FIC::Glee::we'll blame it on gravity (even though einstein says that isn't true); Rachel/Finn, R
Wow, this is long.
Title: we'll blame it on gravity (even though einstein says that isn't true)
Author: hyacinthian
Rating: R
Spoilers: Song choice.
Author's Note: Unbetaed. I don't really know if Finn is in character. It was kind of tricky. But after all those gifs of that scene in the promo, it had to be done.
Summary: Saturday practices for a song about sex with Rachel? Finn doesn't think this is a good idea. RachelFinn.
He should never have agreed to this.
The thing is…Rachel is always Rachel and to deny her means bringing down a load of hell on your head for weeks and weeks. So, yeah, okay, saying no to her might have been the smart thing to do, but it totally wouldn’t have been, you know? (Okay, no, this whole argument is going in circles.)
Artie wanted to do “Push It” because, surprise, he’s actually a really hardcore hip-hop fan and Salt-n-Pepa are bringing it back, apparently. Or something. He’s never really followed the ‘80s rap/hip-hop scene, so he’s not really sure if they are or not. But the one thing Artie wanted to attach when Mr. Schu agreed to do the project was that the dance moves had better be sick because Salt-n-Pepa were sick and to de-sickify them would be to ruin their name forever.
The first sign of a problem should have been that Mr. Schue found his choreographer outside a Pick ‘N Save when he was browsing onesies. She was just out of dance school, but he said he knew what he was doing. And they trusted him.
Which is why the fact that they have to practice hip thrusting for an hour and a half is bad. So bad because he has a girlfriend, for god’s sake, and the fact that Rachel’s supposed to throw her hips at them like they’re having sex is not a good idea. (Oh, god, did he say sex?) They are not a Britney Spears video. He’s trying not to grab her, well, he’s trying to keep his hands in safe places, except it’s hard, wait, no, it’s not - okay.
In the middle of rehearsal, Rachel throws her arms up and yells in frustration. Mr. Schuester rubs at his eyes and turns towards her. “Rachel, what is it now?”
“I cannot work like this, Mr. Schue! Finn isn’t even trying.”
He shuffles awkwardly. “Mr. Schue, are you sure this dance teacher is legit? Because, I mean, I don’t know, it just feels weird.”
“Finn, she’s willing to do it for next to nothing, which is good, and even though Rachel’s very talented, this woman has a degree in dance.”
Rachel has her arms crossed over her chest. “If Finn isn’t going to make an effort, then I don’t know why we’re even bothering. Weak links break the chain, Mr. Schue, and our chain is short enough that breaking it would mean the end.” Mr. Schuester shoots Finn a pleading look.
“Finn, would you be willing to do extra practice time with Rachel so we can move on to practicing another number?”
Finn shuffles, looks up at the ceiling. He thinks briefly about asking what the other options are. “Okay.”
Mr. Schue lets them into the school early Saturday morning to let them practice in the choir room with the piano, though Rachel’s brought a CD with the song on it. “In case you wanted to practice your singing parts,” Mr. Schue says with a shrug.
“That won’t be necessary,” Rachel says with a toss of her head. “Our choreography is what requires the most work.”
So here they are, in the choir room, with Rachel moving his hands to the very borders of her ass and him trying to look up (“Finn, this is impossible! You can hardly get good volume when you look up, and this song is supposed to be about sexual hunger, which the Pick N’ Save woman with the dance degree has decided to represent through hip thrusts. Look at me!”). She’s being more demanding than usual, though he thinks it’s because she’s frustrated with his awkwardness.
Even though the song is short, the dance moves are more complicated than he’s used to because it turns out recent dance graduates like to reincorporate portions of their senior thesis into works for high school students. There are coup de piet pirouettes and elements of tap and hip-hop and he doesn’t even know what it all means or if he’s even doing it right, but he’s trying just to keep up with everyone else. Minus Artie, who gets to spend the song in one of the downstage corners of the stage, singing. Even Rachel had a little bit of trouble the first week, and she’s the one who boasts of her dance training.
So by the third runthrough, he’s a little out-of-breath and pink in the face. Rachel thinks this is unacceptable. “Finn, you look like you just got run over by a car.” (He imagines there would be more blood.) “You’re a football player. Aren’t you supposed to be bursting with stamina?”
“Rachel,” he says, panting, “I just really want to go home.”
She sighs. “Just one last good runthrough, please, Finn.”
“Fine.”
To his surprise, she doesn’t immediately rush for the boombox, but to her backpack. She reaches in and takes out two outfits. “Mercedes finished these last night,” she says. “I thought we could do a dress rehearsal, of sorts.” He takes the hanger from her hands.
They change into these matching blue outfits, and when he sees hers, his voice kind of flies into his throat. She has this blue skirt on that rests around mid-thigh and he can see her bare legs and it’s all kind of a new experience. He swallows hard.
“Are you ready?” she asks.
He nods.
She walks over to the boombox and hits play and then they’re off, at opposite ends of the room. She does her turns and he does his hand gestures and they’re stomping around like they’re supposed to be doing, meeting up near the center. His hands are low on her hips and her hands are around his back and they rock back and forth. She arches her back, grinding her hips into him hard, and he can’t help it, he groans. She doesn’t stop, the performer in her realizing that no dancer stops for a mistake, but she blinks once, looking right at him. “Finn?” she mouths. And why has he never noticed how soft her lips look?
When they end the song with a move they’ve only half-stolen from Carmel, with her legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, he can’t help but look down at her lips again. Panting, lips parted, she looks up at him, biting down on her lip. He inches closer and then her eyes are closing as his nose nudges hers, lips finally coming to settle against hers in a soft kiss. When he pulls away, she looks at him, breaths harsh. “Finn?” She presses her forehead against his before she takes charge, leaning in, sucking his bottom lip between her own. He groans into her mouth, sliding his tongue along her teeth and he doesn’t know if Rachel’s ever been kissed like this, but he could care less right now because she feels so good. She grinds down on him as he starts kissing her neck, her skin slick with sweat.
He’s definitely hard at this point.
She jumps off of him at that point and he looks down at her, hair a little mussed, lips swollen, eyes dark. “Come on,” she says.
“What?”
She slips her hand into his and tugs him out of the choir room down a smaller hallway. “There’s a practice room that they always forget to lock,” she says.
“Rachel,” he says, “It’s Saturday. No one’s here.”
“Kiss me,” she says, standing on her toes. He bends down and their noses bump and it’s a little sloppy but she tastes so sweet and her hands run through his hair, tugging at it a little, and he is so turned on right now that it’s not even funny. In the hallway, she backs up against a wall, takes his hand and runs it underneath her skirt. His fingers slide against her panties and he can barely wrap his mind around how she can be so wet after just a few kisses. “You drive me crazy,” she says, looking up at him, eyes dark. “In more ways than one.”
She runs to the second practice room, hurls the door open, and pulls him inside. He turns them and backs her against the door as soon as they’re inside, lights still off, his lips sliding hotly against the skin of her neck, and then they’re kissing again. Her hand slides down over his pants, rubbing inexpertly against the bulge there and he groans again. She smiles against his lips. She undoes his belt and pulls his boxers down with his pants.
When she takes him in her hand, he closes his eyes, it feels so good. She pumps him a few times in her hands, surprised at the feel of him. But Rachel knows how to show initiative - she leans in then, running her tongue along him from base to tip. He shudders.
“Does that feel okay?” she asks.
“Ungh,” he manages.
She licks him again, but then chooses to suck on the tip, and his eyes roll back into his head, he can’t really think right now. She runs her hand along him as she takes him into her mouth again, tongue running along the ridges and veins. “Rachel, god,” he groans, his hands sliding into her hair. He tries not to push her down further, but her mouth feels so good around him, hot and wet. When she pulls away to take a breath, she experiments with different things. She blows on the tip, runs her nails delicately against him. His breaths grow shallow.
When she can sense he’s close, she leans down to take him into her mouth, hand stroking whatever she can’t fit in her mouth. “Rachel,” he groans before he comes.
She stands and heads for the door when his hand closes around her wrist and tugs her back. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks. She blushes.
He backs her up against the wall and kisses her again. His fingers dip underneath her skirt, rubbing her through her panties. She tilts her head back, letting his lips slide along the skin of her neck as she moans. And while he enjoys the sound of her voice at Glee, there is something to be said about this Rachel before him right here, her voice low and husky, “Oh, Finn.” His hands move under her shirt, sliding up to caress her through her bra, as she’s arching her back into his touch with soft gasps. He bends down, hands skimming her waist, as he closes his mouth over her breast through the bra, tongue flicking against her nipple. She writhes beneath him, whimpering softly.
Hand in his hair, she tugs him up to kiss him again, lips tugging and bruising. God, she wants this.
He moves her panties to the side and brushes his fingers against her, her hips bucking forward as he does so. He kneels then, pulling her panties down. He slides a finger into her wet heat, watching as she arches her back against the wall to bring her hips closer to him, eyes closed, lips parted, breathing shallow. He leans in then, gives her a soft kiss against her inner thigh as her breath hitches.
He pumps his finger in her clumsily, watching her reaction, feeling her roll her hips against his finger. And then, he’s leaning in, fingers spreading her as his tongue slides against her, and it surprises him that Rachel’s so quiet when she’s usually so vocal, but she’s just making these soft noises when his tongue works against her, fingers searching for her clit, her hips knocking roughly against him, urging him closer. When he finds it, he experimentally flicks his tongue a few times against it, watching as she cries out. When he takes her clit between his lips, she comes with a loud cry, body shaking with the force of it. Even when he’s pulled away and put his pants back on, she’s still leaning against the wall, eyes closed, breathing hard, panties down around her ankles. He’ll never get that picture out of his head (it kind of freaks him out that he doesn’t want to forget Rachel like that).
She regains her composure then, pulling her underwear back on and turns to look at him shyly, a soft blush on her cheeks. “Finn, I-“
And he can’t help it, he just leans in, hand twining in her hair, to kiss her again, this one softer and gentler. She kisses him back and moans just a little bit into his touch. The fact that he wants her so bad kind of scares him.
When he pulls away, he can’t think of anything to say. “Rachel…”
She lets out a nervous laugh. “I think we’re about done here, right? Our choreography’s gotten a lot, um, better. I, uh, I should go home.” He’s never heard Rachel stutter in her life.
“Rachel,” he says. “This was…”
“It was a onetime thing,” she says, quickly, and there she is, the rational, put-together Rachel that he knows. “You have Quinn.”
He closes his eyes. Yes, he has Quinn. But Rachel is a whole different ball game.
She silently gathers her things and they walk to the parking lot together, and he insists on waiting with her even though they can’t think of anything to say to each other. After her dad comes to get her, he gets in his car and drives home. That picture of Rachel in the practice room stays in his head longer than it should.
(She doesn’t ever tell him, but after her daddy’s come to get her, she runs up to her room and sits on her bed for a few minutes. She lies down and can’t stop thinking about Finn and everything that happened and then it all comes out; she cries. Quinn, she thinks. She can’t believe she ever forgot that Finn was never hers to have in the first place.)
At the next rehearsal, he notices that she avoids the practice room.
“Rachel,” he asks, “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
(He doesn’t tell her he doesn’t believe her.)
Title: we'll blame it on gravity (even though einstein says that isn't true)
Author: hyacinthian
Rating: R
Spoilers: Song choice.
Author's Note: Unbetaed. I don't really know if Finn is in character. It was kind of tricky. But after all those gifs of that scene in the promo, it had to be done.
Summary: Saturday practices for a song about sex with Rachel? Finn doesn't think this is a good idea. RachelFinn.
He should never have agreed to this.
The thing is…Rachel is always Rachel and to deny her means bringing down a load of hell on your head for weeks and weeks. So, yeah, okay, saying no to her might have been the smart thing to do, but it totally wouldn’t have been, you know? (Okay, no, this whole argument is going in circles.)
Artie wanted to do “Push It” because, surprise, he’s actually a really hardcore hip-hop fan and Salt-n-Pepa are bringing it back, apparently. Or something. He’s never really followed the ‘80s rap/hip-hop scene, so he’s not really sure if they are or not. But the one thing Artie wanted to attach when Mr. Schu agreed to do the project was that the dance moves had better be sick because Salt-n-Pepa were sick and to de-sickify them would be to ruin their name forever.
The first sign of a problem should have been that Mr. Schue found his choreographer outside a Pick ‘N Save when he was browsing onesies. She was just out of dance school, but he said he knew what he was doing. And they trusted him.
Which is why the fact that they have to practice hip thrusting for an hour and a half is bad. So bad because he has a girlfriend, for god’s sake, and the fact that Rachel’s supposed to throw her hips at them like they’re having sex is not a good idea. (Oh, god, did he say sex?) They are not a Britney Spears video. He’s trying not to grab her, well, he’s trying to keep his hands in safe places, except it’s hard, wait, no, it’s not - okay.
In the middle of rehearsal, Rachel throws her arms up and yells in frustration. Mr. Schuester rubs at his eyes and turns towards her. “Rachel, what is it now?”
“I cannot work like this, Mr. Schue! Finn isn’t even trying.”
He shuffles awkwardly. “Mr. Schue, are you sure this dance teacher is legit? Because, I mean, I don’t know, it just feels weird.”
“Finn, she’s willing to do it for next to nothing, which is good, and even though Rachel’s very talented, this woman has a degree in dance.”
Rachel has her arms crossed over her chest. “If Finn isn’t going to make an effort, then I don’t know why we’re even bothering. Weak links break the chain, Mr. Schue, and our chain is short enough that breaking it would mean the end.” Mr. Schuester shoots Finn a pleading look.
“Finn, would you be willing to do extra practice time with Rachel so we can move on to practicing another number?”
Finn shuffles, looks up at the ceiling. He thinks briefly about asking what the other options are. “Okay.”
Mr. Schue lets them into the school early Saturday morning to let them practice in the choir room with the piano, though Rachel’s brought a CD with the song on it. “In case you wanted to practice your singing parts,” Mr. Schue says with a shrug.
“That won’t be necessary,” Rachel says with a toss of her head. “Our choreography is what requires the most work.”
So here they are, in the choir room, with Rachel moving his hands to the very borders of her ass and him trying to look up (“Finn, this is impossible! You can hardly get good volume when you look up, and this song is supposed to be about sexual hunger, which the Pick N’ Save woman with the dance degree has decided to represent through hip thrusts. Look at me!”). She’s being more demanding than usual, though he thinks it’s because she’s frustrated with his awkwardness.
Even though the song is short, the dance moves are more complicated than he’s used to because it turns out recent dance graduates like to reincorporate portions of their senior thesis into works for high school students. There are coup de piet pirouettes and elements of tap and hip-hop and he doesn’t even know what it all means or if he’s even doing it right, but he’s trying just to keep up with everyone else. Minus Artie, who gets to spend the song in one of the downstage corners of the stage, singing. Even Rachel had a little bit of trouble the first week, and she’s the one who boasts of her dance training.
So by the third runthrough, he’s a little out-of-breath and pink in the face. Rachel thinks this is unacceptable. “Finn, you look like you just got run over by a car.” (He imagines there would be more blood.) “You’re a football player. Aren’t you supposed to be bursting with stamina?”
“Rachel,” he says, panting, “I just really want to go home.”
She sighs. “Just one last good runthrough, please, Finn.”
“Fine.”
To his surprise, she doesn’t immediately rush for the boombox, but to her backpack. She reaches in and takes out two outfits. “Mercedes finished these last night,” she says. “I thought we could do a dress rehearsal, of sorts.” He takes the hanger from her hands.
They change into these matching blue outfits, and when he sees hers, his voice kind of flies into his throat. She has this blue skirt on that rests around mid-thigh and he can see her bare legs and it’s all kind of a new experience. He swallows hard.
“Are you ready?” she asks.
He nods.
She walks over to the boombox and hits play and then they’re off, at opposite ends of the room. She does her turns and he does his hand gestures and they’re stomping around like they’re supposed to be doing, meeting up near the center. His hands are low on her hips and her hands are around his back and they rock back and forth. She arches her back, grinding her hips into him hard, and he can’t help it, he groans. She doesn’t stop, the performer in her realizing that no dancer stops for a mistake, but she blinks once, looking right at him. “Finn?” she mouths. And why has he never noticed how soft her lips look?
When they end the song with a move they’ve only half-stolen from Carmel, with her legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, he can’t help but look down at her lips again. Panting, lips parted, she looks up at him, biting down on her lip. He inches closer and then her eyes are closing as his nose nudges hers, lips finally coming to settle against hers in a soft kiss. When he pulls away, she looks at him, breaths harsh. “Finn?” She presses her forehead against his before she takes charge, leaning in, sucking his bottom lip between her own. He groans into her mouth, sliding his tongue along her teeth and he doesn’t know if Rachel’s ever been kissed like this, but he could care less right now because she feels so good. She grinds down on him as he starts kissing her neck, her skin slick with sweat.
He’s definitely hard at this point.
She jumps off of him at that point and he looks down at her, hair a little mussed, lips swollen, eyes dark. “Come on,” she says.
“What?”
She slips her hand into his and tugs him out of the choir room down a smaller hallway. “There’s a practice room that they always forget to lock,” she says.
“Rachel,” he says, “It’s Saturday. No one’s here.”
“Kiss me,” she says, standing on her toes. He bends down and their noses bump and it’s a little sloppy but she tastes so sweet and her hands run through his hair, tugging at it a little, and he is so turned on right now that it’s not even funny. In the hallway, she backs up against a wall, takes his hand and runs it underneath her skirt. His fingers slide against her panties and he can barely wrap his mind around how she can be so wet after just a few kisses. “You drive me crazy,” she says, looking up at him, eyes dark. “In more ways than one.”
She runs to the second practice room, hurls the door open, and pulls him inside. He turns them and backs her against the door as soon as they’re inside, lights still off, his lips sliding hotly against the skin of her neck, and then they’re kissing again. Her hand slides down over his pants, rubbing inexpertly against the bulge there and he groans again. She smiles against his lips. She undoes his belt and pulls his boxers down with his pants.
When she takes him in her hand, he closes his eyes, it feels so good. She pumps him a few times in her hands, surprised at the feel of him. But Rachel knows how to show initiative - she leans in then, running her tongue along him from base to tip. He shudders.
“Does that feel okay?” she asks.
“Ungh,” he manages.
She licks him again, but then chooses to suck on the tip, and his eyes roll back into his head, he can’t really think right now. She runs her hand along him as she takes him into her mouth again, tongue running along the ridges and veins. “Rachel, god,” he groans, his hands sliding into her hair. He tries not to push her down further, but her mouth feels so good around him, hot and wet. When she pulls away to take a breath, she experiments with different things. She blows on the tip, runs her nails delicately against him. His breaths grow shallow.
When she can sense he’s close, she leans down to take him into her mouth, hand stroking whatever she can’t fit in her mouth. “Rachel,” he groans before he comes.
She stands and heads for the door when his hand closes around her wrist and tugs her back. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks. She blushes.
He backs her up against the wall and kisses her again. His fingers dip underneath her skirt, rubbing her through her panties. She tilts her head back, letting his lips slide along the skin of her neck as she moans. And while he enjoys the sound of her voice at Glee, there is something to be said about this Rachel before him right here, her voice low and husky, “Oh, Finn.” His hands move under her shirt, sliding up to caress her through her bra, as she’s arching her back into his touch with soft gasps. He bends down, hands skimming her waist, as he closes his mouth over her breast through the bra, tongue flicking against her nipple. She writhes beneath him, whimpering softly.
Hand in his hair, she tugs him up to kiss him again, lips tugging and bruising. God, she wants this.
He moves her panties to the side and brushes his fingers against her, her hips bucking forward as he does so. He kneels then, pulling her panties down. He slides a finger into her wet heat, watching as she arches her back against the wall to bring her hips closer to him, eyes closed, lips parted, breathing shallow. He leans in then, gives her a soft kiss against her inner thigh as her breath hitches.
He pumps his finger in her clumsily, watching her reaction, feeling her roll her hips against his finger. And then, he’s leaning in, fingers spreading her as his tongue slides against her, and it surprises him that Rachel’s so quiet when she’s usually so vocal, but she’s just making these soft noises when his tongue works against her, fingers searching for her clit, her hips knocking roughly against him, urging him closer. When he finds it, he experimentally flicks his tongue a few times against it, watching as she cries out. When he takes her clit between his lips, she comes with a loud cry, body shaking with the force of it. Even when he’s pulled away and put his pants back on, she’s still leaning against the wall, eyes closed, breathing hard, panties down around her ankles. He’ll never get that picture out of his head (it kind of freaks him out that he doesn’t want to forget Rachel like that).
She regains her composure then, pulling her underwear back on and turns to look at him shyly, a soft blush on her cheeks. “Finn, I-“
And he can’t help it, he just leans in, hand twining in her hair, to kiss her again, this one softer and gentler. She kisses him back and moans just a little bit into his touch. The fact that he wants her so bad kind of scares him.
When he pulls away, he can’t think of anything to say. “Rachel…”
She lets out a nervous laugh. “I think we’re about done here, right? Our choreography’s gotten a lot, um, better. I, uh, I should go home.” He’s never heard Rachel stutter in her life.
“Rachel,” he says. “This was…”
“It was a onetime thing,” she says, quickly, and there she is, the rational, put-together Rachel that he knows. “You have Quinn.”
He closes his eyes. Yes, he has Quinn. But Rachel is a whole different ball game.
She silently gathers her things and they walk to the parking lot together, and he insists on waiting with her even though they can’t think of anything to say to each other. After her dad comes to get her, he gets in his car and drives home. That picture of Rachel in the practice room stays in his head longer than it should.
(She doesn’t ever tell him, but after her daddy’s come to get her, she runs up to her room and sits on her bed for a few minutes. She lies down and can’t stop thinking about Finn and everything that happened and then it all comes out; she cries. Quinn, she thinks. She can’t believe she ever forgot that Finn was never hers to have in the first place.)
At the next rehearsal, he notices that she avoids the practice room.
“Rachel,” he asks, “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
(He doesn’t tell her he doesn’t believe her.)