered up with his loofa when she swore she heard the bathroom door open. Pausing to listen closer, she finally called out. "Finn? Baby are you in here?"
The next thing she knew, the shower curtain drew back just a little and a naked Finn was standing behind her.
"I was wrong," he smirked and then sniffled into a sneeze. "A naked Rachel in my shower DOES work to get me out of bed when I'm sick."
"Bless you!" She giggled. "I didn't know that was a major concern of yours?"
He nodded rigorously as his hands glided along her soap-covered sides toward her breasts. "It was. Plus I thought I'd be too cold and achy to get a shower... but this... this works." He leaned down to kiss her neck in his favorite spot below her ear.
Placing her hands on each of his cheeks, she forced him to an upright position and stood up on her toes to press a sweet kiss under his jaw. "Okay fine baby, you can stay, but only because I'm afraid of you slipping in here on your own in your weakened state. But no funny business in here, mister, you're still not well. Just because you found a little burst of energy right now doesn't mean you can handle too much physical exertion."
His pout was too adorable. "Fine. But you're taking such good care of me, I'm gonna help take care of you... Gimme that spongy thing."
"You mean the loofa? Why?"
"I'm gonna wash your.. Um, your back, yeah," he smirked.
"Uh-huh. JUST my back!" she giggled knowingly.
He definitely washed more than her back in the shower and she definitely had no complaints about it.
Forty minutes later they were dried, dressed in fresh jammies and cuddled back in Finn's bed. "You seem to be feeling much better sweetie. My kale smoothie and chicken soup must be doing the trick!"
"Yeah, I think my fever's broken for good now, and the chills are pretty much gone. But Rach, seriously, if you love me, you'll never EVER mention that green goop again, okay?"
"Even if it helped make you feel better?"
"Babe, that gross chunky crap wasn't what made me feel better... it was just you. All you," he breathed as he rolled over to start kissing her neck again. He fought the urge to capture her lips knowing she'd object to the chance of being exposed to any lingering germs that could make her sick and affect her singing voice.
"Okay Finny, if you say so," she smiled. Rachel relished in the feel of his soft kisses as his hands started making their way under her little pajama top. "Well, something certainly made you feel much much better, didn't it?"
He smirked against her neck. "Yeah but um, I could use another one of those awesome massages. My muscles are still aching."
"Oh yeah?" she asked coyly as her hands stroked up and down his back. "Which muscles? These ones?" she asked as her hands trailed to his low back.
"Hmm... you're getting closer... but I think I need to move so you can reach better," he said innocently as he rolled onto his back pulling her with him so she was settled on top of him.
"Well. We certainly can't have you aching now, can we?" she said seductively as she once again opened his pajama top and began kissing down his chest. Her hands traveled down to the band of his pajama bottoms and he groaned. "I think I know just the cure for what ails you and the best way to massage those aches away. Leave it to me."
. . . . .
The following morning, Finn felt completely rejuvenated. His fever stayed gone, his sinuses were clear and his sneezing was nearly a forgotten memory. His super awesome girlfriend's super awesome sexy remedies did the trick so well he even felt well enough to go to school (WITH a double helping of banana bread for breakfast). Knowing Carole wouldn't be home from work until long after they left for school, Rachel left her a note to tell her how much better her son was feeling.
When Finn and Rachel came home from school that afternoon, they went straight back to his house. They found his mom in the kitchen reheating some of Rachel's chicken soup.
"Oh! Hi guys, how was school? Finny, how are you feeling baby?"
"Hi Carole, school was wonderful, thank you for asking," Rachel answered cheerily.
"Hey mom," Finn pressed a quick kiss on her cheek. "I'm doing much better, thanks."
Carole turned her attention from the simmering soup pot on the stovetop to her son, running a hand over his forehead and taking in the general happy healthy glow about her son. "Well you certainly look completely healed. Rachel dear, you'll have to share your secrets with me, I've never seen such a quick turn around in him; normally he milks a bug for days and even then he's still whining like a baby about having to get out of bed for so much as shower let alone going back to school."
Finn and Rachel shared a knowing look and Rachel's cheeks flushed pink.
"It musta been Rach's awesome soup mom," Finn offered quickly, flashing Rachel a sly wink and a knowing half smile.
"Well it certainly tastes wonderful Rachel, and if this is the result it yields, I'd love to have the recipe," Carole beamed. "Are you okay dear, you look a little flush. I hope you didn't catch Finn's bug."
"Oh no, I'm fine Carole. I just was um, thinking of what high praise your compliment is. I'm glad you like the soup. Listen, you had a long shift last night and I'm sure you're still tired. Why don't you go relax and I'll take over here. I'll make some garlic toast too, while Finn starts working on his missed school work from yesterday." She sent a pointed look to Finn then the kitchen table.
"Are you sure you don't mind sweetheart? I could use a little nap before I have to go back to work tonight."
"Positive," Rachel reassured. "Go relax and we'll let you know when everything is ready."
Carole offered a quick hug to Rachel and a peck on her son's cheek before leaving the kitchen.
When the coast was clear, Finn sidled up behind Rachel, who was now stirring the pot of soup. He lowered his lips down to her ear and whispered "Nice cover, babe. I sure wasn't gonna tell her what actually made me feel so much better... and NO WAY is anyone else ever allowed to use those methods – least of all my mom!"
Rachel giggled and turned in his arms, hugging him close and leaning to his ear, "I certainly hope not! Although, I stand by my theory that the smoothie and the soup had more to do with it than my special brand of TLC."
"Nuh-uh... the soup and everything might've been part of it, but I think it needed your special magic to like, activate it."
"You're too sweet, Finny. I'm just glad you're feeling better. Now get over there and get started on your math assignment. I'm right here if you need any help."
He groaned, but he knew from experience Rachel is a brick wall about getting homework done before he can enjoy any other leisure activities with her.
As he sighed, pulling out his assignments and flopped down in the chair. After several minutes struggling with the value of X, he looked over at the fantastic view of his girlfriend's backside and smiled to himself, deciding that being sick on Mondays didn't suck so bad after all.
A/N - Thank you bunches to my darlin' Broadway Belle for the beta read!
While Ocean's Twelve is sort of the flop of the George Clooney movie trilogy, it did produce a few fantastic moments – the Laser Dance (by Vincent Cassel's 'French guy' character) was among them.
Song Credit to The Boomtown Rats for the borrowed story title.