glee fic: age twenty two racer (1/1)
Title: Age Twenty Two Racer(1/1)
Pairing: Finn/Rachel
Rating: PG
Summary: It seemed like a good idea, when he was signing the papers, and when he put on his new killer leather jacket, and when he rode into the small spot outside their apartment. And then suddenly the idea came crashing down. Future!fic.
His smile kind of fades, because all of a sudden he has a sneaking suspicion that this was a really, really bad idea. Like, it seemed like a good idea, when he was signing the papers, and when he put on his new killer leather jacket, and when he rode into the small spot outside their apartment. It seemed like an awesome idea when he pulled off his helmet, and rang her from outside, telling her to come down. It seemed like a great idea until her eyes went wide, and her hands went to her hips. And then suddenly the idea came crashing down.
“But Rach, it’s a Ducati, I mean this is-“
“Seriously?” She asks, and he realises real quick that he is in trouble because her voice raises about three octaves higher than normal.
“This is seriously what you’re going to say to me after you went and bought a motorcycle? Do you know how dangerous these things are? Statistically, they are more dangerous than cars, and considering you have never ridden one before, I’m pretty sure that the statistics are raised against your favour. What are you thinking? Because I’m pretty sure that -“
He winces. Yeah, maybe not such a good idea.
-
She doesn’t speak to him for three days.
And it’s kind of awkward, because they live together, and sleep together, and the fact that he pretty much is in a house of silence weird’s him out a little. He tried to feel her up in bed the night before, and he is pretty sure she almost broke a rib. Because it’s been three days since they had sex, and he knows her better than anybody, and he’s pretty sure that she’s going just as crazy as he is.
He loves his bike, though. He thinks it’s worth it. She’ll get over it.
“Okay, I’m ready to talk to you now,” she announces three days and seventeen hours later, walking out of the shower dressed in this black dress that she knows he loves. He raises his eyebrows from the kitchen, putting down his beer. She moves closer, but her hands are still on her hips, her slightly curled hair falling over her shoulders, and he’s pretty sure she’s not done talking.
“That’s good,” he says simply, because he knows if he says anything else, it’ll be another three days without sex. He moves closer, his hands curling around her waist and she puts her hand on his chest, giving him a small shove.
“I’m not done yet. We still need to talk. You bought a motorcycle. And while I think it’s possibly the worst idea you have ever come up with, I’m accepting it. But I swear to God, Finn, if I get a call from the hospital at three in the morning because you have been hurt coming off that bike, I will punch you so hard, you will be praying you never bought the ridiculous thing,” she finishes, folding her arms over her chest.
He grins and grabs her hips, backing her up against the wall of their kitchen as his lips attach to her neck. He hears her moan a little, and he pushes himself against her firmly as her fingers curl through his hair.
“We can’t, we’ve gotta go to this dinner,” she mutters a second later, slipping out underneath his extended arm that was pressed against the wall. He groans and knocks his head against the wall as she walks into their room, grabbing her heels.
“Please put a nice shirt on!”
He rolls his eyes and slouches into the bedroom, thinking of thoughts that don’t directly lead him to pinning her against the wall and ripping her dress off.
-
He thinks he has a pretty good plan.
Like, it took a whole lot of effort and fifty bucks, thanks to the guy down the street who owed him a favour. He’s pretty proud of himself, when he walks into their apartment a week later, a wrapped up box in his arms.
“Babe, I’ve got something for you,” he calls out and she pokes her head out of the pantry, her arms full of groceries. She grins, dropping them on the counter and moving forward as he places the box in her arms.
He’s pretty sure this is the best plan ever.
She rips open the box, grinning as her eyes found the gift underneath. Her smile falters a little as she looks up at him.
“A helmet?”
He grins. “Yeah! And it’s got gold stars on it, ‘cause I know they are your favourite. Just for you, babe, so now you can ride with me!”
He points to the gold stars for extra measure, grinning at her enthusiastically as she stares at him. A second later, she shakes her head, pulling out the helmet and shoving it on her head. He grins and pulls her closer, tapping her head encased in the helmet.
“I’m still not getting on the bike, Finn, even if I am appropriately dressed.”
She pulls off the helmet and puts it on the counter before reaching over and pressing a kiss against his cheek. She whispers a soft ‘thank you’ which he’s pretty sure defeats the purpose considering she wasn’t even going to wear it.
He furrows his brow as he watches her move around the counter, pulling the groceries out of the bag.
Not a successful plan, then.
-
“You’re so drunk,” he mutters, pulling her out of his car, grinning down at her pink face. She giggles, holding onto his arm as she stumbles in her heels, grabbing onto his shirt to hold herself up.
They had just came back from Santana’s birthday party, and while Finn was designated driver, it was kind of fun watching her get completely and utterly plastered. She gasps suddenly, spinning around to face him, and he grabs her waist, steadying her.
“I have the best idea! Let’s go on your bike!”
He stares at her. He knew this was drunk Rachel speaking, because sober Rachel wouldn’t be caught dead on his beloved motorcycle, as she pointed out every chance she got. He grins, because this was the perfect opportunity to get her on it and make her realise that the stupid thing wasn’t as terrifying as she pitched it to be. He nods, and grabs her hand, pulling her over to the bike parked on the side of the road.
“Wait! I need my helmet,” she says suddenly and he nods, telling her to wait right there as he runs up the stairs of their apartment building. He shoves his key into the lock and moves to the kitchen table, grabbing the helmet and snapping the door shut as he leaves. She is in the exact place he left her, holding onto the post as he moves in front of her, brushing her hair out of her face as he placed the helmet on her head. She
giggles, and he turned around, hopping on the bike.
“Jump on,” he tells her, hooking his fingers into the belt of he jeans, pulling her forward. She grins and grabbed his shoulders, hoisting herself over the seat behind him, her arms clasping around his middle.
“Hold on, baby,” he mutters softly, turning on the bike and flipping the stand back. He felt her breath into his ear deeply and he grins, kicking away from the curb.
Pretty sure he’s going to win this.
_
“You actually got her on it?” Puck asks over the phone the next morning, as Finn walked towards the kitchen.
“Yep,” he replies, opening the fridge and pulling out the carton of juice. He swigs it straight from the carton, as Puck scoffs on the line.
“Are you sure she’s not going to be, like, super pissed at you for agreeing when she was wasted?”
He stops suddenly, carton in his free hand. He hadn’t thought about that. Granted, it was just after nine and Rachel was still sleeping and he’s pretty sure she’s going to be nursing the worst kind of hangover today, but he hadn’t really thought that far ahead. She had enjoyed it, he knew that much. She spent the rest of the night squealing how fun it was.
“Dude, I gotta go,” he says quickly and Puck laughs on the other end before he hits the disconnect button. He shoves the juice back on the top shelf and closes the door, making his way back to the bedroom.
She’s curled up on her side, facing his side of the bed, her hand tucked under her pillow. She’s wearing his old McKinley shirt, and he knows nothing else, but he shoves those thoughts aside as he kneels onto the mattress, leaning towards her. The pressure and movement causes her to stir and she opens her eyes, blinking a few times.
“Oh God,” she mutters, her hand immediately going to her head. He almost laughs, but instead leans over and presses his lips against her forehead. She smiles and he thinks he’s in the clear but suddenly her smile disappears and a look of horror appears on her face.
“Oh God, I got on that, that, that thing last night, didn’t I?”
He really does laugh this time. “You did. It was awesome, right?”
She leans over and whacks his arm. “How dare you, Finn Hudson, take advantage of me. You know I make bad decisions when I am intoxicated. We could have died.”
He rolls his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic, people ride motorbikes all the time and don’t die. In fact, we live in New York, so I’m pretty sure statistically, more people get hit by cars in this state than die in motorcycle accidents.”
She pouts, falling back against the pillows and bringing her hand to her head again. He grins, because it’s ridiculously cute, seeing her all mad at herself for giving in. He’s not going to gloat, because he knows better than that, but instead brushes his hand against her stomach, his fingers sliding underneath the material of his t-shirt and splaying over the skin of her hip. He moves his lips to her neck, sucking softly on her collarbone and she makes a noise that he’s pretty sure means he’s in the clear.
“So I can keep the bike?” he murmurs against her neck, and her hands move to his forearm. She arches into his touch and he grins because he knows she’s rolling her eyes right now.
“Fine,” she mumbles, and he grins, his fingers moving lower as he crushes his lips on hers.
He’s pretty sure it’s the best idea he’s ever had.