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Rachel & Finn

don't piss off short people. rachel/finn fanfiction

A Community for Finn/Rachel from Fox's GLEE

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don't piss off short people. rachel/finn fanfiction

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Title: Don't Piss Off Short People
Author: elimaru
Rating: PG-13 (mild language)
Warnings/Comments: Pure drabble. In no way related to how the characters would probably act in the show. First time writing fanfic for Rachel and Finn...comments and criticism appreciated! (Also, I could not resist using the words "malicious satisfaction" at some point in this. Considering the fact that it is my favorite phrase to use in real -life conversations, I figured my embarrassing obsession could be put to some use here.)
Summary: Finn learns not to piss off short people.

“Didn’t see you at glee club today. Again.” Rachel arches her eyebrows as Finn flinches at the sound of her voice, whipping his head out from behind his locker to look at her.

“I know,” he immediately says, holding his hands up, palms outward in mild defense. “Coach has been giving me a hard time—we play Carmel this weekend—Rach, don’t freak out. It’s just one practice.”

“It’s been twice this week, to be exact.” She cocks her hip and purses her lips defiantly.

“I know.”

“We compete against Carmel in two weeks, Finn.” He sees a brief and scarce trace of panic cross her eyes. “If the team’s not ready, we’re going to look like idiots.”

“Yeah, but so is my team if I’m not there practicing.”

“You’ve run the damn plays a hundred times in practice and plenty of other games!” she snips, her nostrils flaring slightly. He has to force himself not to get distracted by how attractive her face looks when it starts to turn red with frustration.

“Yeah, but—”

“And you can always come to our practices once yours are over. We finish up at least half an hour after you’re done throwing a ball across a field,” she huffs.

“Rach—”

“Finn,” she whines.

“You’re being a little harsh, you know.”

“Well, someone has to,” she defends herself, absentmindedly flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Mr. Schu is tough, but he still has a soft side.”

“And you don’t?”

She blinks and then rolls her eyes; this time both he and she pretend not to notice when she blushes.

“I have a soft spot for certain things,” she mutters, folding her arms across her chest. “But not for lack of commitment.”

“You’re acting like this is a crime or something.”

“Is that so wrong?”

“Fine! You know what? I’ll be at practice tomorrow. Happy?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll skip practice. I don’t care if coach chews my ass out; or Puck beats the hell out of me; or the entire team helps him with that; or if Quinn gets mad at me; or anything.” He shrugs.

Rachel’s lips form a tight line, her face one of very discreet distaste at the word “Quinn.”

“Good,” she says firmly.

“Good.”

Fine.

“Fine!”

“But if you’re only coming tomorrow, and skimp out the rest of the week, you’re off.” She nonchalantly leans against the row of lockers, inspecting her pink nails.

“Off what?”

“Off of Glee club. We don’t need people skipping out and ruining our chances of beating Carmel.”

He throws his arms up in disbelief. “You think I don’t feel that way about beating Carmel this weekend?”

“Football—” he can tell she is about to spit out a snippy comment on sports. He holds his hand up.

“Forget it. If you’re going to be this way, I don’t want to come to Glee tomorrow.”

She looks as if someone just sent an arrow through her heart; not wanting to come to Glee? Something was wrong with him today. He needed the sense slapped back into him.

“Maybe if you don’t want to come to Glee, you should come at all,” she snaps back, her frustration forcing words out of her mouth; she would never admit that she instantly wants to take them back, or to beg him not to listen to them.

“Maybe if you don’t want me to come, I just won’t.”

“Maybe if you won’t, then you can go and do your little victory dance around the football field,” she says spitefully and sarcastically, “when you and your cronies single-handedly wipe out Carmel in one of those good old no-hitters.”

“That’s baseball.”

“Do you really think I care?”

“No.”

“Exactly. So you,” she says, forcing herself to calm down and speak lightly, “can go to practice, and call out plays to your little heart’s content, and go be a big, strong, macho man.”

“That’s more than some of us can say,” he responds sharply with a smirk, patting her head while looking down on her, purposely infuriating her by bringing up her height.

Her eyes narrow and her jaw tightens, and he’s just about to think about how cute she really is when she’s mad until he feels a sudden, excruciating pain right on the bone of his shin. He buckles a bit and drops his hand from her head to clutch to spot where the toe of her shoe has rammed into his leg.

“Don’t piss off short people,” she says contemptuously. She smiles an irritatingly sunny smile, flips her hair over her shoulder, and saunters away in malicious satisfaction.

He smiles just a bit over his shoulder, watching her step bounce as she continues down the hallway. She is the first girl who has ever actually caused him physical pain, much less to this amount. And for some strange reason, he finds it ridiculously attractive.

Maybe he can sacrifice football today.

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