Summary: They stare at each other hopelessly until he gets an idea. Words are their problem, right? So they won't use words. They'll use pictures. Those are the same in every language. AU Finchel drabble.

Thanks to Hannah (Weasley's Revenge) for proofing and just generally DFTBAing.

This is my first fic so any feedback you may have will be a huge help! :)

Finn drags his tired ass into the Lima Fill 'n' Slurp after the longest day of his life. It's Friday, and typically he goes straight home after football practice to get ready before going out with his teammates, but he won't be doing that today. Today is a drink-hot-chocolate-with-mini-marshmallows-and-watch-a-movie-with-your-mom kind of day. He wonders if he can convince her to watch Indiana Jones- probably not- she'll probably make him watch Romancing the Stone. Again.

In a word, the last couple of days have been… crap. He always has to be the one to step up when everything goes to shit. First, his crazy football coach quit because Ms. Pillsbury blew him off. So Finn had to run captain's practices until Coach Tanaka could be replaced. Then he had to rearrange the entire set list at Sectionals at the last minute. Mr. Schue had actually tried giving Quinn the lead in Don't Stop Believing. Who told him that was okay? Does he realize that Tina exists? 'Cuz you know, she's there and can sing and stuff, but she never gets to.

Suffice it to say, Finn is not having a great week. He sighs as he stands in line, waiting to pay for his gas and Swiss Miss, when he notices her.

This tiny brunette with long, shiny hair and huge brown eyes.

She's kind of swaying on the balls of her feet as she looks through the aisle closest to the counter, picking up a package of Oreos and beginning to read the label with this little crinkle between her eyes. Evidently, something in the ingredients pleases her, because she smiles to herself, a slow, sweet smile, and walks to stand behind him in line.

Finn's blood starts to race at her proximity and he all of a sudden becomes blisteringly aware that he's still covered in sweat from practice and his hair is still matted to his forehead. He hadn't even bothered masking his odor with Drakkar Noir.

The tiny girl is humming quietly to herself, and he feels the hair on his neck and arms stand up. He shifts his body to the side, leaning against the wall, so she stays in his line of vision. And he recognizes that he is probably being a creep right now, but he can't really take his eyes off of her.

Like, when she catches him staring the first time, it's not that awkward. But like, the fourth time, it sorta is. She gives him this huge smile, and he can see her set of perfect, movie star teeth. Then she quickly looks away. And though words are, by and large, things that Finn Hudson should try to avoid, he feels that, at this point, it's really unacceptable not to say something to her.

He smiles apologetically and says, "H-hey, I liked that. What were you humming?"

She crinkles her eyebrows, and then smiles, nodding sharply before turning her attention back to the register.

And now he's just confused. Usually, this would be the point in the conversation when he would go home with his tail between his legs and think about how nobody will ever want him. But something about her smile convinces him that she's not just giving him the brush-off.

He combs his fingers through his hair, smoothing it out, and then licks his index and pinky fingers, smoothing them over his eyebrows, thus ensuring that they are looking shapely. He's about to turn to her to try again but it's his turn in line so he steps up and not so much places as throws his Swiss Miss on the counter. The prospect of walking out of there without getting her to talk to him is making him way more upset than should be rationally possible.

The girl at the register smirks at him, "Well, hello, Finn Hudson."

Finn takes his wallet out of his pocket and looks at her. He vaguely recognizes her as one of the junior Cheerios that his ex-girlfriend Quinn used to worship. Now, as only a sophomore, Quinn was her captain. Jenna, he thinks her name is. Or maybe it's Gina.

"Hey. I'm getting this," he says, gesturing to his hot chocolate mix, "and I'm pump four, so whatever the total is on that."

She giggles, licking her lips. "47.10 is your total." Crap, gas will literally be the death of him. And his meager bank account. He fishes in his wallet for the sufficient funds.

"I saw you in the game, Friday," she says, and in his mind he's like, DUH, you're a Cheerio, you're at all of the games.

But he nods anyway and says, "We'll get 'em next time," referring to their abysmal loss to the school of the deaf.

"Of course you will, with you as quarterback!" And then she actually winks at him. He just nods, handing over his money. He's kind of in a hurry to finish this transaction, because he thinks he has the perfect ice breaker for the girl standing behind him, whose humming and swaying have ceased.

"Thanks," he says, trying to avoid eye contact with Jenna/Gina as she hands him his change and he steps aside to allow the girl behind him to step up, pretending to take much longer to put away his cash then he actually has to.

"." He says in a garble.

Her head snaps to him and her big brown eyes display frustration. Then she takes a deep breath as a look of determination crosses over her face.

"S-s-sawrie, uh… Non parlo inglese."

"What?" He says, but then it hits him, she's not from here. That makes a lot of sense. No American girl in her right mind wears animal sweaters and sequined legwarmers. He wonders where she's from, but has no idea how to ask.

Her eyes fill with a sort of desperation that he immediately understands. She's trying to prove something to herself; prove that she can do this.

And he's going to help her with this. Even if he's not quite certain what "this" is. "Finn Hudson," he says, and he extends his hand for hers to shake. He figures names are safe enough for two people who don't speak the same language.

Her small hand enters his. She's really, really soft. "Rachel Berry." She says. And yeah, she has an accent. Well, obviously, but holy crap.

He takes her hand, which is still in his, and brings it to his lips, because whenever his mom makes him watch Romantic comedies with classy Europeans, that's what the men do. And like, when talking to a sexy Roman, do what the Romans do, right? He feels like an idiot, because, seriously, he just kissed her hand. But then her cheeks get really pink and she smiles at him, eyes bright, and he tries to think of other classy European things.

Jenna/Gina clears her throat and Finn remembers that he's in public. Now he has a blush to match Rachel's. Stepping away from her, he lets her finish her transaction with the now extremely irked Cheerio.

He stands there, desperately trying to work out how he can expand his time with her. His lack of strategy doesn't matter however, because when she finishes at the register she grabs his hand and starts leading him to a table in the corner of the convenience store section of the gas station.

He can't help but laugh at her forwardness, and his whole body feels jittery as she leads him by the hand. And okay, his mom always tells him never to talk about a woman's body unless he's giving her an (appropriate) compliment, but he cannot stop looking at her ass.

They sit down and she looks down at her hands in her lap. He can tell that she didn't really think her plan out past this point.

She points to herself and says, "Italia."

So she's from Italy, fuck yeah, he wasn't so far off with his Roman reference.

He points to himself and says, "America," and she giggles.

But then they are sort of at a stale-mate, because talking from this point forward isn't really an option. He knows from Mr. Schue that Italian and Spanish are really similar, and he curses himself for not paying attention in Spanish class more. Or any class for that matter.

They stare at each other hopelessly until he gets an idea. Words are their problem, right? So they won't use words. They'll use pictures. Those are the same in every language.

He takes a stack of napkins from the napkin holder and plops them on the table, then he grabs a pen out of his pocket.

She seems to catch on to his plan because her face lights up and she nods her approval.

He pales at what he should actually draw. Girls like flowers, right? He draws a big flower, taking up the whole napkin, and hands it to her.

She laughs and pulls a bobby pin out of her hair, managing to keep her perfect hairstyle intact. Using the pin, she fastens the flower to her sweater, like a corsage. He chuckles at the adorable gesture, and as she reaches for another napkin and grabs the pen from his hand, his whole body feels warm.

She covers her eyes to indicate that he should look away so her drawing can be a surprise. He covers his face with his hands, but splits his fingers so he can peek.

"Finn!" She reprimands him, laughing. And his entire body reacts to his name on her lips. He closes the gap in his fingers, and when she is satisfied that he isn't peeking, he hears the pen scraping.

When she indicates that he can open his eyes, he sees that she's folded the napkin into a mini tie for him, complete with a checker board design. She takes another bobby pin out of her hair and leans over to pin the tie to Finn's shirt. And, dear lord, she smells good. Like strawberries and vanilla. He blushes when her delicate fingers brush his collarbone accidentally.

When the tie placement is just-so, Rachel sits back down, her expression matching his. He manages to pull himself together enough to communicate the question, "What do you like?" by forming a little heart with his hand and making other random gesticulations.

Right away she draws music notes. He could've guessed that one. He points to himself to show her that he also loves music, and then theatrically acts out drumming. She giggles at him, and he's already addicted to the sound. She laughs with her whole body, like it comes from the very center of her being. He cannot help the smile that spreads across his face in response.

What the hell is happening to him?

He puts a question mark next to her music notes to ask what she likes to sing. She speaks one of the only words she knows in English: Broadway. When she says it, the word is a promise. To herself. To the world.

The impromptu date continues on like that. Laughing and drawing. He learns that she's an only child and she has two dads who travel a lot for their work. She lived all over Italy until she moved here, where she will be for the foreseeable future. He actually sighs in relief at that. And she gives him her big movie star smile, and holy crap, she should get that patented or something. She looks at him with this sparkle in her eye, like he's precious to her, and he can't really breathe.

They have a couple of misunderstandings. Like, after he finds out that she doesn't eat meat, he tries to draw her a happy cow. But she just looks really confused. He can't really blame her. It looks more like an extra-terrestrial with a spiky stomach tumor. But they always just lead to laughter and more questions.

Soon enough, nighttime approaches. He's never not wanted to leave a place so much in his life. But his mom is expecting him. Or rather, was expecting him two and a half hours ago. And there are only a couple buses left for Rachel to take home. On Monday, she starts in the immersion program at McKinley, Finn had learned to his absolute delight.

He walks her out and waits with her at the bus stop right outside the Fill 'n' Slurp. She sits next to him so their thighs are touching and he takes her hand as they watch rush hour traffic crawl by. The sunset is making the sky a hazy golden-orange.

Rachel frees her hand from his and begins drawing a pattern on his thigh, right above his knee, with her finger. At first he can't tell if she's drawing hearts over and over or if she's drawing lips. But then he looks down into her big brown eyes and her mouth is a little open and she nods, so he thinks he has his answer.

He rests his forehead against hers cautiously, testing her response. When he senses no hesitation his lips find hers in a sweet, soft kiss. Her lips opens slightly under his and he slips his tongue into her mouth, gentle, probing. One of his hands slip into her shiny hair and the other presses on the small of her back, bringing her closer, and she runs her hands up and down his back. And holy crap, holy crap, MAILMAN. But he can't stop, and when her tongue meets his enthusiastically and she moans a little into his mouth, he wraps both of his arms around her waist, needing her closer.

They only break apart when they hear an obnoxious guy yelling out his car window and honking his horn repeatedly. She watches him go by in horror until she sees the dumbstruck look on Finn's face and bursts out laughing. Just then, the bus pulls up.

She stands up and takes Finn's hand, squeezing it, and he kisses her once more, softly. She smiles up at him, and he can tell her head is spinning, just like his. Had they really met just three hours ago?

"Bye, Finn." She says.

"Ciao, Rachel."

"M-McKinley." She reminds him. As if he could forget. Knowing that he would see her Monday made his whole body feel light.

He nods and she squeezes his hand one last time before turning to board the bus.

She takes her seat and finds him through the window. She makes a heart with her hands and his own heart squeezes as he returns the gesture. She smiles, her Rachel Berry movie star smile and he watches the bus until it's completely out of view.

When he gets home that night, he offers to make the hot chocolate, and his mom is so confused by his behavior that she lets him watch Indiana Jones.

Maybe this week isn't so bad after all.