They had met at the bar one night; Finn was sulking at the bar with his third beer and Santana was shaking her hips on the dance floor with a skimpy outfit on. She wasn't with anyone; strange men danced up to her and started grinding against her. They only lasted five minutes each, noticing that she didn't look very into it, and then went to find another hot woman by herself. He had his eyes on her the whole time from across the room, taking a sip of the beer and putting it back down. There was something about her that kept Finn looking; she had long, tanned legs, and shining, black hair. Her lips were full and had a chest that Finn found himself wanting to touch very much. She had to be the hottest girl he had ever seen.

Surely, he couldn't be half as good looking as she was, but she was giving him the same intent look that he was giving her. Finn wanted to know who this woman was; what was her name, why was she there, why wasn't she interested in any of the guys around her? He desperately wanted to talk to her, to see her face up close, and to press his body against hers.

Imagining how that would feel to have his groin up against hers, he stood up from where he sat and made his way towards the woman. He pushed through the crowds of dancing people, and she gave him a sexy smile as he stopped in front of her. When it came to dancing, a guy in a wheelchair could dance better than him, but he didn't have to worry about embarrassing himself in front of her; he only stood there as she ground her hips into his. Finn had this stupid grin plastered on his face as she did this, taking her hips and grinding them harder against him. A moan escaped his lips, making the girl smile even bigger, wrapping a hand around his neck to drag him down for a kiss.

It was official; Finn had met his future wife.


The alarm clock at his bedside woke him up, making Finn groan into his pillow. He shoved the pillow over his head, hearing the footsteps by his head, and her familiar breathing as she turned the alarm off for him. Finn closed his eyes, silently thanking his girlfriend for doing that for him, considering the fact that most of the time; she didn't do anything for him at all.

"Get up, Finn." Santana said, nudging his sleeping form in the bed with her hip. Finn groaned again; he should have known that the silence couldn't last. "Oh, don't be such a baby. Just get up."

Santana's footsteps made the wooden floor creak as he heard her walk out of his bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. She was making her morning visit to Dunkin' Donuts for breakfast as always, where she would pick up a breakfast sandwich for him. It's an easy way to spend money, Finn thought to him as he crawled out of bed. The front door slammed shut after Santana, leaving Finn in the apartment alone.

Finn didn't understand why Santana still refused to move in with him; she always spent her nights at his place. He wondered if she actually used her bedroom anymore. Santana would always come to his apartment at six with takeout, an hour after he got out of work, and spend dinner and the night there. Then, in the morning she would bring back breakfast from Dunkin' Donuts and they would eat together before going to work. It was like they lived together.

He trudged into the kitchen, sitting himself down at the small, round table and picking up the scary red letter in the mail pile. Opening the letter, Finn washed himself in memories of his and Santana's relationship. That night at the bar, things had moved pretty quickly when they made their way back to Finn's apartment. He thought it was going to be a simple one night stand, but found that it wasn't when Santana called the day after, asking him if he wanted to go out for coffee. If it had been any other girl, Finn would have come up with an excuse as to why he couldn't make it, but he liked Santana, so he agreed. Things sort of sky rocketed from there; before Finn knew it, Santana was meeting his family. They had been together for a little over a year now, and Finn couldn't remember his life before her. Well, he could remember it, but she had changed it a whole lot.

The door opened again and Santana walked in, wearing flip flops and one of his old high school sweatshirts, along with the golden sapphire necklace he got her for their one year anniversary. She was wearing a tank top and short shorts underneath, so it looked like she had nothing on but the sweatshirt and the necklace. Finn could already imagine all the attention she was attracting with that outfit; she always wore that when she went to get breakfast.

"Couldn't put on some regular clothes?" he asked as Santana took the seat opposite of him. Her hair was in a messy bun with a few strands hanging loose, sunglasses on her head. She took them off, and pulled his breakfast out of the brown bag, handing it over.

"These are regular clothes." She said simply, opening up the fridge to get some orange juice. Santana poured two glasses of orange juice, handing one to Finn as she sat back down.

"Those are regular clothes to wear inside the house, but not outside." Finn argued, taking a bite of his sandwich. Santana glared at him as she ate her breakfast; it was so easy to piss her off. A lot of the time, Finn found himself getting her pissed off at him for no reason at all, usually leading to loud voices and doors being slammed, and then her breaking down into tears with him holding her closely. That's usually how those things started and ended.

"Whatever." Santana mumbled against her food. Finn finished his food in silence, and then stood up to take a shower and get ready for work. Like every day, Santana was able to join him.


"And so the 'Rachel Berry Cheer up Extravaganza' begins!" Quinn said cheerfully. Rachel frowned at her as Quinn sipped her ice tea through her straw. The two of them sat outside of a small restaurant at a small table, with a blue umbrella over them. Rachel watched the cars busily pass by as Quinn kept smiling and drinking her ice tea. "This is so exciting!"

"Hardly." Rachel said darkly, looking down at her fruit plate, and rearranging the pineapple pieces again with her fork. Quinn ignored her, and took a deep breathe, taking in all the fresh air.

"Oh, Rachel, cheer up! Jessie is a complete idiot for not wanting to be with a girl like you. It's his loss." The pretty blonde told the brunette. Rachel glanced at her before looking back down at the fruit. She could still feel Jessie's hands all over her body.

"More like his gain. We did have sex." She pointed out, and Quinn shot her a pity look. Jessie had been so enchanting when Rachel first met him; he was the main lead in the Broadway musical, Spring Awakening, and Rachel had the pleasure of going back stage after the show to meet him. They had clicked immediately, Jessie offering to take Rachel out to dinner. One date, two dates, three dates, and Jessie had Rachel naked on her bed. Rachel woke up the next morning to find she was alone with a sticky note on the microwave, telling her to not bother calling anymore. The relationship ended there.

"He was a douche bag, but fortunately, you're moving on so you can forget about him." She said, and Rachel gave her a small nod. It was good to have a best friend like Quinn around; she always made sure Rachel was in high spirits. They had first met in college, where they shared a dorm, and Rachel didn't think they would get along, but fate tricked her. They ended up becoming best friends, even moving in together after college in New York.

"I guess so." Rachel agreed, and Quinn flashed Rachel a perfect smile. The two of them finished their breakfast, and then walked down the sidewalk arm in arm. Rachel scanned the people passing by her, as did Quinn.

"No one's catching my attention, Quinn." Rachel said as they kept walking, making sure to look into every guy's face who passed her by. They turned a corner while Quinn bit her bottom lip in concentration.

"We'll go to the art museum a few blocks away. There's always cute, smart guys there." She told Rachel, and she dragged her in the direction of the museum.


The two women starred at the mix of colors that was called a painting. In Rachel's opinion, it looked like it had been made by a six year old, and she and Quinn looked at it with blank expressions. Rachel twirled a strand of hair around her finger in boredom. The entire museum was silent; the only other people there were old people and the security guards.

"Are we supposed to be seeing something here?" Rachel asked, voicing the question in her head. Quinn looked at the painting for a moment longer, shifting her eyes to below the portrait.

"And they don't even have one of those plaque things with the artist's name and information on it." Quinn said, gesturing to the empty space on the wall where the plaque should have been. Rachel thought that plaque or not, the painting would still look just as bad, but Quinn seemed to think that the plaque was the problem. She turned to one of the security guards who were standing at the end of the hall. "Excuse me, over here."

Rachel felt herself going red from embarrassment by Quinn as the security guard slowly walked to where they stood. As he came closer, Rachel noticed he looked much younger then she thought he was; he looked like he was her age, maybe a year younger. She noticed that he was a little scruffy in the face and wore metal glasses. He had messy brown hair, and amber eyes, amber eyes that Rachel found hard not to look at. He was really tall too, like, taller than the usual person, and had a very muscular chest. What was someone as perfect as him working at a place as boring as here?

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked politely, but looking very bored and miserable at the same time. Quinn glanced down at his name tag, seeming oblivious to his good looks. How could Quinn not be distracted, but Rachel was?

"Mr. Finn Hudson, where's the plaque for this painting? I don't see one." Quinn asked, pointing to the blank wall. The man named Finn looked down to where she was pointing, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

"Err, I don't know. Honestly, I don't really know anything about any of these paintings." Finn told them, scratching the back of his neck. Rachel gazed at him, having trouble opening her mouth. She couldn't stop starring!

"So you're just as clueless as we are?" Quinn asked, and Finn laughed. Rachel smiled.

"Yeah, I guess so." He said, shrugging. He was just relieved that these two girls weren't giving him death looks for not even knowing things about the place he worked at. Rachel finally seemed to find her voice.

"I don't even see what's so great about this painting, to begin with." Rachel added to the conversation, and Finn's eyes turned to her and gave her a wide smile.

"I don't either. It looks like it was made by someone who was six." He agreed, and Rachel's eyes lighted up at his words. How was it that this man could read her mind? She was staring at Finn again, and Quinn must have noticed, because her eyes shifted from Rachel to Finn, and then back.

"Why do you work here if you're not into any of this stuff?" Rachel asked, as Quinn smiled to herself. She knew her best friend enough to know what was going on here. Finn was silent for a moment; clearly this was a question he was never asked.

"It pays the bills." He finally answered, and Rachel could understand that. It wasn't just Finn's looks that caught Rachel's attention, it was also the fact that he could speak the truth and laugh about it. It was like he wasn't afraid to outright say that his job was boring and he didn't care for it.

"Thank you anyway, Finn." Quinn said, breaking the conversation between Rachel and Finn. Finn turned to Quinn, forgetting she was there.

"I'm sorry I can't be more of a help." He said, quickly glancing back at Rachel. Quinn noted that he looked just as mesmerized with Rachel as Rachel did with him.

"Oh, you've been a great help." Rachel blurted out, and Quinn had to hold back her giggles. Rachel was doing what she always did when she quickly fell head over heels for a guy; flirt without thinking.

"Okay, well, see you two." Finn said awkwardly, before turning away and walking out of the hall. Rachel starred at where Finn had left. She heard Quinn giggling by her side.

"What's so funny?" Rachel snapped at her, as she turned around and walked the other way. Quinn followed her, still bursting with giggles.

"You are so in love with him!" Quinn squealed. Rachel rolled her eyes at her, walking towards the exit of the museum. Other than Finn, this trip to the museum had been a total waste.

"I am not!" she said indignantly. Quinn smiled at she grabbed Rachel by the arm, turning her around to face her. She gave her a look that said, "Really?" and Rachel sighed loudly. "Fine, I think Finn is completely adorable. What do you think the story is?"

At the last words, Quinn put her hand to her chin, thinking hard. Rachel had learned long ago that Quinn liked to make up stories for whenever Rachel met someone she was into, usually ending with Rachel getting the guy and living happily ever after. The last story Quinn had made up for Rachel was about Jessie; he would slowly fall in love with her, and want to marry her, but didn't think he could manage a steady marriage if it was known to the public. And by the end of the story, Jessie had quite Broadway to marry and raise a family with Rachel, but that story didn't play out as planned.

"They meet at a boring art museum," Quinn started, getting into it. "He's the handsome security guard and she's the heartbroken harlot. At first sight, she falls in love with him, coming to the museum every day just to see him. They start talking whenever she comes, and one day, he invites her to come to dinner with him and a couple of friends. The two of them go out, and he asks if she wants to go for coffee, she accepts the invitation, and eventually, they're dating and in love. He proposes in Paris on the Eiffel Tower, they get married, and have three beautiful children."

"You could write a book." Rachel complimented her after Quinn finished, smiling. Quinn smiled back, nudging her side, and looping her arm through Rachel's. They walk out into the busy city, a breeze blowing through Rachel's hair.

"No, I could write fanfiction, but not an actual book." Quinn said, and Rachel laughed. She was suddenly feeling a lot better than she did this morning.