Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.

A/N: Sometimes these things just happen. One minute I'm prepping to work on a big fic, and the next Finchel is having sex in a scene that doesn't fit. It doesn't belong to any of my fics or the 'verse's I've written so far. Honestly, this scene just came to me without warning, and I couldn't do anything else until I had written it.

This night has been planned for weeks, right down to the dress she's wearing. They've been married two years today, but Kurt and Santana swear they've been married since the day they met. They can't really afford to go out so she suggests a little romance at home. There's a two layer chocolate cherry cake on the counter, perfectly frosted, and chicken parmesan cooling on the stove. She hums to herself as she lights the candles on the table and arranges the plates; Finn should be home any minute, and she's going to hold him to promise of showering and getting dressed for a nice dinner. But when the door swings open and he comes into the apartment she can immediately sense that something is very wrong.

He smells like smoke and ash, and his body feels broken in a million places. But he's pretty sure that the pain is only a physical manifestation of his guilt. Mike will never walk again; sure the EMT's opinion isn't the final one, but Finn's certain that the beam that landed in the middle of his best friend's back probably really did break his spine. The beam should have landed on him, should have put him in the hospital, but Mike shoved him out of the way at the last minute. He has no right to come home to Rachel when Michelle will soon find out her husband can't walk. The moment he walks into the apartment he wants to cry; Rachel's made this incredible dinner, and she put so much effort into tonight. But he can't bring himself to even look at her. When he sinks into his chair in the living room she rushes to him; the hurt in her eyes when he turns away is almost too much for him to bear.

An hour later she's put everything away in the kitchen and changed out of her dress and into a pair of yoga pants and one of his FDNY t-shirts. He's still sitting alone in the living room, face buried in his hands, and it's killing her that she's so powerless. She sinks to her knees in front of him, reaching up to pull his hands away from his soot streaked face, and when he finally looks at her she can see the tears in his eyes. A gentle hand lifts to sweep away a tear, and he lets out a shaky breath. Suddenly it all pours out—Mike, the kids in the school, the fear he'd felt as the building began to collapse, the guilt that makes his very bones ache, everything—and Rachel simply listens, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. When he finishes, she presses a soft kiss to his lips, silencing his apologies for ruining her anniversary plans. Her fingers lace with his, and a gentle tug gets him up from his seat, leading him back to their bedroom and toward the bathroom.

He's so damn sore; it almost hurts to move. Using his body as a battering ram probably hadn't been the best idea, and then he'd refused to leave Mike in that school. He'd gone in with the second team to pull Mike out of the building, and he hadn't left until they were carrying him out slung over their shoulders. Rachel's hands are soft, and she makes him sit on the side of their garden tub while she starts a hot bath before she hooks the hem of his t-shirt. Obediently he lifts his arms to let her pull it slowly upward and hover his head, and he can see the concern in her eyes as she surveys the bruises that mar his skin. She murmurs his name as if his injuries cause her physical pain, and tenderly she presses feather light kisses to his shoulders. This is not the first time he's been injured on the job, and she knows it won't be the last. But something inside her always dies a little each time she sees him hurt.

"Up," her voice shakes, but he stands at her command, toeing off his shoes and socks; part of him wants to protest when her hands find his belt buckle, but he knows better.

Shaking fingers tug his belt loose, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down off his hips. Her eyes trace the shapes of his cuts and bruises, and he steps out of his jeans as she pushes his boxer briefs down. Those too are kicked to the side, and he eases himself into the hot water; the water stings, but it feels like it's burning away his sins. He doesn't deserve her—doesn't deserve to come home to someone who loves him this much—not when Mike sacrificed so much. When he looks up, Rachel has shed her clothes, leaving them in a neat pile near the counter, and she sinks in behind him, her lips soft and gentle on the back of his neck.

"Rach, baby," she shushes him, her voice never rising above a murmur, and a rush of hot water washes over his as she wets his hair.

She knows that every fire he rushes into can be his last; there are women in her support group who've been married to firemen for over fifteen years. They've seen much worse. But Finn's never come home so devastated before, and he's certainly never been hurt badly. Her hands work slowly in his hair, washing away the last of the ash and soot that crept in under his helmet from the fire, and when she feels him begin to relax something inside her eases, unwinding the tension that she has felt since the fire came on the news. It doesn't take her long to rinse his hair and begin gently washing his back; her hands move across his shoulders, and he pulls in a shuddering breath when her lips press between his shoulder blades and she mutters I love you against his skin.

"I'm proud of you; you know that right?" She asks it as if she's afraid he doesn't, and he nods slowly. "You're brave and strong, and you do what's right no matter what the cost. You risk your life for others, and every day I'm grateful you come home to me."

It's times like this that make him glad he let her talk him into the giant garden tub in the apartment; there's no way that the two of them could sit in a normal size tub together, and right now he needs to feel her close. She rests between his legs for a moment, her hands moving in slow circles over his chest and abs, and he finally feels the tension in his body release. It doesn't take long for her move lower, and while he knows this isn't like earlier in the week when she dragged him into the shower with him and she wound up pressed against this tile moaning his name, he can't help but feel his erection stirring. Her lips lightly brush his as she washes the last of his pain away, at least for now, and together they rise from the water. Rachel wraps his waist in a soft towel, reaching for one to wrap around her chest, and his eyes stay on hers, letting the tenderness there ease his worries.

"You don't have to—"

"Shhh, Finn," she guides him to the edge of their bed, standing between his legs and reaching up to dry his hair.

"I love you," he hears his voice almost crack, and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his body.

His lips find hers, kissing her slowly and gently at first as if they hadn't kissed in months, and she melts against him. She can feel him trembling, and it shakes her; Finn never trembles, and these days he's become almost fearless. But tonight he seems so scared. Her eyes fall closed as his lips travel down her neck, nipping lightly at her collarbone. His hands slowly find their way to the towel wrapped around her chest, and one small tug allows it to slide down her body to the floor, leaving her naked in front of him. He stops, his eyes taking her in, and it suddenly hits him again. Today he almost didn't make it; today he almost left her. It could be him in the hospital, unable to walk. He clings to her, lifting her up and onto the bed in spite of the searing pain in his shoulder. His towel falls from his hips unnoticed as he settles above her.

His touch is warm and insistent, as if he needs to rememorize every inch of her body. It begins to feel as if his hands and lips are everywhere at once, igniting small fires beneath her flesh. His mouth envelopes a nipple, drawing out a whimper, and she shudders beneath him; his arm shakes as he attempts to support his body weight, one hand snaking between her thighs. Gentle fingers explore her, reveling in the way her body reacts to his touch, and her hips rock up into his hand. Her lips part in a soft keening moan, breathless as she moves against him. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion, and when she cries out his name he can feel it resonate within him. She senses his strength waning, and when he lifts his lips from her skin she shifts her weight, allowing her to roll him onto his back.

He remembers a time when Rachel was shy and uneasy, but it's hard to believe as she hovers above him now, her hair hanging damp over her shoulder, a soft smile on her lips. She presses a soft kiss to his chest, her hands slowly moving over his skin. He can't tear his eyes away as she moves, and when her small hand wraps around him he lets out a moan of her name. Her every move is almost painfully slow, and she's gentler than she's ever been. The idea of causing him any more pain is unthinkable. Lifting her hips, her hand guides him into her, and as he fills her inch by inch they moan together; their movements fall into an easy rhythm, almost by instinct, and he can't stop himself from reaching up to touch her. His large hands cup her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples. There's an easy grace about her movements, the way her body rocks with his thrusts, and she softly moans his name in unison with his own moans. He traces over the curves of body, and his eyes stay on hers, watching as they dilate with pleasure.

Everything seems to blur together, and the rest of the room seems to fade away into nothing; there's only Finn and Rachel and the building climax between them. It washes over them in waves, leaving them both trembling together, and when she allows herself to collapse beside him, he quickly pulls her into his side, ignoring the soreness that has begun to return once more. His eyes fall closed, and she presses soft kisses to the bruises on his chest, curling closer to him. She waits until his breathing finally becomes slow and steady again before allowing herself to fall asleep in his arms, murmuring the words I love you in the dark.