fic: Yes Is The Answer - (rated: t); Finn/Quinn. 8k, oneshot.

[baggels]

Title: Yes Is The Answer
Author: Maria/baggels 
Fandom: Glee
Rated: T, for language.
Pairing: Finn/Quinn
Summary: Twenty-five years of the word 'yes' got them to this point, despite things getting complicated. Slightly au, oneshot.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any part of it, including the characters.

At five years old, life is pretty simple.

Finn and Quinn live in one same world, filled with kindergarteners, crayons, and carelessness. They’re yet to be burdened with the stresses of society, the knowledge of all that horrible stuff you’ll go through as you grow. For now, they giggle when they’re happy, and they scream when they’re not.

Life for the kids in Lima isn’t complicated.

When Finn sees Quinn for the first time, he just knows that she’s pretty and he likes her. There’s no real question to it. It’s easy.

One day, he’s drawing a hopefully uplifting picture for his mom. When he’s scribbling in a bright sun in the top corner, he thinks the golden hue is a little bit like Quinn’s hair. Then, he’s zigzagging brilliant green grass at the bottom of the page, and it reminds him of her round, emerald eyes.

He immediately likes that a picture of a summer day has all these allusions to that girl. He doesn’t ask why, he just does.

When Quinn watches Finn take his turn for show and tell, she just knows that he’s sort of special and she likes him.

He’s brought in his dad’s old football, and although it’s old and dirty and useless, he holds it like it’s going to be used in the Super Bowl. He’s careful with it, and holds it tenderly with his fingers.

Finn says how it was the ball that his father’s high school team won State Championships with in his senior year, and tells the story of how his dad stole it from the school. The little messy-haired boy mentions how he’s going to do the same.

Quinn would normally be disinterested, but this boy has such a big smile that she can’t even try to look away. She finds she’s smiling along with him, and she doesn’t know why.

She likes that he wants to be a football player, because she’s wanted to be a cheerleader ever since her mom told her all about her days on the sidelines. She thinks that they would kind of fit, like a puzzle.

Quinn realizes, as he talks about how his dad died in a war, that her heart hurts. She doesn’t understand it, but she feels like crying. She won’t shed a tear, and she doesn’t. She just feels really bad because she doesn’t know what she’d do without her own father. Everyone should have one. She thinks Finn must be lonely a lot.

She watches as he lets everyone hold the ball, though his eye never strays from it. Anyway, she thinks it’s nice of him because yesterday Tina brought in her favourite doll and only let her best friends touch it. Quinn was not too impressed with that.

Later, with her hands held behind her back shyly, she approaches Finn as he puts the ball into his bag. “I liked your story, Finn.”

He smiles again, the one that makes her lips curve, too. “Thanks, Quinn.”

“I’m sorry about your daddy,” she continues, slowly.

“It’s okay,” he replies, a little quieter, but still rather upbeat. “I didn’t know him.”

It’s silent for awhile, save for the zip of Finn’s Scooby Doo backpack and the sound of him swinging it over his shoulder. Before he can say goodbye, Quinn speaks up. “Well, aren’t you lonely?”

He looks confused: his eyebrows furrow and his eyes are blank. “Not right now,” he says obviously. “You’re with me.”

Now it’s Quinn’s turn to be confused. She opens her mouth to question him, but he beats her to it.

“You wanna go to the park? Noah already left and I don’t wanna go home yet.”

He’s wearing that smile, and if he wasn’t, she probably would’ve had to think about it.

“Yes,” leaves her mouth and she grabs her red bag before joining him down the hallway.

* * *

It’s when they turn ten that life gets just a smidgen more complex.

Quinn really hates herself. Well, maybe hate is a strong word. She dislikes the fact that there’s something she can’t seem to gain control of in her life. It’s not that she’s a control freak - at least, not yet - but she’s not used to the feeling, and she doesn’t like it.

She likes Finn. Like, likes him. She hates it. He’s sort of awkwardly tall, and his hair is always sticking out in strange directions, and, well, he’s not very bright. He says silly things. He’s nice to everyone - too nice, she thinks.

She hates that all the things that she wants to dislike about him are all the things that she likes him for.

She really doesn’t like how when he says hi to her every morning, her heart races a little bit. She doesn’t like how when he smiles at her, it gives her butterflies. She detests how when they sit together on the swings and end up catching up to each other, he yells happily, “Look! We’re dating!” and she daydreams of proms and weddings.

Worst of all, she hates how he doesn’t like her back.

She’s noticed how he’s more outgoing and playful with girls like Santana who plays soccer with them at recess. She can tell he likes the tomboy type, the athletic girls, the ones who don’t mind a little dirt on the dresses their moms force them to wear.

She wishes she could be one of them, but she is just not good at soccer (or any sport, she’ll admit). She prefers ballet and jazz and gymnastics. Dirt makes her feel uncomfortable, and, well, dirty. She really, really likes dresses. She just knows she’ll never be those girls.

She still decides to maybe try a little anyways.

One day, she puts on jean shorts, a purple t-shirt, and her only pair of sneakers, and goes to school with a mission on her mind.

At lunch time, Quinn walks up to Finn with her hands coyly tucked behind her back again, and asks politely, “Finn, do you mind if I play with Santana today?”

He’s chewing a piece of his sandwich when he replies, “Sure! She doesn’t have to play with us everyday. She’s your friend, too.”

Quinn smiles. “I meant… can I play with Santana… and you and your friends today?”

He swallows but is quiet for a moment. “Umm… if you want to, you can. We’re having a competition on the monkey bars.” He looks at her with squinting eyes. “Are you sure you really wanna play with the boys, Quinn? I know you like to sit on the grass and talk instead of playing.”

He’s being nice, but she’s a little… offended. Not that he’s wrong, but she can do what she wants. Quinn Fabray can do anything. “I’ll be fine. In fact, I’m an expert at monkey bars.” Maybe that’s a bit of a fib, but she’s seemed to convince him when he looks genuinely excited.

Finn nods and his eyes gleam with excitement. “That’s awesome! We’ll meet you outside, okay, Quinn?”

She nods and walks back to sit with her girly friends, who quickly ask her what she was talking to Finn Hudson about and why she’s wearing boy clothes.

After they finish eating their lunches, the bell for recess rings and it’s a flurry of children stuffing grapes into their mouths, finishing off the last bite of a sandwich, or taking one long gulp from their brightly packaged juice boxes. They stuff plastic Ziploc bags into their robot- or flower-adorned lunch bags and throw them into their cubbies before darting off towards the school doors.

Finn, Puck, Santana, and Matt are all at the monkey bars already when Quinn gets there. She wrings her hands nervously and places a bright smile on her face, then jumps up beside Finn.

Puck tugs on her ponytail. Matt barely smiles at her (but she knows it’s not unkind; Matt is shy and everyone knows it). Santana places her hands on her hips. “Oh, hi, Q. You’re gonna play with us today?”

Quinn nods and Finn grabs her wrist excitedly, pointing to the bars. “’Kay, Quinn, here’s the contest, okay? If you wanna win, you gotta be able to skip as many bars as you can. You get it?”

Quinn’s little brow furrows. “Um, I think so. Not really.”

Santana rolls her eyes, and Quinn wonders how she did it. “Look it, Q. We start off by doing one by one. Then, you grab the first bar, and grab the third bar, so you skip a bar. Got it? Then you skip more each time. And whoever can last the longest, they win it.”

Quinn exhales, understanding it better, and nods. “Okay, got it, S. What do we win?”

“If it’s you or me, we get a kiss. From Puck,” Puck grins, his teeth all in a shiny white row. Finn squirms and Santana smiles saucily. “And if it’s one o’ the boys, they get a kiss from me.”

Quinn nods, but glances at Puck from the corner of her eye. She doesn’t really want a kiss from that boy, not that Puck’s the grossest boy she’s ever come across, but she decides it’s still worth it - showing Finn that she can be a boy’s girl, too. “Okay.”

So they begin.

None of them really notice she’s not exactly “expert” at the monkey bars. She even finds she can deal with it, that it’s not that hard, and only by the time they’ve all made it to skipping three bars does she find it to get tricky.

Her hands get a little sweaty, and she rubs them desperately on her shorts, but it doesn’t really help. Puck goes first, now skipping four bars, and makes it to the end easily. Santana’s next, and she fumbles just ever so slightly on the second to last bar, but she does it. Finn goes, and everyone knows he’ll win the competition, what with his long arms and height.

It’s Quinn’s turn, and her heart thuds a little. She takes hold of the first bar, and then she’s off.

At the third bar she holds on to, she realizes that she’s doing well. She’s sure that no one clued into her anxiety, and her confidence boosts a little when she reaches the fourth bar.

That all comes crashing down when she’s grabbing for the last one, and she slips, quickly falling.

She doesn’t know what hurts more: the humiliation, or the pain throbbing in her wrist. When she lifts her head - careful not to look at any of the children staring at her on the ground, trying to stifle a laugh - she sees that her right wrist looks a little funny; it just doesn’t look like normal. That’s when the tears start  falling, shocked at her fall and her wrist and the way Finn is at her side immediately.

“Quinn? Are you okay, Quinn? Aw, jeez… Matt, go get a teacher, okay?” She hears his voice from close beside her, and she’s embarrassed, so she doesn’t even spare a glance at him.

“My wrist, Finn, it hurts,” her voice cracks and that just deepens the blush on her cheeks and increases the tears running down them.

“I know, Quinn, but it’s gonna be okay, okay? You’ll be alright. Just a little fall, you’ll be alright,” he says quickly, and so calmly, she thinks, and then he sort of squats down beside her and pulls an arm around her. She leans into it and she wants to get up and dry the tears from her eyes, but he does it for her. Gently, he lifts her up and that’s when she finally meets his brown eyes. He gives her a sympathetic look, but she feels like he really cares, and it makes her crying slow down a little. He takes her hand - very, very delicately, and she still winces - and inspects her wrist.

“You prob’ly just sprained it. I did that last summer and it hurt, like, a lot but my mom made me put some ice on it and it was cold and stuff but it got better. Plus I got to eat a lot of ice cream ‘cause it’s what I wanted and my mom said it was okay because I was in pain. Do you like ice cream?”

She laughs out through her sniffles and whimpers and nods. “My favourite’s cookies and cream…”

“I like bubble gum,” he replies with a grin. Matt arrives with the teacher, who takes a hold of Quinn and tells her she’ll be fine, which Quinn knew as soon as Finn told her so. Then she leads her to the office, thanking Finn for being a “big boy and taking care of Miss Fabray.”

Quinn looks back at the brunette and he gives her a thumbs up.

The next day, Quinn comes to school in pretty periwinkle dress, her hair pulled up in a bow and her wrist wrapped up in a cast. The whole class signs it with bright and glittery markers. The last one to approach her is Finn, and he takes a fire engine red colour. Just on the edge, facing towards her, he writes ‘Finn.’ Simply, ‘Finn.’

Every time she looks at her wrist, she sees his name first.

“Thanks, Finn,” she says softly.

“Yeah, it’s okay, it doesn’t take a lot of energy to write my name,” he double checks his handiwork. “Wait, I spelled that right, right?”

She smiles. “I meant for helping me after I… I fell.”

He half-smiles back. “Oh, yeah, no problem. I felt really bad. You wanna play with us again today? We won’t do any stupid games. I told my mom about it and she said that wasn’t a smart game to play. I told her it was fun and she said, ‘Most stupid games are’ and I said, ‘But not boring, stupid ones’ and then she said to apologize to you. So I’m sorry.”

She’s always amazed at the boy’s ability to ramble. “It’s not like it was your fault.”

He shrugs and fiddles with the pen in his hand. “Yeah, but I’m sorry you got hurt anyway.” He stands up and looks down at her in her seated position and plays with the bow in her hair. “How’re you, anyway? Good and stuff?”

She blushes and looks down at the vivid red ‘Finn’ on her arm, somehow standing out among large, scribbled, starry signatures all colours of the rainbow.

“Yeah,” she replies.

* * *

It’s when they’re fifteen years old that Finn’s life becomes the complicated one.

It starts when Finn realizes that Quinn is kind of gorgeous. Like, beautiful: the type of perfect lady that is always in those black and white movies with Audrey Hepburn and stuff that his mom always watches.

He’s always known that Quinn is a pretty girl. Even as a small boy that totally believed that girls had cooties (Puck swore on it, and they were blood brothers, so it had to be true), he knew it.

When they get to high school, and it really hits him that she isn’t just any other girl to him. They’ve been friends for a long time, and, while he’s got a lot of girl friends (like, friends that are girls) now, she was always there, always someone he liked to be around and didn’t even stop to think about those boy/girl boundaries for friendships that were standard for kids. Now, it’s different. Now, it’s cool to have girl friends, but - again - that’s not even something he thinks about with Quinn.

He’s started noticing her a lot more, though. At McKinley, there’s a lot of pretty girls. And there’s a lot of hot girls. Everywhere. (Yeah, him and Puck are having a blast.)

It’s just that, when he looks at Quinn, he sees a pretty, hot, and that-kind-of-gorgeous-that-he-was-talking-about-earlier girl. She’s the only one, too.

It gets worse when people just start assuming that they’re together. Classmates ask her if he’s her boyfriend and his buds always ask him about how far he gets with her in the locker room. So they’re close. And maybe they flirt with each other. But it’s not like they hold hands in the halls or kiss or anything. As Quinn words it, they’re just “good friends with - should the opportunity arrive - potential for more.” (Once he understood what she was saying, his heart beat a little faster.)

That’s when he started seeing her in a different light. One where she could be his girlfriend. He’ll admit that he’s not really one of those guys that only wants sex from girls; duh, he wants it eventually, but he also likes the relationship aspect of everything. He wants his girl and to be her boy, and holding hands, and cuddling at the movies. He wants Saturday night dates every weekend, and kisses - all kinds. So okay, maybe that makes him a pussy, but at least he’s honest, right? And chicks dig that stuff. Anyway, he starts thinking Quinn would be, like, the perfect girl to do all that with.

So then he gets a little nervous around her, and he gets really… foolish and silly. He’s awkward and slightly scrawny still, the tallest guy in their grade, and stupid, he thinks; she’s confident, cool, smart, and popular. Because he’s on the Junior Varsity football team, he’s got a good rep and that’s alright and stuff, but Quinn is a different kind of popular.

Girls wanna be her and guys wanna… you know. He doesn’t like to think about it.

So he’s a little lost, ‘cause he doesn’t know what to do (because maybe he likes her and he’s never liked a girl like this before) and Puck is no help ‘cause he just keeps saying to ‘make a fucking move already’ and ‘just bang her, I can practically smell the virgin on you.’ But that’s not what he wants with Quinn. Puck doesn’t get that kind of thing.

He goes to school one Monday and he’s quite ready to just keep on yearning without her knowledge when he gets word that there’s a junior that’s been flirting with and hitting on Quinn, trying to get her to go out with him.

He immediately feels something flare up within him and it’s mostly anger at himself for not doing anything about liking her all this time, because he should’ve known that of course, another guy would eventually want her, too. He’s also just a little pissed that this guy doesn’t somehow know that Quinn should be his, even though that’s completely not logical.

Brittany skips away after telling him and Puck the gossip, and Puck slaps his shoulder in that guy way. “What’s the plan, chief?”

Finn is shaken out of his daze. “Huh?”

“We gonna beat this tool up or what? You want me to do it while you go get the girl?”

Finn gives him a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

Puck groans and rolls his eyes. “C’mon, I might be a dick to you but even I accept that Quinn is off limits. She’s yours, dude. Kinda always has been.”

Finn tries to keep from smiling, but he just can’t. “Hell yeah,” he says, and it just sort of slips out without him knowing.

“Shit, you’re so gay. Go get her, man. She’s pro’ly waiting for you anyway,” he shoves him lightly. “Too bad you’ll have to tell her you’re into guys now.”

Finn runs his hand through his hair, messing it up, and closes his eyes, trying to think of a game plan. “Uh, ‘kay, don’t beat up the junior. I’m gonna go talk to Quinn, I guess…”

He grabs Puck’s shoulder as a kind of thank you and walks off quickly, craning his neck over the heads in the halls to find the blonde girl.

It takes him not even two minutes to scan the hall and see that she’s putting something away in her locker. She’s wearing that Cheerios uniform that she earned after a summer of practice in the heat, and he thinks she wears it well. It suits her, kind of like his Titans uniform suits him (and the reds match each other).

“Hey, uh, Quinn?” he says nervously, walking up to her, and she smiles at him.

Her honey blonde ponytail whips his arm as he moves around her and she looks up. “Hi, Finn. What’s going on?”

He squeezes his lips together and looks up. He speaks carefully low, “I was hoping you could tell me.”

She shuts her locker slowly and looks up at him with shy, round eyes. “This is about Jeff…?”

“That’s his name?” He sighs, shaking his head. “No. I mean, not really. It’s - well, that’s not really it.” He swallows. “I thought it was, but what I want you to tell me, or, what I’m hoping you could tell me, is what to do. Because honestly, I don’t know. And the truth is, Q, that I really, you know, like you. You’re different than the other girls, and it’s awesome. You’re really pretty and you’re cool and we can talk, just us, so easily and stuff,” he blushes and looks down at his feet. “But I understand ‘cause you’re, like, way out of my league ‘n’ all, and he’s a junior so he’s way cooler…” he looks at her and prays that she isn’t totally disgusted by him. She’s smiling, and her sage green eyes are doing that thing where they twinkle, and he’s entranced by them. “So, um, yeah. I just thought you should… know.”

She grins, and her cheeks actually hurt, because, yeah, she’s been waiting for this since she was ten years old, which, in teenager time, is a really long time. She clears her throat. “Jeff isn’t anything. He just flirts with me all the time, asking for a date… but I don’t want to go out with Jeff. He’s nothing.”

Finn bites the inside of his lip, unsure of what to say. “Um, that’s great.”

There’s a short awkward silence before Quinn asks, almost giggling, “You think I’m pretty?” God, Quinn Fabray doesn’t giggle. (Not at school, at least. She thinks that it only really happens in the presence of this boy.)

Finn immediately looks down and rubs the back of his neck, face burning. “Well, yeah, I mean, you’re you.”

Quinn bites her lip. “You really like me?”

His heart feels like it’s slowing down and speeding up at the same time (he makes a mental note to tell his mom ‘cause he thinks that might be a health concern), but he looks into her eyes and breathes out, “Yeah, Q, I really do.”

She wants to cry and she wants to scream. She keeps it composed.

She moves slowly closer, and she kisses him.

* * *

Around the age of twenty years old is when Finn believes it gets so complicated that it’s just the end.

Him and Quinn have been going steady since they were fifteen, and it’s great. They’ve had a few minor fights, even a couple short break ups that they’ve forgotten about, but, for the most part, they’ve been really, really good together.

Some odd months before graduation at McKinley, they both find out that they’ve been  accepted into Ohio State - Finn on a football scholarship, and Quinn for cheerleading. They jump up and down, literally, and scream when they get the letters, and after they realize how ridiculous they must look, they gradually come to an awkward halt where Finn holds up his hand for an epic high five that Quinn gladly slaps. (They’re kind of dorky.)

In June, they graduate with their friends and spend the rest of the summer together. Everyone in the glee club (who has by now become their primary group of friends, that ragtag bunch of singing kids) who would be graduating that year made a decision together to wait until the end of August to leave Lima, should they be attending a post-secondary school outside of their little hometown.

After two and a half months of sun, sticky nights, Saturday night parties, sleeping in, and sifting through memories, everyone splits ways, but making promises that it won’t be permanent. Finn and Quinn head to Columbus, moving into one apartment together just off campus. (Since Quinn’s parents always planned for her to go to school out of state, and because of the scholarship, they give them the money for housing. It’s kind of them, but she doesn’t forget when her mom couldn’t go five minutes without a drink and slurred speech and how her dad always snuck out when he thought she was asleep. She accepts the money easily because she feels it makes up for some of what they owe her. It doesn’t.)

They settle in and it takes days, that’s it. They feel at home, and while it’s different and new and a little scary, they love it. They love Ohio State. Finn loves playing for the Buckeyes and Quinn loves cheering for them. They love their apartment and their classes and the new friends they quickly make. Most of all, they love coming home and Quinn making dinner, then enforcing the ‘no dinner in front of the TV’ rule (okay, sometimes, if there’s a game or The Office is on or something, then she’s flexible) and talking about their days. They love sharing a bed and cuddling when it’s cold, or finding another way to warm up…

This is their life for two years, and, sure, the novelty of it all wears off after a little while, but they still love it, still wouldn’t give it up for anything. Of course, they argue. Quinn gets snooty and Finn makes some less-than-smart comments, and they’ll exchange some words that they take back sooner or later - usually sooner. Their fights aren’t really “fights”; they never last very long. It’s spur of the moment, and by the end of the night, they’ve made up and apologized, because Quinn can’t stand to go to bed mad at him.

That’s the easy part. This is the complicated one.

They’re 20, and going into their third year at Ohio State. All is well; their futures are being planned out so nicely and they’re taking careful steps to get there. It’s important to them, and it’s what they want together so badly.

He thinks that might be what led to the downfall.

It starts on a cold November night. They have plans to meet up with some friends for a nice, sophisticated - her words, not his - dinner at a new restaurant that they’ve been dying to try (this is their life now). It’s guaranteed to be a nice night: they don’t have to worry about school, they have a few days off work, and basically? They feel really good. Calm. Content.

So, that’s how it starts. It starts wonderfully. That doesn’t mean it ends that way.

In fact, how it does end involves the slam of a car door, Quinn storming quickly from the parking lot and around to their building, and Finn following along, sighing loudly and stuffing his hands in his pockets. He’s pissed. So is she.

They’re both really pissed.

He’s only a few steps behind her when they reach the stairs up to the apartment, and he knows it won’t do anything but he reaches for her elbow. “Quinn, c’mon. Stop.”

She jerks her elbow from his hand and takes heavy steps on each stair, and Finn thinks she’s trying to make noise. He takes the stairs after her, hurrying a little quicker, not wanting to be locked out of the apartment or something stupid like that. “No, Finn. You don’t get it, do you? I am furious with you.”

He groans. “That’s kinda obvious, actually. I don’t get why. You’re being…”

She turns right around in her steps and he almost bumps into her. “What? I’m being what, Finn? A bitch?” She turns around again and continues her journey up to the fourth floor.

He follows her path of terror again and chooses to keep from saying anything. He mostly wonders how it got to be this way. Just hours ago, she was telling him which belt to wear and he was opening the car door for her. What the hell happened?

When Quinn gets to the door, she’s clumsy with the key, due in part to her anger, and in part to the drinks she consumed at dinner (Puck got them fake IDs as parting gifts before they left for school after the last summer. Of course, he did.). Maybe that’s part of what made her so angry, but that’s not what’s on her mind. Finn stands right behind her, hands on each side of the doorjamb, as she pokes the key at the lock, and it takes three tries before she groans in frustration and slides it in.

She throws the door open, and Finn’s sure it leaves a dent in the paint on the other side. He rolls his eyes and shuts the door, then throws the car keys onto a table and watches his girlfriend charge into their bedroom. She’s halfway into unzipping her dress from behind, and he’d think that was really sexy if he wasn’t so upset with her (okay, he still thinks it’s sexy).

He follows her in and shucks his jacket as he does so, watching as she realizes she still has her boots on and can’t get her dress off with them still on. Quinn lets out an aggravated, pissed off roar that actually kind of scares him, then stands on one foot, attempting to balance and take off her left boot at the same time.

He loosens the first few buttons of his black button-up and laughs at her when she stumbles, which earns him a solid glare. She sits on the bed after that, and pulls the zipper of the black leather boots down just before chucking it across the room, and hard, into the closet.

He sort of jumps, mostly out of surprise that she had it in her, and can’t help himself when he says, “Woah.”

She stands up again and yanks the dress down her body, leaving her in her bra, underwear, and black tights. She tosses the dress into the closet, too. “‘Woah’? That’s all you have to say?”

“Would you please calm down? You’re… crazy right now,” he tries. He attempts to calm himself down from being angry over her being angry, because it’s better if there’s at least one sane person during these tense times.

She’s now slid her nylons down her legs and flung them off god knows where, and is rifling through her dresser for bed clothes, he presumes.

“Where are my striped shorts, I just want to get fucking comfortable,” she mumbles to herself. Quinn swearing definitely means she’s both infuriated and… less than sober. “Stupid… dress has to be so damn itchy, and those boots - what, were they made for breaking toes?”

Finn pulls his belt from their loops and shakes his head. He lays the belt on the bed and turns around. “You know what? You can’t be mad at me. I wasn’t even completely sure, okay. It - it’s a maybe…”

She grabs two pieces of clothing and scoffs. “It doesn’t matter. You kept that from me… God knows how long… I’m your girlfriend, Finn. We’re planning a future together, you’re supposed to tell me these things!”

He throws his arms out. “It’s not like I was never going to tell you. They just offered it to me, I hadn’t responded yet.”

“But you told Tom. Tom, who is not even your best friend,” she pulls a shirt over her head, one he vaguely recognizes as his, and her voice is muffled for a moment.  “Actually, it’s not even about that. I thought you’d tell me first. I thought you’d want me to know what’s going on in your life, Finn. Because - because soon, it’s going to be our life. You know that, don’t you?”

Finn lets his arms hang by his side and takes a deep breath. “Of course I know that. I was going to tell you, but I knew you’d react like… like this.”

Quinn glares at him before she pulls her shorts (striped ones) up her legs. She moves closer to him and shakes her head. “Like this? Like I care about you?” she breathes. “It’s dangerous, Finn.”

“Applying to the fire department isn’t dangerous,” he bites. “Getting accepted isn’t either. Nothing has happened. I haven’t even taken the damn job. You’re not upset right now because you care, Quinn - ”

She looks offended, and stops him by cutting him off. “You’re kidding. Of course I care. How dare you imply that I don’t care about your life and your wellbeing.”

“I know you do. But right now? You’re just mad that I didn’t tell you about it. You’re pissed off that Tom told you and everyone else at dinner, and you’re embarrassed. Look, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you right away. But you’re making this into a big deal, when it’s not!”

He chances a look at her, who stands in front of him with her head ducked down. She sniffles, and he immediately feels like a total asshole. She shakes her head and wipes at her eyes as she looks up at him. “No - no, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m mad because I’m scared. Okay? I’m so afraid… of you getting hurt… of everything falling apart before it’s begun. That’s - that’s how it seems right now.”

She walks away from her position in front of him and he swallows, heart breaking at the sight of tears on her cheeks. He just barely registers that she grabs a jacket, sweatpants, and her ‘comfy boots’ as she calls them. He yells in frustration, “What’s falling apart?”

She speaks with as much rage while she puts the jacket and pants over top of her sleepwear. “What we want. Our plans. Ultimately? Us.”

Finn sighs and shakes his head. “Quinn, it’s not like that. Stop it, okay? Just stop.”

She whirls out of the bedroom in a hurricane, and he sighs before he follows after her. The blonde lurches towards the front door, and he watches as she stops and runs a hand through her hair, hesitating.

“Where are you going?” he asks into the uncomfortable, tense silence. He speaks softly and to her, it sounds a lot like giving up right then.

“We need some space. I’m - I’m gonna go,” she puts her hand on the doorknob and turns it. She stares at the white panel in front of her, refusing to look back. She doesn’t have to; she can feel his angry gaze on her.

“I don’t need space, Quinn, just wait, damn it!”

She fills with annoyance. “Well, I do,” she spits. She opens the door and stops in the doorway to say, “I’ll be in touch,” before the door closes and he guesses she’s on her way out the building.

He’s left in their empty apartment, but he feels like he’s standing among ruins.

…

It takes two days, and that is more than enough for him to realize that this is stupid.

Tom comes by, rubbing his neck and smiling sort of sympathetically. “Sorry, dude. I fucked up.”

Finn almost wants to punch him, but that’d just be way overboard. Anyway, after a few seconds, any resentment he felt for the guy disappears, because, really, it isn’t his fault and Quinn had to find out eventually.

“Yeah. Come on in,” Finn tells him, and they both know that Tom’s off the hook. He opens the door wider and his friend strolls in.

Finn grabs two beers and hands one to Tom, and they make small talk. They talk about everything that isn’t Quinn, until Tom drinks the last sip from his bottle and sets it down.

“She called, talked to Nic,” he says bluntly, and Finn knows the ‘she’ is his girlfriend (or whatever she is now, he doesn’t even know). Nic is Tom’s girl, Nicole, and she and Quinn are friendly, but Finn didn’t think they were the type to call each other and make girl talk. “She wanted me to tell you that she’s okay. Said she’s staying at a close friend’s.”

Finn looks up at him. “Who? Nicole or Quinn?” He doesn’t know why he says it. He almost laughs at himself. Idiot, he thinks.

Tom does laugh. Awkwardly. “Uh, Quinn. Q told Nic to tell me… to tell you,” he shakes his head. “That’s confusing.”

Finn puts his own nearly-empty beer bottle down and doesn’t know what to feel. Relief, sure. But he also experiences a balanced, churning mixture of anger, sadness, and frustration. “She could have told me her damn self,” he mutters. He looks to Tom, “You know what? If she calls your girl again, tell Nic to tell her to… man up or something, I don’t know.” He groans and rubs his eyes, already tired of this. “She’s being ridiculous, isn’t she? I mean, this isn’t a big deal.”

Tom nods, not wanting to get mixed up in it more than he already. He pats Finn on the back and wishes him good luck, saying he has to run. Tom leaves, and Finn wonders how long it’s going to be until he gets word from Quinn again, and who will be the messenger.

He winces when he realizes that it’s going to hurt to go much longer without her.

…

He’s on the phone with Rachel and Puck on Sunday, three days after their fight, when he hears a beep cut through the conversation that indicates Call Waiting.

Finn stops Rachel mid-sentence, cuts short her rambling about how she and Puck are deciding what furniture will adorn the new apartment they share. “Sorry, Rach. I think there’s a call on the other line…”

On the other end, Rachel beams. “Bring her back home, Hudson.”

Finn shakes his head, laughing. “It might not be her,” he reminds, but he’s holding his breath, literally, that it is.

Puck stops Rachel from the pep talk he knows she’s about to give their friend, saying, “Let him go, Berry,” then turns to talk into the speaker phone. “Luck, bro.”

They switch off, and Finn clicks over. He mutters nervously, “Hello?”

“Finn,” she sighs, and yep, it’s the call he certainly has been waiting for.

“Baby,” he says, and the relief might kill him. “This is really, really dumb, and that’s coming from me.”

He hears her laugh, very lightly, but it’s still something, and he smiles. There’s a long silence where he swears he can just about hear her bite her lip and flutter her eyes closed. Then she whimpers, “Can I come home?”

It’s tentative, and he knows it’s an apology. She’s embarrassed by her actions. She knows she acted out of line. He hears it all, and he accepts it.

“Yes,” he nods. “Please.”

***

(They hang up and he paces the area of their place impatiently. He tidies up a little and tries to position himself so he looks like he just knew she’d be back, but it’s not true and all for nought. He hears footsteps nearing the door and before she can even put her hand on the doorknob, he opens it for her. She’s wearing a skirt and cardigan he’s never seen before, so he assumes they’re borrowed from the friend she stayed with. She looks so pretty and sorry and sad, that he wraps his arms around her tightly in a way he hopes ensures she’ll never leave again. He whispers into her hair, brokenly, “You went to bed mad at me.”

She hugs him back just as tightly, then puts her hands on either side of his face and gently drags his face up to hers. “No,” she shakes her head, and he looks at her. That’s all that has to be said. He kisses her softly, and again, this time tugging on her lower lip. She kisses back - how could she not - but stops him when she thinks it’s gotten too heated for the hallway.

He rests his forehead on hers when she says, “Look, I love you and miss you and I am so sorry and we need to talk, but I really miss you and…” her eyes drift towards the bedroom, and back in high school, he’d need an extra hint for him to understand, but not now, not after three years of living with her. He smirks and takes her by the hand, dragging her off in that direction, while her giggles float through the air.

He lays her out on the bed and climbs over her, then stops. He takes a moment to revel in her presence, in having her back again all to himself, and to thank God for letting him have this beauty. He kisses her and leans up again, away, teasing her. “So, you missed me?” he whispers.

She trails a hand down his body and nods. “Uh huh.”

He grins, and kisses her again.)

***

Finally, at 25, everything is so much easier. They believe it’s come full circle.

They graduate from OSU in 2016 and they’re very proud of the fact. Finn especially, because, to be honest, he never thought he’d make it there. In the end, he earns his degree (to teach, elementary school level) and throws his mortarboard to the sky along with the rest of them.

Quinn works hard for four years towards a career in accounting, and she receives her university degree at the end of it. She’s excited, and impatient, and she just wants the rest of her life to begin.

After the ceremony, they find their parents and friends and give thank yous to many congratulations. They take pictures, upon Carole’s request, but neither of them mind, deciding that the day should be documented in photograph form anyway. They all go out for a bite to eat at the perfect restaurant (in their opinion; it makes great food and the atmosphere is comfortable, nothing too fancy, just how they like it), and they can’t keep the smiles off their faces.

They talk about where to go and what to do. They consider moving back to Lima, but they feel like the town’s not enough anymore. They loved Columbus, still do love it, and in the end, they make the decision to stay put. They renew their lease on their beloved apartment, no longer being backed by Quinn‘s parents for money, but start looking at other areas of town for later on.

They spend the summer rather freely. They travel, a week and a half in Puerto Vallarta where they stay in a cheap hotel but spend most of the time outside of it. They come back to Columbus with dark and glowing, sun-freckled skin and naturally lightened hair, swearing never to drink another shot of tequila again.

Finn applies to a couple school districts around their area and waits for a job to come up. He temps once in a while, and realizes how much he loves it. Quinn goes out to a couple companies as a financial advisor and immediately gets a job. She goes to work in heels and tailored blazers, silky button-ups and pencil skirts, and it’s sort of who she thought she’d always be.

By January, Finn gets a job at a reasonably close school, when the elderly third grade teacher falls and breaks her leg, leaving her out of commission at least until May. The principal takes him aside and tells him how next September, their fourth grade teacher is leaving the district and they’re looking for someone to take his place, and if they like him now, he might get the job.

The kids love him. He’s a huge and lovable dork, and he fits in with them, but because they look up to him, he still holds an authority over them and they know it. He gets along with the other teachers, ever friendly, and they poke fun at him over his young age, but it’s all just kidding around. He loves the job.

In September, he becomes the permanent fourth grade teacher.

He calls his mom and tells her, excitedly, because he’ll always be a mama’s boy and Quinn laughs at him (she thinks it’s adorable, though). Quinn takes him out and buys him dinner, and it’s his turn to laugh, because it’s just so far from the traditional guy-buys-the-girl-dinner views that Quinn stood so strongly by in high school. She just tells him to eat and be quiet with a smile on her face.

The next three years are spent a lot like the ones during their first three years of university: happy. They have no complaints. They live comfortably enough; while they don’t exactly have much money to spend, they have enough to pay the bills and save a little each month. They like their jobs, even though sometimes they’ll come home with aching feet or a headache and a story to tell in a frustrated tone. They learn that’s normal.

Throughout the years, they get comments. People don’t understand why they aren’t married. When they tell them that they aren’t even technically engaged, they’re even more confused. By the time they’re both 25, Finn and Quinn don’t get it either.

Separately, they both come to realize that they’re ready. They have some money saved and everything’s really stable. Now it’s easy, now they can do what they’ve been waiting for.

Finn takes a small cut of his paycheque each month and stashes the money in a little box at the very back of his underwear drawer. In January, he takes it and buys a modest and beautiful ring that he can’t wait to see on her dainty finger.

On the drive home, he tries to think up different ways of proposing. He’s a mess. He’s excited and nervous, and the two together feel like maniacal butterflies in his tummy.

He pulls into the driveway and goes in the house, expecting the early Sunday morning silence that greets him. He finds Quinn, wide awake with a hot cup of tea in her hands, curled up on the sofa. Her hair is left natural, no hair dryer or flat iron used on it, and he can tell it’s still a little damp. She smells fresh and clean, obviously having been in the shower. She’s wearing nothing fancier than the cute little floral socks on her feet; she’s dressed for lounging with faded black yoga pants and an old McKinley High t-shirt.

She’s cozy, and he loves it. This is how he likes her best.

His hopefully soon-to-be fiancee glances at him as he walks through the archway. “Morning. Where’d you go?”

He barely hears her. “Wanna get married?”

So, he’s tactless, in the end. He hardly feels himself saying it because the question flows off his tongue before he’s even processed his thoughts.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself. “I didn’t mean to say it like that…”

Quinn looks up from the edge of the mug in her hands. She stutters, “Excuse me?”

He stands awkwardly and scratches his head. “I don’t know, it just came out. You’re just sitting there and you look like… like home or something, even though I know that doesn’t make sense,” he rubs his hand over his face and groans. He begins a new approach and looks at her to find her grinning. “You know I love you, Quinn Fabray, more than anything. I’m asking you to be my wife. Will you marry me?”

It’s all quiet for a moment, like when he stepped in. She finds a place to set her tea and puts it down carefully. “Um,” she blinks, “yeah.”

She stands up and walks over to Finn, her fiance (ooh, that feels good to say, she thinks), who stands there sort of shocked, and she laughs - he had to know she’d say yes. The blonde wraps her arms around his neck and once she touches him, he comes to. He takes the ring out of his pocket and brings it up between them, opening the box towards her. She breathes in at the sight, amazed that her boy found the perfect ring. He takes it out and slides it on her finger, brown eyes meeting green ones. She looks at the ring again, and then kisses him deeply, saying all she needs to say.

They made it, and while she’s not so surprised, she thinks of their past and everything it took to get them there. She smiles when a thought occurs to her: since they were five years old, things have never been easier.