In the midst of my other, sadder story, I want something light. Something fun. And something oh so Finchel and Quick because, frankly, RIB is just killing all our poor fangirl hearts. Inspired by the last episode, you know, to take some things and throw my ships in there, I am writing this, centered around FOX property that isn't mine.

xoxo,

littleredwritinggleek

The music pounded, the lights flashed, as the floors vibrated and the hundreds of splashy New York bodies danced like cats in heat. For a Connecticut-raised boy, who came from the quiet town of Concord, it was all way too much. Hell, New Haven had seemed big and wonderful compared to Concord. New York? Manhattan. Finn couldn't handle it. No one, slept, no one stopped. And no one spent their evenings lying in the family grape fields, gazing at the stars.

They wore six inch heels and leather and basically had sex with clothes on, crowded into the many floors of a glass club. This was a very, very, bad idea. He needed to find Quinn and Puck, fast.

The tall young man used his stature to his advantage, abandoning the crowded bar, navigating his way through people, fending off drunken girls that tried to grab him. Knowing Quinn and Puck, they were making out on some futuristic looking couch in a booth on an upper floor, just to make it hard for Finn to find them. Literally, they actually did that on purpose.

The two called it, "Finnd and Seek", a game they played where they hid from their third-wheel friend on trips into the city, forcing him to socialize. But unlike their other visits to New York, they had never been to a club this big, this sexual.

Irritated, Finn pressed on, the loud beat of the music pulsing through his ears. Just as he seemed to be making progress, and okay time, yet another drunken girl bumped into him. Emitting a giggle, she grabbed onto him, speaking with slurred words before he could throw her off of him.

"Brody? What, why are you here?"

"Listen, you have the wrong person. I'm not Brody." Finn said, exasperated.

"Oh, well you looked sort of like him in these lights. Not that I would want to see him. And you're much cuter, anyways."

Cute?

Finn looked down, only to get a good look at the tiny girl still clinging to him. She stood a little over five feet, outfitted in a tight pink dress, shiny flats, and a killer smile. Her hair was long, with blunt bangs and gorgeous waves. Her nose was a bit big, but her deep brown eyes shone excitedly, making Finn instantly feel better.

"Well thanks!" He practically shouted down to her, from a combination of the loud music and the fact that he basically dwarfed her.

"No problem! I'm Rachel. Rachel Berry. Rachel Barbra Berry." She announced, smiling up at him. "And you, sir, you look a lot like my douche ex-boyfriend." She finished, her smile never faltering.

"Brody, I assume?" Finn asked, hiding a smile at how cute this girl was, so drunk and happy.

"Yes, Brody! He totally charmed me my freshman year. I'm from Lima, Ohio, and it was my first year in New York. Amazing. Well, he was a junior. I a naive freshman, and we really hit it off. But then six months later I found out that he was a hooker! Like pretty woman but not romantic at all. And I'm talking too much." She said.

"It's fine. I'm sorry to hear he did that to you." Finn said genuinely. Who could treat a girl like this that way? Granted, he didn't know her all that well, but God. She was cute, and gorgeous.

"Well what about you, stranger? What are you doing?"

"I'm Finn, from Concord, Connecticut. If you're fresh out of college then we're the same age. And I'm looking for my friends. I need to leave."

"Why I am! Hey, small town people. I like that, Finny. And I'll help you find them if you stay. It's only twelve, and I want to get to know you." She said, taking his hand.

He started to walk, wondering what he was getting himself into.

"But I live in New Haven... it's a long drive." Finn said uneasily, leading Rachel to the stairs. Slowly, they climbed them together, the tiny brunette gripping both Finn and the minimalistic handrail for dear life.

"Stay, Finny. You seem so nice. And I haven't seen any guys since . I want to talk to you."

She was so persuasive, he couldn't resist. Despite the fact that it was only the beginning of the fall, and Finn's first and last year of graduate school things were a lot different than his undergrad. He loved sports, so sports broadcasting seemed like an easy choice. But despite the fact that he wanted to be behind the camera at all times, he still had so much communicating to do. Quinn had told him that it was, after all, communications, but Finn just had a hard time talking to people. Quinn, who had gone into magazine journalism with an acting minor, was nailing all their on-screen stuff in journalism school. And Puck was, Puck was doing God-only-knew what in his music and recording classes.

Damn, he let his mind wander. Before he knew it, Rachel was dragging him to the upstairs bar, explaining how thirsty she was.

"I'm only a year over twenty-one, but oh, it still feels so good to be legal!" She exclaimed, plopping down into a bar stool, ordering some fancy drink. This was not apart of Finn's plan. He had to find Puck and Quinn and get back so that he could spend his Saturday studying.

But talking to Rachel was easy. Maybe it was sort of like studying.

"So, Rachel, what do you do?" He said, giving in and taking a seat next to her.

"I'm going to be on Broadway. My friend Kurt and I, and Hooker-boy all went to NYADA, the premiere school of drama in Ne York.

"Wow, that's ambitious."

"I know what I want. Right now I'm doing some off-Broadway stuff, but it's been pretty slow. What about you?" She turned and put her elbows on her lap, resting her chin in her hands, giving him her full attention. She made it too easy.

"I'm into Communications. So is my friend,Quinn. I want to work the cameras for sports-broadcasting, and she wants to write in magazines, but we both have to do on-camera stuff as apart of our graduate school, to make us "well-rounded" or whatever. I just, I have a hard time talking to people. I get so nervous." Finn said.

"Well that is silly, you're talking to me!" Rachel exclaimed. "But I think you need to dream bigger. You could make movies, Finn, produce. Film me in my future movies as soon as I take a break from the stage after winning my Tony." She nodded, as if her saying it made it real.

"I don't know. I barely even got into college. Quinn was at Yale and I did the community college route." Finn said reluctantly. "Maybe I'm dreaming too big already."

"Nonsense. We're twenty-two! You should be in New York full time if you ask me. For how shy you say you are, here you are talking to a complete stranger, in the heart of Manhattan." Rachel said, sipping her drink.

"Yeah, I guess I am. But you make it easy, Rach."

She gave him a little smile, before setting down her empty glass and standing.

"Come on dreamer boy, let's go find those friends of yours."

"Right there, on the couch." Finn said. Between Rachel getting more drinks, peeing, and becoming full on lovey-dovey drunk, it had taken another hour to find Quinn and Puck, exactly how he thought he would. Only a little blurrier, because Rachel had gotten him to do a few shots. Despite his size, Finn was handling the alcohol, which he rarely drank, very well. He fund himself feeling extremely happy, unable to decipher what was normal behavior and what was drunk.

"Hey Quinn, Puck, I found someone while I was looking for you. Your game is so silly. But yeah! This is Rach-" His voice trailed off, as he noticed just how wrapped up his friends were. Quinn, with her long blonde hair in loose waves, was under Puck, wearing a tight white, sparkly dress and high heels. Her pink lipstick was smudged into a lopsided kiss mark on Puck's cheek. But everyone else seemed to be too crowded and too drunk to notice their steamy make-out session.

"Yeah, yeah." Puck mumbled, Quinn attacking his neck.

It was so trashy, Finn, even though he was drunk, knew Quinn, a total PDA hater, sans holding hands, would hate herself in the morning.

"Shh, Finny, they're having fun. Let them be." Rachel purred, cuddling up to him.

"Okay." He gave her a lopsided grin. " Want another drink?"

"Actually, I want to go upstairs. My friend's dad owns this place, and she gave me a hotel room key."

"You're tired?" Finn asked, naive.

Rachel smirked. "Just the opposite. Let's go."

As she grabbed his hand and led him upstairs seductively, he began to realize what was going on.

He was getting laid. Shit, his heart began to race. Finn had only ever slept with one ex-girlfriend, and Rachel looked like she had so much experience. But she was hot, and clearly into him. Or drunk. But he was getting laid!

The tiny brunette slid the card into the door after a long walk down the hallway. Once locked, she gave him a devilish grin, and slid out of her dress. Before Finn could get his zipper himself, she was upon him, pressing him down on the bed with a surprising force.

"You're eager." He remarked. The alcohol made him feel both giddy and cool, like he could do this. He could do this!

"Eager to be in charge. You know, some girls want everything from men. But I just want to make a guy feel good. You look like you just want that. And I aim to please." Rachel said, nibbling his neck.

Okay, so Finn had always envisioned himself as a gentle but strong lover, one that made a girl go completely limp in his arms.

So this tiny girl was taking over. She seemed sort of demanding. Buy it had been way too long.

Her every touch burned his skin and she slid down his body, nearing his boxers.

"Ready for a night that you will never forget, Dreamer-boy?" Rachel questioned sexily.

"I hope it never ends, and it hasn't even begun."

She emitted a giggle and Finn felt into bliss on the bed of the hotel of Club Caliente.

Maybe it was the music, the bass of it thumping dully underneath them. Maybe it was the alcohol, coursing through his veins.

Or maybe it was the magic of a gorgeous girl, willing to fulfill his every want.

No matter what the source, all that was true was that something was clouding Finn's judgement that night.

Otherwise, he would have been way more careful of what he wished for.

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