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rachelandfinn · 2 years ago

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🧜‍♀️ one yes 🧜‍♀️

a gLee fanfic about love at first sound

Maria in West Side Story was one of the three roles she needed to play before she died, and she never really had any stipulations as to how she ended up playing those roles, did she? ghost singer!rachel AU.

fandom: gLee characters: rachel berry, finn hudson, tina kurt mercedes sam blaine frida ryder in supporting roles ship: finchel, finn/frida (temporary), klaine (background) genre: romance themes: may possibly be funny?, fluff, slice of life-ish, canon-typical finn falling in love with rachel’s voice first and the rest of her second, rachel-centric, alternating povs, mistaken identities, first meetings, pre-relationship, getting together word count: 14.4k rating: T+

read it on ffnet, ao3, wattpad, or below!

~~~

A/N: This fic was inspired by my research into West Side Story. I never much liked the movie, but there’s no denying its iconic status; with such status comes intrigue. Natalie Wood may have played Maria on screen, but she certainly didn’t sing for her. Wouldn’t Rachel know that?

I came up with this idea in 2018, wrote a little bit of it in 2019, and didn’t pick it up again until April this year. (Why am I publishing it so late? Because I am a sucky beta, even to myself.) I’m happy to finally finish and share it! It was originally almost entirely in Finn’s pov, but Rachel is such an attention hog. I think the story is stronger for it in any case; and hey, now I’ve developed a voice for Rachel! I love the idea that she constantly has song lyrics in her head or that she supplies background music to her own life events.

~~~

Rachel saw how her best friend/agent’s face fell as she walked towards the outdoor seating of the trendy Amsterdam Ave cafe where Tina was waiting for her. She was planning on hiding the fact her latest audition failed for as long as possible, but if Tina could tell just from one look at her… No wonder she couldn’t book a role.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Rachel said in lieu of a greeting.

The thing she liked about Tina was that she was effortlessly supportive. It did not occur to a person like Tina Cohen-Chang to press a topic immediately after the other person said ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

The thing she didn’t like about Tina was that she did not let something go either. It’s what made her a fantastic agent and an even better best friend, but Rachel won’t let herself think that until after her customary three-day-long post-failure funk.

“I know you have your heart set on the stage, but how about the screen instead? Word on the street is that they’re trying to cast a modern remake of West Side Story. That could be perfect for you, Rachel!” Tina encouraged in that sweet voice of hers, mindful enough of Rachel’s mood to at least wait until after the check had been paid to bring up the idea.

Rachel took a breath, ready to wholeheartedly refute, but on second thought: Maria in West Side Story was one of the three roles she needed to play before she died. It might not have been under the bright lights of Broadway, but she never really had any stipulations as to how she ended up playing those roles, did she?

“Why do I have the feeling you’ve already signed me up for an audition time?” she asked with put-upon acrimony.

Tina smiled as she handed over a business card with a DTL written on the back in her neat, curlicue handwriting.

That was how Rachel found herself with swallowed pride and dry tongue, watching with anxious eyes as her competition got called in to audition while waiting for her turn in the dingy hallway of some random office building just off of Columbus Circle.

(All my life is just despair…)

“Rachel Berry?” someone called out at last.

“That's me!” Rachel gave herself a second to breathe before going up to the audition room. She offered a grin to the overworked assistant before stepping in.

A panel of people talked amongst themselves at the far end of the room, and they looked unimpressed with her as soon as she walked in. Unfortunately, that was something to which she was accustomed.

“Hello,” she began bravely anyway as she stepped onto the marked spot in front of their table. “My name is Rachel Berry, and I will be auditioning for the role of Maria.” They nodded politely and asked her to begin.

Rachel’s strategy was to always begin with her song, and she never auditioned with a song her character actually sang. Instead, she chose songs that could reasonably have been in her character’s playlist. It gave her more flexibility to show off her range while demonstrating she understood the character’s heart. That latter point was important because for all of the singing and dancing and breath control lessons her fathers paid for her in her youth, not one of those ever included an acting class. (She was working on it!)

The former was important because Rachel was playing a long con. Regardless of how an audition ended, they might think of her again for future works if she impressed them enough. She had to believe they’d remember her voice if she sang a song where she sounded best.

For once, it seemed to work. After her sixteen bars of My Man were up, one of them asked “Do you know Tonight?”

What kind of aspiring Maria would she be if she didn’t? She turned to the pianist. “A flat, please.”

They even asked her to read for them afterward—a huge deal. In most auditions, she didn’t even get that far; and even if she did, they settled for hearing her monologue instead of the character’s own words. The fact that she got a chance to actually act as Maria in front of them? Something like optimism dared to bloom in her chest.

She was bid adieu with an ‘Expect to hear from us in two weeks.’

Still, she refused to get her hopes up. All she told Tina at brunch the next morning was that she actually managed to finish the audition. (That didn’t always happen.) Even when she did end up hearing from them two weeks later (that didn’t always happen either), she reminded herself of all the times she wished the director would tell just her ‘no’ in person.

“We like your sound,” the director said on the phone, “but not your look.”

“Pardon me?” It always came down to her looks, to her immense chagrin.

“Here's what we propose,” he said as though she didn’t speak at all. “How about you come in and dub over the singing voice of the actress we cast? She’s actually Hispanic—you know how being PC is important for PR these days—but she just doesn’t have the voice you do.”

Well of course she didn’t, but the compliment didn’t hold any weight compared to everything else he said. “Dub over the singing voice? What, like a ghost singer?”

“Don’t sound so shocked, kid. Natalie Wood didn’t do her own singing in the 1961 film either. So, what do you say?” he asked as though he hadn’t revealed the steadfast foundations of Rachel’s entire personality were actually built on sand.

Her first instinct told her to reject the offer on principle. Rachel Berry did not ghost sing. It was all of her or none at all.

(What’s the difference if I say…)

… But this was the closest she’s ever been to a successful audition, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Tina's said in her head. The gradually cheaper and less-vegan food items in her fridge were a testament to that, and she found herself asking for some time to think about it.

“We don’t normally do this, but we really like your sound… How’s about you let us know by the end of the week? If we don’t hear from you then, we’ll move on to our second choice.”

Rachel agreed, and Tina did not appreciate it. “Rachel!” the agent exclaimed when Rachel told her the news the next morning. “This is the closest you’ve ever been to a successful audition!”

“That’s exactly what I thought you’d say,” Rachel muttered to herself.

(I’ll go away…)

“Rachel,” Tina admonished. “You’re always complaining about how you can’t get a break. Here it is! In fact, I'd call it your big break. It doesn’t matter how many no’s you hear…”

“... All I need is one yes,” Rachel finished despondently, very familiar with Tina's pep talk. She received them often.

Tina smiled as though she already successfully convinced Rachel. The only thing Rachel was convinced about was that Tina must be delusional if she thought Rachel was going to take this job.

That night, she called the director back, thinking she was the truly delusional one. “I’ll do it.”

(When I know I’ll come back on my knees one day…)

~~~

Once the movie’s production team emailed Rachel the contract, she and Tina made a wine night out of signing and faxing it back. Her studio apartment in Washington Heights was barely big enough for her; but having two extra people inside it, happily celebrating her milestone success, made the space feel filled with love instead of overly cramped. Their mutual friend Mercedes may have shown up just for the wine, but she actually ended up being the most lucid and helpful.

“Am I drunk, or does this say Rachel won’t get credit for her work?”

“WHAT?!” “Where???”

Mercedes pointed out a clause in the contract that Rachel and Tina stopped poring over ages ago in favour of painting each other’s toenails. They awkwardly crawled over to where Mercedes was sitting on the floor even as she read aloud, “By signing this contract, bla bla bla, the TALENT agrees to waive their right to nominal album accreditation. ‘Talent’ is in all caps. Why do contracts do that?”

“Tina!” Rachel despaired, looking over to her friend demanding some sort of explanation and ignoring Mercedes’ drunken ramblings. The theme song to Jaws was ringing in her ears.

Tina took the copy from Mercedes’ grasp and looked over it for a moment. “You’d also be paid 75 dollars an hour on top of the industry standard 0.3% of album royalties. Rachel, most session musicians only make 30.”

Being treated like a session musician was such a far cry from the top billing status she dreamed of, even when she agreed to this lip-sync farce in the first place.

“Tina, we can’t let this happen. I need the credit, on both the album and the movie! How can I put this on my resume if they don’t credit me?! I’d be laughed out of every audition room I ever enter if I have a stupid ‘(uncredited)’ qualifier next to West Side Story, and then I’ll never be able to become a Broadway actress, and then—”

“—I’ll call them tomorrow,” Tina assured, if only to stop her friend and client from devolving into a full-blown Rachel Berry Meltdown™, which wouldn’t have been helped by four glasses of wine.

In the end, she and the management team agreed to movie credits in exchange for giving up album royalties, contrary to Tina’s advice. Rachel was perfectly fine with this trade-off. Nowadays, being anonymous was worse than being poor.

~~~

A few weeks later, Rachel had the opportunity to go to the filming site, which she took because she clearly loved to torture herself. (She wasn’t just talking about the ghost singing business either. Why else would she willingly suffer through the MTA’s weekend schedule and make two transfers just to end up in Long Island City?)

The Broadway stage may have been her ultimate dream, but a sound stage was nothing to scoff at either. After security at Silvercup Studios let her through, she easily wandered through the single-floor until she found the sets for Anita’s apartment and the bridal shop. They were back-to-back on a big, raised platform that spanned the width of the studio, connected by a single door in the shared wall. Through the magic of editing, no one would ever be able to glimpse into the yonder set if a character had to make an exit through that door. Rachel made her way around the setup, letting herself imagine what it would have been like to work here and mourn the lost opportunity.

Just when it began to hurt just a bit too much and she thought should continue nursing her wounds back home, she heard someone rehearsing lines she’s known by heart since she was 7 years old.

“‘One month have I been in this country.’ No… ‘One month have I been in this country!’ Yeah, let’s do that. ‘One month have I been in this country! Do I ever even touch excitement?’”

Following the voice led Rachel to a corner of the studio the farthest from the entrance. She found a round-faced girl seated on heavy-duty storage boxes, a sheaf of papers in hand and outfitted in a springy, floral dress. She looked to be a few years younger than Rachel and so obviously slimmer, the kind of genetic thin that no amount of healthy eating and cardio can achieve.

Having a big mouth must be a more forgivable sin than a big nose.

Rachel continued to listen to her rehearse her lines. Her voice was deeper with a slight urban accent, and Rachel could guess why the production team was going through the lengths they were. Maria needed to sound like lightness and innocence, and this girl must not be able to affect those qualities when she sang.

Rachel had been standing still for so long, sizing up the wench that stole her chance for fame, and got caught.

“Oh, is it my turn at hair and makeup?” the girl asked, hopping off of the crate once she noticed Rachel and scrambling to grab the things she left scattered at her feet.

“No! No,” Rachel hurried to stop her, stalling to give herself time to figure out what to say. “Hi, my name is Rachel Berry. I’m just… touring the set for the day,” she fibbed.

Just as her brain was conjuring up her backstory—she’s an apprentice to a woman named Ida who worked in risk management—the girl’s eyes lit up in recognition. Her friendly smile froze a little, but she still shook Rachel’s hand. “Rachel! Hi, yeah, the music director mentioned you. I didn’t think we’d get to meet, much more so soon! I’m Frida, Frida Romero.”

She didn’t expect that Frida had even heard of her, but her surprise was quickly overtaken by the sadistic pleasure that came from ascertaining that this Frida Romero girl wasn’t pleased to meet the person who’ll be dubbing over her singing voice. Her lips curled into a satisfied smirk; but before she could challenge Frida into an impromptu singing showdown to the tune of Anything You Can Do (I Can Do Better), a rude and impatient voice called out to them.

“Pinoy Pacman, Kelley wanted you in the hair and make-up trailer, like, ten minutes ago—wait a minute, did you bring a friend onto set?! The director told me yesterday I couldn’t bring my girlfriend onto set yet, but you’re allowed to have Manhands here visit from wherever your hobbit hole hometown is? This is homophobic!”

Rachel instinctively and self-consciously looked down at her hands as Frida sighed with barely concealed annoyance. “Santana, this isn’t a friend. Rachel works on the movie,” she corrects the newcomer.

Santana’s ire seemed to evaporate on the spot, but her generally disagreeable disposition did not follow. “Oh, good. I’m pretty sure my rider said I needed freshly baked breadsticks in my trailer at all times, and I haven’t even seen dollar-store animal crackers in there since filming started. Go do something about that, will you?”

Rachel opened her mouth, ready to vehemently dispel the offensive notion that she was hired help, but Santana was already sauntering somewhere else.

“That was Anita.”

Rachel whirled on Frida. “That was Anita?!” If Rachel were cast in the film, that was the person she was supposed to consider her best friend, her greatest source of comfort, the closest thing she had to family in this brand new country?! For a split second, Rachel felt vindicated that Frida was the one who had to work with such a disagreeable person. It was almost enough to make her feel grateful she didn’t get the part.

Almost.

Frida only sighed in response as she gathered her things so she could continue to get ready for shooting. “Well, I better go. It was nice to meet you, Rachel. Hope you have fun on set today,” she said, giving a small wave before departing, not stopping to hear whether Rachel would respond.

Once Frida was out of sight, Rachel looked around at the sound stage one last time and took active note of the fact that as exciting as it would have been to work here, there simply was nothing in her chest stirring the way there was when she imagined standing on a stage before a crowd.

It was definitely time to go home.

~~~

Rachel didn’t hear about the movie in an official capacity again until principal photography was close to wrapping up a few months later. Now that Frida was done filming her singing scenes, Rachel was called in for soundtrack recording.

She resolved not to let her frustration with her circumstances prevent her from learning as much as she could from the experience. Recording for the soundtrack would put her in an actual, professional recording studio. Broadway casts recorded in those all of the time!

The pep in her step as she commuted to Hell’s Kitchen lasted into the building, up the elevator, and through the studio space where the music director met her. They talked shop for the first hour, asking if Rachel had ever sung in a studio before and working with her to set up a recording schedule for the next week. Apparently the producers elected to dub over Tony’s voice as well, so the MD wanted to record them together to help with the mixing process.

“He’s coming in today; you’ll get a chance to meet him. The name’s Blaine Anderson, and he makes for a really good Tony,” the music director commented.

Strangely, hearing about another ghost singer made Rachel feel relieved. She didn’t realise it before then, but she felt rather stranded the past few weeks, like no one could understand just how hard it was for her to take this job. But this Blaine person? He might get it.

Before going into the recording booth, the MD explained how they wanted to spend the rest of the day. “I’m not the kind of person that knows what I want without hearing it first, so all I’m gonna ask you to do today is sing and try your best to match Frida’s videography. I’ll give you more direction after I hear what I’m working with.”

Rachel would love to leave the studio today without giving the MD any reason to correct her singing, but she reminded herself of her intention to learn. Even if she disagreed with anything, she would take it with grace and perform as requested.

Easier said than done.

Rachel has had the West Side Story soundtrack memorised since she was 7. As she grew up, she had a very specific idea of how she would perform Maria’s duets once she was able to realise her childhood dream. It would perfectly blend the intentions of the original score and the movie version most people would be familiar with while showing off her own technical prowess. It would be epic, powerful, EGOT-worthy.

Frida clearly had no such designs.

The music director asked Rachel to sing along to Frida’s video once through without stopping just so that they both could see how much is different between the two performances—and Frida had sung it all wrong.

She took her breaths at the worst moments. Her face portrayed longing when she should have sounded hopeful. Why was she trying to belt there!?

Rachel hadn’t been so frustrated at participating in a performance since her high school show choir director tried to win Regionals with a performance of Sing! from A Chorus Line led by the tone-deaf dancer kid and his girlfriend.

(It’s a terrifying thing…)

If all of Frida’s takes were like this, Rachel would be in the studio a lot longer than the producers probably anticipated. A quick glance out of the soundbooth showed her the MD was having similar thoughts.

After an hour, they took a break so that Rachel could drink water and sit down for a bit. She went out to the main receiving area of the studio to sit on the couches there instead of the ones behind the mixing station of her recording booth, thinking it would do her some good to minimise the amount of time spent in the room that would be her personal torture chamber for the foreseeable future. She made a mental note to wear her sneakers next time she came in so that all the standing around would be easier on her back.

Then, a neatly-dressed man on the shorter side exited the elevators by the reception desk. He took a seat a few cushions away from Rachel on the couch, and Rachel’s sixth sense was tingling.

She shifted closer and asked, “Excuse me, are you Blaine Anderson?”

Blaine snapped his head up in shock from where he was perusing his phone, confirming Rachel’s suspicion before he offered an eager hand in greeting and a, “Yes! Hi… Have we met?”

“I’m Rachel Berry. I’m singing for Maria.”

She meant to sound confident and excited, but the way the politeness on Blaine’s face instantaneously smoothed into sympathy left Rachel feeling like she needed to cry.

“It’s a little unfair, isn’t it?” he asked. No clarification needed.

He understood it too.

“It’s more than a little unfair,” she admitted, throat closing up in reflex as she tried to blink away the pressure behind her eyes.

He put a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave a wan smile, which she returned with appreciation.

It helped, to have someone to commiserate with.

~~~

Rachel attended the premiere. Of course she did. Even though it was not her name on all of the promotional materials, even though she didn’t get to walk the red carpet, even though no one would care to know who she was, she intended to revel in the fact that this night was hers as much as it was everyone else’s. More importantly, whatever success this movie saw would be hers as much as everyone else’s, too.

Who knew how long it would be until the night she first performed on a Broadway stage or got invited to the Tony’s? (Not long, she hoped.) Until then, this was the biggest night of her life, and she intended to treat it as such. She invited Tina as her plus-one; and together they agonised for weeks over what to wear and how to do their hair, they practised their smiles in the mirror, they role-played how they would react if they got to meet any of their celebrity crushes or Broadway idols.

Closer to the date, the nightmares began.

Some were of her being turned away at the door because her name wasn’t on the list, and she’d scream her voice hoarse as she demanded to be let in and be recognised, and her voice never recovered so she was forced to live out the rest of her life mute and miserable. Other ones featured attendants booing as soon as her voice pumped through the speakers instead of Frida’s, and somehow all of them knew a) that it was her and b) where she sat in the theatre, and they all threw their drinks and food and playbills at her with basketball-star-level accuracy. One time, Rachel even dreamed she was a teenaged mermaid that traded her voice for legs so that she could attempt to romance a handsome land-dweller, and the sea witch that brokered the deal had stolen her voice and tried to move in on her guy and also looked a lot like Frida.

The actual night, of course, was not as eventful.

She wasn’t shuffled in through a back door like she thought she might have been as a low-ranked member of the crew. Instead, she and Tina got to walk right through the main doors; they just had to circumvent the glitz and excitement of the red carpet, which started at Columbus Avenue, half-circled the fountain in Josie Robertson Plaza, and led to the Metropolitan Opera House.

They arrived a cool thirty minutes before the movie was set to begin, giving them enough time to take selfies within the Opera House’s iconic atrium and order drinks and snacks to enjoy while they watched.

As the movie progressed, Rachel scooted further and further to the edge of her seat. There was still a chance for the second-most common of her nightmares to come true.

On screen, Tony snuck onto Maria’s fireplace in that adorably rogue way of his, and they flirted as they reaffirmed their star-crossed love for each other, and then…

Only you. You’re the only thing I see, forever…

The cheering shocked her with its immediacy. The crowd quieted down just as quickly, and Tina held her hand tight, and she was crying. She kept crying for the entire duration of the song, and she was brave enough to let out a little hiccup when the applause and whistles and shouts of encouragement filled the theatre during the final note.

They loved her.

The stress melted out of her along with her tears, and only a giddy happiness was left to fill her body. She looked over at Tina and couldn’t help the relieved laughter at the sight of twin streaks of wet flowing down her friend’s own cheeks. She squeezed Tina’s hand, grateful for her best friend’s presence and her agent’s guidance. From the way she squeezed back, Rachel could tell Tina could tell.

When the movie ended, there was more raucous applause, but there was just as much activity as well. Many of the people around them began leaving for home or for the reception party in the opera house’s atrium, the hall buzzing with conversation and praise.

The two of them eagerly waited in their seats for the credits to roll through. Her name may not have been on any of the promotion materials, her name may not have been the one called out on the red carpet, but her name would be forever immortalised in the credits. It was the only public validation she’d get, and she couldn’t wait.

Ravhel took her phone out of her purse, excited to take a picture of the screen, and she could see Tina do the same by her side. They both figured that her name would appear in the musicians’ section, but then those names came and went without comment. A quick glance to her left showed that Tina was just as confused as she was, but she couldn’t afford to get distracted. Her name should appear any second now.

And finally, it did. Alphabetised by first name in the fucking Special Thanks To section.

…

Patty Simcox

Rachel Berry

Tyrone Griffiths

…

She stood up from her seat, chest and eyes burning with indignation.

“Rachel!” Tina called out after her as she stormed out of her row. “Rachel, where are you going?” Tina hurried after her, getting close enough to reach out for Rachel’s arm, but Rachel shrugged her off immediately.

“Home!” Her voice broke on the shouted syllable. “I’m going home, Tina. No one cares that I’m here or about what I did. They made that very, very clear.” Rachel gestured pathetically to the screen while sniffling and trying to stymie her tears. She was crying so much tonight. “My name is all the way at the end with the miscellaneous help. Like, who the hell is Patty Simcox?!”

Rachel’s cries were getting the attention of the venue staff and the handful of others that remained for the credits, so Tina rushed them out the closest exit and into the hallway where she remembered the bathroom being.

“It was a mistake to come here,” Rachel wailed as she let Tina drag her along.

Once safely sequestered away in the bathroom, Tina shook her friend by the shoulders. “Rachel Barbra Berry, were we in the same movie theatre just now? Didn’t you hear that applause when Tonight started? They loved you.”

Of course she did, as fleeting as the applause was, but did that matter? Rachel only shrugged in response.

“No, seriously, listen to me. They loved you. The applause at the beginning and end of the film? That was for everyone else: Frida, the guy who played Tony, the movie people who agreed to fund a remake. But the cheering for Tonight? That was for you and you alone, Rachel. Couldn’t you tell? They started freaking out as soon as the song started! The entire audience was just waiting to hear Maria sing, and it was your voice that played through the speakers. That applause was for you. They care, Rachel; they just don’t know it yet.”

She was still in Tina’s hold, but her mind went back to just an hour ago. She remembered the joy that came with being celebrated, but she remembered relief, too. Whatever fears Rachel had about not being enough dissipated with the first clap of hands. She struggled to hold onto that feeling while the disappointment threatened to crush her spirit.

“When?” she murmured.

Tina’s grasp on her shoulders softened. “Huh?”

Rachel pulled her attention from middle distance and looked into Tina’s eyes. “When will they know that they care?”

Tina smiled at her, equal parts confident and comforting. “You’ll get a chance to tell them. You’ll say it at every audition; you’ll tell your future coworkers during a break in rehearsals; and when you finally get nominated for leading a Broadway show, you’ll tell everyone at Radio City Music Hall, too. I’m sure of it.”

Rachel huffed out air in something approximating a laugh. “That sounded good. How long have you been practising that?” she asked with a congested accent.

Tina reached behind her to get a paper towel for Rachel to blow her nose into. “A few days, admittedly. I had some variations prepared, just in case.”

Rachel nodded distractedly, embarrassment starting to flood in now that she was coming back into awareness of herself. “Can you help me clean myself up? It’ll be hard enough going back out there having just made a spectacle of myself without also looking like an extra from Rocky Horror.”

Tina beamed at her. “So, we’re staying?” she asked as she spilled the contents of her clutch onto the bathroom counter to get the emergency make-up stashed away there. Beside her, Rachel did the same.

“It would be a waste of perfectly free champagne if we didn’t,” she said with a grateful smile.

~~~

“What do you mean you’re not going to the premiere?!” Kurt screeched into his ear.

Finn annoyedly shifted the phone to his other shoulder, scrubbing the remnants of oil off his hands as he made his way out of the autogarage where he worked. He signaled to his roommate and coworker that he was taking five, and Sam waved him off.

“Exactly what you just said: I’m not going. What’s the point?”

“I go through all that effort to get you work on this movie, and this is how you thank me? By abandoning me on the biggest night of my career thus far?!”

“Kurt, you did costuming on the movie! That’s a big deal, and I would never try to pretend it’s not… But all I did was play the drums for a little extra cash because their orchestra guy picked the wrong week to go on vacation. It was nice of them to invite me just because I helped out, but this was just another job to me. If you really don’t want to go alone… it can’t be that hard to find a date.”

“This is not an I-need-an-emergency-plus-one-to-my-ex’s-wedding situation, Finn! I will not rely on Grindr to find me a date for West Side Story’s world premiere!!!”

“I’m pretty sure I’m working that night anyway.”

“I can’t believe you would think that I wouldn’t have already checked your work schedule with Sam before I called you.” Dammit, Sam.

“We don’t even get to walk the red carpet! I don’t understand why I have to go just because you’re going.”

“Finn Hudson, if you don’t go with me, I’m telling Carole that you’ve been dating someone and that that’s why you haven’t gone back home to visit yet this year.”

Finn reactively broke out into a sweat. His mother was not a demanding woman, which made it all the harder to deny her the two things she’s ever asked for: a steady girlfriend and a visit home, neither of which have interested him lately. “That’s not even remotely true! You wouldn’t.”

“Do not try me.”

“Fine. Fine! I’ll go to the stupid premiere, god.”

Kurt cheered on the other end, and Finn wished they were still living together so that he could sneak a red sock into the washing machine next time Kurt tried to wash his white clothes.

“If you check your email, you will see that I’ve already sent you a list of links so that you can buy an appropriate outfit for the evening. Do not order anything in a colour that was not linked to you, or I will make you regret it. Have a good day at work, big brother!” Kurt ended the call in that cheeky way he’d been doing since high school even though his birthday was three months before Finn’s.

And that was how Finn found himself in one of the plush, leather-upholstered seats of the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center watching the remake of a movie of a Broadway show he didn’t even like. Why would anyone base a musical on Shakespeare’s worst play?

He didn’t even bother fighting sleep once the overture stopped playing and the movie began in earnest. He’d seen the 1961 movie; he knew how it went. Sometime later, in his hazy consciousness, he recognised that Tony managed to stalk Maria home, and they were fighting against their ill-advised lust for each other, and then…

Only you. You’re the only thing I see, forever…

Finn’s eyes shot awake, and it wasn’t because of the sudden cheers from the audience.

In my eyes, in my world, and in everything I do... Nothing else but you, ever.

Whoever played Maria knows how to sing. This movie just got a lot more interesting.

If there was yet another thing he could begrudge West Side Story, it was that Maria didn’t get her own solo. Everytime she sang, her voice would inevitably be cut off by someone else’s. If these production people were thinking with their brains at all, they would have created a whole new song for Maria as soon as they heard the actress’ voice. That’s what he would have done.

Finally, the film ended in its tragic way, but Finn didn’t join everyone else in their tears or their excitement for the after-party. His butt remained seated, and his eyes tracked on the screen, desperately waiting for the credits to roll.

The first two names that appeared in the stylised credit sequence were Ryder Lynn and Frida Romero, and he had a good feeling that Ryder wasn’t the one who played Maria.

Frida Romero.

He sank back in his seat and turned the name over in his head, tuning out Kurt’s blubbering about how fantastic the movie was and how pretty the costumes looked on screen and how proud he is of everyone.

As far as celebrity crushes went, it could honestly be worse. At least she wasn’t playing in an animated movie when he heard her sing. A sudden obsession with West Side Story’s soundtrack would be much easier to explain.

It wasn’t until a girl and her friend started making a ruckus a few rows ahead of him that Kurt and Finn decided it was time to join everyone else at the afterparty, exchanging weirded out looks as they left the theatre.

The lobby wasn’t as decked out as Finn expected it to be, but perhaps one of the benefits of holding a film premiere at such a historic and famous venue was that the event organisers didn’t have to try too hard to decorate the space. The location was the decoration.

Waitstaff kept hors d'oeuvres and drinks in a constant flow, but Finn couldn’t wait to get out of there and get a real meal. Forget balsamic-drizzled caprese on a stick and flutes of too-bitter champagne; he wanted a medium rare burger and a light beer.

His dinner would have to wait, unfortunately. He was Kurt’s ride back to Queens, but Kurt had wandered off fifteen minutes ago when he saw some coworkers from costuming. With no chance that Kurt would pick up if Finn called, he resigned himself to biding his time in an out-of-the-way alcove on the less-crowded third floor until Kurt decided they could go home.

It would be a lot worse if he didn’t have something to look forward to.

The grand staircase in the atrium that allowed patrons who weren’t rich enough to afford first-floor seating was made up of two curved staircases that met at a platform midway between the ground floor and the second floor. From that platform, a single, shorter staircase connected to the above level.

Though the view from the midway platform was limited, anyone anywhere in the multi-leveled lobby had an unobstructed view of the platform itself, which made it the perfect location for speeches, toasts, and planned performances of duet medleys from a film everyone in attendance had just finished watching.

He could definitely stand to wait a bit if it meant getting to hear Frida’s voice live.

He bided his time with some rounds of Angry Birds until feedback echoed through the antechamber. It was time.

Frida Romero and Ryder Lynn walked up to the midway platform on opposite staircases, a move that was obviously staged but nevertheless dramatically and visually impactful. Once in front of the microphones on the landing, the two bowed before the gathered crowd and began singing.

The eager smile on Finn’s face froze a bit, but he recovered quickly. Frida sounded pretty different from what she sounded like on the film, but he reasoned it was because she was singing live and because the atrium was still buzzing with conversation. It wasn’t as completely quiet as it should have been out of respect for what he confidently would say was the greatest voice of their generation.

The duet ended to earnest applause, and Finn tried not to be too disappointed. He decided to look for Kurt instead. Surely, he was done gushing about sequins or gossipping about red carpet looks or whatever it was people who worked in fashion talked about when they were together.

The third floor was a bust, so he descended to the second floor to continue this search. As he walked through the crowd, Finn reached out for a champagne flute from a passing waiter, but someone else’s hand touched the stem at the same time.

“Shit!” “Oh my god!” the two parties cried out as both hands abruptly let go of the glass, letting it break and spill sticky, fizzy drink on the marble flooring.

“I’m so sorry! Can I help you clean it up?” the other person asked, and holy shit that was Frida Romero.

The waiter had on their best customer service smile, but the annoyance was clear in their voice when they asked the two of them to step back and allow someone to clean up the spill. Finn didn’t need to be told twice, so he gently took Frida’s arm by the elbow and encouraged her to back up and away from the scene of the crime along with him.

“We’d better do as they ask,” he recommended gently as he tried to shield her from the attention of nosy passers-by. He brought them to the quieter hallway where the elevator banks were before he remembered himself and let the poor girl go. He whirled to face her, apology at the ready, but then he noticed she barely reached his shoulders even in heels. He was so doomed.

“Ah, sorry,” he said while nervously rubbing at his neck. “I didn’t mean to manhandle you there. I was just focused on getting us away from the waiter who looked ready to stab us in the eye with shards of champagne glass.”

Frida chuckled a little, and Finn couldn’t help but smile at the sound. “No, it’s okay,” she assured. “Honestly, I was having a bit of an out-of-body experience all night. The last few minutes were really helping me come back to myself.”

Finn furrowed his eyebrows. “Did something go wrong?”

“No! Nothing’s wrong!” Frida denied vehemently. “This is a dream come true, honestly! … It’s just all happening so fast. In the span of two minutes, I met Vanessa Hudgens, Annaleigh Ashford, and Rita Moreno. I didn’t get to even process one famous person before meeting the next. I only get this night once, and I wanted to savour it, but… Ugh. Oh my god, sorry. I should not be telling you this stuff. Not only do I sound totally out-of-touch, but this is so not your problem.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Finn hurried to assure her. “You definitely sound like you need a breather. Do you want me to get you some water or something? I promise not to drop the glass this time.”

Frida huffed out a laugh. “That’s nice of you, but no thanks. I should really be getting back out there…”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I totally get it. You’re the main attraction.”

To his surprise, Frida snorted. “Am I, really?”

“Uh, yeah. I heard you sing tonight… Not Tonight the song, I meant this evening… But obviously you performed Tonight tonight, you’re in the show… What I’m trying to say here is I think you’re really talented.”

Back in high school, Finn’s relationships wouldn’t last long because he had serious foot-in-mouth syndrome. He thought he got over that in the years since then, but apparently all it took was one pretty girl to reinfect him.

Said pretty girl faced him with an appraising gaze, but her fingers were nervously playing with the straps of her purse. “You really think so?”

Finn nodded emphatically, hoping she could tell he was being earnest. “And I’m not the only one. They chose you to headline the movie, didn’t they?”

Frida didn’t look wholly convinced, but the air around her changed. She twisted her mouth into a sarcastic smile, and the serious tone of the conversation shifted. “That they did. Not doing too bad for a Hoosier, huh?”

Finn brightened. “You’re from Indiana? I’m from Ohio!”

“No way? And we met here, in New York City?”

“I know, right?” Finn was going to launch into how much he missed the county fair back home, which just happened this past weekend and was fresh on his mind still, but he was interrupted.

“Frida, there you are! We’ve been looking all over for you. I know they told us we wouldn’t have to do interviews at the party, but the director owed somebody a favour, I guess? I don’t know, but we’re needed down on the main level.”

“Gotcha. Thanks, Ryder. Give me a second? I’ll be right there.”

Before he left, Ryder Lynn gave Finn a judgemental look that he couldn’t help but return. To his satisfaction, Finn had a few good inches and maybe twenty pounds on the guy. (Not that he actually planned on fighting him for Frida's affections, but he was just pointing out that he could if he needed to.)

“So, uh, I gotta go.” Frida gestured needlessly to where Ryder had just been standing. Finn smiled as he stamped down his disappointment. He was lucky enough to have monopolised so much of her time, and he knew it. “Totally. It was nice meeting you, Frida.”

She tilted her head at him. “I never caught your name.”

“Ah, right. Finn Hudson. I actually played percussion in the orchestra for the soundtrack; that’s how I got invited.”

“‘Finn Hudson,’” she repeated. “Ugh, I’m never gonna remember that. Write it down for me?”

She fished in her purse for her phone and handed it over. He didn’t think much of her request, but then he looked down to see an open contact form on her phone. He snapped his focus back up and was greeted with a decidedly flirtatious gaze. He smirked at her, a look he knew made him particularly attractive, and input his information.

“See you later,” he said as he handed her phone back.

Frida left with a wave and a wink. “Sooner than you think.”

~~~

As much as she had hoped for the opposite, Rachel’s life didn’t get a whole lot better after the movie came out.

It was, as expected, a smashing success. Everyone thought it was high-time for a West Side Story remake, and the numbers showed. $67 million on opening weekend alone; #1 movie in America for three weeks in a row; 8.7 on Metacritic and 84% on Rotten Tomatoes.

Overheard conversations on the subway featured plans to watch the movie that weekend; the high school down the block began advertising West Side Story as their spring musical; Frida and whoever played Tony got invited to be presenters at the Tonys. The Tonys!

And there Rachel was, sitting in her shoebox Washington Heights apartment with the radio unplugged and blinds drawn, watching only pre-recorded TV shows or movies on DVD. It was the only way to avoid hearing a peep of the commercials or avoid catching a glimpse of the billboard on the apartment complex a few blocks down from hers.

It was all so unfair.

Tina told her that this movie could be the cause of her big break. As it currently stood, it looked more like the cause of her big breakdown.

She had been ignoring any and all attempts of contact from her friends. Mercedes’ offers to go to brunch were ignored; Tina’s emails containing her recommendations to Rachel for potential casting calls were unopened. Her precious iPod mini was stored in her safe along with her birth certificate and passport so that she wouldn’t accidentally hear the 1961 soundtrack on shuffle.

It was an exhausting and depressive lifestyle that she maintained steadfastly for weeks… then she got her first paycheck.

“Rachel?” Tina answered the phone in bewilderment.

“Tina, call Mercedes right now. We’re going out.”

“What!?”

“Yep, and I’m buying us a round!”

“Hold on. I don’t hear from you in almost a month, and you just invite me out on a weeknight out of the blue? I feel like I deserve more of an explanation.”

“I got my first paycheck from West Side Story, Tina, and there is a comma in the number.”

“... We’ll meet you at Ellie’s in an hour.”

As melodramatic as the musical theatre community was known to be, they also knew how to take a joke. Ellie’s Starlite Dinner was one such joke. A flagrant rip-off of the famous diner with the singing waiters just off of Time Square, Ellie’s was a karaoke bar that stripped the original concept of everything except the main draw: singing on furniture.

They had a limited menu but a fully-stocked bar. Guests sat in diner booths to enjoy that evening’s entertainment, and performers only had to stand up on their own tables or chairs when it was their turn to sing. It was a genius idea that allowed them to fit more seating into the space. Singers had to sign a waiver absolving the establishment of responsibility if they drunkenly fell and had to pay a whopping $15 per song, but any given night was still a lively and fully-booked affair.

Rachel desperately wanted to sing, a feeling that had abandoned her for a while. The first thing she, Tina, and Mercedes did once they met up was join the line for the request DJ. Unfortunately, they were informed of the 100 minute wait time and decided to simply sit back and vibe for the evening.

It was a good time nevertheless. She was in such a good mood that when she stood up to fetch another round, she didn’t even mind when a tall, slim man around her age knocked into her and spilled his cocktail on her dress.

“I’m sorry for bumping into you, but I’m not sorry for your outfit. Please tell me you’re dressed like that because you lost a bet,” he said in lieu of an introduction.

“I like it! It has pockets!” Rachel defended over the noise of someone trying to sing both parts of My Boo.

The man tutted as he shook his head. “The things women will suffer through for pockets.”

“Rachel?” someone’s surprised voice cut in.

“Blaine!” Rachel squealed when she recognized him, pulling him in for a sloppy hug and forgetting to care about her dress.

“You two know each other?” Slim Jim questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Remember how I told you I’m the voice of Tony? You’re looking at the voice of Maria.”

“Small world,” Blaine’s companion commented with a considering frown. There was something weird in his voice, but Rachel was not sober enough to figure out what or even remember such a minute detail come morning.

By the time Rachel came back from the bathroom, bladder empty and dress halfway-salvaged, Tina and Mercedes had invited the two men to share their booth for the evening. They learned the new party was Blaine’s boyfriend, Kurt. They were casually-yet-enthusiastically talking on a dating app and decided to take it seriously when they learned they both worked on the same movie. (“Almost like fate!” Blaine commented, prompting collective aw’s from the girls.)

The five became fast friends that night, and Rachel considered it a good omen. First the paycheck, then new friends? What was gonna happen next, another successful audition?

The next morning, Tina emailed her with a new casting opportunity happening that day, another movie-musical adaptation, and Rachel felt like the universe was trying to tell her something.

She drank her tea, did her scales, and corralled her headshot and resume from where they were hidden underneath take-out menus and weeks-old coupon flyers addressed to ‘Current Resident’ before heading out the door.

Rachel’s good mood lasted until she walked into the audition room, where she was hit with the familiar and unwelcome feeling that it would end before it began.

“Hello,” she began bravely anyway as she stepped onto the marked spot in front of the panel of directors. “My name is Rachel Berry, and I will be auditioning for the role of Anastasia.”

Someone moved their wrist in a gesture she understood to mean ‘You can begin now,’ so she started with It’s All Coming Back to Me Now for her first—and likely last—song, based on the fact that the panel of directors barely glanced at her even while she sang.

Her final note echoed a bit when she concluded, then one director raised his head to look at her. She reminded herself of all the times she wished the director would tell just her ‘no’ in person.

“Were you really the voice of Maria in the West Side Story movie?”

“Pardon me?” she asked, surprised to hear more than one syllable coming out of his mouth.

He gestured to her resume in front of him, and his peers furrowed their brows and began reviewing their own copies in earnest. At least someone here bothered to read her resume. “It says here you provided the singing voice for Maria in the West Side Story remake. Is that true?”

Finally understanding the question, she smirked. “Tonight, A flat please,” she directed to the pianist in lieu of a response.

She still got rejected at the end of the audition, but it felt different this time. She could see in their faces that they’d take note of her, that they’d remember her voice. It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it would be a lie to say this audition wasn’t a success either.

Like Tina said, all it took was one yes.

~~~

“Hey, Huddy, going out for lunch?” Sam asked as Finn exited the locker room, having changed out of his work overalls and into not-smelly, not-oily attire.

“Yeah, I have plans with Frida. Tell the boss I’m taking a long lunch for me?” Finn said as he walked into the customer bathroom. He left the door open so his voice could carry while he checked his reflection in the mirror.

Finn could hear Sam pull himself out from under the 2017 Ford Focus that a customer was scheduled to pick up later today. “So things are getting better then?”

Finn sighed.

He and Frida started dating less than a week after the West Side Story premiere. In those first few weeks, it felt really good to have someone else around who understood why he loved living in New York City but would always miss home just a little bit. Frida still had all of the small-town charm with none of the small-mindedness, and she loved to poke fun at the fact that she did end up dating the high school quarterback, albeit not the one from her own high school. “If only the cheer team could see me now,” she would say.

It was nice, really… for the times they were able to be together.

The movie just got more and more famous as their relationship went on. Frida ended up being so busy that if he wanted to see her lately, he’d have to watch an interview where she’d flirt with the Ryder guy for the course of the video.

Not to say that he’d actively ruin her momentum just to get to spend some time with her—he’s not selfish enough to ask that of her—but he’s an actions guy, man. The fact that there’s not really anything he can do to achieve his desired goal, more time with Frida, left him undeniably frustrated. The emotion unfortunately coloured more of what little time he did get with her than he’d like, so they’ve been a little strained lately.

On top of that, there’s the thing he kept holding himself back from bringing up: she didn’t sound anything like her singing voice. He sorta figured it was like when British people lost their accents when they sang; but even when she sings live, why didn’t she sound the way she did in the movie? He could tell the audio wasn’t touched-up at all, so what was the disconnect?

He wasn’t going to ask her any of that, of course. They’ve only hit the three month mark just last week. It was still kinda early for confrontations like that according to the unwritten dating playbook he’s been following since college.

“They are,” he lied with a small smile, meeting Sam’s eyes through the mirror before grabbing his stuff from his locker.

He plugged his earphones in, left the autogarage, and took the subway from Pelham Parkway to Central Park North. When he got to the non-chain, fast-food restaurant (his request since he’d already spend most of his lunch break commuting) and noticed she hadn’t arrived yet, he sent off a quick text and waited outside.

Before long, Frida was waving a hand in his face to catch his attention without startling him too much. “Hey, whatcha listening to?” she greeted with a smile.

He pulled his iPod out of his pocket and turned the screen towards her. “I’ll be honest: One Hand, One Heart isn’t my favourite, but you sound too good not to have it in my library.” He swooped down to peck her on the cheek, a plausibly deniable expression of endearment in case there were any paparazzi around. They walked into the restaurant and waited in line.

“How long have you been practising that?”

“Practising what?” he asked distractedly as he perused the snacks shelf behind the cashier. He wondered if they had Sour Patch Kids.

“You know, the whole ‘pulling up my girlfriend’s movie’s soundtrack on my iPod so that when she asks me what I’m listening to, I look supportive’ trick.”

He tore his attention back towards Frida in alarm. “Oh my god, no! It’s not a trick. I legitimately listen to the West Side Story soundtrack all the time. Ask Sam!”

She froze in what he thought was embarrassment. “You do?”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a second. He had to make her believe him, so now was as good of a time as any to admit, “I never told you this before, but when I attended the premiere, when I first heard you sing, that’s the moment I… well, I started falling for you.”

Frida didn’t blush or even smile. Actually, she looked pretty stricken, so he backpedaled. “Ah, that might seem like a lot, and it might have been too soon to say that. It’s not any less true, but don’t worry there’s no pressure here. And not in the way guys usually mean you-have-like-a-week-to-say-it-back-or-else-I’m-dumping-you when they say ‘no pressure,’ haha,” he babbled.

The smile she tried to give him was as strained as her impassive face, and he wished more than anything that he could redo the last five minutes of his life.

Blessedly their turn to order came next, which gave them a chance to break the awkward atmosphere. After they collected their drinks and picked a place to sit and wait for their food, Frida finally looked at him.

Her face looked serious, determined, resigned. For a split second, he even thought she might break up with him, and he knew the first emotion he felt wouldn’t have been heartbreak.

“Finn, that isn’t me singing on the soundtrack.”

His heart may not have broken, but his world sure did shatter.

~~~

Sam smacked him upside the head as they walked home from work. “So you broke up with Hollywood's sweetheart because she can’t sing? Are you actually the dumbest person alive?”

Sam raised his hand intending to hit him again, and Finn tried to fend him off. “No. I never thought that; it wasn’t like that! Besides, she broke up with me! Stop hitting me, oh my god.”

When he was sure Sam would keep his hands to himself, he continued, “I wasn’t gonna let that ruin what we had, honestly, but… like, what did we have? I approached her under a misunderstanding, she liked me because I was the first person who ‘understood’ that about her… Too much about our first impressions was wrong.”

“You were three months into the relationship. First impressions shouldn’t even matter at this point!” Sam argued.

“Come on, man. You knew we were already on the rocks. It’s not really a surprise we didn’t last after that came to light.”

Sam didn’t have a way to respond to that, so Finn let them lapse into silence. A choice snippet of the conversation from earlier in the day played in his mind.

(“When you said I sounded great that night, you weren’t talking about mine and Ryder’s duet, huh?” It didn’t sound like a question, but he answered it anyway.

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. There was no point in lying.

“I thought you were talking about the duet.” Frida sniffed, and he could see the rims of her eyes were getting pink, but there were no tears yet. He’d only ever seen her cry on screen. “Right up until we performed, there were so. many. people telling me how great I sounded in the movie. No one had—” She swallowed. “—No one said it again, not afterwards, not until you did… I should have known. I think… I think I did know, but I wanted to believe.”

He had kept quiet while she vented, not knowing what to say so choosing to say nothing at all, but here his words came easily. “I meant what I said that night. You’re really talented. I still think so.”

“More talented than the girl who was actually singing?”

There was no point in lying, but there was no point in being mean either. “They chose you to headline the movie, didn’t they?” he said instead.

Frida shut her eyes and breathed deep. When she looked up at him again, he knew it was goodbye. “That they did. Not doing too bad for a Hoosier, huh?”)

Sam’s sudden question startled him out of the memory. “So, what? You stay celibate until you find your Ariel?”

“... What?” Was Sam talking all this time, and Finn just happened to tune in at the most out-of-context part?

“You know, like in The Little Mermaid? Frida was Vanessa a.k.a. Ursula who stole Ariel’s voice to—don’t give me that look, you know I have a little sister!”

He couldn’t be sure Sam did this on purpose, but it felt good to laugh right now. “Did you just compare my ex to a sea witch from a Disney movie?”

Sam slugged him in the shoulder good-naturedly. “Whatever. So, what are you gonna do now?”

Finn just shrugged. “There’s nothing to do. I go back to how it was before. Meeting Frida was a fun and unexpected surprise, but it’s not like I was actively looking for a girlfriend or anything. I wasn’t lonely or anything, and I don’t feel lonely now either.”

When they made it back to their East Tremont apartment, the conversation naturally dropped. Finn grabbed them some beers, Sam turned the tv on, and they settled in to watch the Braves play the Nationals even though neither of them were big on baseball.

At the next commercial break, Sam said, “If it were me, I'd be begging for Frida back.”

Finn took a sip from his beer. “Hey, she’s single now, and you’re both from Indiana. Worth a shot.”

~~~

As soon as Rachel walked out of the building, the call was already going through. She impatiently paced to the closest Starbucks as she waited for the other end of the line to pick up.

Finally, “Rachel?”

She didn’t waste a second. “Tina, I got it!”

A gasp. “No way?!”

“Yes, way!” Even after walking two long city blocks, she still had the energy to dance a celebratory shimmy on the street. There was no need for embarrassment in New York; Rachel hardly counted as the most memorable sight any of the passers-by would see that day.

“Oh my god!? Rachel?!?! I am so happy for you! I told you! All you needed was one yes!”

Rachel couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her.

(Hearts leap in a giddy whirl…)

“As always, you were right,” Rachel teased, but she abandoned that quickly. “Oh my god, I’m so happy, too; I’m so excited! I don’t even know what to say right now!!”

“When do you start?”

Rachel struggled to sort her emotions out enough to access her recent memories. “I’m gonna get an email today with the words and the information, then I’m meeting the director tomorrow. Oh my god, should you be coming with me to that?”

“I can if you want me to!” Tina probably meant to sound supportive; but even as preoccupied as Rachel right now, she could tell Tina was excited to do more as an agent than direct Rachel to auditions that turned out to be duds. “That’s kinda fast; that’s so exciting!”

Rachel was gonna give her the biggest hug ever the next time she saw Tina. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you. Not just for coming with me tomorrow, but for everything. I really needed someone like you in my corner.”

“Of course, Rachel! I absolutely live for the moment one of my clients gets some good professional news. Wanna go out tonight to celebrate? You get Mercedes; I’ll ask Kurt and Blaine?”

As if she needed the reminder Tina was the best friend on top of being the best agent. “Oh my god, yes! Ellie’s at 8?”

“Sounds good to me!”

“Yes! Yay!” Rachel just needed to scream, so she did. “Ahhh!! I still can’t believe I got it!”

“It was a matter of time, Rachel.” Tina said it so matter-of-factly; Rachel loved this girl. But then, “… Uh, by the way. What is it that you got?”

~~~

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Finn held back a sigh. He wondered why he let Kurt talk him into weekly phone calls even though they live in the same city and see each other a totally respectable amount of times.

“Finn! Come on, it’ll be fun,” Kurt nagged in his ear.

“Sure, maybe, but who goes to karaoke on a weeknight? I have a session tomorrow.” Not a lie this time. The studio that normally booked him for session drumming was recording a demo for someone who won a sponsored singing contest from one of the radio stations. He’d be listening to this singer cover songs for hours tomorrow; he didn’t need to pay to go to karaoke tonight for the same experience.

“Sure, at ten. Honestly, I'm surprised to hear excuses like that from McKinley High’s biggest advocate of the boot and rally methodology.”

Finn allowed himself to smile at the memories of the Friday football game tailgates that turned into weekend-long house parties. “Listen, I'm really just not interested,” he maintained.

Kurt got quiet on the other end, and Finn wondered if maybe this was his chance to hang up. Then, “Is this about Frida?”

Finn groaned.

“Finn, it’s been two weeks already… Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? Maybe if you finally tell me what happened—you know, if you lean on me, your brother—I can help you get over her!”

Finn wasn’t avoiding talking about it necessarily, but he never brought it up either because he really didn’t think it was a big deal. The relationship was relatively short, Finn held no lingering resentment, and it was a clean break. Besides, Frida was famous. If anyone were winning the post-break up game, it was her.

He sighed. “Kurt, I am only telling you the story so that you believe me when I say: there is nothing to get over.”

He gave Kurt the same spiel he told Sam. If Kurt became as indignant over the break-up as his roommate had been… well, it wasn’t like he could reach through the phone and smack Finn. When he wrapped up, he was expecting some platitudes, maybe an admonishment. Instead, Kurt said, “Finn. I promise you, you want to go to karaoke tonight.”

Finn was poised to reject again, but something about the serious way Kurt said it, like he knew something Finn didn’t, made Finn agree against his better judgement.

~~~

Whoever this guy is, he must be cute, Rachel thought to herself while she watched Tina and Mercedes giggle and text.

She and Mercedes had arrived at Ellie’s before everyone else did and paid for several songs at once. Since they were buying in bulk, their slots would be spread out throughout the next 60 minutes, and they would just have to be surprised when it was their turn. Songs and drinks ordered, they claimed a booth and made small talk about Mercedes’ most recent personal styling client and the karaokers while they waited. It was the early crowd, so the energy was balanced by people going up to sing who were sober enough to actually think they’re good and people in the booths who were sober enough to recognise the singers were just okay.

In the middle of someone’s performance of Call Me Maybe, Tina texted Mercedes saying Kurt would be bringing his brother along, and then Mercedes became buried in her phone.

Luckily Tina arrived not long after. To their credit, they really tried their best to pay attention to her; but they were way more preoccupied with texting Kurt to find out more about his brother. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were looking forward to meeting him, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious. She even considered asking to join the group chat they had going just so she could be in the loop too, but Kurt wasn’t really her type even if he weren’t gay. She didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up in case the family resemblance was strong.

"How much longer until they get here?" Rachel asked just to break up the routine.

Mercedes' phone lit up before Tina's did, and they giggled again. "They just got off the subway!”

“Since you’re going to see him soon anyway, how about you put your phones away and buy me a drink? We are here to celebrate my new gig tonight.”

“If you’re the one with the job, shouldn’t you be the one paying?” Mercedes teased.

“Tina gets a cut, too!”

“Way to throw me under the bus.”

“I’ll buy a drink for whoever wants to duet Dog Days Are Over with me,” Mercedes offered.

“Me!” Tina shouted before Rachel could, and she slapped her hand on the table in complaint. “But my dog days are the ones that are over!”

Tina laughed as she handed Mercedes her credit card. “Don’t worry, Florence. Mercedes will open a tab under my name, and I’ll get your drinks.”

“Not if I get them first! What are we having?” a new voice piped up from behind Rachel.

“Blaine!” Tina cheered, flying out of her seat to give him a hug.

Rachel turned in her seat to face with her Meeting New People Smile #2 at the ready…

… Which dropped as soon as she caught sight of the newcomer accompanying Kurt and Blaine. He was tall—taller than Kurt—with his hair gelled up in a way that showed he cared enough to style it but without trying too hard to be neat. His hands were in his vest pockets, and one corner of his lips was quirked up in a boyish smile.

(I took no time with the fall…)

“Ladies, meet my brother, Finn,” Kurt introduced, and Rachel knew she was doomed.

She should have asked the join the group chat when she had the chance.

~~~

Finn had the feeling that tonight was supposed to be a set-up, and he still wasn’t interested, but Kurt had sounded so serious earlier. As in, he seriously thought that one of the girls he’d meet tonight would be perfect for Finn.

On the subway ride over, he told himself he was just curious. Surely in the decade since they’ve become brothers, Kurt would know his type by now, right? But as he settled into the booth with the people he’d be spending the rest of his evening with, he really wondered what the hell Kurt was thinking.

Sure, the Asian girl had a sweet smile, and the Black girl ended up being hilarious, but the last one…

Whenever someone wasn’t talking to her, she was staring at him like she was auditioning for the lead role in Swimfan, and she had been ever since she first saw him. If he’s being honest with himself, her body was smokin’ (if you're not into boobs), but the intensity of her aura was enough to cancel that out. Besides, he’s very into boobs.

He spent the near-term doing his best to interact with the other two normal-seeming girls, but they kept finding ways to loop in the last girl—ugh, he wished he weren’t so weirded out that he missed Kurt’s introductions—into the conversation.

He knew he shouldn’t have come tonight.

“Next on the mic, give it up for Booth #5 with Take Me or Leave Me!”

“That’s us!” the Asian girl cheered while Swimfan accepted the microphones from the staff.

“Just like high school?” she offered to the Black girl, and they climbed onto the benches with matching smirks, obviously remembering some inside joke Finn didn’t care to get introduced to.

For a split second, he was genuinely confused at the song choice—if Finn was remembering Kurt’s movie-musical lessons correctly, wasn’t this originally sung between a lesbian couple in a fight?—but then he felt relief. He wouldn’t be expected to participate in conversation for the next three-ish minutes. He excused himself to get another beer, seeing that the bar was crowded enough that it could easily be prolonged to six or seven.

The song’s opening piano played, and then he stopped mid-step.

Every single day, I walk down the street…

Just like the first time, just like it did every time he pressed play on his iPod, a singer’s voice made his heart twinge. Sure, this girl was just dueting with her friend, exaggeratedly playing the role of Maureen, singing with a playful overtone to her voice… But there was an undeniable joy of performing underlining her stage presence. She sang the way playing the drums made him feel.

What were the odds that there were two people out there who had this effect on him? And one of them was barely 10 meters away.

The duo finished, but he was still in so much shock that he didn’t notice their other friend had joined him near the bar. "So what do you think?"

Finn didn’t know what part of his emotions he could verbalise first, so he blurted out the only coherent thought he had. "She sounds like Maria."

Tina smirked, not that Finn noticed because he was still staring at a certain happy occupant of Booth #5. "I would hope so. She is Maria.”

He snapped his head to look at her so hard his neck cracked. "What."

~~~

Finn hadn’t stopped looking at her since he came back from the bar, and she was glad for the constantly shifting, multicoloured lights at Ellie’s to help hide how flustered she was. Despite her status as an eligible bachelorette, she’d never had someone return her interest in him before. Not like this, and definitely not this quickly.

“If you're not going to talk to him, I'm going to make you talk to him.” So Tina had noticed, too.

She snuck a glance across the booth and saw that the ‘him’ in question was engrossed in conversation with Blaine, so she felt confident she could respond to Tina without getting caught. “I’m talking to him! Earlier I asked him to pass me my purse so I could get the next songs.”

“Rachel!” And yeah, she knew that wouldn’t count, too.

“What do I even say, Tina?”

“Better figure it out soon because I have a fashion emergency!!” She raised her voice during the second half of her statement so that she could be heard above the noise of the other patrons and the person on stage butchering Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

“Did somebody say ‘fashion emergency’? Mercedes, we need a girl’s room, stat,” Kurt announced melodramatically.

Mercedes grabbed Tina, who grinned at Rachel with something approximating evil in her eyes. “I got her! Let’s go,” Mercedes directed.

The threesome hurried off in the opposite direction of the bathroom. For his part, Blaine didn’t have a shtick, or maybe he didn’t think it was worth it. He just shook his head and said, “Sorry, Rachel,” with a shrug before making himself scarce.

Rachel turned around in her seat to gape at her quickly-retreating so-called friends. “I can’t believe they have the gall to abandon me when we’re supposed to be out tonight celebrating me!” she exclaimed aloud.

“What are we celebrating?” Finn asked from her side.

Rachel whirled in her seat to find that Finn moved to her side of the booth just to talk to her, and she didn’t fight the warmth that spread in her chest. He was direct but not in a demanding way, and she liked it a lot. “I landed a commercial today. I'll be singing a jingle for a second hand car chain up in Westchester.” Pride, understated but evident, coloured her voice.

“No way! That’s so awesome. Congrats… Rachel, right?”

“Yes! Rachel Berry, nice to meet you. And you’re Kurt's brother, Finn Hummel.”

Finn grinned. “Actually, Finn Hudson. We’ve been step brothers since high school, but we’re as good as blood-related by this point.”

Rachel perked up, her earlier annoyance completely forgotten in favour of a conversation with a cute boy and being semi-right. A blood-related sibling of Kurt would not have caught her attention, as she suspected. “That makes sense! I was wondering why you two didn’t look alike, but I wasn’t going to ask.”

“Nah, we’re used to it. Plus, we’ve definitely taken advantage of that before. The mall back home used to host a tonne of sweepstakes, but they always limited one entry per household. What we’d do is just use our actual address but add different apartment numbers to it so that we wouldn’t get caught. No one ever checks! Between our different last names and the fact we barely look alike, we doubled our chances at, like, at least a hundred sweepstakes.”

“Did you end up winning anything?” Rachel asked amusedly.

Finn puffed out his chest with pride. “We won a one-hundred dollar Visa gift card once, and I’ve been chasing that high ever since.”

“A hundred dollars can get you far when you’re in high school,” she agreed with a teasing grin.

“Hey, I wouldn’t say no to a hundred dollars right now either.”

Rachel snorted. “No kidding. I think I spent a hundred just booking our songs for tonight.”

“Passing the mic back to Booth #5, here’s You’re the One That I Want!” the MC conveniently announced.

Finn looked over at her with a smirk. “Ready to get your money’s worth?”

“You sing?” Rachel asked, bewildered and delighted, as she accepted the microphones from the staff. In response, Finn merely plucked one of the mics from her hand and stood up.

I got chills! They’re multiplying…

He didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t even glance at the tv screens positioned on the walls so that patrons could read the lyrics no matter which direction they turned. Instead, his focus was directed downwards, entirely on her. From her vantage point, he looked like a rock star who came to the edge of the stage to interact with the audience, and she was definitely a fan.

He raised his eyebrows at her as his verse drew to a close, and she rose to the challenge.

You better step up! she sang as she hopped up onto the bench. Even with the boost, she was only a few inches taller than him.

Rachel loved performing. She knew it was what she was meant to do ever since her dads took her to watch Annie on Broadway when she was four. When she sang in front of a crowd, it was exhilarating, like Elphaba finding out she might meet The Wizard one day.

Though never once did it feel like this: raw, unfiltered, connective, and yes, electrifying. His voice was untrained, but it suited him. He could clearly do so much more than carry a tune in a bucket, and his power and confidence went a long way in making up for the rest.

His smirk made her smile wider. Was she imagining things, or were they flirting? Sure, there was the teasing push and pull of the lyrics, and then there was the way she caught Finn’s gaze at her hips when she danced. It felt like the end of Act 1 to a show written exactly for her. Maybe it was the song, maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was just Finn.

You’re the one that I want!

The song ended to resounding cheers; but for once, the applause of the crowd meant nothing, not when Finn looked at her like he was doing. It seemed like it should be so familiar. She took a step, unsure what she was walking towards but bolstered by the fact Finn did the same…

And the moment was broken.

“Oh my god, we leave you alone for five minutes and come back to the two of you going at it like teenagers at Rydell High?”

The staff took back the microphones; the next song started up; and with one last glance to Finn, she let herself get swept up in their friends’ return.

Despite their obvious scheme to give the two of them some quality time, no one let them have a chance to talk alone again for the rest of the evening. It was almost frustrating, but she was still having the night of her life.

Besides, she had a commercial to sing for tomorrow! Anything else is really just a cherry on top.

It wasn’t until after eleven that they finally left Ellie’s in search of some food. They rowdily descended upon the closest Duane Reade for snacks and sandwiches before exiting back out to the mild Manhattan night, laughing and walking and chewing. The entire night kind of felt like something she could have done in high school (like, if she had more friends and if she actually allowed herself to drink before she graduated), but this was so much more fun anyway.

During a natural lull in conversation, Finn announced, “Ah, I should head back now. I have a long commute to the Bronx and a gig in the morning,” with a check to his phone’s clock.

“Noooo!” Blaine whined, drunkenly koala-ing onto Finn’s arm in protest.

“Stay out a little longer and take a cab!” Tina suggested from Finn’s other arm.

Rachel watched with amusement as Finn gently extricated himself from their grasps, and their eyes met. Her smile turned shy as she averted her gaze… just to catch Tina’s.

She smirked, and Rachel knew she was either going to hate or love whatever came out of that girl’s mouth next.

“Well, we can’t let you go home alone. Girl code, you understand,” Tina explained very seriously. “Rachel, you’re heading uptown, too, aren’t you? You can go together!”

Even as her gut reaction was to decline as politely as possible, Rachel reminded herself that a chance to talk alone with Finn was what she’d been wanting all night. Tina was literally pushing Finn and her together, and all she had to do was agree.

She peered up at Finn and basfully offered, “I can take the 1, 2, or 3.”

He smiled at her, a thin, genuine curve that softened his sharp face into something boyish, and that was it. She was officially in love with Finn Hudson. “I live on the 2.”

They bade the rest of their party goodbye and walked in mutual silence to the subway station, but her anxious heart wouldn’t let her stay quiet for long.

“So, you said you had a gig in the morning? What do you do?”

Finn’s movements took on a noticeable energy from the new topic, and she congratulated herself for choosing so well. “I play the drums! Well, actually, I work in an autogarage full time, but the hours are flexible enough to let me pick up some session work whenever a studio needs a drummer.”

He was musically inclined! She should have known. An image flashed through her mind of a sweaty Finn Hudson with his t-shirt sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, rhythmically beating on the drums in a soundproofed room. “That’s amazing! How long have you been playing?”

“Forever, really. My mom got me a kit when I was, like, seven just so that I’d have something to do at home while she was at work. It was cheaper than a babysitter: if the neighbours could hear me playing—and they could,” he interjected with a sardonic smile, “I obviously wasn’t in any harm.”

She wanted to ask more about his time growing up—based on the stories he told, she had an inkling he and Kurt were also Midwestern, and her sixth sense was never wrong about things like this—but Finn spoke up again. “Actually, uh, I worked on the West Side Story soundtrack.”

She almost tripped. “You did!?” What were the odds?

Finn nodded, and she finally noticed his excitement was more akin to anxiousness. “And, you know, because I worked on the movie, I was able to go to the premiere a few months back, at the Metropolitan Opera House. I wasn’t going to originally, but, of course, Kurt forced me. I, uh… I actually fell asleep,” he admitted.

She wanted to laugh, to be offended, to react at all; but there was something to his voice, like he was walking off a plank towards certain doom. It was only because they had stopped that she could recognise she was holding her breath.

He turned in his spot and faced her straight on, steeling himself to confess whatever it was this conversation was leading to. Rachel offhandedly noticed that she had yet to see Finn’s eyes clearly tonight, always tinted as they were by the party lights of Ellie’s or the penumbra of a nearby streetlamp. They should have spent more time in the clinical lighting of the Duane Reade.

“And then I heard you sing.”

She inhaled sharply.

“I don’t know how to say this, but you touched something in me. Right here.”

Perhaps because of the seriousness of the previous moment, it took Rachel all that she had not to laugh at the poor, earnest, embarrassed boy who put his hand on the left side of his chest. Without really thinking about it, she stepped forward and reached for his wrist. “Your heart’s on the other side of your chest,” she corrected, gentle and amused.

“Oh.” Is this her type? Boys who didn’t pass biology? “It’s beating really hard.”

The longer her hand stayed on his against his chest, the more his words sunk in. “How did you know it was me?” she asked, voice no louder than a distant radio and eyes trained on their hands.

“Tina told me,” he admitted, and she should have known that too. This whole saga from beginning to end had Tina written all over it.

He adjusted his hand to hold hers, and that’s when she raised her attention upwards. “But I heard it myself tonight, when you sang with Mercedes. I would know that voice anywhere, and now I know it’s you.”

He was looking at her again, the same way he did in the bar after their duet. She felt brave enough now, and less inebriated too, to recognise what it was. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Finn seemed to freeze, and she berated herself for being so stupid. She’d always been too much, too fast. Sure, he seemed interested in her tonight; and yeah, they had amazing musical chemistry; but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. What if he didn’t want it to mean anything? He’d try to let her down gently, which would of course just make her fall for him more, before offering to set her up with his friend who would probably be just as handsome but lacking that certain je ne sais quois that made Finn so attractive to her. But Rachel would be too embarrassed to say no, so she’d end up dating his friend, which meant spending more time with Finn but not with Finn, and that would hurt too much. No, she should not date Finn’s friend, even if he offered to set him up with her. There are other guys, Rachel Berry, she told herself, willing herself to cut this shame spiral short. She would find someone else to get over her crush on Finn; she promised herself. Just like Tina always said: It didn’t matter how many no's she heard, all she needed was one—

“Yes.”

~~~

A/N (10.22.2022): Sheeeeeesh, I haven’t written prose in past tense in a long time. It was a good challenge!

I know, I know. We Finchel fans love the “You can kiss me if you want to.” / “I want to.” exchange. A classic! I hope you can forgive me for giving it a facelift for the purposes of this fanfic though, haha. By the way, do we actually know where Sam transferred from aside from ‘some all-boys school’??? For the purposes of this fanfic (Part 2), he’s from Indiana lol.

Thanks for reading; hope you guys enjoyed!

#glee #glee fanfiction #finchel #finn hudson #rachel berry #rach*

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