She hugs him tightly, peppering his face with kisses as she emphasizes what she's done, the magnitude of her news. Broadway. It's been her dream for years, and she's finally achieved it. For him, it's proof that their relationship, their marriage, hasn't held her back or kept her from achieving that dream. Her name will be in lights one day, and - if he's lucky - she'll actually call herself Rachel Puckerman so that the whole fucking world will know that she's his woman and that he's a selfish bastard who refuses to share and won't let her go. He's here with this moment and Finn Hudson is all the way back in fucking Nowhere, Ohio, and they did it. Well, technically, Rachel did it, but he's her boyfriend husband and he's right there with her, and he contributed protection and sex as stress relief, so he helped. He grins into their kiss, unable to properly kiss her because he can't stop smiling, so he just messily brushes his lips over her skin and hugs her against his body as she babbles and cries tears of what he assumes to be joy [it better be joy, he hates when she cries].

"You fucking auditioned for Spring fucking Awakening and you didn't say anything?" he asks in disbelief, because he thought he knew about every audition, every slim success, every heartwrenching failure [and he'd been there each and every time to pick her up and hold her and comfort her, just as she'd always done for him, even if he's clumsier about it than she ever was, 'cause he's easily distracted]. Sure, he's never seen Spring Awakening, and he's never cracked open the book on their bookshelf and pored through the pages, but he knew about it, knew that she loved it, knew that she'd sing "Mama Who Bore Me" when she'd wash dishes and that he liked the song about jerking off. "Did you get something good? Chorus?"