A/N: Look at that! An update! Hopefully the long chapter will make up for the wait. Some light smut ahead. Enjoy!

Second Trimester: The "Easiest" One

Dr. Montgomery is hesitant when she tells them that, traditionally, the second trimester is the easiest. She makes sure to remind them that every pregnancy is different, and Rachel's next three months could easily be the hardest of hers, but that doesn't do much to stop Rachel from getting excited.

She goes on and on the whole way home about finally being able to get through a day without puking and passing out on the couch. And since Dr. Montgomery said she'd have more energy now, she can probably start jogging again, or at least taking brisk walks (with him at her side, obviously) and maybe she'll even have enough vigor to start planning the nursery, and oh! She hopes she'll be able to eat pancakes again, she's just missed them so much- and yeah. She's sleeping before they even reach their apartment building.

He can't blame her too much though; it is really exciting to think that Rachel could go back to being her usual energetic self. Really these last couple of months she's pretty much been at a normal person's standard emotive level, but this is Rachel, and she doesn't do anything normal.

And of course, she doesn't disappoint.

The very next morning, she barges into his apartment, throwing a t-shirt and basketball shorts at him in his sleep, did he mention this is at 6am? On a Saturday?

Yeah, she's got another thing coming if she thinks he's doing…anything, with her at this ungodly hour. If you ask him, anytime before 10am should cease to exist at all on the weekends.

"Up and at em, Finn! I want to take a walk!"

He pulls the comforter over his head in anticipation of what has got to be her next move…opening the blinds. And yep, there they go. "Raaaach! I'm sleeping!"

"I can see that, but it's time to wake up now."

"Yeah, except it totally isn't. Come back in like, 4 hours. Thanks."

She puts her hands on her hips even though he can't see or appreciate the gesture, "Finn, you promised…in with me 100%."

He should have known she'd throw that back in his face at the most inopportune time. And that time is now, because that time is 6 o'clock in the morning. "I have been in 100%!" he snaps "I've been cleaning up your puke and removing any item that has the slightest odor for weeks! I had to throw out my beer Rachel. My beer."

He sounds like he's going to cry at any moment. Rachel swears she hears his voice break on that second beer. Boohoo, the man has to give up beer, it's not like she had to do the same thing….

"Ugh! Cry me a river, Finn. Haven't you ever heard of solidarity? You see, this is what I meant by 100%. 100% doesn't mean you're only in when it is convenient for you-"

He scoffs, "Convenient? Yeah, that's the exact word I'd use to describe scrubbing your barf out of my carpet…"

She's silent for a moment, and if he were anyone else, he'd assume victory, but he's Finn and she's Rachel and he can actually feel her crying before he can hear or see her.

Crap.

He steels himself before he emerges from the covers, because if there's one thing he's never been able to withstand, it's the tears of Rachel Berry.

"Rachel-"

"I really do not appreciate you throwing that in my face, Finn. Especially after you insisted it was no big deal at the time! It's nice to know you've just been patronizing me for weeks, while you quietly seethe about how disgusting I am in private."

"Rachel, you know that's not what I meant. I just-" he doesn't know how to explain himself here, his grouchy instincts didn't work (big surprise), but she doesn't want to be patronized either, he can't win. He throws his hands up in frustration, "I- God, I just don't want to wake up this early!"

"No, it's okay Finn. It's not like I'm a beached whale who's been house ridden for months, who will never get her body back. It's not like I need a walk to stay healthy and take care of our child. Please just continue getting your beauty sleep, at least one of us will stay hot!" she hysterical now, not hysterical crying- well, not exactly. It's more like this pacing, frenzied, weepy tantrum that is rapidly spinning further and further out of control. He's off his game, probably because he's still horizontal and half asleep and his refusal to accept the fact that this is actually the time he'll be waking up today probably isn't helping matters either.

"Rach, I'm sorry, you know I'm cranky in the morning." He pleads, "And you're not a beached whale." He throws in for good measure

She stops waving her arms around and sniffles a bit, which he appreciates, but it's not really the complete recovery he was hoping for.

With a groan he heaves his body out of bed. "Okay, okay I'm up. Let's go for a walk." He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and his head feels so, so woozy. Fuck! It could not be any earlier.

Rachel shakes her tears away and claps her hands, "Yay! Hurry up, there's coffee."

Shit, that was quick. And her smile looks almost…cocky as she walks away, did she just- did he totally – she totally just conned him didn't she? God, she's such a psycho.

"Fricken pregnant hormones, as if she wasn't crazy enough already…"

"What was that, Finn?" her eyes are insane as she pokes her head back into his bedroom. Jesus. That is the stare of a serial killer on the loose.

"I said, coffee sounds perfect Rach!" he's surprised he can even muster the energy to plaster on this fake smile. But like, if this morning's bipolar manipulation is any indication of what he's in for today, Rachel's liable to chop his body into a million little pieces for blinking the wrong way or something.

He pulls on the shirt Rachel threw at him, looks out the window at the sun, barely awake itself, and wonders with sudden horror if this is what Dr. Montgomery meant by "easy"…


Second trimester update: Rachel still doesn't look any more pregnant than she did yelling at him for dropping banana bread on her kitchen floor.

Finn always just thought, pregnancy=fat. And yeah, that's probably not politically correct, and he'd never say it out loud, but he's kind of surprised she hasn't gotten any bigger yet.

He feels a little cheated to be honest. He was looking forward to a big bellied Rachel, waddling around their apartment. A nice round tummy he could touch and watch grow and feel move under the feet and hands of their baby. PS, he's never saying that out loud either. Seriously, the thoughts that pop into his head these days- like that sappy little hallmark declaration- are the girliest, cheesiest things this side of the Lifetime network. Which, by the way, Rachel makes him watch religiously, so really she's to blame for this newfound gushy-ness in more ways than one.

Dr. Montgomery isn't worried about Rachel's lack of weight gain, even though they both insist it means something is wrong. She tells them that it's still relatively early in the pregnancy and since Rachel is, and has always been, so tiny it's not all that absurd that she isn't showing yet. Then she assures them that yes, she has gained a few pounds (All in her boobs if you ask Finn) and that their baby is growing healthy and proper as ever.

The thing is Rachel is still doing that whole, pretend I'm fat thing. She waddles around with her hands pressed to her lower back, like she's carrying around a 4 year old in there. And she stops sleeping on her stomach, even though the doctor tells her she should cherish it now while she still can.

He's kind of come to accept that this is just one of those really weird pregnancy quirks of Rachel's. He's never going to understand it or be able to relate to it, but he still has to defend her when Puck tells her she's going crazy, and he still has to keep his mouth shut when she claims she can't fit in just one subway seat anymore.

He treats it like a non-issue, but she makes it really hard to ignore when she starts wearing his clothes.

The clothes wearing he doesn't actually mind, he's quick to offer her a sweatshirt when they're watching a movie in his apartment and she's cold. It's not like he expects her to go all the way back to her apartment to get one. He even gives her a pair of sweatpants when she's super full from gorging on take out, and claims she can't breathe with her jeans on.

It's when she starts stealing his clothes that it becomes a problem. And he doesn't mean stealing like, she took those sweats home with her for a week before returning them, or even that she never gave them back, he means stealing. Literally taking things from his apartment while he is not home or not looking, hell when she's had him drugged and locked in a closet for all he knows. The point is she's taking his clothes without him knowing somehow. She is a pregnant ninja whose only mission is to acquire all his clothes until he is naked and freezing.

The realization is gradual, a missing shirt here, a pair of pants there, all which he chalks up to various explanations; in the wash, at the dry cleaners, in the wrong drawer, left it in a cab…whatever. But then it hits him all at once one morning before work.

He's looking for a shirt to wear and there are no button downs in his closet. He frowns at the row of empty hangers, but he's in too much of a rush to analyze how strange it is that he doesn't even have one dress shirt he can wear. Not even an old one with arm pit stains he never threw out, or that terrible green one his mom bought him for Christmas. He's kinda grossed out that he'll have to pull one from the hamper; he hasn't had to do that since college, but it's getting late so he rummages through the dirty clothes, only there's none in there either. Even weirder.

He squints his eyes and ponders this mystery; how can there be none in his closet and none in his hamper? In fact, there's really not very much in his hamper at boxers he wore to bed last night that he threw in there before his shower, the jeans socks and Buckeyes jersey he wore to watch the game at Puck's last night. And that's it. He hasn't done laundry in like two weeks, this thing should be overflowing. What the hell?

Somehow, deep down, he knows Rachel is at the heart of this. Usually when there's something super weird like this happening to him, she's to blame. Kind of like in high school when all his books kept disappearing from his locker until he found out she was lifting each of his binders, organizing them, and then trading them back for another. He swore he was going crazy for weeks before he finally figured it out.

Sure enough, when he gets down there, she's lounging on the couch in his blue button down.

"Rach…"

"Finn…."

"Is that my shirt?"

She looks down at it like she doesn't know, same look she had with one of his binders in her very hands! "Oh, yeah, I guess it is."

He can tell by her cavalier attitude that this conversation is going to take way longer than he wants it to or has time for. So he just goes to her room and into her closet, where he finds 50% of his wardrobe hanging.

Rachel marches in while he's pulling stuff off the racks, and she has the nerve to look offended like she's the one being put out here, "Um, what are you doing?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose so he won't yell, "Well… I'm gathering the clothes in here that belong to me, because you know- I need to wear them."
She grumbles a bit, even stomps her foot for good measure "But Finn!"

He gasps when he sees her hamper, another 3 or 4 shirts in there, "Rachel! Are you just stealing everything I own now?!"

"I'm not stealing! Just borrowing." She folds her arms over her chest in defiance

"It sure doesn't look like you're ever going to give them back!"

"I like them!"

"So do I…Which is why I bought them!"

"But, I'm pregnant Finn!" she cries

That's her answer to everything now.

Can we watch ESPN instead of this Say Yes to the Dress you've already seen 4 times?

But, I'm pregnant Finn!

Rachel, can you get the phone, my hands are wet and soapy from doing your dishes.

But, I'm pregnant Finn!

And he sucks it up most of the time. But he doesn't have much of a choice here; he can't really roam the streets of New York without clothes on!

He's trying very hard to stay calm, "Rachel, I know you're pregnant, but you have your own clothes."

"I do. But yours fit better."

He can't believe she actually manages to say that with a straight face. Standing in front of him with his shirt completely dwarfing her body, he's pretty sure he could fit another two Rachels inside the shirt if he wanted.

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to formulate exactly what he wants to say. He has to tread extremely lightly here, "Listen, Rach. I know you're like, prepping for the baby weight or whatever, and I don't mind if you borrow a few things here or there but, this is- this is just too much."

She looks genuinely wounded by this and he almost feels bad, but then he remembers he's a half an hour late and standing in front of her in a towel because she stole all his clothing!

"How did you do this by the way?" he stares her down, "Have you- Rachel, have you been stealing the dirty clothes from my hamper?"

Rachel has the decency to look ashamed at least. Thank God, because this is a new level of weird, even for her.

She tugs on the bottom of the shirt and won't look him in the eye, "I just don't feel comfortable in any of my clothes. I feel fat and tight and squeezed, it's gross."

He sighs. How does she always manage to diminish all of his anger with one tiny admission?

"C'mere Rach." He concedes before pulling her to his chest, "I'm sorry you're uncomfortable in your clothes, even though I promise you they don't look tight or gross or anything. Why don't we go get you some maternity clothes this weekend? You liked the stuff in the window at that place on fifth right?"

She nods a little, like she doesn't want to admit it. It makes him laugh and take pity on her, "Fine! You can pick a few to keep here too."

She looks up at him with hopeful eyes, "How many?"

"Two?"

"Four."

"Two."

"Three?"

"Alright you can have three, but not the white ones I need those for work."

She squeals, and he grips her a little tighter. He can't help but to be happier when she is.

It's short lived though, when she smacks him on the chest and pulls away, "Gross Finn! You're all sweaty and mashing my face into your bare chest! It's disgusting!

"Oh really? I'm disgusting? This coming from the girl who rooted through my dirty clothes…"

She gasps in horror. The whole prissy thing is really a lost cause now.

Rachel turns her nose up, "Whatever. Honestly, Finn, the fact that you could be so sweaty this early in the morning is alarming. What are you so worked up about? And you know it's 8:45 right? You we're supposed to be at work like an hour ago…"

He counts to ten, grabs a fresh shirt from her closet and leaves without another word.


Rachel, he thinks, is the most sentimental person he knows.

Years and years ago, back when she was just a scrawny girl with penguins on her sweaters, and he had a voice that squeaked and cheeks a permanent pink, they had made a promise to each other.

It was late at night, hours after they had promised his mother they really were going to bed this time, and they were both too angry to sleep.
He had referred to Puck as his best friend. In passing, really, without any hidden meaning or even truth to the statement; something about picking him first for dodge ball for that exact reason. Her ears had burned white hot at his blatant disregard for her, the girl who had spent the entire night letting him win at Mario Kart, because that's what best friends do- that's what she does.

Rachel had, of course, huffed in response and told him it was quite fine with her if he wanted Noah Puckerman as a best friend, because Kurt Hummel was her actual best friend anyways.

He called her a liar without a moment's hesitation, a sure fire way to drive her absolutely crazy. Her threat to call her daddy to pick her up might've been scary, had she actually gone through with it. What she actually did was pull his old cowboy covered sleeping bag out of his closet, zip herself up in it and refuse to talk to him.

Usually she was terrible at the no talking thing. She was notoriously bad at abiding by the strict rules of Jinxing and her report cards were all marred with claims of "Talking in class" and "Inability to raise hand" underneath her straight A's. (She maintains it was truly impossible for her to sit idly by while her peers painfully misinterpreted every question asked of them)

But on that night, Rachel was a steel trap of silence. He finally got so frustrated at trying to get her to talk to him that he became just as mad as her. Which he was totally fine with by the way, she was being a total baby and he would've called her dad himself if it hadn't been 2 o'clock in the morning. Except he couldn't sleep, and he knew why Rachel was so pissed, so he finally figured out a way to fix it.

Rachel had heard him toss the covers off the bed angrily, watched his dark figure stumble over to his desk and start scribbling on a piece of paper. Yes, she was curious, but there was no way in hell she'd admit that to him.

He'd turned the light on suddenly, stinging both their eyes, and shoved the piece of paper in her hand.

"Here. Sign." He instructed with little patience

She scowled at his abruptness, but opened the crumpled paper anyway. It read,

This letter is proof that Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry are, and will always be best friends. This friendship shall hereby surpass any and all other friendships in importence, enjoyment and value.

All it needed was their signatures. She wanted to cry, but she had promised Finn she'd stop blubbering so much unless it was really important, speaking of…

"You spelled importance wrong."

Finn groaned and rolled his eyes, shoved a pen in her hand and said, "Just sign it, nerd!"

Rachel was too pleased to even retaliate for that one. She signed without another word and so, it was law.

She kissed his cheek to make it official, which he promptly rubbed off in disgust and finally, they were both able to sleep.

It's one of those silly things you do as a kid that, even as soon as he stuffed it deep into his desk drawer, seemed childish. But they both tuck the memory away for admiration at a later date.

Even so, it catches him off guard when, 5 months into her pregnancy, her mischievous face is pink with excitement and her hands are shaking, clutched tightly around a picture frame hidden against her chest.

They've only just started talking about the nursery (the one in his apartment. Since her second bedroom is already a furnished, painted and well-decorated guest room and his is basically a dumping ground for all the crap he doesn't want or refuses to wade through) when she tells him she knows exactly what she wants to put up on the wall. He braces himself for some wacko theme, like Broadway divas through time or the many roles of Barbara Streisand as told by Siamese cats, but he can't imagine turning anything that's made her this happy down. Alright, maybe cats as Barbara Streisand, that would be batshit crazy.

His mouth can't help but upturn in response to that beaming smile, "What is it, Rach?"

"It's the perfect thing to hang right above the baby's crib. The perfect representation of exactly what- well, who- brought him or her into this world." She bouncing on the balls of her feet, he can't take the suspense anymore.

"What is it?!"

She doesn't answer with words, simply turns the frame so he can see for himself.

And there it is, looking almost identical to all those years ago. It's kind of crumpled, but it always has been, he ripped it from his notebook in the dark hazy air of almost- sleep and never even bothered to try to smooth it out or rip off the frayed part that attaches to the notebook and makes the paper look like sloppy garbage. Nevertheless, Rachel frames it exactly as it is like it's some artifact whose imperfections and defects are what make it special. He supposes that is kind of true.

Finn is speechless, and he can see in her soft eyes that she knows it, knows how truly extraordinary this is.

"It's perfect." Is all he can manage.

Rachel supervises as he hangs it on the far wall of the room. He assesses his work, and Rachel nudges his hip with her own when he stares at it for longer than is really necessary.

They poke fun at each other a lot, pretty much nothing is off limits between them, but for some reason Rachel always excuses his rare bouts of overwhelming emotion. She doesn't call him out for the occasional tear at a sad movie and she would never tease him for getting emotional for anything pregnancy related, he really appreciates that. That assurance that he's allowed to feel whatever he wants, without embarrassment or apology or fear, he really only has that with her. He loves her for it, so much that he's ready to write another best friend pact right here and now.

She takes a deep, definitive breath like she does when she wants to be done crying, "I still can't believe you spelled importance wrong. Ironic isn't it?"

"I didn't have time to proofread! If my mom would've found us still awake at 2 in the morning, she would've kicked both our asses and we could've made that thing a blood oath."

She laughs and smacks him playfully, "I'd say it's the perfect start to the room, no?"

"Definitely."


So he wakes up one morning and bam… Rachel's pregnant.

It's like overnight the kid finally decided to make an appearance and at last, they've got some kind of proof Rachel is actually with child.

She's been spending a lot of nights at his apartment lately. Generally, Rachel is the most independent person he knows and it's been that way since he met her. Her dads worked a lot and always expected her to be their perfect, upstanding offspring whether they were watching her or not. But lately she's been a little needy, for lack of a better word.

It's not that he minds. Really it's nice to have her around (when she's not screaming at him for forgetting her rocky road). And after late nights watching movies and eating their weight in take out, she never wants to make the trek back to her apartment. She claims she's too tired or full or that his apartment has better ventilation and is closer to the elevator; a whole slew of excuses that basically boil down to, Rachel's pregnant and hormonal and she doesn't want to be alone at night.

He wishes she'd just admit it because it's nothing to be ashamed of, and out of all her weird pregnancy eccentricities this is by far the most normal and doable.

So anyways, a belly, Rachel's finally got one!

He starts waking up with his hand there. It's totally an accident and he doesn't go to sleep that way, somehow it just keeps happening. It's super intimate and intense, and he over thinks the implications of it for like 30 seconds until he reminds himself that everything is okay because it's Rachel.

And if you can't touch the stomach of your best friend who's platonically carrying your illegitimate baby, then really what can you do?

So instead of sleeping with his hands tucked under the pillows or freaking out and making Rachel sleep in her own bed, he embraces it. It's a good thing too, because he's really the first one who gets to witness the swelling of her tummy. You'd think it'd be Rachel but let's be honest, the girl's been acting like she weighs 300 pounds for months now, she really can't be trusted.

But again, the belly, it's just there one day. He wakes up and he can feel that his fingers are in a different position than usual. There's a rise in his hand and it's- it's it. Him or her, their baby.

It's not the first time it's felt real. There have been moments that felt immeasurable and incomparable at the time; the little white stick in Rachel's apartment, their doctor's pleased assurance, buying a crib and even Rachel getting morning sickness that very first time. But God, this- this feeling, this tangible evidence that his kid is growing right here, under his palm, it's like nothing he's ever felt before.

He doesn't want to let go, and he's so glad for Rachel's tendency to sleep so deeply right now because he's crying again.

He's really turned into such a sap lately, but he can't pretend like this is anything less than remarkable. He can't wait for Rachel to see- then again maybe he can; actual baby weight finally colliding with fake baby weight could yield catastrophic results.

He'll wait another minute to wake her, or like… five. It'll just be him and- him and his baby, for a little while longer.


Nobody told him about the weirdest part of Rachel's pregnancy yet.

Not his trusty website, or Dr. Montgomery, not even Puck or Mike.

And he guesses it makes a little sense that no one actually said it out loud since it's sort of taboo, though if he had a dollar for every time Puck went into graphic detail about- well about anything, he'd be a millionaire.

Anyway the point is, around month six; Rachel gets super, super horny.

He can't figure out what's going on with her at first, because she gets insanely irritable out of nowhere and it's more than her normal pregnancy short-temper. She just pissed, like all the time. She's got this permanent scowl and she bites his head off when the delivery guy takes too long and when it's too hot in his apartment and when he gets barbeque chips instead of sour cream and onion, the list goes on and on.

And then it's like she can never get comfortable no matter what. She sits on the couch and shifts over and over, then she moves to the floor but she complains her butt hurts, so she moves back to the couch where she tries to lay down, first on her left side, then her right, with a pillow, without a pillow, her legs propped up, her legs tucked underneath her.

Nothing works. She squirms and huffs and even cries eventually, he hates that she's so uncomfortable and he wants to help. He pretty much opens up Pandora's Box when he asks how he can…

Rachel's sitting on the couch and she throws the pillow off her (again), "I just- I can't relax and…concentrate or- or or….anything!"

He gets on his knees in front of her, puts both his hands just above her knees like she likes- "Don't!" she hisses

Finn pulls away like she burned him, "Rach, what's wrong?"

He looks so earnest. So kind and concerned and she could just make something up, really pregnancy is all the justification she needs for anything. She could claim she's just tired, or hot or feeling fat, or dizzy, or nauseous… there's not a lot she can't use as an excuse. But frankly, enough is enough and she can't take this anymore.

"Honestly, Finn?" he nods and she presses her lips together, "I haven't gotten laid in like 8 months and I'm just- I'm just really fucking horny." She holds her arms out in defeat, shrugging the slightest bit, daring him to say something in response.

He smiles, shakes his head like he can't believe that's what this is all about and he just does not get it.

"Ok!" Rachel shouts with a clap of her hands, "Do you remember when you hooked up with that girl from Delta Phi? You left while she was in the shower the next morning and she told everyone that you had Chlamydia?"

"Gee Rach, no. Some crazy girl standing on a table telling an entire cafeteria you have VD? That just sort of slips your mind after a while."

"I swear to God Finn..."

"Fine. Yes. How could I forget? I couldn't get a girl to save my life... Longest dry spell of my boning career."

"Charming."

"Always." He smirks "So what's your point?"

"My point is that is how horny I am, Finn. You, circa junior year, so desperate you were willing to have sex with Amy Pruitt and-"

"Hey! She was not that bad…"

"Finn, she had a severe speech impediment. Her hair was like, permanently in pigtails and I'm pretty sure she was clinically bi-polar."

"Okay, fine I get it. You're horny."

"No Finn, I really don't think you get it. I have relinquished my body to these psycho hormones. I can't control how often I cry or how many times I have to pee, or how swollen my feet get, I cannot stop myself from slathering peanut butter on a tomato and scarfing it down like I am the last pig on earth that will get to taste food and I can't-"

"Uh, Rach. The whole stop the rant before it starts thing…"

"I need to have sex Finn!" she actually grabs him by the collar of his shirt. He's petrified and her wild eyed stare isn't doing anything to relieve it.

"Okay! Jesus! What do you want me to do about it?!"

"Well," she starts, forgoing any modesty, "since I'm huge and disgusting and you made me this way, you are going to have to take one for the team and just put it in."

"Just put it in?! Just like that?"

"Yep, just like Amy Pruitt, baby!"

"I did not put it in Amy Pruitt!"

"We'll you're gonna put it in me, Mr. Chlamydia!"

"Oh I love it when you talk sexy to me, Rach."

She gives him a mega-watt fake smile. Maybe if she weren't a hippopotamus at her wits end, she'd actually try to be sexy… C'est la vie.

"Why don't you just like- watch some man porn and go at it for a while?"

"You are an imbecile."

"What? It's not like you'd be the first person in the world to masturbate."

"Oh, well you'd know wouldn't you?"

"Hey!"

"Whatever, Finn. It's kind of hard to just go at it for a while when you can't…access your….area." she uses hand motions to try to relay her point

"Access? Oh. Oh! You can't access your area, I get it."

"Duhhhh." She mocks in a deep voice

"Damn Rach, you're mean when you're horny!"

"Oh that's rich coming from you… or was it someone else who punched his roommate during his infamous dry spell?" she touches a finger to her chin sarcastically

"Sam knew I liked cooler ranch Doritos better than original!"

"Oh my god, it's like talking to a 9 year old."

"Yeah." He smirks, "A 9 year old you wanna bone."

"Oh please! You can drop the stud act, Finn. This is just like you massaging my feet or cleaning out the foods that trigger me, another father of the baby duty."

He begs to differ. Having sex could barely be compared to a massage, and it wasn't even in the same stratosphere as throwing out all mayonnaise based foods in the fridge. But seriously… this would be a lot easier to argue against if he hadn't been on the same dry spell she was. They both agreed no dating while she was pregnant, since she didn't have much of a choice (What kind of weirdo wants to date a pregnant chick) it didn't seem fair for him to be hooking up with randoms for 9 months while she sat at home growing their baby.

"Are you sure, Rach?"

She doesn't answer. Instead she pushes him (way harder than necessary) onto his back. Thank God the couch is there to break is fall or she'd be a single mother in 3 months.

"Fuck, Rachel. Take it easy."

He thinks she mutters a sorry under her breath, but she's too busy tearing at his jeans for her to really mean it.

Finn guesses foreplay is out of the question when she pulls his pants and boxers off in one swift motion without any hesitation, and he knows it for sure when she doesn't even bother taking her shirt off.

Jeez, she really does just want him to put it in.

She sinks onto him before he has the chance to ask her if she's sure one last time. The moan she lets out reverberates through the entire apartment; it bounces of the walls and lingers for seconds after.

Her eyes are closed, her head thrown back in pleasure, "Oh my godddd."

Finn just watches her; she looks like she is in pure bliss. He's not doing much, to be completely honest, but shit… she's digging what she's getting and it's nice to see her enjoying herself.

Rachel, through heavy breaths and moans, begs him to touch her, so he does and she's coming almost as soon as his hand makes contact with her body.

She slumps onto his chest and he ignores his instincts; the sexual ones that urge him to get off, the protective ones that wonder how this might affect him and Rachel's friendship, the worrisome ones that beg to know what the hell that just was. He pushes them all away and instead, he zeroes in on the feeling of her swollen stomach on his own, her skin the only barrier between him and their baby, he's never felt it this close before- his own bliss.

Rachel takes a long time to get her breath back, and she doesn't even attempt to speak, until finally, after many minutes, she breathes out an apology.

"I'm sorry I- that wasn't good for you I know" she glances down at him, still hard beneath her, "but- but thank you." She laughs a little, like she can't believe her own audacity, he can't much either… it's new.

"Yeah, well…that's what I'm here for? I guess?"

Rachel appreciates the informality of it all in this moment. Glad not to have to analyze or defend or feel ashamed, and she knows, she knows this is brazen and hedonistic and about a hundred other adjectives her fathers would never approve of, but she finally feels relief. Like waking up the morning after a terrible cold and being able to breathe through your nose again, like pulling free the strings of the most stubborn knot in the world.

She feels like the only way to make it to her room is by floating there, and her voice is airy when she tells Finn she needs a nap.

He looks stunned, his mouth hanging open, his body naked from the waist down. She presses her fingers to his chin to close his mouth, kisses his forehead and doesn't try to hide her grin when she tells him he can just go at it for a while she's gone.

.

.

.


Welp, second trimester dunzo! Rachel's finally showing and her hormones are raging. Stay tuned for the third and final trimester…

Also, this is the last chance for voting on the gender of the baby so if you'd like to have a say, let me know in your reviews. I promise I really will look through the comments and count em' up!

Lastly, I wanted to say again that I apologize for the sporadic updates to this story. Again, I'm not giving up on it, the muse is just a little sluggish right now. I think all of us in the Finchel fandom can agree that inspiration has been a little scarce this season. Personally, I am inspired to write when I see them together on my screen; it gives me ideas and makes me want to write about them. Unfortunately, screen time for them this season has been next to nothing, therefore the motivation has been brutally lacking. I'm trying my best to come up with quality new chapters as quick as possible, so thanks for your patience and continued interest in this story!