When We Both Let It Go [7/7]
Title: When We Both Let It Go
Chapter: 7/7
Rating: R
Pairing: Finn/Rachel
Summary: He wants her to see how hard he's working to be something. It's supposed to make her proud of him, the Army thing. And plus, he really wanted her to see his progress so that maybe she could admit he's doing something good. For them.
Word Count: 5,900
Disclaimer: Don't own.
She doesn't hear anything from him for a few days, which is to be expected. She sobbed against him and then likely made him feel absolutely terrible. She feels badly about that, obviously, but she also knows that if they aren't honest with each other, they'll never work anything out. God, she still doesn't know if that's what she wants.
"Oh, fuck that," Santana snaps, and they're walking down the street, so some people turn to look at them, but Santana doesn't seem to care. "Don't you fucking dare lie to me like that."
"Santana, you don't..."
"No."
"But I..."
"No." Santana stops walking and pushes Rachel gently against the wall of the building they're next to. "Don't be an idiot. You love him as much as you always have and he's here telling you to give him a chance. You know you're going to, so quit fucking around."
"He hurt me."
"Yeah? And you hurt him." Rachel's jaw drops and she's so mad that Santana's not on her side right now. Santana just tilts her head. "You told him you hated him, Rachel," she says, matter of factly. "How do you think he feels knowing you think he'll break your heart again?"
"He's done it too many times for me to actually think he won't," Rachel says, and she means it, and she's confident, because it's just how she feels and she's not going to let Santana bully her into giving Finn some kind of a chance she still hasn't decided he deserves.
"People change," Santana says simply. "And he's jumping through every fucking hoop you put in front of him, because he wants you that badly." Rachel doesn't know what to say to that. Santana sets her shoulders. "Honestly, I'm starting to think you just like it."
Rachel narrows her eyes. "Like what?"
"The attention. Him proving it. It's like you're pushing him to see how much he'll take, and guess what, Rachel." Santana stares right at her. Rachel feels like she's being reprimanded. "It'll be all your fault when he gives up because he can't take it anymore, and then you'll try to convince us that you were right all along when you end up disappointed."
Tears prick her eyes and Rachel shakes her head. "That's not fair."
"Get over yourself," Santana says, and it's sort of gentle, but she definitely means it. "He's fucking in love with you. Stop pretending that's not exactly what you've wanted your entire fucking life." Rachel has nothing to say to that, really, because…Because. "I have to go."
Santana doesn't have to go. They were about to get coffee and go shopping. Rachel's got an audition tomorrow and she likes to get a new outfit for each one.
"Santana," she calls when the girl starts walking away.
Santana just hooks her bag over her arm, turns so she's walking backwards, and says, "Think about it."
And she does think about it, probably too much. As she's shopping for a dress, it's all she can think about. Is Santana right? Is she really only doing this because she knows she can? Or worse, is she doing this so she can push him away and prove herself right? She doesn't want to be right. She doesn't know what she wants, but she knows that if he tells her he loves her, she won't hate that. God, maybe...Maybe she just wants him to say it. She wants to trust him. She wants him to stick around. Maybe making him jump through hoops really is just her way of testing him. She hates that. She's not trying to make his life hell or anything, but she's not ready to...
She has no idea what she's doing.
She calls Quinn, after retail therapy that was not all that therapeutic and really just terrible for her bank balance. Two dresses, a top and a pair of shoes. None of which she legitimately needed.
She tells Quinn what Santana said, and all Quinn says is, "Well..." and her voice trails, and god, does everyone think Rachel's just playing games?
Does Finn think that's what she's doing.
"Can I...Can I talk about me for a second?" Quinn asks, and Rachel feels terrible, because there's a moment when she seriously considers the fact that she's just a burden to her friends, and she's selfish enough to make everything about her.
"Of course you can."
"I did the same thing with Puck." Rachel doesn't know...Okay, that's true, yes, and it's been true for years, probably, but how does that... "And I missed out on...I know it's different, because he was a moron in high school and I couldn't have known he'd end up being...being the guy he is now, but..."
"Quinn, what are you saying?" Rachel asks quietly, and yes, she's more interested in her friend's feelings right now, and not just how she's relating them to Rachel's situation.
"I had zero belief that he could actually do anything," Quinn says quietly. "And now...I'm mostly in love with him and he lives on the other side of the country and there's nothing I can do about it."
"Quinn," Rachel whispers. God, she knew Quinn had strong feelings for him, and she knew they'd been talking, but she had no idea Quinn was in love with Noah. "Have you told him?"
"Are you crazy?"
Rachel giggles. "You've been telling me I am for years."
Quinn laughs a bit, then lets out a breath. "You know, I know you're going to tell me I should." Yes, she is. "Which is kind of funny, since you're not just telling Finn."
"I'm...It's different."
Quinn laughs even harder, so hard that she has to gulp in a breath. "Rachel, it is so not different. It was just a baby we gave up, in our case, instead of an engagement."
Quinn has this terrible habit of being right about things like this, and Rachel spends the rest of her evening - when she's not on stage, that is - thinking about how she'd feel if things felt final between her and Finn. What would it be like to know they were completely over? What if she pushes him away and he gives up because he thinks it's hopeless to keep trying?
She may not know what she wants, but knowing she doesn't want that sort of makes things a little bit clearer to her.
He answers the phone sounding tired, which sort of makes sense, since she waited until she got home after her show to call him.
"Hi," she says quietly. "Sorry. I know it's late."
"No, it's okay." He was sleeping. He was definitely sleeping. She remembers what he sounds like when he's just woken up. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she whispers, and tries not to let herself go too crazy over the fact that that was the first question he asked. "I just...wanted to talk to you."
"About what?"
"Um." She swallows and pulls a blanket over her lap as she sits on the couch in her apartment. She doesn't have any lights on, so she's just got the city lights coming through the windows. "Nothing, really."
She can hear him smiling when he says, "So you called me after midnight to talk about nothing?" and he moves around in his bed - she can hear it. "Am I allowed to say that it's really good to hear your voice?"
She presses her hand against her stomach in hopes of getting the butterflies to stop fluttering. "Yes."
There's a pause and she wants to fill it with something, but he beats her to it. "I thought you were mad at me again."
It sort of breaks her heart a little.
"No," she tells him, and pulls her legs up onto the sofa. "No, I'm not mad at you. And I'm really sorry for...I've been sort of awful to you, haven't I?"
"What? No."
"You don't have to lie," she laughs.
"I'm not lying," he says, and he's sincere. God, his voice is sexy right now. "I know why you're scared."
No one else has really said it like that, that she's scared. She is, and she hasn't denied that, but it's interesting to hear it from him. She didn't have to say it for him to know, and for some reason that means something. No, they're not experts on each other any more, but if he can see that, then maybe it's not quite so crazy to feel like they haven't changed as much as she first thought. She always liked that he could read her so well.
"I am," she sort of whispers.
"It's okay," he tells her. He's smiling again. There's a lingering moment where she wishes he was here with her or she was there with him. "It's okay, baby."
The butterflies have turned into something else entirely. "Finn," she lets out on a breath.
"Sorry. It just slipped out."
She laughs quietly. "I liked it."
He lets out this sound that... "You should go to bed."
She smiles and bites her bottom lip. She likes this conversation. A lot.
"Will I see you Sunday?"
"Yeah."
"Good." She's grinning too hard, and there's no way she'll be able to just go to sleep after they hang up. "I want to see your place."
She hears him swallow, and she's not saying she'll sleep with him, or anything, but...He's seen her apartment and she wants to see where he lives. She wants to keep them moving in the same direction, together.
"Okay. I guess I should clean it."
Rachel giggles a little bit. "Go back to sleep, Finn."
"Okay," he says again. "Goodnight."
... ... ...
He's hanging out with Santana when this kind of hot girl walks up and flirts with him. She doesn't do it very well, but Finn knows what she's trying to do anyway. Santana's just standing there next to him sipping her whiskey and like, smirking.
"Um. I'm in love with someone," he tells this girl, and she doesn't even say anything before walking away.
Santana says, "Pussy," as she laughs, but he knows she doesn't really mean it.
"If we get someone to have sex with you will you be less of a bitch?"
Santana barks out a laugh and looks at him. "Not likely, but let's try."
So yeah. It's kind of weird to be her wingman, and he listens to her theory that everyone's bisexual and the right set of circumstances would allow her to take any woman home. He doesn't really know if he believes her until she finds the like, hottest woman in the bar and leaves with her 20 minutes later, shooting Finn a wink as she goes.
He texts Rachel 'Santana is insane and I think she's like a magician or something.'
She texts back 'She's hot and she acts like she could have anyone. Even if it's not true she can make people believe it.'
'Okay yeah but how?'
'Confidence is sexy.'
Finn grins, finishes his beer and realizes Santana didn't settle her tab, so he has to pay that, too.
He sends Rachel back 'Noted ;)' and hopes it's like, hot, and not weird.
... ... ...
His apartment isn't huge, but it's nice. It's freshly-painted, and not just plain white, either. There's a fireplace that obviously doesn't work, and a tiny apartment kitchen, and his bedroom is tidy and his navy blue bedding is pulled up over his pillows the same way all men seem to think means the bed is made.
"I'm not a very good cook," he tells her once he's given her the tour. There are photos on the mantel of his family, and a few of people from the army, and Noah. Simple frames that don't all match. She likes that. "So I didn't make anything."
"That's okay," she says.
And honestly, if she knew he lived so far away and that he's been traveling uptown to see her every Sunday, she might have been even more impressed. He lives on the Lower East Side and he's said he works near where he lives. It's not like it's incredibly difficult to get from one place to another in Manhattan, but still. She appreciates the effort he's putting into this. She doesn't know how to tell him so.
"Do you wanna order something, or..."
Rachel shrugs her shoulder, leans her hip against the counter. "I could make something."
"What?" he laughs. "No. You're not making me dinner in my apartment. That'd be like...I'd be the worst host ever."
She bites her lip so she doesn't smile too hard, and says, "Another time, then."
It's sort of fun to make him speechless.
He offers her a beer and she takes it, and he watches her with a smile on his face as she takes the first sip. He's never seen her drink beer before, though it's become a favourite of hers. She doesn't indulge in it too much because of the sheer amount of calories.
And she does convince him to let her make them something quickly. Really, they've bought every meal they've shared recently and it seems silly to do it again when they're in a kitchen with plenty of options. She checks through his cupboards and settles on pasta in a simple sauce, and Finn is awkward and objects the entire time, saying she doesn't have to do this, and he can at least make pasta. She swats his hand away when he tries to chop a pepper.
"Stop it," she laughs. "Just keep me company in the kitchen and we'll call it even."
"That's not really even," he tells her, leaning on the counter next to her, smiling and...He's close enough that his arm is brushing hers. "It's sort of win-win for me."
"Well, then just enjoy it," she says, and god, he's got the best smile.
His hand slides across her back when he moves past her to get two more bottles of beer out of the fridge, and then his wrist grazes her ass when she asks where his colander is. He doesn't apologize and she doesn't need him to.
After dinner, she tries to do the dishes 'just quickly, Finn' and he argues her on that, too. He finally sets his hands on her hips from behind and they're both laughing as he literally pulls her away from the sink.
"Stop," he says, chest against her back. "You don't have to do this." She doesn't know what to do with her hands, so she leaves her arms by her side, but they brush against his hands, still on her hips. "Come sit with me."
It's insane that last week she was crying and telling him she didn't trust him, and now she's sitting on his sofa with him, drinking a glass of water because she declined another beer, laughing at some story he's telling her about a man she wouldn't know from Adam.
"Rach," he says during a lull in the conversation, and he sets his hand on her thigh, right above her knee. "What changed?"
"What do you mean?"
She knows. She just wants him to say it. She also sets her hand over his and he lets out a little chuckle.
"This," he says, brushing his thumb against her skin. "You're...I mean, last week..."
"I don't want to be upset with you anymore," she confesses, looking at him. "I...It's gotten to the point where being mad at you hurts more than...than wanting you."
Finn swallows, looks at her with his eyes a little wide. "You want me?"
There's a lump in her throat, but she's not going to cry and she knows that.
"I always wanted you, Finn."
"Even when you hated me?" She nods a little, because it's the truth and he deserves to know it. God, it's exhausting, pretending, or trying to convince herself, that she doesn't have all the same feelings he has. And he deserves to know it, doesn't he? "But you don't hate me anymore."
She laughs a little and wants to be closer to him. "No."
"And, um." He swallows and tugs at her hand a little, and she shifts on the sofa so their thighs are pressed together, and then he's sliding his hand up her arm, over her shoulder and onto her neck. "Where are you on that whole trusting me thing?"
She licks her lips - he's going to kiss her, she just knows it - and looks into his eyes. "I'm getting there." He smiles at her, strokes his thumb along her jaw. "Quickly."
Her breathing is shallow and she knows he's noticed. She thinks that now, for the first time in years, they want exactly the same thing at exactly the same moment. It feels more amazing than she could possibly articulate.
"Rachel," he says when she puts her hand on his chest.
She kisses him with her eyes shut tight at the exact moment he puts his hand in her hair to bring her closer. She lets go of his hand so she can put hers on the back of his neck, and his slides up onto her hip. He brings her closer that way, too, until she's uncomfortably pressed against him and trying to kiss him at an odd angle. The only solution she can think of is to swing her leg over his and settle herself onto his lap. It makes him sort of let out this breath, this heavy breath she hears and feels at the same time, and then his mouth is back on hers, his tongue teasing at her bottom lip while she holds his face in her hands.
"We should..."
She cuts him off, kisses him and...She wants to press her hips closer to his. She thinks he'd like it, but she also thinks it'd be too good for her and they probably shouldn't even be making out like this.
But it's what she wants. She wants him, and she's not afraid to admit that to herself. Or to him. Or to anyone who might ask.
"Rachel, this is..." He pulls back from her, pushes her hair away from her face. They just look at each other for a moment, then she very deliberately moves, on her knees, until she can lower herself directly over his hips. He lets out a groan and she can feel him, half hard beneath her.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore," she says, and his hand flattens on the small of her back, like he wants to keep her there. "Just..."
He licks his lips and she can feel how aroused she is from this, just from kissing him. She feels like she's 16 again, so turned on just because he's the one kissing her and she feels so much for him. Her emotions are all over the place, but she's not even thinking about them right now, not when she can feel how wet she is already. The difference between then and now is that she knows what to do about it.
She smiles a bit, combs her fingers through his hair with one hand while the other grips his shirt at his chest. "Do you trust me?"
He sort of moans, says, "Yeah," in this thick, deep voice she remembers from when they used to make love.
"I want this," she tells him, then brushes her lips against his gently, watches the way his eyes flutter closed. "Please."
"Okay," he breathes, and then stands up, his hands under her ass to carry her to his bedroom.
He almost says he loves her, when he's inside her and they're moving together, the same as it used to be but better, more. He doesn't finish his thought, but she can tell that was it and she says, "Kiss me," and he starts at her chest and works his way up to her lips.
She comes when he says, "Rachel, baby, I can't..." and swipes his thumb across her nerves.
And she loves the way he feels when he lets go, falling onto one forearm so more of his weight is on her.
"Sorry," he says all breathlessly once he's come down.
She grabs onto his arms so he won't move. "Don't," she says, and isn't ashamed at all when she says, "I like it."
She's not too stupid to know she's loved him all along. She needed reminders, though, and she just got plenty of them. Not even just their evening, or their conversation, or how it feels to be intimate with him. It's in the way he still wraps her full into his arms and kisses the back of her shoulder right before they go to sleep. It's in the way he still says, "Night," against her ear.
He's left parts of himself all over her history, and he promised her a future. It's taken her a while, but she wants to love him now, too.
... ... ...
His alarm goes off and he reaches over to turn it off. It'd be easier if his right arm wasn't trapped. Not that he's complaining. Rachel's curled up against him, her back all pressed up to his side, and his arm is under her head. It's totally asleep and it'll feel like crap when he gets it back, but he really doesn't care at all.
The woman he's been in love with his entire adult life is sleeping naked in his bed. He has no complaints.
"Rachel," he says softly, leaning up so his chest is against her again. Fuck, she's beautiful. "Rach." She lets out this little whine. "Wake up."
"No."
He chuckles and watches her eyes open, then she turns her head and smiles this really...
"Hi."
"Hi," she whispers, and blinks all slowly. "You have to work." He nods and kisses her cheek, because he can. And he's happy that she said it so he didn't have to tell her and feel like a jerk. "I have the day off."
"I know."
Rachel turns a bit more, slides his hand across his stomach and... "I want to spend it with you."
"Fuck," he breathes, then watches her grin. He has to catch her wrist when she pushes it lower, her fingertips brushing against his pelvis. "I can't. I'm still in my probation period."
She pouts, her bottom lip sticking out. God, she's the most adorable woman ever. "Boo," she murmurs. Then she pushes her leg over his hips, sits up, and...She's naked and sitting on him and he can't... "You could leave me in your bed for the day."
He swallows. "You're making me not want to leave at all."
Rachel smiles this huge like, perfect, Rachel Berry smile, and leans down to kiss him. His hands move up her back, and fuck, he's so screwed, because she's perfect on top of him, perfect in general, and he can't.
"Good," she says against his mouth.
"Rachel," he sort of laughs, "I have to go."
"But I just got you back." And like, she needs to stop. He holds onto her hips, grins up at her and then turns his head to kiss her arm, because she's got her hands braced against the pillow above his shoulders.
"You always had me."
"Finn," she moans, and he flexes his fingers against her hips when she tries to move. "You can't say that and then just go to work."
"Yeah," he chuckles, "and you can't be the sexiest woman alive and be on top of me and ask me to call in."
She giggles and sits up again, and god, her body. "Yes I can."
He physically has to move her off him or he'll like, get fired and then he'll be in real trouble.
... ... ...
"Hey, I know it's not Sunday, but I'm kind of dying to see you."
She laughs as she swipes on her lip gloss. "You're crazy if you think I can wait until then. I'll text you when the show's done?"
"I'll meet you. I'll walk you home."
She bites her lip and feels her stomach dip, just thinking of what they'll do when they get here. "So chivalrous."
"Stop being so cute," he laughs. "God."
And they don't even...Well, she wants to have sex with him again, but just like before, that's not all their relationship is about. They still have things to work through, and they're getting there, and ignoring that for the sake of being physically satisfied would be stupid. So they talk a bit, about their days and about other things, too. Like her friendship - or lack of - with Kurt, and Finn's part in that. He feels guilty, which he really shouldn't, because he didn't do anything wrong. God, he wasn't even in the country.
He gets a text and checks it quickly, then laughs, and she looks at him because, well, she's nosy and she wants to know what's funny.
"Puck's coming to visit," he tells her, and her eyes go wide. "Well, he's coming to this coast, anyway."
"They're going to end up together."
"Hmm." He presses his lips to her temple, murmurs, "That seems to be going around."
And all she can think about is that ring in her drawer, and how it's way too early to put it on. But considering she's been thinking about it for years, it's not too early to at least consider the possibility that...
"Jesus Christ, just fucking elope," Santana says, all exasperated, and it's silly because Rachel swears she's only been talking about her and Finn for five minutes. They met for drinks and Rachel woke up with Finn in her bed this morning, so there's no way she can be expected not to talk about him at all.
"Santana."
"Seriously. And do I have to hear about all your lovey-dovey bullshit? Like, actually?"
"It's not bullshit," Rachel laughs, and Santana rolls her eyes. "You're just jealous."
Santana's laugh is loud enough to draw stares. "I am so not jealous." Rachel kinks her brow. "Whatever. Maybe I'm like, happy for you or whatever, but I'm not jealous."
"You want what I have."
"Sure," Santana scoffs. "Five years of emotional turmoil and a couple nights of decent sex. That's what I want."
Rachel just glares, because that's not at all accurate. Okay, well. That's not very accurate. "The sex is amazing."
"Babe," Santana groans. "Come on. I'm trying to enjoy this wine."
Rachel really just laughs, because she knows Santana has a tendency towards hyperbole. It's okay. Rachel just finds it particularly hilarious that the girl who used to drill her for details on her sex life with Michael doesn't want to know anything about her sex life with Finn.
"Well, yeah," Santana says, like her motives for this should be obvious. "Michael and you just fucked. You and Finn like, make love. Who wants to hear about that?"
Rachel tells Finn about this over the phone after a tiny bit too much wine. (She of course just says that Santana doesn't want to hear about them making love. She leaves the Michael part out of it completely.)
He says, "Whatever. She's just jealous."
Rachel almost slips and says that she loves him. It wouldn't completely be the wine talking, but she'd hate to have him doubt it.
... ... ...
He's sitting in a booth in a Manhattan martini bar with his best friend, his girlfriend (it's weird to call Rachel that, though, because she feels like way more than that) and...Well, Quinn. Who he sort of wants to call Puck's girlfriend, but he doesn't know if that's where they're at yet, and he doesn't want to make them uncomfortable.
He's sipping a nine dollar beer and Rachel's taking tiny little sips of her martini as the four of them talk. He's got his arm around her, and he's pretty sure Quinn's got her hand on Puck's thigh under the table, but he can't like, check to see. He and Rachel have been back together for a few months, and Puck and Quinn might as well be freaking married, because Finn swears they talk more than most married couples do. He wants to bust Puck's chops over it, but, well...
He really has no room to criticize anyone else for wanting a girl that badly, does he?
Santana walks into the bar in a tight black dress and really tall heels, and Rachel and Quinn do the exact same thing, where they're smiling and looking at each other, then rolling their eyes. They both look amazing, but Rachel's in like, jeans and a silky tank top thing, and Quinn's wearing a pretty dress that's way more modest.
Santana likes attention and always has. She gets a drink from the bar and then scans the room, even though she's already seen them.
He totally knows what she's doing. They've hung out enough since he moved here that he knows.
"So," she says when she gets to the table, and kisses Quinn's cheek and gives Puck a high five like it hasn't been years since she saw him, "redhead in the corner, or blonde at the bar?"
Finn laughs and shakes his head, and Rachel just leans against his side. "Your love life is so sketchy," he says. Santana sits down, shrugs her shoulder. "But like...The blonde."
"Finn!" Rachel gasps.
"Obviously," Puck adds.
"Jerk!" Quinn swats Puck on the arm and he just winks at her.
Santana laughs at all of them and sips her drink.
Honestly, Finn really loves his life.
Later, when he's in Rachel's bed,and they're both undressed and she's just sort of lying on top of him and he's playing with her fingers, she lets out this long breath that lets him know she wants to say something.
Honestly? He kind of hopes it's got something to do with how she feels about him.
He's not stupid, okay? He doesn't doubt her. She wouldn't be with him if she didn't want to be with him and want to love him. She's hurt, or she was hurt, and it took her some time to get over all the crap they put each other through. He totally gets that.
But two weeks ago, he told her he loves her, and he's told her since, and he gets if she couldn't say it or whatever, but he's sort of dying to hear the words. He knows he will, but...
He just doesn't like waiting for things. He waited five years for her, and he thinks that like...Whatever. He's not trying to be a selfish dick, but he thinks he's been patient enough and he should get to hear her pretty voice telling him she's in love with him. He's not wrong to want that.
He's moving his thumb over her knuckles and watching their hands together and feeling her breathing like this. And he slides the pad of his thumb up and down her ring finger a few times. He doesn't mean to do it the first time, but yeah, the second and third are totally intentional.
"I still have it," she says, and it doesn't scare him, but they haven't said actual words in like, twenty minutes. "The ring."
She kisses his heart when she feels it beating so hard, then looks at his face. He's still watching their hands. He weaves their fingers together and looks into her eyes.
"Okay." He doesn't know what to say. "You can wear it if you want to."
"Finn," she says, like he's stealing her breath away.
God, that was too much. He just said too much.
"Not now, if you...If you think it's too soon," he clarifies, then watches his hand push her hair away from her face. "Someday, though."
Rachel shifts a little, leans up to kiss him on the lips, and then legs her legs move to either side of him. She whispers, "I love you," and weaves the fingers of their other hands together. He can't breathe. "I love you."
His throat is all...He just...
She kisses him right at the corner of his eye. Fuck. He's not crying, but he could.
"Rachel." She presses her lips to his again, and moves her lower half the slightest bit as their hands stay joined, on his chest and right next to his head on the pillow. "Thank you."
No, he doesn't know what he's thanking her for. Maybe for waiting, or maybe for trusting him, or maybe for letting go of her fear of being with him. Maybe it's just for telling him she loves him. He actually has no clue.
But she nods slowly, kisses him, and says, "I want to."
He doesn't let her go so she can get the ring from wherever she's keeping it. They've got time. They've got lots of it.
"I love you," he tells her, and she nods again, murmurs, "I know," against his lips as she smiles.
And he'll make sure she always does. Know. Smile. Everything.
Chapter: 7/7
Rating: R
Pairing: Finn/Rachel
Summary: He wants her to see how hard he's working to be something. It's supposed to make her proud of him, the Army thing. And plus, he really wanted her to see his progress so that maybe she could admit he's doing something good. For them.
Word Count: 5,900
Disclaimer: Don't own.
She doesn't hear anything from him for a few days, which is to be expected. She sobbed against him and then likely made him feel absolutely terrible. She feels badly about that, obviously, but she also knows that if they aren't honest with each other, they'll never work anything out. God, she still doesn't know if that's what she wants.
"Oh, fuck that," Santana snaps, and they're walking down the street, so some people turn to look at them, but Santana doesn't seem to care. "Don't you fucking dare lie to me like that."
"Santana, you don't..."
"No."
"But I..."
"No." Santana stops walking and pushes Rachel gently against the wall of the building they're next to. "Don't be an idiot. You love him as much as you always have and he's here telling you to give him a chance. You know you're going to, so quit fucking around."
"He hurt me."
"Yeah? And you hurt him." Rachel's jaw drops and she's so mad that Santana's not on her side right now. Santana just tilts her head. "You told him you hated him, Rachel," she says, matter of factly. "How do you think he feels knowing you think he'll break your heart again?"
"He's done it too many times for me to actually think he won't," Rachel says, and she means it, and she's confident, because it's just how she feels and she's not going to let Santana bully her into giving Finn some kind of a chance she still hasn't decided he deserves.
"People change," Santana says simply. "And he's jumping through every fucking hoop you put in front of him, because he wants you that badly." Rachel doesn't know what to say to that. Santana sets her shoulders. "Honestly, I'm starting to think you just like it."
Rachel narrows her eyes. "Like what?"
"The attention. Him proving it. It's like you're pushing him to see how much he'll take, and guess what, Rachel." Santana stares right at her. Rachel feels like she's being reprimanded. "It'll be all your fault when he gives up because he can't take it anymore, and then you'll try to convince us that you were right all along when you end up disappointed."
Tears prick her eyes and Rachel shakes her head. "That's not fair."
"Get over yourself," Santana says, and it's sort of gentle, but she definitely means it. "He's fucking in love with you. Stop pretending that's not exactly what you've wanted your entire fucking life." Rachel has nothing to say to that, really, because…Because. "I have to go."
Santana doesn't have to go. They were about to get coffee and go shopping. Rachel's got an audition tomorrow and she likes to get a new outfit for each one.
"Santana," she calls when the girl starts walking away.
Santana just hooks her bag over her arm, turns so she's walking backwards, and says, "Think about it."
And she does think about it, probably too much. As she's shopping for a dress, it's all she can think about. Is Santana right? Is she really only doing this because she knows she can? Or worse, is she doing this so she can push him away and prove herself right? She doesn't want to be right. She doesn't know what she wants, but she knows that if he tells her he loves her, she won't hate that. God, maybe...Maybe she just wants him to say it. She wants to trust him. She wants him to stick around. Maybe making him jump through hoops really is just her way of testing him. She hates that. She's not trying to make his life hell or anything, but she's not ready to...
She has no idea what she's doing.
She calls Quinn, after retail therapy that was not all that therapeutic and really just terrible for her bank balance. Two dresses, a top and a pair of shoes. None of which she legitimately needed.
She tells Quinn what Santana said, and all Quinn says is, "Well..." and her voice trails, and god, does everyone think Rachel's just playing games?
Does Finn think that's what she's doing.
"Can I...Can I talk about me for a second?" Quinn asks, and Rachel feels terrible, because there's a moment when she seriously considers the fact that she's just a burden to her friends, and she's selfish enough to make everything about her.
"Of course you can."
"I did the same thing with Puck." Rachel doesn't know...Okay, that's true, yes, and it's been true for years, probably, but how does that... "And I missed out on...I know it's different, because he was a moron in high school and I couldn't have known he'd end up being...being the guy he is now, but..."
"Quinn, what are you saying?" Rachel asks quietly, and yes, she's more interested in her friend's feelings right now, and not just how she's relating them to Rachel's situation.
"I had zero belief that he could actually do anything," Quinn says quietly. "And now...I'm mostly in love with him and he lives on the other side of the country and there's nothing I can do about it."
"Quinn," Rachel whispers. God, she knew Quinn had strong feelings for him, and she knew they'd been talking, but she had no idea Quinn was in love with Noah. "Have you told him?"
"Are you crazy?"
Rachel giggles. "You've been telling me I am for years."
Quinn laughs a bit, then lets out a breath. "You know, I know you're going to tell me I should." Yes, she is. "Which is kind of funny, since you're not just telling Finn."
"I'm...It's different."
Quinn laughs even harder, so hard that she has to gulp in a breath. "Rachel, it is so not different. It was just a baby we gave up, in our case, instead of an engagement."
Quinn has this terrible habit of being right about things like this, and Rachel spends the rest of her evening - when she's not on stage, that is - thinking about how she'd feel if things felt final between her and Finn. What would it be like to know they were completely over? What if she pushes him away and he gives up because he thinks it's hopeless to keep trying?
She may not know what she wants, but knowing she doesn't want that sort of makes things a little bit clearer to her.
He answers the phone sounding tired, which sort of makes sense, since she waited until she got home after her show to call him.
"Hi," she says quietly. "Sorry. I know it's late."
"No, it's okay." He was sleeping. He was definitely sleeping. She remembers what he sounds like when he's just woken up. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she whispers, and tries not to let herself go too crazy over the fact that that was the first question he asked. "I just...wanted to talk to you."
"About what?"
"Um." She swallows and pulls a blanket over her lap as she sits on the couch in her apartment. She doesn't have any lights on, so she's just got the city lights coming through the windows. "Nothing, really."
She can hear him smiling when he says, "So you called me after midnight to talk about nothing?" and he moves around in his bed - she can hear it. "Am I allowed to say that it's really good to hear your voice?"
She presses her hand against her stomach in hopes of getting the butterflies to stop fluttering. "Yes."
There's a pause and she wants to fill it with something, but he beats her to it. "I thought you were mad at me again."
It sort of breaks her heart a little.
"No," she tells him, and pulls her legs up onto the sofa. "No, I'm not mad at you. And I'm really sorry for...I've been sort of awful to you, haven't I?"
"What? No."
"You don't have to lie," she laughs.
"I'm not lying," he says, and he's sincere. God, his voice is sexy right now. "I know why you're scared."
No one else has really said it like that, that she's scared. She is, and she hasn't denied that, but it's interesting to hear it from him. She didn't have to say it for him to know, and for some reason that means something. No, they're not experts on each other any more, but if he can see that, then maybe it's not quite so crazy to feel like they haven't changed as much as she first thought. She always liked that he could read her so well.
"I am," she sort of whispers.
"It's okay," he tells her. He's smiling again. There's a lingering moment where she wishes he was here with her or she was there with him. "It's okay, baby."
The butterflies have turned into something else entirely. "Finn," she lets out on a breath.
"Sorry. It just slipped out."
She laughs quietly. "I liked it."
He lets out this sound that... "You should go to bed."
She smiles and bites her bottom lip. She likes this conversation. A lot.
"Will I see you Sunday?"
"Yeah."
"Good." She's grinning too hard, and there's no way she'll be able to just go to sleep after they hang up. "I want to see your place."
She hears him swallow, and she's not saying she'll sleep with him, or anything, but...He's seen her apartment and she wants to see where he lives. She wants to keep them moving in the same direction, together.
"Okay. I guess I should clean it."
Rachel giggles a little bit. "Go back to sleep, Finn."
"Okay," he says again. "Goodnight."
... ... ...
He's hanging out with Santana when this kind of hot girl walks up and flirts with him. She doesn't do it very well, but Finn knows what she's trying to do anyway. Santana's just standing there next to him sipping her whiskey and like, smirking.
"Um. I'm in love with someone," he tells this girl, and she doesn't even say anything before walking away.
Santana says, "Pussy," as she laughs, but he knows she doesn't really mean it.
"If we get someone to have sex with you will you be less of a bitch?"
Santana barks out a laugh and looks at him. "Not likely, but let's try."
So yeah. It's kind of weird to be her wingman, and he listens to her theory that everyone's bisexual and the right set of circumstances would allow her to take any woman home. He doesn't really know if he believes her until she finds the like, hottest woman in the bar and leaves with her 20 minutes later, shooting Finn a wink as she goes.
He texts Rachel 'Santana is insane and I think she's like a magician or something.'
She texts back 'She's hot and she acts like she could have anyone. Even if it's not true she can make people believe it.'
'Okay yeah but how?'
'Confidence is sexy.'
Finn grins, finishes his beer and realizes Santana didn't settle her tab, so he has to pay that, too.
He sends Rachel back 'Noted ;)' and hopes it's like, hot, and not weird.
... ... ...
His apartment isn't huge, but it's nice. It's freshly-painted, and not just plain white, either. There's a fireplace that obviously doesn't work, and a tiny apartment kitchen, and his bedroom is tidy and his navy blue bedding is pulled up over his pillows the same way all men seem to think means the bed is made.
"I'm not a very good cook," he tells her once he's given her the tour. There are photos on the mantel of his family, and a few of people from the army, and Noah. Simple frames that don't all match. She likes that. "So I didn't make anything."
"That's okay," she says.
And honestly, if she knew he lived so far away and that he's been traveling uptown to see her every Sunday, she might have been even more impressed. He lives on the Lower East Side and he's said he works near where he lives. It's not like it's incredibly difficult to get from one place to another in Manhattan, but still. She appreciates the effort he's putting into this. She doesn't know how to tell him so.
"Do you wanna order something, or..."
Rachel shrugs her shoulder, leans her hip against the counter. "I could make something."
"What?" he laughs. "No. You're not making me dinner in my apartment. That'd be like...I'd be the worst host ever."
She bites her lip so she doesn't smile too hard, and says, "Another time, then."
It's sort of fun to make him speechless.
He offers her a beer and she takes it, and he watches her with a smile on his face as she takes the first sip. He's never seen her drink beer before, though it's become a favourite of hers. She doesn't indulge in it too much because of the sheer amount of calories.
And she does convince him to let her make them something quickly. Really, they've bought every meal they've shared recently and it seems silly to do it again when they're in a kitchen with plenty of options. She checks through his cupboards and settles on pasta in a simple sauce, and Finn is awkward and objects the entire time, saying she doesn't have to do this, and he can at least make pasta. She swats his hand away when he tries to chop a pepper.
"Stop it," she laughs. "Just keep me company in the kitchen and we'll call it even."
"That's not really even," he tells her, leaning on the counter next to her, smiling and...He's close enough that his arm is brushing hers. "It's sort of win-win for me."
"Well, then just enjoy it," she says, and god, he's got the best smile.
His hand slides across her back when he moves past her to get two more bottles of beer out of the fridge, and then his wrist grazes her ass when she asks where his colander is. He doesn't apologize and she doesn't need him to.
After dinner, she tries to do the dishes 'just quickly, Finn' and he argues her on that, too. He finally sets his hands on her hips from behind and they're both laughing as he literally pulls her away from the sink.
"Stop," he says, chest against her back. "You don't have to do this." She doesn't know what to do with her hands, so she leaves her arms by her side, but they brush against his hands, still on her hips. "Come sit with me."
It's insane that last week she was crying and telling him she didn't trust him, and now she's sitting on his sofa with him, drinking a glass of water because she declined another beer, laughing at some story he's telling her about a man she wouldn't know from Adam.
"Rach," he says during a lull in the conversation, and he sets his hand on her thigh, right above her knee. "What changed?"
"What do you mean?"
She knows. She just wants him to say it. She also sets her hand over his and he lets out a little chuckle.
"This," he says, brushing his thumb against her skin. "You're...I mean, last week..."
"I don't want to be upset with you anymore," she confesses, looking at him. "I...It's gotten to the point where being mad at you hurts more than...than wanting you."
Finn swallows, looks at her with his eyes a little wide. "You want me?"
There's a lump in her throat, but she's not going to cry and she knows that.
"I always wanted you, Finn."
"Even when you hated me?" She nods a little, because it's the truth and he deserves to know it. God, it's exhausting, pretending, or trying to convince herself, that she doesn't have all the same feelings he has. And he deserves to know it, doesn't he? "But you don't hate me anymore."
She laughs a little and wants to be closer to him. "No."
"And, um." He swallows and tugs at her hand a little, and she shifts on the sofa so their thighs are pressed together, and then he's sliding his hand up her arm, over her shoulder and onto her neck. "Where are you on that whole trusting me thing?"
She licks her lips - he's going to kiss her, she just knows it - and looks into his eyes. "I'm getting there." He smiles at her, strokes his thumb along her jaw. "Quickly."
Her breathing is shallow and she knows he's noticed. She thinks that now, for the first time in years, they want exactly the same thing at exactly the same moment. It feels more amazing than she could possibly articulate.
"Rachel," he says when she puts her hand on his chest.
She kisses him with her eyes shut tight at the exact moment he puts his hand in her hair to bring her closer. She lets go of his hand so she can put hers on the back of his neck, and his slides up onto her hip. He brings her closer that way, too, until she's uncomfortably pressed against him and trying to kiss him at an odd angle. The only solution she can think of is to swing her leg over his and settle herself onto his lap. It makes him sort of let out this breath, this heavy breath she hears and feels at the same time, and then his mouth is back on hers, his tongue teasing at her bottom lip while she holds his face in her hands.
"We should..."
She cuts him off, kisses him and...She wants to press her hips closer to his. She thinks he'd like it, but she also thinks it'd be too good for her and they probably shouldn't even be making out like this.
But it's what she wants. She wants him, and she's not afraid to admit that to herself. Or to him. Or to anyone who might ask.
"Rachel, this is..." He pulls back from her, pushes her hair away from her face. They just look at each other for a moment, then she very deliberately moves, on her knees, until she can lower herself directly over his hips. He lets out a groan and she can feel him, half hard beneath her.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore," she says, and his hand flattens on the small of her back, like he wants to keep her there. "Just..."
He licks his lips and she can feel how aroused she is from this, just from kissing him. She feels like she's 16 again, so turned on just because he's the one kissing her and she feels so much for him. Her emotions are all over the place, but she's not even thinking about them right now, not when she can feel how wet she is already. The difference between then and now is that she knows what to do about it.
She smiles a bit, combs her fingers through his hair with one hand while the other grips his shirt at his chest. "Do you trust me?"
He sort of moans, says, "Yeah," in this thick, deep voice she remembers from when they used to make love.
"I want this," she tells him, then brushes her lips against his gently, watches the way his eyes flutter closed. "Please."
"Okay," he breathes, and then stands up, his hands under her ass to carry her to his bedroom.
He almost says he loves her, when he's inside her and they're moving together, the same as it used to be but better, more. He doesn't finish his thought, but she can tell that was it and she says, "Kiss me," and he starts at her chest and works his way up to her lips.
She comes when he says, "Rachel, baby, I can't..." and swipes his thumb across her nerves.
And she loves the way he feels when he lets go, falling onto one forearm so more of his weight is on her.
"Sorry," he says all breathlessly once he's come down.
She grabs onto his arms so he won't move. "Don't," she says, and isn't ashamed at all when she says, "I like it."
She's not too stupid to know she's loved him all along. She needed reminders, though, and she just got plenty of them. Not even just their evening, or their conversation, or how it feels to be intimate with him. It's in the way he still wraps her full into his arms and kisses the back of her shoulder right before they go to sleep. It's in the way he still says, "Night," against her ear.
He's left parts of himself all over her history, and he promised her a future. It's taken her a while, but she wants to love him now, too.
... ... ...
His alarm goes off and he reaches over to turn it off. It'd be easier if his right arm wasn't trapped. Not that he's complaining. Rachel's curled up against him, her back all pressed up to his side, and his arm is under her head. It's totally asleep and it'll feel like crap when he gets it back, but he really doesn't care at all.
The woman he's been in love with his entire adult life is sleeping naked in his bed. He has no complaints.
"Rachel," he says softly, leaning up so his chest is against her again. Fuck, she's beautiful. "Rach." She lets out this little whine. "Wake up."
"No."
He chuckles and watches her eyes open, then she turns her head and smiles this really...
"Hi."
"Hi," she whispers, and blinks all slowly. "You have to work." He nods and kisses her cheek, because he can. And he's happy that she said it so he didn't have to tell her and feel like a jerk. "I have the day off."
"I know."
Rachel turns a bit more, slides his hand across his stomach and... "I want to spend it with you."
"Fuck," he breathes, then watches her grin. He has to catch her wrist when she pushes it lower, her fingertips brushing against his pelvis. "I can't. I'm still in my probation period."
She pouts, her bottom lip sticking out. God, she's the most adorable woman ever. "Boo," she murmurs. Then she pushes her leg over his hips, sits up, and...She's naked and sitting on him and he can't... "You could leave me in your bed for the day."
He swallows. "You're making me not want to leave at all."
Rachel smiles this huge like, perfect, Rachel Berry smile, and leans down to kiss him. His hands move up her back, and fuck, he's so screwed, because she's perfect on top of him, perfect in general, and he can't.
"Good," she says against his mouth.
"Rachel," he sort of laughs, "I have to go."
"But I just got you back." And like, she needs to stop. He holds onto her hips, grins up at her and then turns his head to kiss her arm, because she's got her hands braced against the pillow above his shoulders.
"You always had me."
"Finn," she moans, and he flexes his fingers against her hips when she tries to move. "You can't say that and then just go to work."
"Yeah," he chuckles, "and you can't be the sexiest woman alive and be on top of me and ask me to call in."
She giggles and sits up again, and god, her body. "Yes I can."
He physically has to move her off him or he'll like, get fired and then he'll be in real trouble.
... ... ...
"Hey, I know it's not Sunday, but I'm kind of dying to see you."
She laughs as she swipes on her lip gloss. "You're crazy if you think I can wait until then. I'll text you when the show's done?"
"I'll meet you. I'll walk you home."
She bites her lip and feels her stomach dip, just thinking of what they'll do when they get here. "So chivalrous."
"Stop being so cute," he laughs. "God."
And they don't even...Well, she wants to have sex with him again, but just like before, that's not all their relationship is about. They still have things to work through, and they're getting there, and ignoring that for the sake of being physically satisfied would be stupid. So they talk a bit, about their days and about other things, too. Like her friendship - or lack of - with Kurt, and Finn's part in that. He feels guilty, which he really shouldn't, because he didn't do anything wrong. God, he wasn't even in the country.
He gets a text and checks it quickly, then laughs, and she looks at him because, well, she's nosy and she wants to know what's funny.
"Puck's coming to visit," he tells her, and her eyes go wide. "Well, he's coming to this coast, anyway."
"They're going to end up together."
"Hmm." He presses his lips to her temple, murmurs, "That seems to be going around."
And all she can think about is that ring in her drawer, and how it's way too early to put it on. But considering she's been thinking about it for years, it's not too early to at least consider the possibility that...
"Jesus Christ, just fucking elope," Santana says, all exasperated, and it's silly because Rachel swears she's only been talking about her and Finn for five minutes. They met for drinks and Rachel woke up with Finn in her bed this morning, so there's no way she can be expected not to talk about him at all.
"Santana."
"Seriously. And do I have to hear about all your lovey-dovey bullshit? Like, actually?"
"It's not bullshit," Rachel laughs, and Santana rolls her eyes. "You're just jealous."
Santana's laugh is loud enough to draw stares. "I am so not jealous." Rachel kinks her brow. "Whatever. Maybe I'm like, happy for you or whatever, but I'm not jealous."
"You want what I have."
"Sure," Santana scoffs. "Five years of emotional turmoil and a couple nights of decent sex. That's what I want."
Rachel just glares, because that's not at all accurate. Okay, well. That's not very accurate. "The sex is amazing."
"Babe," Santana groans. "Come on. I'm trying to enjoy this wine."
Rachel really just laughs, because she knows Santana has a tendency towards hyperbole. It's okay. Rachel just finds it particularly hilarious that the girl who used to drill her for details on her sex life with Michael doesn't want to know anything about her sex life with Finn.
"Well, yeah," Santana says, like her motives for this should be obvious. "Michael and you just fucked. You and Finn like, make love. Who wants to hear about that?"
Rachel tells Finn about this over the phone after a tiny bit too much wine. (She of course just says that Santana doesn't want to hear about them making love. She leaves the Michael part out of it completely.)
He says, "Whatever. She's just jealous."
Rachel almost slips and says that she loves him. It wouldn't completely be the wine talking, but she'd hate to have him doubt it.
... ... ...
He's sitting in a booth in a Manhattan martini bar with his best friend, his girlfriend (it's weird to call Rachel that, though, because she feels like way more than that) and...Well, Quinn. Who he sort of wants to call Puck's girlfriend, but he doesn't know if that's where they're at yet, and he doesn't want to make them uncomfortable.
He's sipping a nine dollar beer and Rachel's taking tiny little sips of her martini as the four of them talk. He's got his arm around her, and he's pretty sure Quinn's got her hand on Puck's thigh under the table, but he can't like, check to see. He and Rachel have been back together for a few months, and Puck and Quinn might as well be freaking married, because Finn swears they talk more than most married couples do. He wants to bust Puck's chops over it, but, well...
He really has no room to criticize anyone else for wanting a girl that badly, does he?
Santana walks into the bar in a tight black dress and really tall heels, and Rachel and Quinn do the exact same thing, where they're smiling and looking at each other, then rolling their eyes. They both look amazing, but Rachel's in like, jeans and a silky tank top thing, and Quinn's wearing a pretty dress that's way more modest.
Santana likes attention and always has. She gets a drink from the bar and then scans the room, even though she's already seen them.
He totally knows what she's doing. They've hung out enough since he moved here that he knows.
"So," she says when she gets to the table, and kisses Quinn's cheek and gives Puck a high five like it hasn't been years since she saw him, "redhead in the corner, or blonde at the bar?"
Finn laughs and shakes his head, and Rachel just leans against his side. "Your love life is so sketchy," he says. Santana sits down, shrugs her shoulder. "But like...The blonde."
"Finn!" Rachel gasps.
"Obviously," Puck adds.
"Jerk!" Quinn swats Puck on the arm and he just winks at her.
Santana laughs at all of them and sips her drink.
Honestly, Finn really loves his life.
Later, when he's in Rachel's bed,and they're both undressed and she's just sort of lying on top of him and he's playing with her fingers, she lets out this long breath that lets him know she wants to say something.
Honestly? He kind of hopes it's got something to do with how she feels about him.
He's not stupid, okay? He doesn't doubt her. She wouldn't be with him if she didn't want to be with him and want to love him. She's hurt, or she was hurt, and it took her some time to get over all the crap they put each other through. He totally gets that.
But two weeks ago, he told her he loves her, and he's told her since, and he gets if she couldn't say it or whatever, but he's sort of dying to hear the words. He knows he will, but...
He just doesn't like waiting for things. He waited five years for her, and he thinks that like...Whatever. He's not trying to be a selfish dick, but he thinks he's been patient enough and he should get to hear her pretty voice telling him she's in love with him. He's not wrong to want that.
He's moving his thumb over her knuckles and watching their hands together and feeling her breathing like this. And he slides the pad of his thumb up and down her ring finger a few times. He doesn't mean to do it the first time, but yeah, the second and third are totally intentional.
"I still have it," she says, and it doesn't scare him, but they haven't said actual words in like, twenty minutes. "The ring."
She kisses his heart when she feels it beating so hard, then looks at his face. He's still watching their hands. He weaves their fingers together and looks into her eyes.
"Okay." He doesn't know what to say. "You can wear it if you want to."
"Finn," she says, like he's stealing her breath away.
God, that was too much. He just said too much.
"Not now, if you...If you think it's too soon," he clarifies, then watches his hand push her hair away from her face. "Someday, though."
Rachel shifts a little, leans up to kiss him on the lips, and then legs her legs move to either side of him. She whispers, "I love you," and weaves the fingers of their other hands together. He can't breathe. "I love you."
His throat is all...He just...
She kisses him right at the corner of his eye. Fuck. He's not crying, but he could.
"Rachel." She presses her lips to his again, and moves her lower half the slightest bit as their hands stay joined, on his chest and right next to his head on the pillow. "Thank you."
No, he doesn't know what he's thanking her for. Maybe for waiting, or maybe for trusting him, or maybe for letting go of her fear of being with him. Maybe it's just for telling him she loves him. He actually has no clue.
But she nods slowly, kisses him, and says, "I want to."
He doesn't let her go so she can get the ring from wherever she's keeping it. They've got time. They've got lots of it.
"I love you," he tells her, and she nods again, murmurs, "I know," against his lips as she smiles.
And he'll make sure she always does. Know. Smile. Everything.