It starts to snow during third period and Rachel's struck with the realization that Mr. Schuster has never implemented an inclement weather policy for the glee club. With Sectionals less than two weeks away this just will not due so she raises her hand, interrupting Mr. Wetzel's lecture on the Civil War, and requests to use the restroom. She knows Mr. Schuster has a free period and that he usually spends it with Ms. Pillsbury, but as she passes the cafeteria she's distracted from her mission by the sight of Finn standing in front of the large bank of windows at the back of the room, his nose pressed against the class.

Finn?" she asks stepping up beside him and placing a hand on his forearm.

He tilts his chin to the window, nodding at the flakes falling on the other side. "Do you think we'll get a snow day?" he asks hopefully.

"The weather man says we're only supposed to get an inch or two."

Out of the corner of her eye she sees the smile slip from Finn's face, his brows furrow in disappointment and she can't help but add, "Of course theirs' is the only profession where it's acceptable to be wrong ninety percent of the time."

Finally he shifts towards her, a crooked smile dimpling his cheek. "Shouldn't you be in history?"

"Well yes, but I wanted to discuss putting a snow plan into effect for glee club with Mr. Schuster. At this juncture I refuse to let bad weather stand between me—I mean us and Nationals in New York."

"Rachel," Finn groans, cupping her shoulders in both of his hands and jostling her lightly. "We can't have rehearsal on a snow day. It'll get in the way of all the sled ridding, and snow ball fights, and igloo forts, and hot chocolate, and snow angels."

"The last snow ball I was hit with was mixed with ice and left a bruise on my arm for over two weeks and catching a cold from playing in the snow could seriously hinder our chances at beating Vocal Adrenaline. We need to keep our eyes on the prize Finn; New York, Nationals, the sweet taste of victory over those poultry executioners."

"What we need is a day off. You need to loosen up Rachel, learn how to have a little fun."

"I know how to have fun," she pouts tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and pursing her lips together. "In fact, tonight my fathers and I are having a family game night. You should come, we're playing scrabble."

"The word game with the tiles—that's like school work in a board game disguise. It's all misleading and stuff. I mean real fun, like last year when we went bowling."

"That was fun although I still question the hygiene of using communal shoes."

He shrugs, a little grin pulling up one corner of his mouth. "We could have fun like that again," he suggests. "Only way better. I'm the best snowman builder in all of Alan County. I got a trophy for it and everything."

It's adorable how excited he is, it makes her excited too, so despite her better judgment she agrees to forego her meeting with Mr. Schuster in favor of a possible snow day with Finn. "One condition though," she adds as an afterthought. "Join my fathers and me for family game night?"

His smile widens and he nods vigorously. "Deal," he agrees tilting his head down and kissing her softly.

He hates this game. Words are hard and he's simply no good at them.

"Pianoist isn't a word." Rachel points out when he finally lays down his tiles after five minutes of studying and rearranging the letters.

"Sure it is," Finn protests looking from Rachel to her dad and then back again, "like Brad's the pianoist for glee club."

Rachel shakes her head no. "It's pianist. Brad's the pianist for glee club, not pianoist."

"Are you sure?"

Rachel nods and the taller Mr. Berry agrees, "I'm afraid Twinkle's right Finn, but you can still play using the word piano."

He thinks about giving the whole board a shove and watching the stupid lettered tiles scatter across the floor but he kind of likes Rachel's dads and there's food cooking in the kitchen that's making his stomach growl. He doesn't want to be asked to leave so instead he mixes the new tiles in with the old ones and tries to find a word that will get him out of last place. That's when the house phone rings, completely breaking his concentration.

"I'll get it," the shorter Mr. Berry says, pushing away from the coffee table they were all seated around and making his way towards the kitchen. "I need to check on dinner anyway."

Rachel lays down a triple word score and Finn realizes that he really, really hates this game. Luckily Mr. Berry pokes his head back into the living room and announces, "Finn that was your mother. She says the roads have gotten really treacherous and would prefer you not driving. I told her we'd be more than happy to make up the couch for you."

"Oh, um, thanks Mr. Berry," Finn replies.

He's kind of surprised. He's never spent the night at a girl's house before; Quinn's parents barely let him past the front porch much less into her room, but the road conditions mean that the snow's still falling and he has a pretty good feeling that schools will be closed come morning.

She wakes to the pale light of winter seeping into her bedroom through the crack in her curtains. Outside Lima has been transformed into a winter wonderland by twenty-two inches of snow. A plow rumbles down the street, scraping the road clean and she wonders if her father's were able to make it out to work. She tiptoes downstairs being careful not to wake Finn who's still asleep on the couch.

In the kitchen she finds a note from her father's and she can't help but smile at the thought of having Finn all to herself for the day. She sets about making a cup of peppermint tea, glancing over her shoulder once in a while to watch Finn sleep soundly, his oversized body curled into an awkward angle. When he startles awake she's taking her first drink of tea and she nearly spits it out as he jerks up and cries, "Dinosaurs!"

"It's just the snow plows," she chuckles leaning against the door frame that conjoins the two rooms. "It looks like you got your snow day."

He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hands, and smiles. "What should we do first?" he asks. Before she can answer he gets a whiff of her tea and his eyes glaze over. "Smells good, what is it?"

She doesn't normally like to share beverages, germs can be detrimental to her vocal cords but their dating, and they've made out plenty so she assumes it'll be safe and hands him the ceramic cup. "It's peppermint tea."

He takes a drink, hissing when it burns his tongue. "Mm, good," he adds once he's recovered.

"You said something yesterday about sled ridding," she says turning the subject back to the weather and their snow day together. When he nods she continues, "When I was little we use to live across the street from Hover Park—"

"I love that place. The huge slope is great for sledding."

"Yes, so I've heard. Only I've never actually been because the older kids made it nearly impossible for some of us younger kids to have turns."

"You've never been sledding?"

Rachel shakes her head no and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "That's what I'd like to do first today."

He grins widely at her, his hair sticking up in different directions. She takes the cup from his hands and sets it on the scrabble game that's still laid out on the coffee table before enveloping him in a huge hug. She has a feeling that today's going to be very special.

He likes the feel of her arms wrapped tightly around his stomach and the sound of her peeling laughter muffled by his shoulder blade. He can feel the warmth of her body seeping through his winter coat each time she presses herself against him, warming him in all the best places. The trips back up the hill are a little less fun. His cheeks sting from windburn and his chest aches with every breath but he offers to pull her up anyway. He's grateful when she declines.

In between rides they sit at the bottom of the steep incline drinking hot chocolate from a thermos. He runs his gloved fingers through the snow while she prattles on and on about some guy named Tony. He doesn't even realize he's managed to shape it into a ball from until he plops it down on top of her head, rubbing it into the toboggan she's wearing. The wide eyed stare she gives him is kind of cute and completely distracts him. He doesn't see the handful of snow coming until it's falling from his face and dipping down between his jacket and tee-shirt to freeze on his skin.

"Oh, now you've done it," he teases tackling Rachel into the snow.

She squeals loudly as they roll around pelting each other with handfuls of powdery white flakes. "Truce," she cries from beneath him. "Truce! Truce!"

He laughs, pulling away from her and lying back in the snow. He thinks about making a snow angel but before he can start moving his arms and legs Rachel leans over onto his chest, her face inches away from his. He can smell the chocolate on her breath as he reaches out and brushes a snowflake from her brow.

"I'm cold," she whispers, her breath coming out in fog form.

He's cold too. His fingers and toes have gone numb and he's soaking wet despite the two layers of clothes he'd put on before they left Rachel's house. He nods, agreeing that it's time to go.

She leans in a little closer and he can see her teeth chattering. He's cold too, his fingers and toes have gone numb and he can still feel the goose bumps from the snow that had fallen beneath his clothing. He nods, nudging her away in order to stand up. When he's gotten to his feet he offers her a hand and pulls her up too. She stumbles slightly, bumping into his chest and without thinking he leans down and kisses her.

She leads Finn into the house through the mud room, her entire body tingling from the sudden warmth that washes over her. With shaking fingers she reaches for the spare towels her father's keep on a shelf over top the washing machine. She hands one to Finn watching from the corner of her eye as he shrugs out of his coat. His fingers fumble with the latches on his coveralls, sliding them down over his hips once he's managed to get them undone. She blushes despite the fact that he's fully dressed underneath them and fusses with the zipper on her own jacket in order to distract herself.

"Where should I put these?" he asks oblivious to her self-embarrassment.

"Oh…here," she says opening the door to the dryer.

He tosses in his coveralls and then pulls his soaking tee-shirt over his head and adds it to the dryer too. He's working on the fly of his blue jeans when he stops and looks up at her with reddened cheeks. "I—"

She turns away quickly, pulling the towel tighter around herself like a security blanket. "I'll get you a pair of my dad's sweatpants," she offers taking a step towards the door only she looks down and sees the puddles of water she's leaving in her wake and freezes. She doesn't want to track muddy water through the house. Glancing over her shoulder, she sees Finn watching her, and swallows roughly before turning back away from him and looking down at her pants, wet and cold against her skin. With a deep breath she kicks out of them, letting them fall to the floor with a loud plop.

"Rachel," Finn squeaks.

She turns to see him gaping at her, dripping wet from head to toe, the towel hanging loosely around his shoulders. Before she can talk herself out of it she launches herself at him, her arms knocking his towel off as they wind around his neck, her fingers tangling into his messy hair. She kisses him roughly and it takes a moment before he's kissing her back.

Eventually, his hands find her hips pulling her towel free from the knot she had precariously tucked it in to. As it falls to the floor she feels completely exposed. Her lips stop moving against Finn's and she takes a step back, folding her arms across her chest.

"Rachel?" he asks, his brow furrowing in concern.

She looks up at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She loves him. She's in love with him, has been for longer than she cares to think about but there's been so much heartache and he could easily leave her for another cheerleader.

"We don't have to—"

But she wants to, she does, so she unfolds her arms and reaches for the hem of her sweater pulling it up over her head and dropping it onto the floor by their feet. Finn looks down and she feels vulnerable again. She has to fight against the urge to cover herself.

The pads of his thumbs move against her skin, just above the waistline of her underwear, comforting her. It gives her the courage to reach out and finish unfastening his jeans. She pushes them past his hips, leans in and presses a kiss against his chest.

He stiffens when her fingers curl around the elastic of his boxers, his grip on her hips tightening. When she looks up his eyes are squeezed shut, his lips moving silently to form what looks like the word mailman. She has to bite back the questions on the tip of her tongue because she knows they'll only ruin the moment.

She lets out the breath she didn't notice she was holding and tugs lightly on his underwear. Once they clear his thighs they fall to the ground and she's left with a naked Finn. It's not like she's never seen a naked man before, she's done research, taken health class, woken up after falling asleep in front of the television to Skin-a-max but this is different. She can feel the heat rising up her neck, settling in her cheeks and she knows Finn's watching her now, gauging her reaction.

She looks up at him, meeting his gaze and smiles meekly. He smiles back causing her heart to skip a little and then he's kissing her again, his tongue slipping past her lips as his hands move up her sides. When the tip of his thumb traces the underline of her training bra she turns around in his arms. His fingers slide over her skin, tickling her as he moves towards the clasp of her bra. He kisses her shoulder as he unhooks the three little snaps, pulling the straps down her arms. It joins the growing pile on the floor as he turns her back around to face him.

"You're beautiful," he says cupping her face in his hands and lightly kissing her forehead. He tucks her hair behind her ears and looks deeply into her eyes. "I love you Rachel."

"I—I love you too Finn," she stammers stepping closer and pressing her chest against his. She buries her face in the curve of his neck, speckling little kisses against his Adam's apple as his hands slip inside her underwear, pushing the fabric down over her buttocks.

They're napping on the couch when her father's come home, snuggled up underneath a large fleece blanket. Rachel shifts, purring against his neck and he really doesn't want to move. He's pretty sure this day is going to go down in history as the best snow day ever.