A/N: This is mostly pointless Finchelness. It's a lot less dramatic than 'Hypocrisy,' but it's okay. I like to write lighthearted stuff every now and then.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee yadda yadda. This gets really redundant after a while.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee yadda yadda. This gets really redundant after a while.
Finn groaned and paused the game he was playing when he heard the doorbell ring. He was the only one home today and he didn't think anyone would be bothering him until later. And Rachel had said since it was supposed to storm all day, she would be using the time to practice her dancing.
He heard the loud boom of thunder as he reached for the doorknob and thought anyone would have to be crazy to be out in this weather!
So the last thing he expected to see when he opened the door was a soaking wet Rachel carrying a…what? It looked like a blanket. Wait. Was the blanket moving?
"Rachel?" he asked. "What is that?"
"Thank you for inviting me in," she replied drily, shoving past him and into the kitchen, dripping.
Before Finn could fumble for a response, Rachel glanced at him worriedly and said, "Anyway, this is yours." She pushed the wet bundle into his arms and watched him.
He slowly started to unwrap the blanket and then sneezed.
Confused, Finn looked down and saw a little furry head poking out. "You brought me a cat?" he asked incredulously. The cat wriggled free of the blanket and stretched across Finn's arms. He looked at Rachel helplessly.
"Well, I was on my way to the dance studio today and I saw him, poor thing, getting soaked. He doesn't have a collar and looks very thin. So he must be a stray. Someone needs to take care of him!"
"'Him'? You checked out the plumbing?" Finn looked down at the cat again and back at his girlfriend. "Rachel!" he protested. "It only has three legs!"
She looked at him sharply. "So?" she countered defensively. "He is still a living, breathing, feeling creature in need of caretaking. Finn, if you only had one arm, do you think I would lo—care about you any less? Of course not! Don't be so judgmental!"
Finn looked at the wet, fuzzy cat still in his arms. It was completely gray and had darker gray tiger strips around its tail. It is kind of cute, he thought grudgingly. He, Finn mentally corrected himself. He was kind of cute.
"How come you don't take it—him?" he asked, sneezing again.
Rachel huffed. "Of course I would were I able to! You're aware of that. But Daddy would never allow me to have a cat. It's one of the most basic rules of the house. And it's not like I could sneak him in because how would I take care of him? He deserves the love and care of one Finn Hudson! I should know!"
Finn bit back a groan; Rachel had to learn to stop talking at a hundred miles per hour. He could tell his resolve was weakening. It was always like this with her. And then he sneezed again. Crap, he thought. That's it!
"Rachel," he told her, pulling out the last of his defenses. "I'm allergic to cats."
"I know. I remembered," she replied brightly, before pulling something out of her coat pocket. "That's why I bought you these." She held up two boxes of Benadryl allergy relief.
Now Finn couldn't stifle his laughter. God, she was crazy. But he was crazy about her. So it worked.
He leaned in to kiss her soundly, the cat getting a little squashed in between the two teenagers. He should have known that he wouldn't be able to resist her. She was Rachel Berry. He knew his mom would be totally thrilled to have a cat, anyway. And Rachel was so persistent.
"Okay," he agreed. And he couldn't help the way his chest tightened at the expression on her face. She looked so happy. He made a note to do things that would earn this look from her more often. It wasn't the crazy-happy look she gave him that he used to be afraid of. It was the "I'm-so-glad-you-appreciate-my-craziness" look. He liked it a lot.
Rachel smiled at her boyfriend. He was the best. At the beginning of the year, she wouldn't have believed she'd be standing in Finn's kitchen, handing him a stray three-legged cat because he was her boyfriend and she needed him. She had wanted that, of course. But she had given up on expecting it to happen. Well, maybe the cat detail hadn't been part of the original daydream, but he was a cute kitty, after all. She didn't mind the detail.
"Thank you, Finn," she said, brushing her fingers over his face. "If I'd had someone else to go to first for this cat, I would have. You know that I know you're allergic and that the last thing you wanted was a cat. But you're the only person who cares about me all the time. Not just when I'm contributing heavily to winning glee club performances or getting egged by those Vocal Adrenaline delinquents. I really do appreciate this. And you. So thank you."
There was so much he wanted to tell her. But he wasn't sure how fragile their relationship was and he wasn't sure how to phrase any of it, so he decided against it.
"No problem," he responded instead. Then he frowned. "We'll need, like, food and stuff for him, though," he pointed out.
Rachel put her hands on her hips and smiled widely. "I have everything he needs—and probably a lot of things he doesn't need—in my car. I may have went a tad overboard," she admitted bashfully. "But I plan on visiting him every day, just so you know! We can take care of him jointly."
"We can get it later," he said, cracking a smile. He kind of liked the idea of taking care of another person—well, sort of—with Rachel. He hoped it would be practice for the future. He surprised himself with that thought. But there it was. Ignoring the urge to sneeze again, Finn held up the cat. "So what are we naming this little guy?"
"Well," Rachel began, inhaling deeply. "On the drive here, I made approximately twelve mental lists of potential names based on coloring, size, popularity, etc. I thought that the more organized I was, the easier it would be to select a proper name for him. But it just made the process more difficult as there were just so many possibilities. So I cleared off the slate and have now chosen the perfect name!"
Finn looked at Rachel affectionately. If it had been anyone else, he would have just brushed the person off and said he needed to get back to his game. But Rachel was different. She was something else entirely. So instead he listened to her ramble about cat names. He was thinking something like Smokey or Bengal (like the tigers, right? And the football team, of course). Something like that. But she had a lot more ideas than he did. So he looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell him which name she picked.
"Sorbet," said Rachel, her voice soft.
Oh man. It was such work not to laugh. "Uh, what? Why?" he asked, amused.
"Well, when you came over to my house the other day and we made raspberry sorbet, I remembered how much you had liked it. So I thought he could symbolize a good memory of and for us."
Finn set the cat—Sorbet—down and watched as he hobbled towards the living room. He planted his hands on Rachel's waist, reveling in the feel of her, and looked at her face. "Sorbet is perfect," he said, his breath on her neck. Rachel shivered. Finn seemed to do that to her a lot.
"Come on," he said, gesturing toward the couch. "You're here now. You might as well stay for a while." He thought her craziness may be one of the most endearing things about her. He wasn't really good with words—especially ones that were supposed to be all meaningful and everything. But he thought he did a pretty good job of making sure Rachel knew how he felt about her. Only she would name a cat Sorbet. And only he would appreciate her enough to not think it was a dumb or ridiculous name. He smiled at her.
Rachel felt familiar prickles of anticipation at the thought of spending the afternoon with Finn. Grinning, she shrugged her coat off and followed him into the living room.
Sorbet was already on the couch, curling up. They both laughed. Maybe the cat would symbolize more than just a memory for them. But for the time being, they both knew at least one thing: It was going to be a good afternoon.
So at this point, this it as one-shot. But I have some ideas still on making it a multi-chapter fic. I mean, they wouldn't be directly related. There's only so much I can write about Finn, Rachel, and a cat. But I do have other possibilities running through my head. But that's your call. Let me know what you think. Reviews = Love.
Reviews = Love.