a/n: this is more like some of my older stuff, with smaller scenes and an underlying idea, but it was fun to write. It was originally meant to fill the prompt "Morning After" from the finchel prompts tumblr (which, if you haven't heard of, you should look up right now - it's full of great prompts and already some great fills!). I'm not so sure it really fits the parameters of the prompt anymore, and I don't think it's as humorous as the prompter wanted, but, well, humor isn't really my forte. Anyway, let me know what you think! Title and lyrics are from "Crash into Me" by the Dave Matthews Band.
Sweet like candy to my soul,
Sweet you rock and sweet you roll.
Lost for you, I'm so lost for you.
Touch your lips just so I know.
In your eyes, love, it glows so.
I'm bare boned and crazy for you,
When you come crash into me, baby.
And I come into you, in a boys dream.
He thinks about sex a lot.
Like, he isn't a pervert, but he dates this really hot girl, with her soft, shiny hair, and her long legs, and this fruity perfume that makes his head feel fuzzy. He can't help it if, when they watch a movie, and her legs are in his lap, and her hand is toying with his hair, he starts to think about sex, and sex with her, and how much he wants to have sex with her.
The first time they ever kissed, he basically mounted her. She drives him crazy, okay?
Plus, he loves her, and that makes sex special, right? If you love a girl, then sex means something.
And he really wants that.
He dates Quinn for months, and he wants to have sex with her. He wants to touch her boobs, just once, and he wants her to want him, too. But he doesn't realise that, doesn't realise how much he wants her to want him, until he sees the way Rachel looks at him, and he hears what she says at the Celibacy Club. He can't help it. Why doesn't Quinn ever look at him like that?
That's not so bad, right, to want his girlfriend to want him?
And when he dates her a second time, when they try to start fresh, everything is a little different, and he thinks it might be different in a good way. She kisses him with more abandon than before, and she lets his hands roam under her clothing now, and he wonders if maybe she finally wants him the way he wants her.
And he does want her. 'Cause, you know, he is a teenage boy. So it's natural, right?
But sometimes when he kisses her, he thinks of Rachel. That always makes him feel guilty, and he doesn't know how to sort through his feelings. He eventually realises, though, that maybe he does love Quinn, but he doesn't love her like he loves Rachel, and he never really has.
Because when he thinks about sex with Quinn, he thinks about her breath hot against his cheek and her boobs and the way her knees would press against his waist. But when he thinks about sex with Rachel, he thinks about the smile she makes when he touches her under her skirt for the first time. He thinks about her eyes, large and intent on him in this kind of adoring way, and he thinks about her giggle, and he thinks about how her hand fits really perfectly into his.
(He thinks about her butt, too, 'cause she has a killer butt. It's not all about her butt, though.)
He thinks about how special she is, and how special that will make sex with her.
He's never really felt about anyone the way he feels about Rachel.
Ms. Sylvester calls that being tethered.
He can't explain that to Puck, and he fails in his explanation to Quinn, but he tells Rachel one day in the summer, as they sit in the food court at the mall, that he thinks they might be tethered, like Ms. Sylvester talked about. Rachel kisses him over the table. "I think so, too," she admits. "How else can I explain why, no matter what else happens, I always know I can count on you?"
If she understands him that way, then sex with her is gonna be awesome, right?
"I wouldn't have been able to go through with it," she says as he pulls into her driveway.
He puts his truck into park. "With what?" he asks.
"With Puck." She pauses and then goes on, talking quickly as if to get it over with. "Quinn called Puck the Glee slut who had made out with pretty much every girl in Glee," Rachel goes on, "and I saw you flinch when he said that. If you thought about me, about what I did to you last year —"
He doesn't want to talk about that.
But she goes on. "—I just wanted you to know that I wouldn't have been able to go through with it. I kissed him, I did. I made out with him. I was angry and selfish and I acted stupidly. But I know I wouldn't have been able to sleep with him. He knew, too. He even told me so before he left my house." She looks down at her lap.
"I forgave you a long time ago," he says quietly.
She glances over at him. "But you believe me, right?"
And, well, he kind of really does. He tells her so, and he leans over and kisses her.
She smiles into his lips.
She isn't as careful this time around.
She asks him to put suntan lotion on her back at the lake, and she only glances over her shoulder coyly when his fingers dip a little under the edge of her bathing suit bottoms. She lets him kiss her in the hallways at school now, like really kiss her, with her back pressed against the lockers and her leg automatically rising a little to curl around his. She bites his lip when she kisses sometimes, and she doesn't jump away apologetically anymore; instead, she only soothes the bite with her tongue and continues to kiss him.
She doesn't blush when she whimpers a little into his mouth, and she arches into him when he touches her boobs, and she smiles shyly at him, but keeps her eyes on his, the first time she pulls her dress over her head and lets him see her naked.
Like, they moved super slow the first time they were together. And that was okay, because every time they tried something new, like his hands on her boobs, or her hands on his crotch, she would plunge in like she was determined, like all the waiting had completely prepared her and she was really ready, and that was cool.
Also, they thought they had all the time in the world back then. But it's like now they know they don't really, and he wants as much of her as she'll give, and she wants as much of him as he'll give, and he'll give her everything.
She only has to ask.
Okay, she really doesn't have to ask. She only has to smile, and to kiss him, and that's it. He's hers.
(He wonders if she feels the same way. He hopes so.)
They sneak off sometimes during school, out to his truck or to the empty choir room.
Puck walks into the room as they make out during lunch one afternoon, and they both freeze when they see him. Finn sits on the piano bench, and Rachel sits astride him, her skirt bunched around her waist and his hand up her shirt. He knows her lips are swollen, and her hair messy, and a fresh hickey shines on her neck.
Puck starts to clap slowly. "Dude, you made it past Fort Knox," he says, grinning lecherously. "Better men than you have died of blue balls on that mission."
Wishing he could disappear on the spot, Finn starts to pull his hand down, but Rachel stops him, and she holds his hand on her boob. His eyes go wide as she simply scoffs at Puck.
"Go away, Puckerman," she snaps. "We're busy."
He stares at her, starts to laugh, and nods in approval. "Get yours, Berry!"
Rachel glares at him until he leaves, before she turns back to Finn and kisses him again, murmuring into his lips. "Noah can be so rude," she says.
Finn only nods and kisses her back. He likes that Rachel is so polite and nice to everybody, and he finds her kinda cute when she blushes at innuendoes and gasps at curse words. But he sorta also really loves when she acts like this too, self-righteous and self-assured and more than happy to kiss him until his brain turns to mush, never mind stupid Puck.
It totally makes him think she's gonna be awesome in bed.
She is gonna be awesome in bed — for lots of reasons.
Like, he's seen her do yoga. She can bend. And she's really intense. He likes that about her. She pours herself into whatever she does, into a song or a kiss or a school project. She also does this one thing with her tongue that makes him think really dirty stuff.
He's not really experienced, or whatever.
But he's seen porn.
His mom caught him watching one time, and she made him sit through this really long, painful conversation about "his changing body" and "natural impulses" and "remember to respect women, no matter what you might watch" and, well, he kinda blocked most of that out in self-defence. She did make the point at the end, though, that was basically, like, "okay, Finn, you can watch porn, just please don't let me catch you again — oh, and remember that stuff isn't real."
He knows sex with Rachel isn't gonna be like porn.
It's gonna be so much better, 'cause it's Rachel.
That sums it up pretty well, you know?
He thinks sometimes that Rachel wants to memorise him.
The bus ride back from Regionals their sophomore year, she sits by him, her head on his shoulder, and rubs her thumb over and over again against the skin of his left hand. And a week later, the first time they really make-out, she runs her hands up and down his arms, over and over again, her fingers skating in circles around this single mole near his elbow.
The more time he spends with her, the more he notices how she likes to focus on a spot, on a stretch of his neck, or his shoulder, or the space between his knee and the edge of his shorts, and simply trace her fingers over the skin, simply rub her thumb back and forth, back and forth.
She finds these spots, too, that drive him crazy, and he doesn't think she even realises.
She probably does, but soon enough she moves onto another spot.
Quinn doesn't do that. It's weird, but late at night, when his stomach tightens because he just really, really misses her, he rubs his thumb against his arm and tries to pretend it's her.
The day they finally reunite, the day she takes him back in their stupid school library, she straddles his lap in his truck afterward, and he holds her hips and barely takes time away from her lips to breathe. And then he feels her hands on his arms, and her thumbs run back and forth over the skin. He grins into her lips at the familiar feel.
Rachel does everything meticulously.
(She even taught him SAT words with meticulous care. See that?)
He shouldn't be surprised that she learns his skin that way, too.
Like, when they watch a movie with Kurt and his parents, she rests her hand on his lower back, right under his t-shirt, and strokes her fingers against the same stretch of skin the entire movie.
He doesn't think anybody else is like Rachel.
And he loves that.
Mike and Tina have sex.
The entire Glee club knows, too. Everybody in Glee always know when absolutely anything happens to one of their own. It kind of sucks, but Finn doesn't really know how to change that. Still, he hopes the whole cub won't talk about when he and Rachel have sex for the first time.
"I'm surprised Finn and Rachel didn't do the deed first," Santana says, crossing her legs and going on lazily. "They maul each other like Furbies in heat."
Brittany frowns. "Finn and Rachel haven't had sex? Why not?" She looks at Finn. "Don't you want to have sex?"
Finn opens and closes her mouth.
Rachel rolls her eyes. "We do not maul each other —"
"You kind of do," Sam says.
"You two almost did start a sex riot at our school assembly last month," Kurt adds breezily.
"And you eat each other's faces at lunch," offers one of the new kids.
"Plus, you make-out in the bleachers after football practice all the time —" Sam goes on.
"Guys," Mr. Schue starts, "is this really an appropriate conversation for —?"
Basically, Finn knows the whole cub is definitely gonna know when he and Rachel finally have sex. That makes him kind of nervous. But it isn't any of their business, right? Right. And Rachel gives them all a speech about personal lives and how the focus of the club should be on Regionals, not on her love life, and that quiets everybody for about five minutes.
The first time she goes down on him, it's kinda really awkward.
They're working on a duet for Glee, and somehow they start to make-out, 'cause basically everything they do leads to make-outs now, and suddenly she's tugging on his belt, and her eyes are determined, and she tells him she really wants to do this.
She doesn't know what to do, though, she admits, because she's never done this before, and he doesn't know what to tell her to do, because nobody's ever done this to him before. She smiles when he says that, and he watches her take a few deep breathes.
Is it wrong that he sort of likes when they're new at this stuff together?
(He wishes they could be new at everything together.)
And, yeah, everything is pretty awkward. She keeps starting to lean down, her breath washing over his erection, only to draw back and take a few more deep breaths. He tries to tell her she doesn't have to do this, they he doesn't want to rush her, but she won't let him pull away. He bangs his head against the wall behind his bed at one point, and he thinks he might tug on her hair a little too hard, and her house phone rings and startles them both, like, in the middle of —
But he's pretty sure he's never come so hard in his life.
He cuddles her against him afterward, rubbing her back the way she likes, and he feels like he could take on the world, but he also feels all calm and relaxed and like life is good, and it's this strange combination.
"That was good, right?" Rachel asks.
"That was awesome, baby."
She giggles. "I did a little research," she admits. "I think my natural lack of a gag reflex makes me particularly good at fellatio." She smiles, snuggling a little closer to him, slipping her foot under his leg like she always does when her toes are cold. "Rachel Berry: excellent at fetallio." She giggles at her own words, pressing her face into his chest. "I'm so bad," she murmurs. "I'm so bad."
He only laughs at her and pulls her up slightly to kiss her.
"You'll be the only one ever to know, of course," she adds, resting her hands on his chest.
"Yeah?" he says softly, his stomach all warm and twisty.
Is it wrong how much he really hopes that's true?
She glances up at him and bites her lip when she meets his gaze. She reaches up and traces his smile with her fingers, and he opens his mouth to kiss her thumb. "Of course," she whispers, and she replaces her fingers with her lips.
Two weeks before Christmas, Kurt and Blaine break up.
Finn thinks of last year, and he doesn't really know what to say to his brother. "That sucks," he offers lamely, because he can't really think of anything better to say. He hates that the holidays never seem to go right anymore.
He still has Rachel, though.
The entire Glee club watches Christmas movies together the first day of winter break. All the girls try to make Kurt feel better, with conversation and stupid jokes and compliments, and Puck complains a lot about how Hollywood needs to make more Jewish movies, and Finn knows that the entire club still finds reasons to snipe at each other and have rivalries and stuff like that, but at the end of the day, they're a family, like Mr. Schue says.
Rachel lies out on the couch, and Finn lies with his face resting on her stomach, tucked comfortably between her legs, one bent and cushioning the back of his head, the other stretched out so that he can trace random designs against the skin of her thigh.
He catches Kurt staring at them, and he feels guilty suddenly, because he remembers how much it sucks to see happy couples when your own love life is messed up. He starts to sit up, but Kurt shakes his head and returns his gaze to the movie. Finn doesn't really know what to do.
Rachel runs her fingers through his hair, though, before she returns her thumb to gently rubbing the skin behind his ear, and he settles back against her.
He does feel bad for Kurt — really, really bad.
But he's never been so glad his relationship with Rachel is so good.
He asks Puck for advice.
He tries to do research by himself, like Rachel does, but everything is really confusing.
And Puck is his best friend. Friends help each other out with this stuff, right? Puck grins so wide his face almost cracks, and then he starts to laugh, and Finn wants to storm off. He shouldn't have said anything. But he wants to go down on Rachel, wants to make her feel good, but he honestly doesn't know. She deserves somebody who knows how.
Puck would know how to make it good for her. Jesse probably would, too. Finn is pretty much the only one who doesn't know. Like, what does he do with his tongue? And —
"Dude," Puck says. "You fuck her. With your tongue. That's it."
"But I don't —"
"What, you want me to draw you a diagram? Just ask her what she wants. Rachel will totally want to be in charge, anyway." He smirks, and Finn glares at him, because he doesn't want Puck to think about Rachel like that.
Basically, Puck isn't any help. For a few minutes, Finn thinks he should ask Mr. Schue for advice.
But that would totally be a disaster. Mr. Schue is cool, but he isn't that cool.
Finally, Finn simply tries on his own, and he doesn't have much luck the first time, but Rachel still looks at him like he hung the moon, and he tries again, and again, and again, and then she makes this noise, arching up off the bed, and he feels really proud of himself.
She tastes good. He tells her that. She turns pink.
And she cheekily replies that he does, too.
He doesn't really know what will happen when graduation comes.
They don't talk about that stuff very often. He doesn't know how, honestly.
Like, when they apply to colleges, he applies to some schools in New York, because, well, what if he wants to go with her? And he mentions that to her, and she smiles. But they don't talk about details, about whether she wants him to come or if this means they would live together. He holds her a little closer, though, when they watch television after he sends in his last application. And when she returns from her audition at Juilliard, she kisses him in this kind of possessive way.
It's hard to talk about that kind of stuff.
Every so often, though, they do talk about last year.
That's hard, too, but they try. Most days, they avoid what hurts the most. But curled up together on her bed, or as she sits in his lap, her thumb rubbing against his right wrist, or in the bed of his truck, her lips still swollen from his kisses, his heart still beating fast, they talk. They make confessions, share secrets, and carefully stitch each other up.
He tries to make sure she knows that he loves her in a way he never loved Quinn, and she talks about Jesse a couple of times, about the way he made her feel and about how she never could have really gone back to him. He describes how dirty he felt after he slept with Santana, and she talks about how much she hated herself for what she did to him when she kissed Puck.
Those moments are hard, too, but he thinks they help. They make them closer, or whatever.
And he hopes that, eventually, they'll talk about the future, too.
The first time sneaks up on him.
He wants this so bad, and he has for so long, and suddenly she has his hand in hers, and she leads him upstairs, and her kisses are different as she steers him towards the bed and tugs on his shirt.
"Are you sure about this?" he asks her, sitting on the bed as she stands between his legs and pulls her shirt up over her head. He can't really breathe, and his heart has started to pound really, really fast.
She cups his face in her hands. "I'm sure," she says. She tilts his face up and kisses him, even as she reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra.
He thinks suddenly of last year, before everything with Santana exploded into a big mess. He thinks about how worried he was for so long, worried that they would come to this moment and Rachel still wouldn't know the truth, and he would have to decide whether to lie to her still or to confess moments before they had sex.
This isn't like that. There isn't any reason not to be with her, any stupid secret, not now.
He kisses her, falling back on the bed, and bringing her with him.
They break the first two condoms. She trembles a little under him, and their kisses are shaky and sloppy. He rubs his hands up and down her thighs to try to make her relax. He tries to, you know, go in, a couple times, but she seems too tense. He keeps kissing her, though, touching her a little until she finally does seem to relax. She smiles a little at him when he smiles, her eyes intent on his, and she giggles a little when he makes a stupid face at her for that very purpose.
And then she holds his shoulders tightly, kisses him insistently, and rolls her hips against his, and he basically, like, crashes into her all at once.
She looks like she's in a lot of pain, but she just digs her heels into his legs. It's messy, and sweaty, and awkward. He only lasts through a few thrusts, and she breathes into his mouth in these sharp gasps the entire time. Her gaze stays on his, her face so close that he can see the flecks of gold embedded in the dark brown of her eyes, and afterward, he kinda collapses on her, finally breaking her gaze.
Her fingers ghost over his back, and her hand cups the back of his neck.
"It was always yours," she whispers to him. She presses her face to his, and her eyelashes are wet as they flicker against his cheek. "I love you."
He kisses her shoulder and tries to roll off her.
But she comes with him, and they lie on their sides, still intertwined. "I love you, too," he tells her.
They don't talk after, not really.
He tugs off the condom, and then he ties it off like Rachel instructs.
They cuddle a little, and she rubs her thumb absently against the bare a patch of skin on his stomach, and then the sound of a car in the driveway breaks through the bliss. She scrambles up off the bed quickly. He stares at her for a moment, all flushed and naked and gorgeous, and he sort of wishes they could have sex again right now, but then she reminds him to dress before her daddy walks in on him lying naked on her bed.
That scenario kinda freaks him out, and he pulls his clothing back on as fast as he can.
She has two dads. Two.
He can hear them walking around downstairs, and he opens a random textbook in case they come upstairs. A few minutes later, Rachel emerges from the bathroom dressed neatly, her hair up in ponytail and her make-up redone. She actually looks pretty good, or, you know, not like she just had sex. She makes him comb his hair, and then she leads him downstairs.
Her daddy greets him happily, and her dad makes small talk about the Indians with him.
He comes up with a lame excuse to leave a few minutes later, because he doesn't need her dad to realise suddenly what happened or something. He kisses Rachel on the cheek, says he'll see her tomorrow, and leaves. He breathes a sigh of relief in his car. Her dads totally have no idea that he deflowered their daughter.
But what does he do now?
He kind of starts to be in, like, shock. Or something.
After everything, after Quinn and Jesse and Puck and Santana, after winning competitions and losing competitions, after popularity contests and forbidden kisses and stupid break-ups, he and Rachel wound up together and happy, so together and so happy that they had sex.
And it was amazing.
He feels like he should do something for her.
He knows how big a deal this is.
And he feels different, like he should, like this is his real first time, because this finally means something. Plus, this was totally so, so much better than that first time with Santana. He feels good, or, like, satisfied. Does that sound bad? That might be the wrong word. He feels like he finally did something right, and he and Rachel are gonna be closer than ever, and he kind of can't wait to have sex again. It'll only get better.
Because he doesn't think she liked the sex very much, and he can't blame her.
The first time is supposed to be really hard for girls, right?
She gasped, and she froze, and he knows he hurt her a little, even if she didn't seem to care.
He should buy her chocolate or something. She loves stuffed animals. And craft projects. He could volunteer to do a craft project with her. Would that be too lame? He could buy her a balloon, maybe. They have really cool balloons at the grocery store.
He shakes his head, and he tries not to panic.
He just really wants her to know how much he loves her and how much that meant to him.
(He doesn't want her to regret anything.)
He decides to bake her cookies.
He doesn't really know how, but he asks Kurt for help, and they sort of make the kitchen explode, but he thinks the chocolate chip cookies they finally manage to produce taste pretty good. He forces himself not to eat too many, though. He carefully puts two dozen in some Tupperware.
He'll give them to Rachel at school the next day.
Kurt asks him again, as they clean up the kitchen, why he suddenly wants to bake cookies for her.
"Because she deserves them," Finn says. She does. She deserves so much more.
She approaches him shyly at his locker in the morning. "Hi," she says, looking up at him through her lashes.
"Hey," he says. He smiles a little. She smiles, too. He remembers his cookies. He grabs them out of his backpack and hands them over. "These are for you," he says.
She accepts the container hesitantly. "For me?" She pulls open the edge of the lid. "Cookies?"
"I made them with this vegan recipe that Kurt found online, so you can totally eat them," he says. "He actually helped a lot. But it was my idea." He smiles eagerly at her. She always bakes stuff for him. It's about time he finally baked something for her.
"Oh," she says. "Is there an occasion?"
"Um, well, you know," he says, shrugging a little. "Just 'cause. . . ."
"Finn," she says, leaning a little towards him and lowering her voice. "Did you bake me cookies because we had sex? Are these thank you for the sex cookies?" She doesn't sound like she thinks that makes sense.
"I mean, I just — I thought I should do something nice for you. Because you gave me your —" He lowers his voice, too. "— your virginity and stuff. So, I don't know, it was really amazing. And I just . . . I wanted you know that."
She nods. "Okay. You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to." It's quiet.
She leans up and kisses him quickly. "I'll go put these in my locker."
He thinks he might have done something wrong.
At Glee practice, Artie asks her about the cookies. "Are those for us?"
"Finn made these for me, actually," Rachel replies, settling down in her seat. He sits beside her, wrapping his arm around the back of her chair.
"You made her cookies?" Mercedes says, looking at him as if mildly impressed.
"They're vegan friendly," Kurt says. "I helped." He smiles proudly.
"They're a thank you present for my virginity," Rachel announces matter-of-factly.
The room goes silent, and Finn chokes on his own breath.
She ignores him for the rest of Glee, but he catches up with her in the parking lot.
"Whoa, wait, slow down," he says, grabbing her arm. "Are you mad at me?"
He expects her to deny her feelings, to reply "no" coldly, and to storm off, but instead she rounds on him. "You made me cookies, Finn," she hisses. He remembers that this is Rachel, and when Rachel is angry, she definitely does want to talk about it. "You made me cookies," she repeats.
"They're not poisoned or anything," he says. She only glares at him. "I mean," he goes on, a little desperation leaking out, "why is that bad? They're only cookies, and. . . ." He swallows thickly.
She crosses her arms over her chest and looks away. "Is that all it really meant to you?" she asks him, and her face is tight as finally meets his gaze again, her anger giving away to something sad. "We have sex, and your first thought is to pat me on the head and make me cookies?"
"Rachel, no," he says, shaking his head. That's not —
"What happens now?" she asks. "We break up, and you go back to Quinn?"
What? "No! I don't even — Rachel —"
She looks away from him again, her lips pressed tightly together, and he starts to panic.
"I don't wanna break up!" he says. "I don't even know what you're talking about. I'll take the cookies back, Rachel! I'll take them back! That was a stupid idea, and I'm sorry! Please don't —" He reaches out, touching her hand, nearly flinching when her fingers curl a little away from him. He grasps her hand anyway, and he waits for her to look at him.
She finally does.
"I love you," he says.
"Why didn't you call me last night?" she asks.
"I . . . I don't know. I had to make cookies."
She opens her mouth and gazes up at him as if her heart is breaking. "You leave, and you don't call me all night, and then you give me cookies, like some sort of consolation prize, and you act awkwardly all day — what do you expect me to think?"
He shakes his head. No. "I made cookies because I just — I just — I didn't want you to regret anything. Because that was, like, the best thing ever for me, but I wasn't sure it was for you." He pauses. She only gazes up at him. "I just . . . I wanted to do something nice for you, or — I don't know — Puck would have —"
"Puck?" she says, her forehead crinkling.
"He would have been better," Finn says, because it's the truth. "Like, I couldn't make it perfect for you, and I couldn't make you my first time, either, because I screwed that up, and . . . I'm sorry. I don't want to break up. I don't."
Her face slowly softens, and she steps forward suddenly, hugging him. He takes a shaky breath. When she pulls back, he settles his hands on her waist, and she looks up at him.
"I was so afraid," she says, "the entire time we were together last year, that you might not love me as much as I loved you. I acted crazy sometimes, and I made us go so slow, and I let all of these insecurities eat me from the inside out when I found out about you and Santana."
He only nods.
"And then you proved — you proved that you did love me that much, that you really wouldn't give up easily, that you — that you loved me so much. When we kissed, it was the — " she pauses and smiles a little, her cheeks pink, "— the superman of kisses, right? And I knew that you really did love me, and that I couldn't stop loving you. But — did I ever prove that to you?" Her eyes are earnest. "Do you know how much I love you?"
"I know," he says quietly.
"Do you really?" she asks. "Because, Finn, yesterday was . . . was perfect, because I was with you, and I loved you, and you love me, and — and it wouldn't have been like that with Noah, or with Jesse — it couldn't have been like that with anyone that wasn't you."
"Yeah?" he says.
She nods and smiles, and then she leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him sweetly, her hands on his chest as he tightens his own grip on her waist. She hugs him again, and he presses his face into her hair. "It was special," she whispers.
He hugs her a little closer.
They drive to his house, and he pours her some milk to have with the cookies.
"They are very good," she says. They start to do homework, their books and papers spread across the kitchen table, and then Kurt arrives home, and he visibly relaxes when he realises that Finn and Rachel aren't in a fight.
He disappears down into the basement after he snatches a few cookies, and Finn watches as Rachel carefully copies her answers down on her math worksheet. She glances up suddenly, as if she can feel his gaze, and she pauses, smiling at him. Nervously, he holds out his hand, like she did yesterday.
She bites her lip, and then she sets down her pen. She takes his hand.
He wakes up to find his bed empty.
He frowns a little, and he glances over at the clock. He slept for a couple hours. He sits up, and he wonders if Rachel simply went home. He wipes the drool from his mouth and pushes himself out of bed. He can smell dinner downstairs, and he grins a little to himself. He starts to text Rachel as he walks down the stairs, because he doesn't want her to freak out again.
And then he hears her laugh softly.
He freezes at the bottom of the stairs, and he sees Rachel in the kitchen with his mom.
His mom totally adores Rachel, and he has a feeling Rachel adores his mom, too.
"It sounds like everything went okay," his mom says, smiling at Rachel.
Rachel nods. "You were right. It happened naturally. Finn —" She blushes and looks down at the counter. His mom reaches and touches her shoulder affectionately, and Finn realises that his mom and his girlfriend are talking about —
"And it meant something?" his mom asks knowingly.
Rachel smiles at her. "It meant everything."
He thinks so, too.
If I've gone overboard,
Then I'm begging you to forgive me,
Oh, in my haste,
When I'm holding you so, girl, close to me.
Oh, and you come crash into me, baby.
And I come into you.
Oh, hike up your skirt a little more,
and show your world to me.