Author's Note: Second installment of the "Vegas 'Verse", written in collusion with the lovely AliFab, who also had the presence of mind to give it a brief beta-style once-over. Spoilers continue to be through "Showmance" and the promos aired pre-/9/15/09.

For some reason, after the dust had settled, Finn had been of the impression that being married (in the legal sense) wouldn't really impact his life much. Check a few different boxes on some forms, get eligible for a few extra student loans and grants, that was it. Given that he was sitting on a free ride to OSU, it was more of a favor to Rachel than anything else (well, and there was the fact that given the papers Rachel showed him right after they'd returned to Lima, getting a divorce was way more expensive than he'd realized. That might have been a teeny, tiny incentive) .

However, because it was Rachel he happened to be married to, he should have realized that it wouldn't be that simple. In his defense, it had seemed straightforward at the time. Then college happened, and he found himself abstractly pondering the concept of free time and wondering why he'd wasted so much of high school doing jack shit. First week of March, Finn came back to his room after conditioning work for football and found Rachel settled on his bed, laptop and assorted booklets out, earbuds in as she sorted through tax documents. No warning, she was just there.

"Um, hi."

"Oh, you're back. Good. Where are your W-2s?"

"Do I get to ask why?"

"Well, I've been doing some research, and it's definitely better if we file jointly."

Finn looked adorably confused. "File jointly?"

"As a married couple, as opposed to checking 'married filing separately'. There are all these incentives for married couples, so I figure we might as well take advantage of them."

"Um, sure. Wait, how did you get here? Not complaining, just, you know, I thought you were in Cincinnati until Spring Break?"

She shrugged, focussing her attention back on the information booklet which rested upon the keyboard of her laptop. "One of the girls on my floor was coming back here for a family thing. She let me tag along, and we split the gas."

"That makes sense." He let his bag drop to the floor. "But it still doesn't explain how you managed to get into my very locked dorm room." He slid onto the bed behind her, hands resting on her shoulders as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Do I need to be worried about your feminine wiles?"

She made a soft noise in her throat, leaning into his touch even as she kept her attention on the far too complicated language printed by the IRS. "You know you have nothing to worry about." She flipped a page, settling more comfortably against him. "Just asked your RA to let me in. Apparently, he's seen my picture in here, so he didn't even give me a hard time."

He flushed, and wondered if she could feel the heat in his cheeks as he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. He wasn't trying to undermine her well-intentioned efforts, really he wasn't. But it had been two months since they'd spent any time together, and prolonged celibacy was a lot worse when you knew what you were missing. He wasn't the only one feeling the time apart, either, as was evidenced by the fact that she held out for a record forty-five seconds before giving a frustrated sigh and closing her laptop in disgust. She turned, straddling his lap and leaning back far enough to be able to gesture with her hands. "I swear, they make it needlessly complicated. I mean, how many different ways are there to say 'poor student' in legalese, anyway?"

He nodded, attention captured by the cut of her shirt, which upon further examination revealed exactly the right amount of skin to tease while retaining all sense of propriety. It was that extra button, he decided as he reached up to trace the edge of the fabric; if she hadn't undone that one button, it wouldn't be so distracting, and he'd have an idea of why she'd just smacked him in the arm. "What?"

She had her hands on her hips, and an adorably frustrated expression on her face. "I said, if we can get this done today, we'll have the rest of the weekend to put to other uses. Now, where did you say your W-2s were?"

Finn sighed, and reluctantly let his hand drop down to rest upon her waist. "Desk, bottom drawer." He shifted, feeling the after-effects of the day's conditioning work beginning to manifest in less-than-pleasurable ways. "Mom sent them back with me when I came back from the long weekend."

Much to his regret, she climbed off his lap and headed for the aforementioned piece of furniture, rummaging around for the necessary paperwork. He swallowed hard as she bent over, skirt riding up just enough to be even more of a distraction than her shirt. "So, why exactly are we filing like we're married, again?"

^__^__^

Three hours and two sets of iPhone directions later, they finally entered the nearest H&R Block. Finn had his W-2s and his school related paperwork - specifically his grant and tuition information. Rachel, true to form, had a disturbingly heavy accordion file with receipts of all shapes and sizes as well as a certified copy of their marriage license. As they sat in the waiting area, Finn was struck by a wave of cognitive dissonance - he might not feel like it, especially given how much he really wanted to fidget, but he was an adult, now. It was incredibly disconcerting.

He flipped through the papers that Rachel had already prepared, skimming over the lines filled with scraggly penmanship that was one of Rachel's private pet peeves (no matter how hard she worked at it, her letters were never quite even). He'd admit, he hadn't bothered to really think about his taxes yet, but then his previous experiences with tax season normally involved his mom bursting into his room on the Saturday before April fifteenth and demanding to know where his W-2s were now now now, because she'd completely forgotten it was April, and she felt like it was her obligation to sort out his taxes until he went off to college. She'd watch old movies all day and there would always be really good snacks sitting around, and that was pretty much all he knew about taxes. He really had planned to be on top of things, this year, but it was also still early March - he was just waiting for his end-of-term papers to be done before he sat down with the various forms and made his brain melt for an evening.

He glanced up when he realized Rachel was fidgeting, and reached over to place a hand on her rapidly bouncing knee, stilling it with gentle pressure. "Relax. I'm sure they'll know what they're doing. This is a college town, I doubt I'm the first scholarship kid they've seen."

"I know. I just want to, you know, get this done." She smiled, the movement tighter than he was used to seeing, echoes of non-existent stage fright and laryngitis scares nestled deep within her eyes, and he wondered if there wasn't something else going on.

"Rachel?" She nodded, attention refocused on her fingers as she played with the fastening of the accordion file. "Rachel, look at me."

She raised her head so abruptly that her hair briefly obscured her face, and she blew it out of the way with an annoyed huff. "What?"

"You want to tell me what this is really about? Because don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to have you out here for a weekend, but if this was just about my taxes I could have mailed you my paperwork for a lot less than the cost of gas."

"Can I tell you about it later?" That was Rachel-speak for 'I'm going to distract you with sex tonight/tomorrow and then I'm going to leave and maybe tell you what it was on the phone next week.' Finn had been down that road, and it generally involved him spending a lot of time with the tackle dummies and finally calling Quinn or Mercedes for advice (and weren't those some awkward memories).

"Tell me about it now."

She sighed, expression torn between annoyed and 'I am so put upon I make Job look like a slacker' (and who would have thought Christ Crusaders would be good for metaphors?) as she glanced around at the waiting area. It was empty, save for the girl working check-in and the low buzz of voices from the back of the cubicle area. Satisfied of something, she stood and handed him her folder before walking over to talk to the admin. After a moment, Rachel returned and grabbed his hand, tugging him to his feet. "She said we can use one of the cubicles, the empty ones, and she'll get us when they're ready for us."

"Okay." He allowed her to lead him through the small forest of gray faux-sound-proofing before she found an empty space with a couch. The whole process was kind of impressive, because the office hadn't looked nearly that big from the outside. He flopped down onto the couch, and tried his best to look non-threatening. Quinn had always told him he just looked dumb when he did that, but it seemed to work well enough on Rachel, and that was what mattered at the moment. "So, talk to me."

She bit her lip, looking suddenly fragile in the open doorway of the not-quite-a-room, and his concern increased when she crossed her arms and focused her gaze on the motivational poster on the adjacent wall. "It isn't, I mean, it's not like it's anything serious."

"Good, no one's dying. So what's wrong?" Over the years, he'd noticed that people had a tendency to decide rather quickly that he wasn't the most observant person ever. It was useful, for the most part, but sometimes the fact that Rachel still did it could veer into that territory which bordered on deeply and truly frustrating.

She leaned against the wall, looking petulant as she glared at the image of an eagle soaring above text that extolled the virtues of leadership. "Nothing's wrong, I would just prefer to get our taxes filed sooner rather than later, and I really would have preferred not having to go to a professional to do it."

He blinked, because while Rachel had a very perverse independent streak a mile wide, she was also generally the first to delegate or hire out when something wasn't part of a skill-set she found worth taking the time to acquire. "I'm...sorry?"

She probably rolled her eyes, but he couldn't actually tell from his sprawl on the couch. "Don't be, it's not your fault. Your tuition paperwork was the least of my problems. Well, not the least, but my itemizations are a much bigger headache than your scholarships."

"So, then, why exactly is this an issue?"

"Because I'd rather not pay someone to do something I should be able to do myself."

That drew a frown, and Finn pushed himself upright until he was sitting on the edge of the couch cushion. Something in her tone was, for lack of a better word, off. "Wait, is this about the money? Because as much as I appreciate your concern, they give me a stipend along with my general scholarships. This isn't exactly going to break the bank."

She nodded, but still didn't meet his gaze. "No, I know. I just, it's silly, I guess." She sighed, arms visibly tensing for a moment before she appeared to relax. "Don't mind me, it's just performance season. You know how I get."

He stood, crossing the two strides of distance and tugging her into his arms. "Yes, I do know how you get, and this isn't performance stress." He rested his chin atop her head, waiting to see if she dropped the act. When she didn't, he pulled back far enough to slide his fingers under her chin and force her to meet his gaze. "What's really going on here, Rachel?"

She shrugged, tilting her head to break his grip and then pressing close against his chest, arms sliding around his waist and gripping tightly. "Dad lost his job."

"Ouch."

She laughed softly, some of the tension going out of her arms. "Yeah, ouch. Twenty years with the same company, and some venture capital group buys them out and it's layoffs every four months. We thought, after the last round, that they'd just let him stay on until he was eligible for early retirement." She shrugged again, a movement more felt than seen. "We thought wrong."

"How are, I mean, you know-"

"Oh, my other dad's still doing fine, and it's not like they're going to lose the house or anything. But even though they haven't said anything, I don't feel right asking them to help with the end of the year stuff right now, you know?"

That was something he understood, and suddenly a lot of her behavior made a lot more sense. Rachel and her dads had kind of a strange relationship, at least from where he stood, but it seemed to work for them so he'd never bothered to try to understand it past a certain point. That might be something he had to change, if they were still filing joint taxes in 2014.

"Why didn't you say something?" It was a stupid question, and he knew it the moment it was out of his mouth, but then he'd never been terribly good at censoring them beforehand. Hindsight, and all that. He answered his own question before she could do more than stiffen in his arms. "No, never mind. I get it, I really do. But, God, Rachel. I'm your friend. You've certainly helped me out enough, over the years. I-" He was interrupted by a timid knock at the door, and looked up to see the girl from the front of the office standing there and looking awkward.

She fidgeted with her sleeves for a moment, then seemed to remember herself. "Um, Mr. Bujnowski is ready for you, now."

"Thank you, we'll be right there." Rachel dismissed the poor girl before he could take in much more than her presence. Once she'd left, Rachel pushed at his chest until he released her. "Finn, I... appreciate the sentiment. Let's just wait, see how this goes, and then we can talk about the rest, okay?"

He nodded reluctantly, and gestured for her to precede him out into the morass of cubicles. If nothing else, watching Rachel take on a professional tax preparer had the promise of quality entertainment

^__^__^

That evening, taxes filed and electronic reimbursement assured, he pulled out the forms they'd filed, and they went over them step by step, together. Because there was a certain point at which being married meant something aside from just a piece of paper, whether or not they wanted to admit it, and it wasn't like he was using all of his stipend, anyway.

~ Finis ~