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The Fingers of Your Fire

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Prologue

Saturday, January 2, 2010

"Sweetheart?" Kurt murmured, his hand on Puck's head.

Puck looked up from the musical scrawls in his staff notebook. As usual, when he sat beside the couch, he was on the floor at Kurt's feet. "Yeah, baby?"

"I was... wondering," he hedged, avoiding Finn's inquisitive gaze. "You never did tell us about your visit to Tessera."

Puck laughed in surprise. He turned to face them both. "Uh... I guess I didn't? But I totally would, if you wanted to hear about it. I mean, Tess said we could all come visit."

Finn leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, and grinned. "No way. Like your dad would ever let us go."

"That's what we thought about LA and Gaga, too, and what did the two of us get for Christmas?" Kurt waved his hand grandly. "Voilà - plane tickets."

"Yeah, but..." Finn lowered his voice to a whisper. "We're not going to Los Angeles to have kinky sex. And tell me, honestly, what else would we be doing at Tessera?" He turned to Puck. "Am I right?"

"Totally," Puck agreed. "Unless some miracle occurs and your dad suddenly gets even more awesome than he is already, we're going to have to stick with having kinky sex right here."

"Fine, then." Kurt puffed a breath into his hair, blowing the strands off his forehead. "At least tell us about your trip, so we'll know what to expect once we're all 18 and can go ourselves."

"Mmmm." Puck leaned on one elbow, thinking, a faint smile on his face. "Well, I got to meet the chef of Chanterelle. James. He's totally huge, like, scary tall. And he makes a mean roulade." He grinned. "He wrote me a note so I could stop at Charlie Trotter's in Chicago on the way home. I totally got to tour the back kitchens, and talk to all the sous chefs..." He paused, his smile fading, at Kurt's expression. "What?"

"Noah, I love to eat your food," Kurt said. "But I'm pretty sure that you're the only one who wants to talk about it right now. Come on. Tell me something astonishing that you saw while you were at Tessera."

"Yes, sir," Puck muttered, attempting to sound sarcastic, but Kurt knew better. Then he brightened. "Oh, I know - there was this guy in a leather vest and jeans, leading a woman wearing a full face mask, on a leash. Totally naked otherwise." He looked up hopefully. "Better?"

"Uh... yeah." Kurt felt a little flushed. "Better. That counts as astonishing."

"I don't think I'd want anyone leading me around on a leash," Finn said, wrinkling his nose.

Puck raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Not even Carl?"

Finn shivered. "Um," he stammered. "Tell us something else."

Puck's grin persisted. "There was a white-haired guy who had a single-tail whip, and he was, like, fifteen feet across from this chick, and she was hanging things from her nipples -"

"Things?" Kurt choked. "What kind of things?"

"I don't know. Little decorations. They could have been car parts for all I cared. Dude. Can I go on?" He waited impatiently for Kurt's nod. "So he stood way the fuck back there, and flicked the whip, and there was a really fucking loud crack, and - "

"Boys?" They all jumped and looked up, and even Finn couldn't avoid looking guilty as Carole's face peered down at them from the stairs. "Who's going to be here tonight for dinner?"

"Uh, all of us, I think?" Kurt said, glancing around at them. Finn and Puck both nodded. "Three here. You might want to check with Sarah; she was talking about getting together with Frances, I think..."

"Got it covered." She smiled at them. "What are you guys talking about?"

Kurt swallowed back a cough, and felt his ears turning pink. "Just - Puck's trip."

"Oh, that's good. I'll call you when dinner's ready, then." She backed up the stairs, and Puck listened carefully for her footsteps to cross the kitchen.

He blew out a breath. "Okay, man, your mom's totally cool, but there are things she probably doesn't want to hear her son's boyfriend talking about."

Finn shook his head. "Kinky past," he whispered, his eyes on the floor. "Things I never needed to know."

Kurt patted his arm indulgently. "Poor traumatized Finn. I still don't think you want your mother to know everything, even if she doesn't mind the oversharing."

"Oh, hell," Puck said, slapping the couch in excitement. "I totally forgot about the cross."

"The... cross?" Kurt said slowly. He knew Puck was religious, but he was Jewish, while Kurt himself was about as atheist as they came, but using a cross in that setting... it was hard not to feel like that was sacrilegious.

"The St. Andrew's cross," Puck clarified, his hazel eyes sparkling. "Like a big X, right? There was a woman hanging from it, spread-eagle..." Finn leaned forward, and Kurt found himself doing the same; it was hard not to get drawn in by Puck's enthusiasm. "She could watch the guy flogging her in a little mirror by her head."

"Whoa." Finn looked intrigued. "You liked that."

"Fuck, yeah," Puck declared. "I had a dream about it the night after. You were there, and you, and the boy from the club -"

"And you, too, scarecrow," Kurt muttered. "There's no place like home?"

"Kind of?" Puck shrugged, not seeming bothered by the ribbing. "But yeah, I'd love to try that."

Kurt exchanged a look with Finn. Puck's newfound desire to dominate the boy in the club notwithstanding, he was primarily submissive - and it was likely that they could guess who had been doing the dominating in Puck's dream.

"Adam," Finn said, with a barely disguised grimace. "He held the flogger, huh?"

Puck looked suddenly uneasy. "Yeah," he said. "And... well. Whatever. Dreams are so weird..."

"Oh, not Adam?" Kurt grinned. "Who was it, then?"

Puck poked at the coffee table with one foot. "Uh... you? And... well, both of you, but... I wasn't in such a good space, I guess. Finn was... oh, fuck it. Things are totally better now. And I have enough new dreams every night anyway; I don't need to talk about the old ones."

Kurt ran his hand over Puck's neck, and felt his chest rise and fall with his sigh. Puck's dreams had always kept him awake, but since he'd returned from Santa Fe, they'd primarily focused on his new lover Adam, his daughter, due to be born in the spring, and the mysterious boy from the club. Kurt still wasn't sure what to make of any of them, but they didn't seem to be going away. He decided to touch on the least worrisome and most immediate of them. "Adam would enjoy Tessera, wouldn't he?"

Puck nodded, leaning into Kurt's touch. "Tess talked to him on the phone, when we were there. I think she wanted to make sure he wasn't doing anything... you know, inappropriate..."

Puck's face when he talked about Adam definitely verged on inappropriate, but Kurt didn't think it was his place to reprimand him about it. They're in love, he thought firmly. Nothing wrong with that. And, yes, maybe Adam did use a paddle on his behind... but he bought me one to use, too. The logic there made a convoluted sense to Kurt, at least in that moment, and he refused to dig any further.

Puck was going on. "But he could be there, with me, because he's an adult, as long as we all have permission. He said we should meet there sometime, the five of us." Puck nodded at Finn, who looked startled. "You and Carl could go."

"To Tessera? I, uh... I really don't think I could handle seeing Carl and Tess together... like that." He squirmed in his seat. "It's just... disturbing."

Kurt thought Finn was being a little hypocritical, complaining about the idea of Carl being Topped, when Kurt himself had witnessed Finn's own submissive reaction to Carl more than once. He didn't want Finn to be any more self-conscious about it than he already was. He'd only just gotten used to the idea of being a Top himself when he'd been ambushed and smitten by Carl. Kurt understood the brain-twisting that sometimes went along with being a switch. And he knew the effect Carl had on Finn. Kurt couldn't deny he was handsome, but Finn was definitely responding to more than just his dashing good looks.

"So Tess seemed to approve of Adam, then?" Kurt said, trying to drag the conversation back to more comfortable territory.

"Yeah, I think she might even have him come perform there sometime. He'd be a big moneymaker for her." He laughed. "They totally tag-teamed me, when I got up in the middle of the night and went poking around in the guest room... she gave me a hell of a sp- oh, hey, Burt."

Kurt looked up to see his dad standing right there, next to the television. He wondered how long he'd been there. Yes, his dad had said no more secrets, but that didn't mean he really wanted to know what that paddle Adam had sent him for Christmanukkah was supposed to be used for. "Hi, dad," he said.

"Puck," his dad said, staring fixedly at the empty coffee table, "Carole needs some help using that mandoline slicer you got for Christmas?"

"See, I told her I'd make dinner," Puck said, climbing to his feet and trotting up the stairs after Burt.

"She wanted to do it, for once. Just humor her, okay? And for god's sake, tell her it's delicious." Their voices faded away as they rounded the corner to the upstairs.

In the silence, Finn stretched out one long leg across the couch and touched Kurt's knee tentatively with his foot. "You wouldn't feel weird, if I... went to Tessera?"

Kurt nudged Finn's foot back. "With Carl?" Finn blushed and looked away, but after a moment. he nodded. Kurt thought about it. "I don't think so," he finally said. "If Tess trusts him, and he's taking good care of you... I can't complain."

"Kurt," Finn said gently. "You could. I mean, dude, you're my boyfriend. You don't have to like it that I'm... that we're..." He shrugged.

He knew Finn didn't feel any more comfortable talking about his feelings for Carl than Kurt did. "No," Kurt assured him. "It's not our agreement. No hiding; no lying. Right?"

"Yeah," Finn agreed. "I'm just trying not to feel too guilty about it."

That was a big enough admission for Finn that Kurt crawled across the couch and into his lap, twining his arms around his neck and kissing him until Finn stopped resisting and kissed him back. "You're not breaking any agreements," Kurt said, when they paused for air. "You're just being honest."

"For fuck's sake," they heard from the stairs, "I walk out of the room for five minutes and the two of you are into each other's pants."

Puck was smiling, of course. No matter what else was happening outside of their triad, it was a relief to know they could count on it - that they were back together. Mostly. Things weren't one hundred percent back to normal between Puck and Finn, but it was good enough that when Puck leaned over to kiss Kurt, he paused to kiss Finn, too.

"The two of you are just so damn sexy together," he whispered against their lips, and Kurt couldn't help but shiver.

"You should talk," Kurt murmured back, running a hand under Puck's t-shirt and tucking a finger into the waistband of his jeans. Finn made a low groan and cupped a hand behind Kurt's head - just in time to see Sarah and Frances stepping through the door to the garage, stamping off their boots and laughing.

"Bad timing, squirt," Puck muttered, while Finn sighed. Kurt climbed back out of Finn's lap with reluctance - but, really, as mature an eleven-year-old Sarah was, they didn't need to add to her education by making out in front of her.

"Hi, Frances," Finn said, smiling at her, and she blushed crimson before giving a little half-wave back.

"You have got to see the snow fort we built," Sarah declared, flopping down on the couch between Kurt and Finn. Frances perched on the edge of the coffee table. "It has four rooms, a snowball stockroom, six turrets and a lookout tower. And a secret escape hatch with a slide."

"And we will happily destroy you tomorrow at noon," Puck said cheerfully. "Winner takes possession of the fort and has to do dishes for a week."

"Deal," Sarah said, grinning. It was kind of a joke, because of course Puck didn't mind doing the dishes. She reached over Kurt to shake Puck's hand.

"It's supposed to be forty-six tomorrow afternoon, anyway," Frances offered. "It'll probably melt before -"

"Way to sustain the illusion of strength," Sarah muttered, rolling her eyes, but Frances didn't seem to be offended. "We'll hammer you with our arsenal before it all disappears like so much frozen water. And Tatenui told me to tell you that it'll be dinner in fifteen minutes, so you should stop sticking your tongues down each other's throats."

"He never said that," Kurt demanded, as Frances made a squeaking noise.

"So I'm exaggerating. It's still almost dinner. Come on, guys." She stood up again, and Frances stood with her. "You can have all the tongue you want after we eat."

Finn watched Sarah head up the stairs with disappointment. "Fifteen minutes?"

But Kurt just coaxed Puck off the floor. "Come on, Finn. This is us. Fifteen minutes is plenty." He beckoned him toward his bedroom door with one finger. "I bet we'll even have enough time for a shower afterwards."

"Yeah, and I didn't tell you about the specialty rooms yet," Puck added with a wicked grin, looping his arm around Finn's waist. "Like the school room... or the military room... or the doctor's office..."

"God," Finn moaned, and Kurt couldn't suppress a smile as he closed the door.

One Week Ago

Carole set down her knitting, glancing into the living room at Kurt and Finn playing video games on the small television - well, Finn playing video games, and Kurt complaining - and thought about what she had seen between her son and his new sweetheart. She sighed. I have no idea what to do with this.

The fact was, Finn seemed to be taking after her. It was true, Christopher had never been very understanding about her history, and she had mostly kept it to herself. It was in her past - things she had given up in favor of being a sensible single mother - but that didn't make them any less a part of her.

She needed to talk to someone about this, and she knew it wasn't going to be Burt. He was the kindest, funniest, most thoughtful man she'd met in years, but he was as vanilla as they came, and even the thought of some of the activities his own son might be involved in was enough to give him hives. This made her chuckle to herself. Which means my son is probably doing them, too.

It wasn't really so much of a surprise. The hardest thing was thinking about him doing them with this new gentleman. Even judging by the few minutes of interaction she'd witnessed between Finn and Carl, it was clear what role he was playing in that relationship. It wasn't exactly in line with the way she'd always thought of her son. Nor was it really compatible with the way he'd been behaving with Puck for - well, for their entire friendship, really.

But things had clearly changed there, too, she thought. Finn and Puck were on more equitable terms now than they ever had been. Maybe it wasn't what she'd thought, after all? She sighed. She needed more information, but she didn't want to press Kurt on a topic that clearly was personal to him, and Finn wasn't in any position to discuss it.

Then she considered what Kurt had said: Carl is Tess's friend. It was clear who she needed to call.

Tess tucked her feet up underneath her, and gave Carl a smile as he draped a soft afghan over her. "Thank you, honey."

"What are we watching?"

"What would you like? I'd like to do something that doesn't involve me thinking for a little while."

He laughed, picking up the remote to click the television on, looking to see what was in the DVD player. Carl glanced beside himself at her, but as usual she showed no reaction.

"Seriously, Tess? Gone With The Wind?

"Argue with Clark Gable, you little beast. And put something else in, if you like."

"Hmm. Portrait of Jennie?" He knew Tess loved the old black and white films - "Hey, ow," he protested, as she swatted his hip.

"No, my lovelorn darling, not Portrait of Jennie. Try again."

"Mmm. Top Hat? Astaire and Rogers?"

"Yes please," she said with satisfaction, starting to rise. He laid a gentle hand on her arm.

"I'll get it, Tess." He changed discs, and turned to see her smiling at him. "What?"

"I'm glad to have you with me," she told him firmly. "Thank you for coming back."

"Of course." He leaned down and kissed her cheek, and took a seat next to her.

The opening scene rolled, and Tess jumped a little.

"Tess?"

"My phone," she sighed, fishing it out of her pocket. "I can't imagine who - oh my. Honey-" Carl's eyes were panicked as he glanced at the display, and spotted Carole's name. "Hush. It's fine - there's three boys there, love, who might need a word. You relax. Carole? Hello there," she said easily, patting Carl's thigh firmly as she rose.

"Tess," Carole said, smiling. "It's nice to hear your voice. Thanks for picking up - I hope I'm not disturbing you?"

"Heavens no, Carole. You're fine."

She sounded calm, but Tess thought she might be detecting a note of anxiety behind her relaxed exterior. "That's good to know. Are you having a good Christmas?"

"Absolutely. My father's always here for Christmas, and he and the boys spoil me terribly," Tess said fondly. "James and Stephen stay as well; they're family."

"I'm so glad to hear that. I'm having more of a family Christmas than I have in years. My own family - and there are a lot of them, believe me - are all far away, and I don't see them very often."

"I'm sorry, Carole," Tess said compassionately.

"Oh, no - now that Puck is back in Lima, I see plenty of the three of them together. It's nice to be home with Burt and the boys."

"How are they? I haven't had a call from Puck in a few days."

She heard a hesitation. "It's good," she said. "They're so much better than they were this past month, after the fight. But it's... different. I'm not even sure how to put a finger on it, but both Burt and I can see it."

"I understand. That was a big, deep hurt, for the three of them, and things like that change a person - I dare say they've all grown up a little, hmm?

"Well, certainly they've done a little growing - they're sixteen year old boys. I sometimes feel like I open my eyes in the morning and can see Finn has grown a quarter of an inch overnight." She chuckled to herself. "But it's more than that. And... it has something to do with Finn's new romantic interest. That's actually why I'm calling. I hear you might know him."

Tess repressed a smirk. "Oh, you mean Carl?" She glanced at her boy as she spoke his given name, watching him cringe. So adorable.

"Yes... Carl." Carole said the name tentatively, as though she weren't quite sure what to make of him. "He came to the house, to take Finn out for coffee. He's... impressive. And he was very kind to Finn."

"I'm glad to hear that. Yes, I know him - we met in the Army, Carole, I think Carl was twenty-seven."

"Oh - so that was some time ago. Not that I'm making a comment on your age, Tess." She was smiling as she said it. "But Carl... he's not a young man. I suspect he's older than I am."

Tess laughed. "I'm not that old yet. And you know what they say, honey, a lady never gives her age. It's not so much the years that matter, I think, it's the person wearing the birthday suit."

Carole sighed. "I understand, and I agree... but you understand, this is my little boy, and... it's just a bit of a challenge to see him so clearly smitten by a gentleman so much older than he is."

"Would it help to know the age differential?" Tess asked sympathetically, reaching out a small fist and socking Carl's thigh firmly, then laying a finger over her lips.

"I'm not sure," Carole admitted. "But... more information is generally better than less, in my opinion. I suppose I can handle it. Although you may have to let me go pour myself a glass of wine first."

Tess laughed. "Go pour, honey. And I can cement that urge, here. I'm only six years older than Carl, and you'll have to tell me where and when you were born, love, to tell you the rest."

Carl's face was crimson. "She's talking about me, isn't she? God. Maybe I should go take a walk in the gardens."

Tess shook her head, and rested a heavy hand on him. "You stay put," she hissed at him, covering the phone for a moment.

"I'm from Dayton, born in 1972," Carole said. "I can't imagine he's that much older than I am."

"Wine in hand?" Tess inquired, and Carole laughed.

"Yes, I poured myself a glass of pinot gris."

"And you're sitting down? I don't want to have to ring Burt to tell him you've fainted." Her tone was teasing.

Carole's laughter intensified, and she heard her say to someone else, "No, honey, I'm fine. It's just a friend." Then, more quietly, she added, "I'm made of sterner stuff than that - trust me."

"So I thought. Nine years, Carole, between the two of you, give or take the months separating your birthdays."

"Oh." Carole did sound a little faint, but she took a deep breath and added, "Thank you. I did ask for it. But... god, Tess, that's a lot of years. What... thirty? For Pete's sake. I'm not sure what that might imply about Carl. Or Finn."

"Carl and I have discussed this at length." Tess' voice was firm. She socked him again as he moved, taking a breath to protest. "I was dubious about the age differential as well. But Carl," she said, a little iron sneaking into her voice, "is... answerable... to me."

"Oh." Carole's response was hushed. "I had - well. I guess I might have suspected, but... Tess, I really need to be clear here. Are you telling me you're responsible for this man?"

"Let's define responsibility, here. Am I responsible for Carl's career? No. Am I responsible for ensuring that he gets his bills paid on time? No. But am I responsible for the... type of relationship that he's embarking upon with Finn? Yes." Tess kept her voice kind. She patted Carl's thigh warningly, as he flushed even more deeply, hiding his head in the arm of the couch.

"Yes - yes. That's what I meant." Carole paused. "I'm... actually familiar with this sort of relationship. It's been a long time, but when I saw Carl and Finn together, I... I remembered."

"Really." Tess hesitated, glancing at Carl. "It would help if I understood a little more, Carole. I don't mean to pry, but I would like to relieve your mind. But only if you're willing, and comfortable to speak."

"No, I am. It's been a while since I talked about it, but I don't have any secrets, really. Just a lot of history, there. And... well, Burt isn't aware of most of it. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't tell him, or that I won't tell him. I think he just needs a little time to get used to the idea that I used to do certain things."

Tess laughed, startling Jesse a little. She smoothed his dark hair fondly. "I understand. And you... you might rely on John a little, here. He's been through this - and I think he might be able to help Burt understand, to some degree. And if you're willing, I'm here, Carole."

Carole sounded surprised. "That's very thoughtful of you, Tess, and... I might take you up on that. Thank you. I think we need to start with a little discussion of our own, though. I'm pretty certain Burt is aware of a few things going on between Kurt and Puck and Finn, even if so many words haven't been said. He's making progress on his own, at his own pace."

"It's no secret, Carole. Sam and Dean? Or if I order that properly, Dean and Sam. I know they've stayed with you, and you're... perhaps aware? of some of the intricacies there - but Dean disciplines Sam."

"Well." Now Carole was thoughtful. "I had some suspicions about that between Puck and Finn, myself, but... well, Kurt is such a sweet boy. I didn't expect him to be involved in this kind of thing. I don't know all the details - though I'm sure Finn would tell me, if I asked. I've let them keep it to themselves."

"If you're worried, Carole, ask. And don't just ask Finn - I'm fairly certain Carl has provided you with his number? You call Carl, and you ask outright. You're the mother of a young, sixteen year old boy - to whom you've given wide permissions - and you ask if you need to. Now, I'm not going to be privy to all of the details between the boys," she said casually, watching Carl's face sink into his hands. "And I won't be able to tell you anything that I've been asked to keep confidential. But you've raised an upright, honest boy, there - he takes good care of Noah, and of Kurt. For him to need something of his own? Not an extraordinary thing, it's all right. Carl is experienced, and he's closely invested in this - he's a very honorable person, Carole. It hasn't been easy for him, I think, to find that he has such intense feelings for Finn." She continued to stroke Carl's dark hair, feeling him relax into her a little. She smiled down at him fondly, even though he was barely able to glance at her, flushed darkly with anxiety and embarrassment.

"Yes, he does seem to," Carole murmured. "And Finn seems to feel them right back. I don't know for certain how far things are going to go between them, but... I know Finn, and I could see right away what he was feeling for Carl. I don't want to stand in the way of that kind of intensity, but.. I'm not sure if it's good for him. He's sensitive, and he could easily get hurt."

Tess was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Carole. I've seen any number of relationships that look unbalanced from the outside, for various reasons - age, gender, experience... I can tell you that I've asked Carl to think through all of the various steps - the levels, if you would, that a relationship like this can go to. I know Finn is sensitive - he wouldn't be so receptive to Noah's needs, or Kurt's needs, if he weren't. And... Carl is a sensitive man, Carole." Her hand rested heavily on Carl's dark head, feeling his shoulders shudder a little, next to her. She sighed. "It's not going to be easy, I'll warrant that. I considered for a long while, personally. And I've - " she hesitated, looking at Carl. His watery eyes met her, and he nodded a little. She leaned forward, holding the phone away for just a moment to kiss his temple gently.

"I've asked him to talk this over with me. To be honest with me, about what he's feeling, what he wants. And equally, he's agreed to listen to me - you may think of me as Finn's advocate, in a way, here. He's young, and inexperienced, and he needs looking after. I'm trying, Carole. The only thing I can't protect is Finn's feelings. And I'm fairly certain that if J- if Carl listens to me, that Finn will be frustrated, maybe even hurt - because I'm cautioning Carl to be slow, and deliberate, and to use his brain."

Carole laughed. "Well... if there's one thing it's difficult to expect of a man in love, it's that he would use his brain."

"And if he uses the wrong one, he'll be hearing about it from me, in a manner which would perhaps... deter future lapses in judgement." She ignored the cringe beside her, gently patting at his backside. It was sure to be sore, but it wouldn't hurt him, to remind him that softly. "And I have no hesitation to not only explain to Finn, but to ensure that Finn witnesses."

Carole sounded suspicious. "Witnesses... Tess, can you be more specific, here?"

"Carl Jesse is answerable to me, Carole. He has been for a long time. If he errs that badly - I'll put him over my knee, bare, to bring the lesson home. And be certain that I'd be placing a phone call to you at that point as well." Tess ignored the desperate squirm next to her on the couch.

Carole sounded more calm, now, which was a relief to Tess. "Can I just tell you - I'm gratified to hear that?"

"Thank you," Tess told the younger woman. "It's no less of a standard, Carole, than he's been held to for half his life, now. There's no shame in that," she said, to both Carl and Carole, really.

"Oh, no," Carole assured her, "I don't see any shame in it at all. It's just been - well, a while. Since... I did anything like that."

"Carole?" The question was implicit, and very quiet. Her hand moved to soothe Carl's back. She wanted more than anything to draw him to her, to relax him, but she was well aware that she might now need to move to let Carole have complete privacy, for their conversation.

Carole's answering chuckle was rueful. "Honestly, it's been years since I thought about it, and even before Burt and I got together... I didn't think I'd be bringing any of it back up. But then Finn..." She paused, and then resumed, thoughtfully. "You know, I think I must have noticed something between him and Puck, long ago... but I didn't really see anything clearly happening until Puck made us dinner, back at the beginning of November."

"And what did you see - that you thought you recognized? And I won't lie, Carole. I'm curious to know why you recognized something."

"I'm not even sure." There was a thoughtful pause. "This was the only the second time I'd seen the three boys, together. I'll be honest; the friendship Puck and Finn has had has always been a little unusual, but I didn't really notice anything until then. Finn was... calmer, and more in touch with his feelings. And the way he was with Kurt... they were both calmer. I think - I think he and Finn, both, were taking care of Puck."

"That's very typical, Carole, and I dare say you know that?" Tess hinted. She wasn't ready to push, by any means, but she was reaching the end of her patience. Carl was slowly relaxing under her touch, and she'd wiped a tear or two away, not worrying about it.

"As I said, it's been years, but... yes. I'm familiar with this kind of relationship. I also know how much it can affect a couple... or in this case, three of them. I don't want to stand in the way of them, discovering their own way."

"Carole. Help me out here. How familiar?" Tess gentled her voice away from the hard tone she'd rather be taking. She felt Carl's curiosity under her hand, but she didn't change the soothing strokes along his back, quieting him.

Carole's response came after a long pause. "About the time that Finn was born, I met someone who introduced me to the scene. She... for me, it was mostly social, recreational, but I could see that it was significant to her. I knew - I know it can make a big difference between two people." She took a deep breath. "I haven't had that kind of relationship... in a long time."

"Carole?"

Her voice was low. "I'm not really certain how Burt would take it. It hasn't come up. But now that it's clear that Finn is doing something of that sort, I suspect it's going to have to."

"Sweetheart," Tess said. "Yes." She shook her head at Carl, who was looking at her with a half curious, half desperate gaze.

"It's possible it won't be a problem, after all. Burt's been remarkably willing to deal openly with the three boys together." Carole laughed again. "Do you know, that first night we met, I didn't think I was going to like him. He sure changed my tune quickly enough."

Tess laughed in return. "I don't think he'll feel any differently about your history, Carole. He might feel differently about you asking him to participate - but that's up to you, to judge." No, she shook her head at Carl, and then later, she mouthed, feeling him squirm, but patting him comfortingly.

"I know. I don't think I'll ever really be able to let that history go, but... starting again in a relationship at all, after so many years, Tess... we're starting again, this enormous conglomerate family of ours. It's better than anything I've had in years. I don't want to risk it."

"That's what makes honesty so important," Tess told her softly. "The lack of honesty, that's the true risk."

"Of course," said Carole, "you're right. I'm just going to have to figure out how to go about it. We have lots of time."

"Honey... never assume you have time. You may need to approach it slowly and gently, but make a start."

Tess could hear Finn's voice in the background. "Hey, Mom; we're heading to bed now."

"Oh my, don't turn that one down, Carole. I don't remember the last time I had a boy suggest that he was going to go up to bed on time." She patted Carl's thigh meaningfully, watching him hide his face again.

"Finn's a good boy," Carole said, with a smile. "I've always known that. You have a good night. I'll talk to you again soon. Merry Christmas, to you and - everyone."

"Thank you. I'll pass that along. Enjoy the time with your boys, and with Burt." Tess disconnected the call, and held up a hand to Carl, who had launched himself upright.

"Tess," he exclaimed, aghast. "Is she - she's not going to ask Burt to discipline her?"

She sighed. "That's what comes of only hearing one end of the conversation, love. No. And mind I don't have her permission to speak to you about what she's shared with me - shush. I think it's better that the two of you have those conversations - oh, stop it. She's been wonderful, and very permissive thus far, young man. Keep an open line of communication with her. The only thing that I will say to you is that apparently she understands far more than either of us imagined. Perhaps that will make it easier."

Carl contemplated that dubiously. "Maybe. I'll try, though, I promise."

"That's my good boy," she praised. "And thank you for not making a peep. Now, do we need to discuss this, or shall we go back to relaxing?"

"I'll take the second option."

"Then come here, you." Tess pulled him close to her, and kissed him gently and matter of factly. "I do love you, you silly molecule."

He chuckled at that, and got his arms around her, leaning back with her, smiling as she shifted, and pulled her feet up on the couch, tucking them flat against his shins, the way she always had. That more than anything else let him pick up the remote and start the movie again, her dark head resting on his shoulder.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Breakfast was Jesse's favorite meal of the day. If he did it early enough, he could get eating over with and not think about food for a while. He could eat a lot of carbs and not get looked at funny, because when you danced as hard as he did, you needed a lot of fuel. And it was pretty much the only time he ever got to see his dad anymore, which, as far as he was concerned, was just the way things were. He and his parents all expected Jesse to grow up and leave Ohio, and now senior year was coming to an end. He wouldn't be sticking around much longer. He'd learned that his uncle and aunt were really his birth parents when he was in middle school, and since then, his dad had made an extra effort to spend time with him while they were still living in the same state. And, well, he saw his mom every day at school. Sometimes he wished for a little less time with her, to tell the truth.

Their favorite place to meet for breakfast was the Coney Island in Mansfield, the one on Fourth Street near Martini's. It was just halfway between Lima and Akron, so neither of them had to drive more than an hour and a half to get there. They met every couple weeks to talk, and his dad gave him another check for school because really, when your adoptive parents ran a daycare center and your birth dad was a lawyer, there wasn't much contest about who was going to pay for private school. He always threw in a little extra money, too, which Jesse appreciated; voice lessons didn't come cheap.

His dad lit up in a smile as Jesse sat down at the table and set the fat envelope in front of him. "UCLA?" he said, picking it up. "They liked your audition tape?"

"If a full ride is any indication," Jesse said, trying to sound cool about it and totally failing. "Looks like talent counts to them more than perfect grades in math."

"I told you that C in geometry wasn't really going to hurt you." His dad ran a hand through his blond hair, and handed Jesse a menu. "Come on; we'd better order before the breakfast rush starts."

Jesse watched his dad over the top of the specials list. Sometimes Jesse really resented how freaking gorgeous he was - and he knew what he was talking about. Not that he thought of his dad that way, but he had eyes, and they would have had to have been completely nonfunctional for him not to notice. Jesse knew he was cute, in a Harry Potter teddy bear kind of way, but there was no way he could match his dad. There was too much of his mom in him.

"You're going to take it, aren't you?" His dad took a sip of his coffee and cocked an eyebrow at him. "I mean, you'd have to be a complete idiot not to."

"Yeah, I'm going to take it."

His dad nodded soberly. "I'm sure you'll come home for holidays. Who knows; maybe you'll meet a nice guy and I can fly you both out here for Thanksgiving..."

"Whatever, dad." He grinned good-naturedly at the suggestion. "I think you're going to be way too busy with your new guy to notice much about me for a while."

It was pretty easy to pick up his dad's not-so-subtle cues, too, and his grin widened as his dad's face turned an interesting shade of scarlet. "Who told you?" he demanded. "It wasn't your mom, was it, because I didn't say - she doesn't -"

"Not her. Nobody, in fact; I just guessed. You're practically displaying it in LED letters on your chest. I'm in love." He laughed at his dad's disgruntled expression. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you. When do I get to meet him?"

"He's in Iowa," his dad said, but then the waitress was there to take their order, and they had to pause in their conversation for a moment. Neither of them were particularly closeted, but they knew enough to be careful. As soon as Jesse had figured out he was gay, his dad had explained how things were in small-town Ohio. Your personal life is just that: personal. Don't air your dirty laundry; no sex or fighting with your lovers in public. And sometimes, it helps to have a little camouflage. His dad's high-powered lawyer persona was handy for that. Jesse relied on his friends at school to provide his cover most of the time; he had plenty of female performer friends in Vocal Adrenaline who went with him to prom and on the occasional date. He knew he was lucky to have not two, but four understanding parents, none of whom judged him or expected him to be something he wasn't. Soon he'd be able to escape the confines of the midwest. He felt a shiver of excitement at the prospect.

"Iowa, huh? Long drive." He watched his dad nod glumly. "And even more middle of nowhere than here. I'd think you'd be sick of midwest sensibilities by now."

"I think when you get older it doesn't matter so much," said his dad. He smiled at the waitress as she set his omelette in front of him, and she visibly melted a little. When she walked away, his dad leaned in. "He's a chef, and he works for a restaurant down there, in a club."

"That kind of club, huh?" Jesse murmured, sampling his French toast before buttering it. He knew well enough what his dad did in his free time, and about his consulting business. "Well, at least he understands that part of you. You're not going to try to hook up with somebody like Mom again, are you?"

His dad snickered. "What, you mean somebody vanilla? Or somebody female? Either way, not really my cup of tea."

Jesse smirked. Whatever had made his dad think he was straight enough to marry his mom to begin with, honestly, he had no idea. But then, they'd grown up in a tiny town, with hardly any awareness of what being gay even meant, and they'd both been juniors in high school when they had Jesse. They probably hadn't had any idea what they were doing. "Glad to hear you know it now, at least."

The shadow that fell over his dad's face didn't make any sense, but it was enough for him to add, "I mean, lucky for me you didn't know back then, because I probably wouldn't be around otherwise, huh?"

"Something like that," his dad agreed. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Jesse reached over and took a bite of his dad's omelette, and his dad appropriated some French toast in exchange.

"How's VA coming along?" his dad asked. "You guys looking at another national title this year?"

"Maybe." Jesse shrugged.

His dad leaned back in his chair and regarded him quizzically. "Don't tell me you're getting senioritis already. It's not even spring yet. You've got plenty of time left to enjoy what you've got here, Jesse. Trust me, I would have given my right arm to have these kind of opportunities in high school. Me and your mom, we were some pretty big fish in our small pond."

Jesse had heard that story a million times, but he just nodded. "I do feel lucky, Dad. It's not that." He hesitated, thinking of what she'd said to him, just the other day: Don't mention this to anyone. Not your teachers, not your coaches, not your dad. "I'm having some trouble in VA. Chandra, Andrea - they're giving me a hard time. We've got a new choreographer, and I can tell he's going to be good, but... it's tough to concentrate." He tried to make his sigh appropriately dejected. "I don't know. Maybe I'm overreacting."

"Maybe," his dad said. "Maybe not. You could talk to your mom. I'm sure she'd be okay with it if you needed a break."

Jesse almost smiled at that. "You're probably right. I'll try that."

They agreed to meet again in two weeks. He gave his dad a hug, and accepted the check he handed him. "Thanks," he added. "For all of it."

"You know you can always call me, if you need anything," his dad said, clasping his shoulder. "I'm only three hours away. We stuck around in Ohio so you'd have the kind of support you need. Don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks," he said again. "I'll let you know how my first week goes back at school."

Once he made sure his dad got back on the highway and was at least ten minutes ahead of him in the direction of Lima, he followed, carefully maintaining the speed limit so as not to catch up to him. He called his mom right away.

"You're on your way?" she asked, without preamble. "You know where to find her?"

"Hi, Jesse, " he sing-songed. "How was your breakfast, Jesse? Did you and your dad talk about anything interesting, Jesse? Like, maybe, the fact that said dad is in ridiculous love with somebody new?"

"Really." Her voice was flat. "Great. That's the last thing he needs."

"You told me you don't believe in love anyway."

"I don't. But he doesn't need that kind of distraction. He's a big enough mess without adding another person to the mix."

Jesse personally thought his mom was a pretty big mess herself, but she wouldn't have appreciated hearing that from him. "You're not telling me to sabotage this relationship, too, are you? Because I honestly don't think I'm up for two at one time. Especially not when one of them is a relative."

"What, are you getting cold feet? Having second thoughts?"

He considered the highway, stretching out before him, and sighed to himself. "No," he said. "No second thoughts. Just let me know what you need. You know I'll come through."

"I can always count on you, Jesse." Her tone was brisk, which was as close to loving as she got. "I'll see you at school on Monday."

He found a comfortable pace and set the cruise control to follow the car ahead of him. "Sure, Shelby. I'll let you know how things go with Rachel. Don't worry about a thing. I've got it taken care of."

Chapter Text

 

Episode 1.14: Hell-O, Part One - Toby

Toby reached up through layers of sleep, struggling to figure out where that godawful beeping, and buzzing, and - was that disco? - was all coming from. He sat upright in bed, ran a hand through his hair, and focused.

Okay. The beeping was his alarm clock. He reached over and slapped at it until it quieted, and then he focused on buzzing and the music. Right. Phone. Will's silly ringtone that he'd programmed in on the drive back to Ohio. And it wasn't disco, it was that Journey song he liked so much.

He scrambled for the phone before it could begin another round of the chorus. "Will." His words were clipped.

"I hope I didn't get you out of the shower," Will said softly.

"No, darlin'. You woke me, though." Toby blinked sleepily at the still-unfamiliar confines of his new bedroom. The shadows were different here. He felt disoriented.

"Woke you? Toby, you should be ready to leave for school soon." Will sounded scandalized. "You can't be late you first day."

Toby peered at his clock. 8:21. "Shit."

"What time do you need to be there?" Toby could feel Will trying to calm him over the phone.

"I'm meeting with Shelby at 9. Shit." He hauled himself out of bed and started rummaging in the still-unpacked boxes for something to wear. He always had jazz pants and a tank top in his dance bag, so he grabbed the least wrinkled khakis he could find and the deep green sweater Will had given him for Christmas.

"Gotta go, darlin'."

"I know, Toby. Call me after school? Let me know how your first day went."

"As long as you don't expect me to spill secrets, we'll be fine," he teased, grinning even though Will couldn't see him.

"Love you," Will said softly.

"Love you, too, baby."

Ten minutes later, Toby pulled into the parking lot at the Starbucks around the corner from his house, tires squealing, and let out a stream of curses. The drive-though line snaked all the way around the building, but the parking lot was empty. He almost kept on driving, but he really needed the caffeine, so he lurched into a parking spot, threw the car into park, and sprinted across the parking lot into the warmth of the shop.

"Morning," the kid behind the counter called out, and Toby skidded to a stop.

Because the boy - no, young man, because he had to be college aged at least - was a dead ringer for Colin.

"Hey," he said, taken aback and not sure what to do with the way his heart had stopped. Colin was his past, Will was his future, and this barista was not part of any plan at all.

"What can I get for you?" The young man looked him over, and his smile widened. "No, wait. Let me guess. Mmmmm..." He cocked his head to one side and put a finger on his chin. "Something sweet."

"Sweet. Yes." Toby rubbed at his eyes, and stepped closer to the counter.

"Extra shot for a rough morning?" The guy hovered at the stacks of cups, uncapped Sharpie in his hand.

"Please. Venti nonfat sugar free caramel macchiato." Toby rattled off his usual order without blinking.

"Coming right up." The man's hands moved swiftly to fulfill his order. He eyed Toby's restless legs. "In a hurry?"

"First day at a new job, and I overslept my damn alarm."

He nodded sympathetically. "Well, I'll get you out of here as fast as I can, then."

"That'd be great," Toby replied, trying not to stare at the clock on the wall. The man turned away to steam his milk, but he kept looking over his shoulder and seemed to be biting back words. Eventually Toby raised an eyebrow and sighed. "See somethin' you don't like?"

The kid startled, sloshing steamed milk over his fingers. "Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed, grabbing a rag and dabbing at his hand. "Not you," he added, looking up at Toby. "I was just wondering what brought you to this part of Ohio. I mean," he said, carefully filling Toby's cup with milk, "it's not always very welcoming here, for, um."

"Fags?" Toby couldn't help it, he was tired and he just wanted his damn coffee, and he really needed to be dancing first thing instead of sitting in a meeting with Shelby. He felt a little badly, though, when the kid flinched. Toby wasn't sure if it was from the word or from his tone. He wondered why he cared.

"If you prefer, fine, but I really hate that word." The kid held up a canister of whipped cream in a silent question, and Toby shook his head. "I heard it enough, growing up around here. And I couldn't give two hoots about reclaiming it or whatever." He drizzled some caramel syrup over the top of Toby's drink, put a lid on top and slid it into a cardboard sleeve. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Toby sighed. "Sorry about that. I've been judged plenty, too. You work mornings, uh...?"

"Jon," the kid replied as he rinsed the milk pitcher. "Yeah, mornings."

"Hi, Jon. I'm Toby. And I'll definitely be back. Nice to come to someplace and have family makin' my coffee."

Jon's answering smile was friendly enough, but all Toby could see was Colin, and the memories of their last moments together weren't pleasant ones. He regretted not seeing him at least once more before leaving Denver to say goodbye, maybe to mend some fences he'd broken in the green room with Will on his arm. Colin might not be his future, but he wasn't a bad guy, and four years of friendship and three nights a week together counted for something.

He called Will once more from the car. "I'm getting ready for my first class, Toby," he said briskly.

"Just wanted to thank you for gettin' me up and goin' this morning." He hesitated, then added, "The young fella givin' me coffee at the Starbucks was family."

"Family?" Will sounded blank. Toby sighed.

"He was gay, Will. Gay as you or me." He knew it was a mistake the moment the words left his lips, but there it was: their age-old argument. Of course Will wouldn't know that family was code for gay, because no matter what the engagement ring on Toby's finger meant, Will wasn't gay.

Will's answering sigh was tense. "Toby, I can't deal with this right now. Can I call you at lunch?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"I really do want to hear about your first day." His voice softened. "You're coming up on Friday after work, right?"

Toby wasn't going to argue questions of geography, but the snarky, sleep-deprived voice inside him said it's not up, it's over, Will, an hour to the west, and why aren't you coming over to my house instead? Instead, he said, "I sure am, darlin'. Best thing about bein' here."

Wade stuffed his dance bag into his locker and leaned against the door to shove it closed. Maria waited while he adjusted his scarf - the sweet purple silk one he'd bought in Chicago on his Christmas visit to his aunt and uncle - and then tucked one arm into his and practically dragged him up the hall to homeroom.

"It's going to be fine," she chattered over the noise of the other kids. Even though they were only freshman, the crowds parted for them, and Wade was pretty pleased that he'd let Maria talk him into trying out for Vocal Adrenaline. Otherwise, he knew he'd be one of the kids getting egged, or worse. "I don't know why you're so afraid of Mr. Grey. You seemed to like him enough, when he ran our rehearsal that day."

"I know." Wade tried to tone down the sashay in his walk, but it felt weird. "It's just- anyone can be nice when they want something. But how can we trust that he's really going to be good to us?"

She shrugged, her dark curls moving with her. "I guess we just have to believe that Ms. Corcoran knows what's best. I think he'll be a good teacher. I mean, he helped us dance better."

"Helped my chubby ass lift you, you mean." Wade hated his baby fat. His mother kept telling him he'd hit his growth spurt and he'd grow out of it, but it made him feel clumsy and not quite comfortable in his own body.

Or that could have been the constantly-there idea of his other self that was always in his head. But he definitely wasn't ready to even think about her. So.

Maria smacked his arm with her English notebook. "Don't talk about yourself that way. Mr. Grey helped your confidence by showing us the right way to do things. Not like Dakota, who just yelled all the time. Anything is better than that, right?"

Wade shrugged and pushed past two cheerleaders who were blocking the door to homeroom. "I guess. I mean, it can't be worse than that."

"Now you've jinxed us," Maria sighed. "Don't know know not to say stuff like that? Now Mr. Grey is going to turn out to be a vampire or a grownup Jesse St. James, or something."

Wade just huffed and slid into his chair. "I don't want to think about Jesse today. I have enough on my mind with Mr. Grey."

Maria just rolled her eyes. "Relax, will you? It's just show choir."

"In what universe is Vocal Adrenaline just anything?" Wade fingered the edge of his scarf. "We're a part of something. I can't- I mean- yeah. Okay. It's show choir. But . . ." Wade let his mind wander for a minute, let Unique enjoy the sensation of the silk of his scarf. She sighed, happy, and Wade had to close his eyes to get back to himself. "I think maybe, I'd be lost without it. I can't lose it because I'm the worst dancer in the group."

"Then tell Mr. Grey that. I'm sure he'd help you."

"Yeah," Wade said, slumping against the back of his chair as the bell rang. Oh, well. No sense in worrying now.

The new dance instructor rushed into the east studio just as the first bell was ringing. Bad start, Jesse thought, but he wouldn't say anything, and neither did the other eight seniors waiting for him to arrive. They just watched him set down his coffee against the wall, strip off his coat, and take a deep breath.

"I won't lie to you," he said, running a hand through his hair and laughing lightly. "I think all of y'all are masochists for wanting to take a studio class at this ungodly hour. But, then, I'm a little bit of one myself, for bein' here at all. C'mon, let's stretch."

They made a loose ring around him and found places along the barre or on the wooden floor. The time of day didn't seem to affect his flexibility any, at least, and it was quiet in the room as heads touched knees, hands reached for toes and joints crackled.

"What's a masochist?" Hayden whispered to Jesse, and he shrugged.

"Um... Mr...?" said Giselle.

He rolled his shoulders and grimaced. "Grey. Toby Grey. Y'all call your teachers by their first names, or what?"

"Mostly," Giselle said, nodding. "At least in the theater arts department. But that's up to you."

"Well, I've been Mr. Grey for the past decade. We'll start with that." He nodded back to Giselle. "Why don't y'all introduce yourselves and we'll get to know each other, since we're going to be breaking our fasts together for the rest of the semester?"

Giselle rolled with Mr. Grey's request, but some of the other students seemed thrown by it, and there wasn't a lot of talking to be had. He sighed impatiently as they made it around the circle with bare first names spoken.

"No. That won't do. C'mon, you've all seen A Chorus Line, haven't you?" They all nodded. "Well, Zach forced them all to talk for a reason. I can't help you be better dancers unless you open up to me. Unless -" He paused. "This is a dance class, right? I mean, I'm not supposed to be teaching you American history or underwater basketweaving or something?"

They all giggled at that. Mr. Grey grinned back. Jesse had to give him points for charisma, even if he wasn't setting a particularly good example by being late on his first day. He raised his hand.

"Yeah - Jesse, right?"

"That's right. It's Advanced Dance. We're all experienced dancers, and we're all in Vocal Adrenaline. This is the group that works up the routines ahead of time; we bring the routines with us to VA in the afternoon."

Mr. Grey nodded thoughtfully, his chin resting on the soles of his feet. "So y'all have been dancing together for a while, huh?"

"If you don't get into VA when you're a freshman or sophomore, you don't usually get in at all," Chandra said. "And Akron's not such a big place. We've all been taking the same classes with most of the same instructors since we were kids."

"Well, y'all might remember from my audition that I taught in Denver, at the School for the Arts. Those kids came to school from all over Colorado, starting at fourteen, desperate to have somebody tell them they were special. That what they were good at was important." He scanned the crowd. "I take it y'all would understand that point of view?"

Giselle tossed her hair. "We already know we're important," she said. But Hayden and Alice were nodding.

"I sometimes get sh- uh, crap from my cousins and the lacrosse team about being a dancer," Hayden said. "I mean, yeah, VA's cool, but not everybody's in it for the dancing." He seemed to feel everybody's eyes on him, and he looked at the floor. "I like it, okay?"

"Yeah," Mr. Grey said gently. "It is okay. It's okay to have that dream, to want to live it. I hope, if nothin' else, you can all take that away from this class." He beckoned them to their feet. "Now, c'mon. I won't make you talk anymore. Why don't you show me what you can do."

Chapter Text

 

Episode 1.14: Hell-O, Part Two - Finn

Finn dug out his phone and held it under the desk while Kurt watched him with curiosity. It was the end of American history, and their substitute hadn't said anything about kids not using their cell phones, so Finn decided it was a reasonable risk to read the text that had come in. He felt the tension in his gut as he did so, because only one person texted him during the day.

1 text - Carl Howell, DDS
 2:05pm - Come to the house after school. If you can't get a ride, call me when you're done with Glee and I'll come pick you up.

Finn hadn't expected to be invited over to Carl's at all during the week, especially not the first few weeks back to school. In fact, the rules, as Carl himself had set them down, were that Finn could only come over after he was done with his homework, and only on a day when he didn't have school the next day. Saturdays was Irene's coffeehouse in Columbus. On Wednesdays, they got together at Finn's, or a neutral location outside of town, which Carl inevitably chose. Finn didn't mind; he knew Carl needed to be careful with this relationship. It could really hurt his career if people found out he was doing stuff with a boy thirty years his junior.

Doing stuff. As much as they were doing anything at all. Finn understood that he'd given Carl the reins, to go as slow as he deemed appropriate, but it had been over a week since they'd done anything more than a goodnight kiss. He sighed, shifting his long legs under the desk. Not that I'm not getting plenty of "anything more" from my boyfriends. But he was a little frustrated - okay, more than a little frustrated - by the prospect of endless chaste evenings together.

And he had to admit the tiny, niggling fear that was following him: the fear that wondered if maybe Carl wasn't actually interested in him that way anyway. Maybe Finn had made it all up. Or maybe Carl had changed his mind, and decided Finn was too young or gave bad blowjobs or something. And hell, if it didn't just make him feel like crying to think that maybe he'd never get a chance to get any better at them, because he'd only had one shot at it so far and he knew he could improve... given the chance to practice. And now he was all turned on right before Glee, thinking about giving Carl a blowjob. Great.

Kurt beckoned under the desk with one hand, and Finn passed the phone across Brittany's legs. He took one look at the screen and grimaced.

"You really have to fix his name in your phone, Finn," he said in an undertone. "What happens if Mr. Wright catches you texting and reads it out loud in class? He wouldn't be very happy with you."

Finn knew it was true, but every time he went to change the settings in his phone for Carl's contact information, he just couldn't do it. Seeing Carl's name appear on the tiny screen gave him too much of a thrill. "Nobody knows who he is anyway," he muttered.

"They might," Kurt scolded, and Finn had nothing to say, of course, because he knew Kurt was right. Since when do you give me orders, Kurt? he wanted to retort, but he didn't want to start something in the middle of history class. All he could do was send a quick affirmative return text, I can get a ride, and put his phone away as quickly as he could, before it got confiscated.

The rest of history, and the first half of Glee, were spent in a cloudy miasma of fantasies about exactly what might be about to happen at Carl's after school. It wasn't until halfway through practice that he realized Rachel had been trying to get his attention for several minutes. She was looking more annoyed than anything else.

"Uh," he said, glancing at Mr. Schue, who was going on about songs with the word hello in them. "Sorry. What was that?"

"Basketball practice," she stage-whispered. "Tomorrow. I'll be there to cheer you on?"

He scratched his head. "Okay?"

Basketball practice hadn't gone at all well that week. He'd been far too distracted by thoughts of Carl to care much about that, or class, for that matter. In addition, Finn wasn't quite sure what to do with Rachel's desire to follow him around like a puppy. It kind of reminded him of... well, if they had been doing anything together, it might have been a little like... he blinked. No. Rachel doesn't do... that. Does she?

Kurt ended up having a study date with Mercedes after Glee, so Puck gave him a ride to Carl's. The truck was making all kinds of weird noises, but it made it across town without any problem.

"You want me to come back and get you after dinner?" Puck asked, with a hand on Finn's knee.

"I'm not even sure why I'm here, yet," Finn admitted. "I'll call you, though, or Kurt, once I know. Can you let my mom know I'll be eating over here?"

"It's totally unfair that you get a boyfriend who has a slave," Puck grumbled, popping the clutch into reverse, but he kissed him goodbye and waved amicably enough as Finn climbed down from the cab. Finn knew Puck wasn't really jealous.

It was actually pretty cool, he thought, as Angela answered the doorbell. She smiled at him, opening the door wide.

"Good afternoon, Finn," she said, accepting his coat. "Will you be staying for dinner?"

"Yeah, I think I will," he said, smiling at her. Not for the first time, Finn wondered what Angela was like when she wasn't following orders at Dr. Howell's work or home. She has to have a life of her own, he thought. Doesn't she?

Finn sat at the kitchen counter munching on crackers and cheese until Carl appeared in the doorway. "Finn."

He swallowed, trying to clear his mouth, but even so, he had to wait several long, awkward seconds before he was able to respond to Carl's greeting. It didn't help that Carl was wearing Finn's favorite shirt, the black one with the covered buttons. Or that he'd already taken off his tie, and Finn could see a perfect triangle of tanned chest peeking around the unbuttoned collar. There was no reason for Finn to feel faint because of a stupid triangle of skin, but he couldn't deny that he did.

"Sir," he said finally, and smiled tentatively. Carl's face was nonreactive, but he nodded in response.

He pulled a stool up to Finn at the kitchen counter and sat across from him. "How was school today?"

"Fine," he said.

Carl cocked his head to one side, leaning on a casual elbow. "I heard you didn't do so well on your pop quiz in Spanish on Monday."

"Uh." Finn sat up a little straighter. He couldn't actually ask how Carl knew this, but he wondered who had squealed. It probably wasn't Kurt, but it might have been Puck. Carl wasn't Topping him, but Puck was pretty much defenseless around Carl anyway. "No, sir. I mean... I could have done better, sir."

"How bad is bad?" Carl didn't look sympathetic or judgmental. He was just waiting for Finn to respond.

Finn stared at Carl's shoes. They were black and shiny and looked expensive. "Finn," Carl snapped, and Finn's eyes shot up to his. "Do you have an answer?"

"I... I'm not sure, sir."' Finn tried to tear his eyes away again, but there was no way Carl would let Finn weasel out of telling him this. He never did hesitate if he thought Finn needed it, no matter what he had to make him do. Problem is, there's not much I don't want to do for him. To him. God. He squirmed where he sat.

"Finn," Carl said, his warning tone heralding danger.

"Forty percent, sir," Finn replied hurriedly. He sighed at Carl's expression. "I know, sir, but... it was only a quiz, and... it's just Spanish."

Carl's eyebrow wasn't any less dangerous than his tone. It was just quieter. "Do you think Mr. Schuester would agree with you on that? Maybe I need to give him a call?"

"What?" Finn blurted. "No! You can't do that."

Now Carl's other eyebrow went up. He looked genuinely surprised. "I can't?"

"No!" He felt a dim frisson of panic pass over him. "I mean - I'll take care of it, sir."

"Seems like you've had an opportunity to do that already." The eyebrow wasn't going anywhere. "You need a reminder."

"Oh... no." This last came out in an embarrassing squeak. He cleared his throat and took a drink of water in an effort to speak normally.

"Oh, yes," Carl drawled. He hopped down from his chair. "Follow me."

Finn had only been to Carl's house a few times, but by now he knew the way things were laid out. Kitchen, lounge, second floor center. West wing held the personal rooms, media room, guest room; east wing were the playrooms. They were definitely going to to the west wing. Carl led them past the media room and the guest room. He gulped. New territory. Don't panic. It's fine. He's going to take care of everything.

"Did you ask permission to stay for dinner?" Carl's voice floated back down the hall.

"No, sir. But I'm sure my mom would -"

"Consider that an automatic extra five, Finn." He turned, facing him in the doorway, his hazel eyes serious. Finn peeked into the room out of the corner of his eye. He could spy a chair, a desk, and the corner of a cream-colored comforter on a bed, but Carl redirected his attention quickly with a swat to his behind through his jeans. "You ask. Never assume. Understood?"

"Yes sir," he said. Carl's chin sported an evening's worth of stubble. He almost always shaved it before they got together, and Finn couldn't help but wonder what it might feel like under his fingers. Neither Puck nor Kurt had much in the way of facial hair.

"You're not going to take anything for granted here, Finn. Your mother deserves - are you even listening?" This last was accompanied by another swat, harder, in exactly the same location.

"Jesus, Carl," Finn said, wincing. "Yeah, I'm listening."

Carl's face hardened. "Yeah. I can tell. About as well as you've been listening in class since you got back from vacation. You're going away to California soon, and there's no way you're going to be done with everything you need to take care of, if this is the kind of attention you give to your work." He propped both hands on his hips, regarding Finn for a long moment. Then he jerked his head at the door. "Jeans off, and shorts. On my bed. Now."

Finn moved far faster than he had this week in basketball practice. Maybe that's what I need, he thought, as he ditched his jeans on the side of the bed. Carl, in the audience, glaring at me. Or maybe I just need to practice with no pants on?

The bed was king-sized, with an impressive wooden headboard, complete with rings, hooks and chains. Just looking at them made Finn feel faint, and more than a little bit turned on. He was embarrassed that this fact would become immediately apparent once he took off his shorts.

"What does now mean to you, boy?" Carl barked, and Finn abandoned embarrassment along with his underwear. He crawled onto the bed and waited, his heart pounding, eyes averted. There was a thick paperback book on the table by the bed, and a half-full glass of water, and a bottle of lube. Finn quivered, his hands not straying to his own erection, now fully visible.

Carl paid it no mind. "Who's in charge here, Finn?"

"You are, sir," he said promptly, and he was pleased to hear his voice come out steady. The comforter was soft and looked shiny. If he'd been a little more desperate, he might have ground against it with his hips, but he wasn't going to do anything without Carl's permission.

"That's right." Carl's hand rested firmly on Finn's back, pressing through his shirt. He felt his cock twitch. "And you haven't been holding up your end of the bargain. You're going to work for your grades."

"I just don't see why I should bother," he sighed. Carl's own hand paused as it slid down Finn's spine toward his bare behind. He doesn't even have to touch me to make me hard, he thought, and his hips tipped forward, once, thrusting into the air. There was a sharp retort, and a blooming pain on the sensitive skin between his thigh and his leg. He yelped.

"Finn, it doesn't matter why. You agreed to this, and you need to learn to obey. We can't do anything else until you can follow through with this one simple order: do what I say." Carl slapped the other cheek harder, putting the burn into it. "So now... we're going to practice."

"Practice?" he echoed. He wondered what the anything else might be, and how long he would need to put up with Carl's games in order to get to them. Maybe if he could play them well enough, Carl would let him try out those skills he wanted to improve at... He thrust again, wishing desperately for some kind of friction.

"Practice, boy." His word was accompanied by two more smacks. He could feel the skin of his behind starting to burn. "You're thinking this might involve someone else? You're sorely mistaken. It's just you. I'm going to go finish some paperwork. You're going to stay here on this bed until I tell you otherwise." Carl deposited Finn's backpack next to him without any more ceremony. "Get your Spanish book out."

Finn couldn't help but get a jibe in before Carl abandoned him. "I'm going to study Spanish with no pants on?"

"That's right, Finn," Carl purred. "For starters. Do I need to make you take off your shirt as well?"

Finn knew very well what Carl thought was going on. Puck had done it more than once, and Kurt. They acted out, and their Top - himself, Finn - would follow up with a concise, sharp consequence. But he wasn't doing that, was he? No, he wasn't about to do something bad, just to get attention from his Top. He would simply follow Carl's rules, and do what he had to do, and pretty soon it would be over. He could do this. He gritted his teeth. "No, sir."

"Set the book over there. You have a pen? Pencil?" Carl's eyes moved dispassionately over Finn's rumpled notebook. "Set that over there as well. On your knees, now."

Finn felt the words bend him over, like a blow to his kidneys, and he couldn't help it. He moaned. He heard Carl's breath catch, just for a second, before he touched Finn's backside with his palm, but his voice was cool and clear.

"Your homework matters, Finn. Your grades matter. I won't stand for sloppiness, laziness or insubordination."

"Yes, sir," Finn said, his attention riveted on the sensation of Carl touching his back, giving him pressure right - there - he gasped again, and thrust forward, clutching at the bedspread.

Carl leaned in, bringing his mouth right up against Finn's ear, so close that his lips were tickling the sensitive flesh. Finn heard himself making incoherent noises, some of which could have been words, but were far too lost in desperate lust for him to know for sure.

"You think you're going to get anything else tonight, Finn?" he whispered.

"S-sorry, sir?" The squeak was back, on overdrive. Finn hated it, but he hated more that Carl's hands were scant inches from his cock and they weren't touching him. Maybe if he adjusted a little more that way... but Carl was just hovering there beside his ear, his breath igniting all new sensations.

"You trust me to take care of you, don't you?" Carl's hand drifted between his legs, to the line of skin that stretched from the base of his balls to the tip of his cock, and drew one single fingertip along it.

"Yes," he moaned, arching his back, "god, sir, yes."

"Good." The fingertip vanished, and Carl's hand came down on Finn's backside in a series of firm, solid blows. Finn knew it wasn't meant to be pleasurable, but he whimpered all the same, feeling the connection inside him, where everything waited for someone to touch him. Touch me, he begged inside his head. Touch me, just touch me. And every touch he got felt so fucking good.

"Is there something you want?" The swats intensified; Finn was starting to get to know Carl's style, to start light and build, so they never really felt unbearable, but by the end he was giving him a pretty good wallop, one his body would feel the next day.

"I... I want..."

"Dilo en español, Finn. ¿Qué quieres?"

Finn glanced, startled, at his closed Spanish book, wondering if he could quickly look something up. What was that verb? "Toque... no, uh... tócame. Please. Por favor, s- señor!"

"¿No se merece eso, Finn?" Carl's accent was better than Mr. Schue's. He smacked the center of Finn's buttocks, putting pressure on the space between his cheeks, and Finn shuddered. "¿Era un buen chico?"

"V-voy a ser un buen chico," he promised. A very good boy.

"Bueno. Ahora haga su tarea." One final swat, and he backed away from the bed, pointing at the homework with an imperious finger while his eyebrow punctuated his command.

"Si, señor," Finn muttered. He waited until Carl was out of the room before sitting up gingerly and sighing in frustration. His cock was hard and aching, his rear end tender, and his mind whirling with compelling images - none of which related to Spanish in any way. He opened his textbook and stared blankly at the page. How the hell am I supposed to concentrate like this?

He viciously stabbed his pencil into the cover of his notebook. Why was Carl being so... mean? Finn couldn't figure out what had happened to the sweet, tender connection they'd discovered just weeks ago. Even the more reserved, respectful exploration they'd begun with Carl as his mentor seemed to have slipped away. Now, apparently, all Carl wanted to do was tell him what to do. And not even in a sexy way. In a... a dad way.

Which, coming from Carl, is still hot. And isn't that kind of creepy? Finn sat with the question until, reluctantly, he decided it wasn't. Not that he wanted to... have sex with his father or something, because ew, but... Carl was old enough to be his dad, and Finn was his boy. And he was kind of treating Finn like he imagined a father might, if he were angry and doling out discipline. He shivered. I don't want to call him Daddy. But he is in charge of me. The thought generated all kinds of yearning inside him.

But things were different now. As he turned it over and over inside himself, like a snowglobe, the feelings clarified. He could see them silhouetted over his Spanish homework, falling down upon the words on his page, until by the time Carl came back into the room ten minutes later to check on him, he was calm enough that he knew what he needed to say.

"Sir?"

Carl's hand on his back now wasn't punitive. He just let it rest between Finn's shoulder blades with the weight of comfort. "Finn. Are you making any progress?"

"Not very much," he said truthfully, showing Carl the page. "I can't stop thinking about... all this. What we're doing here." He let his head hang down, breathing as slowly and steadily as he could. "It's... different, from the way things were a couple weeks ago, in your office."

He could feel the heat of Carl's hand, like a promise. "Yes. It's different." The hand made circles on the small of his back; Finn could feel it inside, up and down his spine, into his tailbone, generating an all-too familiar warmth and need that bloomed like a flower. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the touch. Finn heard his own voice come out lazy and lethargic, as though he were speaking in a dream.

"Before. When you were teaching me. You..." He took a deep breath. Could he actually say this? To Carl? "You were nice to me. But you're not being very nice anymore."

Carl withdrew his hand, and Finn felt the lack of it keenly. He clamped his mouth on a possible whine for Carl to please, put it back? because even without direct contact between Carl's fingers and his cock, he could feel them there, as long as he was touching him.

But Carl sat down on the edge of the bed and calmly met Finn's eyes with his own. They were serious and very, very kind, and Finn felt himself leaning in, far too fascinated by the faint smile that played around the corners of his mouth. He caught himself before he actually tried to kiss him, but it was a near thing.

"You think I'm not being nice," Carl said. It could have been said as an accusation, or with disdain, or even hatred or scorn. But it wasn't. It was said quietly, mildly, with equal weight on every word. His gaze was so intense, Finn had difficulty considering his question, under the force of that azure regard.

"It doesn't feel like it," he admitted.

"No?"

"Well, I... " He shook his head. "God, I'm sorry... can you just stop looking at me like that?"

Carl's forehead furrowed. "Like what?" he said, genuinely curious.

"Like I was a snack." Finn flapped one ineffective hand at him, staring down at his own half-hard naked cock. "You're just way too hot and it's not helping."

He sighed. "Okay... Finn, come here. No, come on." Carl's hand was reaching in and securing his from under him, and then he was pulling him onto his lap, completely ignoring Finn's babbled words of protest. They weren't even making sense to Finn, himself, because he was suddenly, instantly, one hundred percent calmer. Tension he didn't even realize he was holding was falling away, and he felt himself just this side of tears.

"I'm sorry," he said, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

"Finn." Carl kissed his cheek, nuzzling his ear with his nose, and leaned against him with a sigh as he clasped him close. "I think maybe I'm not being clear about my expectations here. Let's just put everything down, and take a step back, okay? We're just Finn and Carl right now. Nothing else. Got it?"

"Okay," Finn agreed, though he wasn't exactly sure how he would have ended up on Carl's lap without any pants on, if that had been the case, because... well, yeah, it was kind of a great position to be in, really, a hot guy holding him on his legs, but...

"Dude," he burst out shakily. "People don't do this."

Carl maintained his patient tone, and he didn't let go of Finn. "Do what?"

"This. Sit like this. Be like this. Treat each other like - like you were my freaking father." He just couldn't bring himself to say the word daddy, not in this close proximity, and not with Carl's lips on his neck.

Now he sounded amused. "How many teenagers do you know who sit on their fathers' laps, Finn?"

"You know what I mean. All that stuff about making me do my homework. What the hell? I thought we were friends." The amazing thing was, he could hear himself, the way he was sounding, and the completely irrational words coming out of his mouth, but now he couldn't stop them. They tumbled over each other in their struggle to be heard. "And there's part of me who's just really hoping you're not some guy who likes boys, because - it's kind of wigging me out."

"I can tell that," Carl nodded. He put a hand in the center of Finn's chest. "How does it feel, here, with me holding you like this?"

"Good," Finn admitted grudgingly. "I'm not as freaked. But -"

"Let me finish, please." Carl gazed at him seriously. "I hope you know, it makes me feel good, too. It took me a while to figure out I wanted anything like this. But, ever since I got clear with myself about it... I've desired it. This kind of caring relationship." Carl's hand moved to Finn's neck, stroking it, and Finn relaxed a little more into the massage. "But it's not an equal relationship. Really, no relationships are, but this kind, what we are doing here, this is specifically not egalitarian. I'm in charge; you follow my lead. Right?"

"Right." Finn reached up a hand and touched Carl's, there on his chest, and clutched it to him.

"And you do this with your boys."

"Yeah," Finn said. "But we're the same age. It's not... not the same thing."

"No, Finn, it's not. You and I, we're really far apart in age. There's already an inherent power difference between us, just because of that simple fact. I'm a middle-aged man; you're a young man." His tone sharpened. "But - Finn, don't believe for one moment that I don't see you as a man. You can be my boy, but you're not a boy. And trust me, I'm not interested in you being one."

Finn nodded, and took a deep breath. "Okay. I - okay."

"All right. There's that." He watched Finn impassively. "It's okay to be scared, Finn."

"I'm not," he insisted. "Not exactly. I mean, yeah, maybe I'm a little scared, but... that's not the main thing here."

"I'm not your father, Finn." Carl laid his hand higher on Finn's chest, framing his neck, and Finn felt his breath come a little faster. "But I am your mentor, your guide. I'm still here to give you all of that. Now, the tools I have available to me are just more effective."

Finn wrinkled his brow. "But... you don't have to be so -"

"Yeah, I do," Carl said, and he actually looked like he might be smiling. "You hear me, when I tell you things, but you hear it differently this way. This way." He stroked a hand down Finn's back. "It'll stay with you, inside yourself. You won't forget anytime soon."

"No," Finn admitted.

Carl touched the notebook. "When you do what you're told, I know I can trust that you're going to listen to me in other ways, too. It's a way I can help you, improve your self-discipline, your motivation. An exercise in integrity." He gave Finn a meaningful look. "All important for a responsible Top."

Finn toyed with the edge of Carl's sleeve. "I don't feel much like a Top these days," he muttered.

"I get that, too. You don't have to feel it in order to do it - though it helps. But, Finn..." Carl's gaze turned to steel. "You agreed to take care of Kurt. And Puck. That's your responsibility, even if you don't want to do it. Even if it's hard. Even if - and I say this advisedly - you're in a new relationship and it might feel more compelling."

Finn leaned his head on Carl's shoulder and sighed. "Great. Now I feel guilty."

"I'll give you about ten seconds to dwell on that," Carl said, and kissed his cheek.

There was no way Finn wasn't going to count to ten in his head. When he got there, he glanced at Carl, almost afraid to ask. "Okay... now what?"

"Now you're done with that." He tapped the notebook. "Guilt doesn't serve you, any better than laziness or procrastination. You're an intelligent, capable young man. If you're serious about me, being in charge of you, there's no way I'm going to let you waste your skills and talents on... video games and television."

Finn smiled weakly. "Honestly, most of my time these days is going to my boyfriends. And you."

Carl smiled back and tightened his arms a little around Finn's shoulders. "Hmm, I don't count as one of those, huh?"

"Uh..." Finn blinked at him in astonishment. "Do you... I mean... do you want to be? I didn't think we -"

"Well, it's a bit of a juvenile term," Carl allowed, "but even grown people of considerable years, like myself, use it. There aren't too many good alternatives. Lover is the one most gay men seem to use."

Finn swallowed. Suddenly his bare ass on Carl's lap felt very exposed indeed. "And... we're not. I mean, we're not doing that. Not that I... uh." He looked away, feeling his face heat. "God. I'm sorry."

"I know. Believe me, your reactions have made it very clear to me how much you want... certain things. But until we get there, I'll accept boyfriend." Carl's hand rested on Finn's thigh, just inches from his quiescent cock, which apparently had sonar or radar or some other kind of homing beacon for Carl's touch, because it sat up and took notice pretty damn quickly. Carl smiled, and it was not unlike the expression on a cat's face when it wakes up in the middle of a sunbeam.

He ducked his head against Carl's chest, avoiding that smile. "And that's another thing. I feel like I should be apologizing for everything. It's... well, it's kind of awful. I'm usually pretty on top of things." Finn paused, thought back over what he had just said, then backtracked. "I mean..."

"You don't like feeling submissive." Carl said it like a statement, but Finn heard the question inherent in his words. Finn thought about it.

"Maybe? It's just so different. Seeing things from Puck's point of view... we're not exactly the same, but I think I get some of what he wants, now."

"No, you're not exactly the same," Carl agreed. "You and Puck... you might both choose this, be called to it, and you may both want it - but you'll get there in different ways. Puck, he resists obeying; he would probably try any trick to cheat the system. You, you obey because you think it's the right thing to do."

His fingers were still there on Finn's thigh. They hadn't moved, and yet somehow, Finn felt like they might. He watched himself twitch as they sat there, and Carl made a noise of satisfaction.

It would have been embarrassing, if this had been anyone but Carl, but Finn knew he could say just about anything he wanted to Carl and none of it would be a shock. He just opened his mouth and things... fell out.

"I want to obey for you," he said.

Carl suddenly looked away, his attention apparently arrested by something on the other side of the room. Finn thought maybe he should give him a moment to collect himself, so he climbed off Carl's lap and reached for his shorts.

"Since when do you get to decide what to wear at my house?" Carl's tone was mild, but he wasn't waiting around for Finn to answer. "Put those down."

"I'm cold," Finn said, dropping them. And he didn't know why he said that, because he wasn't really, and how much could a thin pair of boxers protect against that anyway? Carl snorted.

"Okay. I'll turn up the heat. But I kind of like you like this." He touched two hands to Finn's hips and moved in close behind him, just for one brief moment. "Puede vestirse cuando hayas terminado con eso."

Finn shivered, and it was definitely not from the chill in Carl's bedroom. I'm in the middle of his bed, Finn thought, and it shouldn't have felt like such a surprise, considering he'd been there for over a half-hour already, but the realization hit him like a blast of frigid air. His own bed. This is where he sleeps. He might entertain lovers here. Boyfriends. Other subs... slaves. He felt unreasonably hurt by this.

"Okay," he said, subdued, and fixed his own gaze on his notebook. "I - I'll do it."

Carl nodded silently, but he looked as though he approved, and it was like he'd laid a blanket on Finn's chilly skin.

Finn gave Carl a tentative smile as he disappeared into the hallway. "Thank you, sir."

Finn ignored his bare, bruised rear end and concentrated on making sense of the words on the page. There wasn't any reason for it to feel easier, but somehow, it did. Every time his attention began to wander, he thought of Puck, and Kurt, at home, and the responsibility he'd accepted on their behalf. How can I take care of them if I can't even do my homework?

When Carl returned, the minute hand of the clock had advanced another half-circle, and Finn was packing his book back into his bag. "Done," he said, gesturing to the notebook on the bed. "I don't know if you want to check it, or what, but I think it's all right."

"Gracias por su trabajo, Finn," Carl murmured. He slid the notebook into the bag without looking at it, and set it on the floor. "If you say it's all right, I trust you."

This made Finn feel like crying, but he wasn't going to give in to it. He put on a brave face and waited there on the bed, watching while Carl walked around the room, turning off the lights in the hallway and shutting the door. He slowly took off the leather belt he wore and coiled it on top of his dresser.

"You've been a very good boy tonight," he said. "I won't keep you much longer, because it's a school night, and you should be home with your family."

Finn nodded, trying not to look too disappointed. He hadn't really expected anything more than - well, he hadn't really known what to expect, but after two weeks of nothing, he guessed it wasn't all that much of a -

Carl's hand reached under his chin and lifted it, bringing him forward to the edge of the bed, and Finn caught his breath as he kissed him, forcefully, with deliberation. Finn heard a noise come out of his mouth that he almost didn't recognize as his own voice. It was embarrassingly desperate.

"I gave you what you needed earlier, Finn," he said, close, against his mouth. Finn opened his lips for more, but Carl laid a finger against them, forestalling him. "But you didn't give me what I need."

"Yes," Finn breathed. "Yes, sir... anything. What can I do?"

Carl's hold on his chin dropped, and he reached around, taking hold of Finn's shoulders, and swiveling him around so he was on his knees again. "You can give in."

"I -" Finn glanced back at Carl's stern face, startled. "I don't understand."

"You're my submissive, Finn," Carl stressed. "You need to accept the value of submission. That doesn't mean you suck it up and take it until it's over. It means you open yourself up to what your Dominant gives you. You need to find that place in yourself where you feel like you would do anything for me, and let yourself go."

The swat on Finn's behind took him by surprise, and he cried out, because the pain was intense. That wasn't Carl's hand. He tried twisting away, but Carl's strong arms held him firm. "No, Finn - don't fight it. It's what you need. Come on, my boy, I'm right here."

Finn struggled for four more strokes before he felt something in him release, and he crumpled forward onto the bed, sobbing. He buried his head in the pillow, but Carl didn't let him hide for long. "That's all right, now," he said, kneeling beside him on the bed and pulling him into an embrace. "You did so well. That was just right."

Finn shook his head furiously. "No... fuck, I just feel so weak."

"Submission is one of the most powerful experiences a human being can experience. Far greater than power over is the power to let go." His hand skated down Finn's back and over the sensitive flesh on his behind, but with the two of them pressed together like that, the added sensation was nothing but pleasurable. Finn couldn't suppress a low, anticipatory moan, and to his surprise, Carl's voice echoed him.

"You -" he managed, before Carl's teeth were in his neck, and he couldn't make any more words, just let the moans come forth, tumbling out one after another. He could feel the heat of Carl's body against the bare skin of his hips.

"Watching you submit like that, for me..." he said, quiet and intense, as his tongue laved the sensitive bite on Finn's neck. "That's about the most erotic thing I've seen in years."

Not a bad reason to do it, then, thought one tiny part of his brain, but the rest was caught up in gasping and thrusting and drowning in the experience of Carl, forcing him down onto his back on the bed. He observed Carl as if from a distance, devouring him with his eyes, gazing down at Finn's prone form, his breathing erratic.

"Please, sir," he said, his voice catching on the second word.

"You're going to have to do better than that," Carl said, and his own voice was thick with desire. There wasn't any question about how he might be feeling. It wasn't subtle, and neither was the bulge in his pants, suspended above Finn's chest, just inches from his face. Finn waited while Carl's fingers flickered along the button of his pants. He swallowed.

"Let me suck your cock," Finn said, deliberately making it sound rough, with a touch of command in it.

The effect on Carl was unexpected and dramatic: he flinched back, letting Finn's wrists go all at once. He knelt there on top of him, chest heaving, staring down at him, while Finn stared right back.

"You're not in charge, boy," Carl snapped, his teeth bared. "You're going to listen to me."

Finn jerked his chin up defiantly, rolling in the morass of adrenaline and testosterone. "You're telling me you don't want it?"

Carl didn't agree, but he didn't deny it, either, which would have been silly, considering he was taking down his zipper now. "You're treading a fine line between another spanking, young man, and..."

"And what?" Finn didn't relish the thought of another spanking on top of his already raw skin, but he didn't care. He felt fearless, alive and entirely ready for this. Reaching for Carl's pants, he placed his hand on the bulge, stroking underneath with his thumb along the length of him. The contact was electric, and he could have sworn he could feel the charge between them, along his skin.

"Please," he relented, more quietly. "Let me - I need it."

Carl didn't exactly lean into his touch, but he held himself a little less stiffly, and his hand on top of Finn's was gentle. "You agreed I would set the pace, Finn, in this as much as anything. But... you did well tonight, and I'm not going to let that go unnoticed." He slid Finn's hand up to his zipper. "Go on."

Finn fumbled for the button on Carl's pants, and realized he was just about as turned on as he'd ever been in his life, without one touch. He struggled to sit up, but Carl pushed him back down firmly, propping himself on the bed frame with one arm as he slid his boxers down and leaned over Finn's face.

"And because I'm feeling so generous," Carl murmured, as Finn opened his mouth wide to accept him, "you can come any time you want."

Finn still felt incompetent at this particular act, but he was unreasonably pleased at the opportunity to get some practice. It wasn't the same as kneeling between the knees of Kurt or Puck, because he could barely move. But Carl wasn't looking for him to provide an expertly presented blowjob; rather, he seemed to desire nothing more than a warm, willing receptacle for his thrusts. That, at least, he could do, and as Carl set up a rhythm with his hips, Finn focused as much of his attention as possible on suppressing his gag reflex.

"Finn," he heard, and realized he'd closed his eyes. When he opened them, Carl's face was shining down on him, smiling in pleasure and pride, and he felt his heart open just as his throat had, relaxing into the devastating intensity of Carl's feelings. For me.

"Submission is personal," Carl said, breathy and with great focus. It took Finn a moment to realize he was talking to him. "It's intensely fulfilling for the submissive. But it's also the greatest act of service a sub can provide to his Dom. This... you, serving me... that's your gift to me. I claim it. It's mine."

Yours, Finn wanted to affirm, but no sounds could come from his throat when it was being filled this way. He relied on his eyes to convey his feelings, and could only hope that Carl could hear him. Carl didn't let his gaze go, not for the entire time he fucked Finn's mouth, and didn't even close his eyes at the end. His words were instructive, direct, utilitarian - but in his eyes, Finn could see the truth. He loves me.

Finn did his very best to swallow it all, but Carl had to give him a hand afterwards, wiping up the excess with a tissue and kissing away the rest. He cracked his neck and lay back on the bed for several decadent minutes, staring up at the ceiling, his cock still rock-hard and twitching, grinning like an idiot.

"Wow," he said, his voice hoarse.

Carl stretched luxuriously beside him, making sinful noises that had Finn twitching all over again. He hadn't bothered to put his pants back on, and the skin-to-skin touches of their thighs made him tingle far beyond the points of contact. He rolled into Finn's neck, kissing him in the most sensitive spot, and sighed.

"On your stomach, boy," he whispered, so lovingly.

Finn moved without thinking, and when Carl's hand grazed his behind, he didn't even consider objecting. It wasn't until much later that he wondered about it; really, three spankings in a row should have been far more unpleasant than they'd been, but Carl had managed to pace things so that this, the last one, actually felt good. Months later, of all the things Carl had taught him that night, that was the lesson that he remembered best.

This spanking was gentle, sensual, cupping his hand to avoid the worst of each impact. Finn could feel the tension slowly building, Carl's pacing subtle, like a jazz quintet, full of deliberation and quirky humor. Far sooner than he'd expected, he found he was gasping, squirming to aid in Carl's hand striking the most sensitive parts of each cheek.

"Such a good boy," Carl praised, keeping the pace steady. "You give me just what I need. Letting me handle it... opening up to me." He leaned in, his cheek against Finn's, the whisper of his breath hot in Finn's ear. "Your birthday's coming soon. Three weeks, hmmm?"

"Y-yes," Finn stuttered. He was caught off guard by the question.

Carl kissed his neck, sending cascading shivers down his spine to join the sensation of the swats of his hand. "A little bit at a time, you're becoming mine." Three more, on the left. "Your skin, I've claimed that. Everything you touch, every contact, that's mine." Three on the right. "Your mind, I've harnessed it. Every minute you're learning, now, is for me." Three on the sensitive underside of his buttocks, god. "Your mouth, boy, your sweet mouth..."

Carl went silent for a moment, long enough that Finn pleaded, "Yes, sir... my mouth?"

"Yes." He sounded almost like he was going to lose it, and Finn craned his neck to look at him in anxious concern. But Carl just pressed him firmly back into the surface of the mattress, saying, "Stay with it. We're okay. Yes... yes, your mouth. The words you speak, the songs... the songs you sing, they're for me. Mine."

"Yes, sir," Finn whispered, and he heard Carl's shuddering breath.

The gentle spanking never stopped. Now Carl's cupped hand was making contact with the space between Finn's thighs, directly on top of his puckered opening, which clenched rhythmically with each stroke. "But this... this part of you, my beautiful, good boy... that, I leave to you, to share with anyone you wish. Your boyfriends, they touch you there?"

He'd told Carl the stories of what Puck and Kurt had done with him over Christmas, and since then, it had become another part of their sexual repertoire, Kurt or Puck's cock inside him, or a couple dry fingers, or sometimes their tongues. Carl's question made the images of their last time together vivid and powerful. He thrust against the mattress, the friction maddeningly light against the slick fabric of Carl's bedspread. "Yes, sir."

"You love it."

"I do," Finn groaned. "Yeah... I love it. God... please, sir."

"I know you want that, my boy, but we're going to go slowly. Knowing you're already being satisfied, that they're giving you what you need... that is comforting. I wouldn't want you to go... hungry, while we're moving at the appropriate pace."

Slow and measured, that was the pace Carl spoke of, and even though his hand wasn't coming anywhere near Finn's cock, he could feel it there, with every stroke. "But I want it, sir," he said, trying not to sound too much like he was whining. "I want it, from you... I want it so bad, all the time."

"I know, sweet boy, I do. Believe me, I do. We can't rush this." A light tongue, behind his ear, and Finn cried out, thrusting harder into the bed. "But don't think for one minute that I don't want to claim this, too. That I don't imagine myself, pinning you down and burying myself inside you."

"Oh god oh god," Finn cried, his hands on either side of his head clenching in time with his ass. "Really...? You really want that?"

"So much," Carl assured him. "You doubt me?" He shifted his body so his bare legs twined with Finn's, and Finn could feel the pressure of Carl's renewed erection on his hip.

"No, sir," he assured him. "No... I believe you."

"Because I'm not seeing anyone else, Finn," he said. The impact on Finn's backside suddenly had taken on a new meaning, and even as Carl's body warmed him from the side, Finn could imagine Carl kneeling over him, nudging into his bruised and aching ass. "No other lovers in this bed. No one's giving me that. But I can wait. You're my exercise in self-control, every day."

"I don't know how you do it," Finn confessed, laughing a little. "I can barely stand being in the same room with you without wanting... everything."

"Finn, I'm pretty sure I couldn't have done it at sixteen, myself." Carl's hand dipped, just once, between Finn's legs, and he cried out again. "There's no need for you to wait, sweet boy. I told you you can come any time."

"I could. I could... right now. But..." Finn closed his eyes against the realization.

Carl's voice was very gentle. "But what?"

"But then you're going to send me home," he whispered. "And I don't want to go."

"Oh... no, Finn. No. I'm not going to send you home. You can stay... until you're ready to go."

"I don't..." He choked, the emotions overwhelming the physical sensations. "I don't want to be in the way. I mean, if you have other things to do..."

"Finn." He didn't know his name could sound like that, could be like the thrust of a hand, like fingers piercing him. He quailed under the force of it. "Listen to me. I have nothing else I would rather be doing right now. Nothing. This is exactly where you belong."

He hadn't even realized he'd been holding on, but his hands unclenched from the bedspread, and he let himself fall, shouting as he ground into the mattress, now slick with his release. And Carl's hand stopped its constant motion, and his arms came around him, and pulled Finn against his body, clutching him fiercely.

"Right here," he said. "Right here. You're mine, you hear me?"

"Yes," Finn said, pressing his face into Carl's chest, taking gulp after gulp of air, holding on as tightly as he could. "Yes, please."

He didn't even notice the chill of the room anymore, but Carl took a moment to pull the sheets back and cover them up. Finn relaxed into the comforting warmth of Carl's skin and the blanket. Somehow resting his head on Carl's pillow was one of the most intimate things they'd done together, and he found himself lying there for some time, gazing into his face with a sense of wonder.

"Thank you, sir," he said softly. "How'd you know exactly what I needed?"

Carl stroked a gentle line from his cheek, to his chin and down along his neck. "You make your needs very clear, Finn. I'm here to listen, and watch, and learn you."

He trembled a little under his light touch. "And you really want that?"

"Yes," Carl said, smiling. "I really want that."

They lay in the dim light of his room for some time, not speaking. Finn could see the moonlight coming in through the trees off Carl's back deck. He imagined waking up in Carl's bed, and having breakfast together out there before going to school. It was a compelling image.

"One more thing I want you to do for me this week." Carl stroked his face. "If you think you can."

"Anything," Finn said, and Carl paused momentarily in his stroking before sighing and kissing his cheek. "What is it, sir?"

"I want you to... sing me a song."

"Uh... okay?" Finn wrinkled his brow. "You could play guitar, I guess?"

"No, Finn. I mean at school. A song, in your Glee club, for me. Something to show everyone how you feel about this. About us." He laid his scratchy cheek against Finn's smooth one. "We're never, ever going to be able to be open about this relationship, not while you're in high school. But you could give me this. Tell Puck and Kurt why you're doing it. Then someone will be witness to what you're doing."

"You'll never hear it," Finn said, confused, but Carl kissed him again, and he nodded. "Sure. I'll do it."

"Of course you will. You're my good boy."

Finn sighed into the feeling those words generated inside him, and relaxed against Carl's chest. "What should I sing?"

"You and I, we've sung some Beatles. That might be nice. Or - here. I told you I was going to lend you this album." Carl slipped out from under the covers, striding half-naked to the dresser, where a small CD player sat. He shuffled through the CDs stacked up beside it, and smiled. "Here."

Finn looked at the cover. Waiting for the Sun. "The Doors?"

"Yes. Every young man should hear it. And you... you'll be inspired. I'm sure."

Chapter Text

 

Episode 1.14: Hell-O, Part Three - Puck

Puck knew it wasn't a good sign when he spent the first week back at school after winter break feeling combative. Nobody was looking at him directly in the eye, but he was feeling like he might have to force the issue. He wasn't going to miss the opportunity to prove that he hadn't changed since he drove away from Ohio in December to find himself. He bolstered his swagger and put his hand on Kurt's waist as they stepped away from the Navigator. Yeah, this is my boyfriend, his posture said. Yeah, I like dick. What are you going to do about it, huh?

But it was just bluster, even if he and Kurt were the only ones who knew it. He also knew he wasn't ever going to rid himself of his reputation as the tough bad boy. He supposed it would have been hard for anyone who didn't know him to realize that the slim, stylish figure at his side was the one in charge of him - or that it was exactly what Puck needed, what he'd craved all his life. No matter; he wasn't going to disabuse them of their beliefs. At McKinley, the name Puck was synonymous with badass, and it wasn't the worst cover in the world. He had enough people in his life who knew him for who he really was.

Kurt, for one. Puck shifted his hand from Kurt's waist to take his hand, smiling at him with feigned confidence. Kurt smiled back, tentatively giving his hand a squeeze. Kurt was used to being the underdog at school; being out as Puck's boyfriend wasn't going to change his social standing all that much. It wasn't going to make anything easier for Kurt, either, but he could assume Kurt would be able to handle it himself. Kurt was more in charge of things than just about anybody at their house right now.

Puck heard Finn enter the doors behind them, talking to his friends on the basketball team. Finn understood him, had, in fact, all his life, since they'd been kids. Puck could count on Finn to accept him for who he was, even if Finn wasn't in any position to be in charge of him at the moment. He knew it was going to be a hell of a long road back to where they'd been, after all that shit between the two of them. And anyway, Finn was entirely too caught up in his new relationship with Carl for it to matter right now. It was a little weird seeing Finn fall into such familiar patterns of submission, but at the same time, Puck was happy knowing he was getting what he needed.

He watched Finn approach Rachel in the hallway, giving her a smile. It wasn't the smile he gave to Puck or Kurt in the morning when they woke up, or the stupid one he had when Carl was around, but it was just for her, and Puck tried not to let the resentment show in his face. Finn had never been jealous of Puck, taking his girlfriends. Frankly, Puck had always thought that jealousy was something that happened to other people. Now that he was feeling it about Finn, it was kind of pissing him off.

There wasn't any reason to feel jealous, he told himself. Whatever Finn was doing with Rachel, it wasn't anything like what he had with Puck or Kurt. But watching Finn, knowing he was hiding, alone - Puck knew just how much that sucked, especially considering how much Finn hated lying. He wanted to be public at school with Finn, as much as he'd wanted it with Kurt. And waiting for the right time wasn't Puck's strong suit. The fact that Finn was willing to be Rachel's pretend boyfriend, but couldn't be Puck's real one - that really sucked.

But at least there were their friends, some of them unlikely, who knew the truth: the kids in Glee who'd accepted him with open arms. Mercedes, Santana, Quinn, Tina - even Matt, who was super religious, and Mike, who still seemed completely freaked out about the idea of two guys together, much less three - they'd all slowly come around. And Mr. Schue, who'd turned out to play for their team in some capacity, even if he was still hiding it from most people.

Puck heard a snicker and an indistinct snide remark as he passed the junior lockers. He glared in the general direction of the comment, but Kurt murmured, "Let it go, sweetheart," and he subsided a little. He got it; they would have to pick their battles. But he wasn't going to let anybody fuck with Kurt, not when he was around to stop them.

"Not hiding's easier, huh?" he said, as a group of freshman broke into giggles when they walked by.

Puck felt Kurt sigh. "It will be. Give them a little time to recover after being home from vacation. They're completely starved for gossip."

"And you want to give it to them, is that it?" Puck smirked, thinking of Kurt kissing him in the parking lot at Pat's. He glanced around to make sure there were no teachers watching, then took Kurt's shoulder and gave him a little push against the bank of lockers they were passing. Kurt's eyes widened, and he startled back.

"What -" Kurt got out, his face red, before Puck closed on him. It was almost exactly like the situation they'd been in dozens of times before, Puck slamming Kurt up against the lockers, demanding something from him. Only this time, what he was demanding was a kiss. There were at least two wolf whistles and two cries of "gross," but Puck didn't care.

"You," Kurt breathed, when Puck was done, staring up at him with a fixed, somewhat glassy expression, "are in so much trouble."

"I was kind of counting on that," Puck agreed, grinning, his face inches from Kurt's.

He backed away, holding out his hand, and Kurt took it - just as Karofsky rounded the corner. His eyes narrowed as he focused on their joined hands, and he scowled.

Kurt stiffened, but Puck tugged him along past Karofsky's staring eyes and continued on toward class. Kurt didn't let out his breath until Karofsky was out of sight.

"He's just another guy, Kurt," Puck muttered. "Don't give him the fucking time of day."

But Puck could feel the residual tension in Kurt's body, long after Karofsky was gone. It made him anxious enough that he decided to shadow Kurt to creative writing class. He didn't care about being a little late to chemistry. Kurt stopped him at the door to say goodbye, acknowledging Brittany's wave as she pushed past them.

"You guys should make out behind the file cabinet in the Cheerios' office," she offered helpfully. "That's totally my favorite place. Oh, that, or the boys' locker room."

"Thanks, Britt," Kurt said, successfully avoiding rolling his eyes. Puck wasn't going to tell her about his favorite place to make out. He wasn't sure how they'd gotten away with keeping their attic room a secret for the last month, but he appreciated its presence more than ever now. He hoped Brad would let them keep their agreement - moving the boxes of music downstairs for Mr. Schue, in exchange for having the safe space for the three of them - even now that he and Kurt were out at school. Finn sure as fuck would still need it. And he, himself, might need it after what he was planning to do in Glee today.

He hadn't thought about singing it at all until Mr. Schue had asked them to do songs that had the word hello in them. Puckzilla never said hello. He actually wasn't sure he'd ever said the word before. He said hey. And there was a song that started that way, a song with which he'd become intimately familiar in the past several weeks.

The way he'd originally heard it, it was a nice song, fitting with his standard repertoire of thoughtful guitar ballads, but on the studio album, it was... different. Angry, kind of. He knew by now it was P!nk's style that made it that way, because she mostly sang that kind of angry chick music. Puck didn't think he was harboring any kind of anger about things in his life these days, because things were a hell of a lot better than they'd been three weeks ago. But then he'd stopped by Finn's locker on his way to history yesterday, and Finn had shown him the calendar.

"What the fuck is that?" he'd asked, and Finn had laughed.

"Um... Rachel made it for me. For us." The bemused smile on Finn's face had made Puck's brain hurt, but he kept it to himself. That picture was just crazy. "It's a calendar of stuff we can do together. Look, we're going to see Phantom at the autistic children's center on Wednesday. You should take Kurt."

"So, what, are you guys, like, going out or something?"

Puck had meant it as a joke, but Finn had shrugged and said, "Something. She sure seems to think so, anyway."

"Really." He gave Finn the signature Puckerman eyebrow. "Because dating girls worked so well for you the last couple times you tried it."

Finn sighed, but it was more testy than resigned. "Hey, I don't think you're one to talk, considering who you went to Santa Fe to see. Or who you came back with in your pocket."

Puck wasn't going to talk about Adam at school, and Finn knew it, but Puck bristled at the mention of his other lovers. "I like chicks, dude. Always have, always will. You, on the other hand, seemed pretty clear you weren't interested in them anymore."

"Yeah, well, things change." Finn slammed his locker and glared at Puck. "You know that, too."

"Hey," Puck said, stung, but Finn went on down the hall without him. The words he wanted to shout after him were the title of the song - so it got him thinking.

Puck thought the whole thing through that night, eating dinner by himself in his little apartment downtown next to Carl's office. At first he thought the acoustic version would be sufficient, just him and his guitar, because the words alone conveyed what he wanted to say to Finn. But this thing with Rachel had him all riled up. The song needed an edge. He picked up his phone.

"Hey, Artie, my man," he said.

"Who is this?" Artie asked suspiciously.

"It's Puck. Listen, I need a favor, of the axe variety. You know a drummer?"

Once he got Artie through the why are you calling me questions, and assured him he wasn't planning any more dumpster trips or port-a-potty adventures - he made sure to apologize for that again - and hedged his way around the why aren't you asking Finn to play drums question, they got on more comfortable footing and started talking music. Artie agreed to back him on the bass, and to find Puck a drummer.

He thought, briefly, about asking Kurt or Adam if they thought this was a good idea. He actually thought he might know how Kurt would react, at least. That maybe should have given him pause to reconsider - but really, Kurt had enough to worry about. And Adam... well, he'd been a little on edge himself the last couple days, with his album release and everything.

Puck was glad, at least, that Kurt and Adam seemed to be becoming friends. More than friends, if Kurt's behavior was to be believed over his words, but Puck wasn't going to push him. Adam had sent him flowers, after all, even if Kurt said they were just an apology for his drunk phone call.

He was kind of surprised Kurt didn't seem to have any of the stuff in his bathroom that Puck needed to do his face the right way, but Sarah found some in her makeup kit.

"What do you need it for?" she asked, handing him the little tube.

"Glee," he said vaguely. "I'm singing a song, and I have to look the part."

So by the time American history was wrapping up the next day, Puck managed to convince the substitute he had to go set up for his number a little early. He found Mr. Schue in his office. Mr. Schue looked up in surprise when Puck poked his head through the door.

"Hey, Puck," said Mr. Schue. "Just trying to figure out what to do now that the Cheerios are using the auditorium half the time... what can I do for you?"

"Just getting ready for my song. How's Toby liking his new digs?"

Mr. Schue smiled in embarrassment. "He's adjusting," he said, pushing his chair back from his desk. "Mornings are hard for him. It's going to be a while until he gets used to going to bed before midnight like a sane person. But he'll be all right." He nodded at Puck. "How are things for you and Kurt? I've been keeping my ears open for anything untoward, but it seems like you guys have mostly been left alone?"

"There are rumblings," Puck shrugged. "I don't think it'll be too long before something happens. Uh, maybe today. That's what I wanted to tell you about. This song... it's kind of important to me, and I want to do it right. You got a mirror?"

Rachel seemed to want to walk arm-in-arm with him wherever they went, which wasn't a problem for Finn except that she was a lot shorter than him, and it was a little uncomfortable, leaning down to link elbows like that. "You're going to sing a hello song, right, Finn?" she said brightly.

"I don't know." He hesitated in the doorway to the choir room, looking back at Kurt, who was chattering with Mercedes. "I'm feeling a little off my game these days."

She gave him a sympathetic pat. "I know you didn't quite make your best showing at basketball this week, but you'll do better next time."

"Not just basketball. It's everything. The thing with Puck..." He couldn't really tell her more than that, but it was good to have a sympathetic ear. He settled himself into a chair on the risers, watching Artie and the drummer from jazz band set up. "What's Artie playing?"

"I don't know. And don't worry... it'll take a while before you and Noah can really be friends again." Then Rachel froze, her eyes locked on the door to Mr. Schue's office. "Oh... my."

"What - ?" Finn caught a startled glance from Kurt, who looked just as stunned as Rachel. Then he saw Puck. Holding the microphone.

In flawless eyeliner, his gaze directed right at Finn.

"Oh my god," he heard Kurt say.

"I don't really say hello," Puck said, his voice flat and grim. "The first line of this song is about as close as I come. But it asks a question that... that needed to be asked, anyway."

He began a simple riff on his electric guitar - one that was familiar by now, even to Finn. Kurt had turned positively white. The rest of Glee was mystified, but riveted on Puck's dramatic change in appearance, and the room was silent as he began to sing in a breathy, intense style. It was entirely unlike Puck, and completely compelling at the same time.

"Who is that?" Rachel whispered.

"Adam Lambert," Finn whispered back.

Hey
 Slow it down
 Whataya want from me?
 Whataya want from me?
 Yeah, I'm afraid
 Whataya want from me?
 Whataya want from me?

There might have been a time
 When I would give myself away
 Once upon a time I didn't give a damn
 But now, here we are
 So whataya want from me
 Whataya want from me

Hazel eyes stared out at him from dark-painted sockets. Finn couldn't look away. As the drums kicked in, Puck's expression became pleading.

Just don't give up
 I'm working it out
 Please don't give in, I won't let you down
 It messed me up, need a second to breathe
 Just keep coming around
 Hey, whataya want from me
 Whataya want from me
 Whataya want from me

Yeah, it's plain to see
 that baby you're beautiful
 And there's nothing wrong with you
 It's me, I'm a freak
 but thanks for lovin' me
 Cause you're doing it perfectly

Finn swallowed, feeling Rachel's confused glance, but the music wasn't letting him go. It wasn't just the song. It was Puck, singing it for him, asking him for - for something he wasn't ready to give. No. Not anymore.

There might have been a time
 When I would let you slip away
 I wouldn't even try
 But I think you could save my life

Just don't give up
 I'm working it out
 Please don't give in, I won't let you down
 It messed me up, need a second to breathe
 Just keep coming around
 Hey, whataya want from me
 Whataya want from me
 Whataya want from me

Artie, Puck and the drummer rocked out until the song's conclusion, and as the whole room burst into applause, Puck finally looked away. Finn felt like he'd been picked up in enormous jaws and shaken.

"Finn?" Rachel said, so many questions in her voice.

"I - " Finn began, then stopped. He had no idea what to say.

He needn't have worried; Rachel answered them in her own way. "He's in love with you," she said sadly. "And I suppose that's to be expected." She sighed. "You'll just have to let him down easily. He was your best friend, once, after all."

"He... was," Finn said. "I thought he still was. Maybe he could be again, someday."

Finn wouldn't have seen the aftermath if he hadn't tried to follow Kurt out to get his reaction. Kurt looked almost more upset by the performance than Finn had been, but he didn't have anything to say about it. He simply took Puck by the arm - in a completely different way than Rachel ever did with Finn - and they walked briskly toward Puck's locker.

They almost made it.

"Hey, girly," said a raunchy voice, full of inappropriate innuendo, and Finn and Rachel's eyes both snapped up to see Karofsky and three other hockey players, holding slushies in their hands, standing in all three of the exits. "You're looking lovely today. Did you do something with your hair?"

"Get away from him, douchebag," Puck growled, but Karofsky's grin was manic, and he wasn't looking at Kurt.

"I was talking to you, pretty boy," he said, drawing it out, and his friends sniggered. "Look at that makeup job. What happened to your lipstick?"

"Came off when I gave your friend there that blowjob," Puck said shortly. One of the hockey players started for Puck, but Karofsky gave him a brief shake of his head, and he held back, snarling.

"You've got quite a mouth on you, Puckerman." Karofsky's gaze narrowed, and he approached Puck. "You want to open up and take what I've got for you?"

"God," Finn muttered, and he started forward, but Rachel held him back.

"He's not going to hurt him," she whispered. "Just - don't interfere. It's better that way."

"No, it's not," Finn said, shaking his head. "It's fucking bullshit is what it is." He raised his voice. "Leave him alone."

Karofsky's eyes lit on Finn, and his smile grew. "'Bout time your other boyfriend came around."

Finn's heart stuttered and nearly stopped, but he managed to keep going, feeling his hands tuck into fists. "You're gross, Karofsky. And you can't treat people like that. Not Kurt, not Puck, not anybody."

"Oh, yeah?" Karofsky's lip curled, and he raised his own fists a little. Finn was taller, but Karofsky was bigger, and Finn had a sinking feeling who'd win if it came to a fistfight. He hoped it didn't. The two of them had too much history. And he'd done enough hitting of his friends. Former friends, he thought, and felt something tear inside his chest.

"Get out of here, Kurt," he said. Kurt stared at him in disbelief, but Finn stared back, and there wasn't any hesitation in his command. "Go on."

Kurt took one step away, then looked at Karofsky, and fled. Karofsky and the three hockey players closed on Puck.

"It's just you and me, now, pretty boy," He dropped his fist and held up the slushie. "You need a new 'do. That mohawk is so last year."

Puck actually grinned, keeping his eyes off Finn. "Hey, I can take anything wet you want to splash me with. Give it your best shot." He ran seductive hands down the front of his t-shirt. "Come on, Karofsky. Right here."

For a split second, Finn thought Karofsky might back down. He wasn't angry. He looked absolutely terrified. Then his chin firmed, and he brought back his hand, and all four slushies landed directly in Puck's face.

Karofsky's finger was pointed at him next. "You'd better watch it, Puckerman," he hissed. "You're in for it now. You and your fucking boyfriend."

"I'm counting on it," Puck shot back, but it just wasn't as powerful a statement when said through blue, purple and red colored ice. He wiped the residue from his eyes and stood alone in the center of the hallway in his own personal puddle, glaring at the hockey players as they all strode away.

"Dude," Finn said, but Puck shook his head, looking suddenly tired. The six feet between them felt like miles.

"You can't," said Puck.

Finn didn't move. "I know."

"So get the fuck out of here. You and your girlfriend." It was said without rancor, but Finn felt it anyway, a stab to his heart.

"Come on," Rachel said, tugging his arm. "You did everything you could."

Finn knew it wasn't true, but it was all Puck was going to accept. He wished he had the guts to do more.

Puck wiped his hand off on the quilt that covered the mattress in their attic room, and shivered. It was cold up there. The ice running down his butt crack didn't help, either. With his reasonably clean hand, he dug around in his backpack until he found his phone. He only hesitated for a moment before dialing the number.

"Hummel Tires and Lube, this is Burt."

"Uh... Burt, it's... Puck."

"Puck?" Burt was instantly on alert. "Is something wrong? Did something happen to Kurt?"

Puck stifled his sigh. "No... it's me. I'm... uh, I could use a change of clothes. And underwear."

There was a pause. "Do I want to know the details?"

"Probably not," Puck admitted.

"Yeah. But you'll tell me them anyway, if I bring you clothes. Where should I meet you?"

He found an alcove to hide in downstairs by the side door, managing to avoid being stared at by too many more students. The quilt kept him from shivering as he made his way to Burt's truck.

"You can leave your truck here overnight?" Burt said gruffly. "They won't tow it or anything?"

"Wouldn't be the end of the world if they did," Puck said, looking away from Burt's scrutiny. He knew the eyeliner wouldn't escape his notice, but Burt didn't say anything about it. He did reach behind his seat and hand Puck a reasonably clean towel, which Puck used to wipe off his face.

"That quilt," Burt said. Puck tucked it around his shoulders as Burt cleared his throat. "Elizabeth made that. Kurt's mom."

"Oh," he said, suddenly worried, but Burt gave him a mild smile.

"It was old when Kurt was born. Kurt had it on his bed until we got him that duvet, and he never looked back." Burt shook his head. "I'm not sure I want to know why it was at school."

"Trust me, you don't." Puck used the towel to wipe under his eyes, and came away with two dark smudges on the cloth.

"I brought the clothes for you, but I figured you might want to just get dressed back at - the house."

"Thanks." Puck leaned his head back on the seat, closing his eyes. "I can make dinner tonight."

Burt's voice was soft. "You don't have to do anything in return. It's your goddamn house too."

Puck wasn't sure how to explain that he wanted to, or that it still wasn't his house yet, even though Burt had offered it to him. So he just nodded, and said, "Sarah's a good cook."

"She does just fine." Burt reached out and put a hand on Puck's knee. "What do you want to talk about first?"

Puck found himself starting back on the first day of school, when Mr. Schue had given the Glee assignment, and he didn't stop talking until long after they'd reached the house. They sat in the driveway, letting the motor idle and the heat turned up all the way on Puck's soaking frame, and Burt listened to Puck tell about Finn and Rachel, and Kurt, and Karofsky. When he got to the part about Finn telling Kurt to run, Burt let out a long, slow sigh.

"It's better," Burt said, as if to himself. "It's better that way. Kurt doesn't need any more crap from that Neanderthal."

"Yeah, well, he's definitely got a bug up his butt about Kurt. And me, now, apparently." Puck shrugged. "I'm not afraid of Karofsky. And I can take care of any crap that Kurt gets, too."

"Mmmm." Burt turned off the engine and sat back in his seat for a moment. "And who's going to take care of you?"

For a second, Puck felt the panic race up his spine, and he clutched at the cushion of Burt's passenger seat. No Kurt. No Adam. No Finn. I'm alone.

Then Burt was there, unbuckling his seatbelt and helping him down from the passenger side, supporting him like some fucking invalid as he shivered his way to the door. "Go on into Kurt's bathroom and get cleaned up," he said, pressing the bag of clothes on him. "And don't worry about dinner. We're taking care of you tonight."

That was about Puck's limit of parental care, and he found himself crying helplessly into Burt's arms. Burt didn't make any noise about it. He just took Puck into the bathroom and set him down on the edge of the toilet, and helped him struggle out of his soaked and sticky t-shirt and jeans. "It's okay," he murmured, discarding Puck's clothes in a heap on the tile. Kurt never would have allowed that, but from Burt, it was fine, and Puck sat quietly in the tub while Burt ran him a bath.

"You're not going to, like, wash my hair or something, are you?" Puck said, glancing at Burt over the edge of the tub. Burt snorted.

"I won't tell anybody if you won't," he said, and reached for Kurt's favorite shampoo.

Chapter Text

 

Episode 1.14: Hell-O, Part Four - Will, Finn

"So Sue knows about you and Toby," Emma said, rearranging the pamphlet displays again. They looked perfect to Will, but apparently they weren't quite in the right locations for Emma. "But she hasn't told Figgins?"

"She's got something on him," Will said. "I don't know what, but she's using it, and it's big. I'm trying to stay out of her way. In the meantime, I really need some kind of cover. I mean, what would the parents of McKinley do if they found out their Glee club director was... engaged to a man?"

Emma smiled. "I think they'd be relieved to know their gaydar wasn't broken."

"What?"

"Nothing. Will, do you know the term beard?"

Will thought. "I'm assuming you don't mean the thing that grows on my face when I forget to shave."

She grimaced and flexed her hands. "Ew. Yes, not that. I'm talking about when a straight person marries a gay person to hide the fact that they're gay. Or it could be two gay people, I imagine. In any case, it provides the gay person with camouflage to continue their true relationships in secret."

Will crossed his arms and frowned. "Emma... that's exactly what I didn't want to do with you. I mean, things with Toby were hidden for so long... I don't want to try to pretend he's not my... you know."

Emma didn't look convinced. She clasped her hands on her desk. "Maybe just for a little while, until this thing with Sue blows over. You need one, Will. And... I need your help, too." She sighed. "I'm looking for a boyfriend."

"Emma," Will said uncomfortably, but Emma shook her head.

"Not... you. I mean, you know how I feel about you, Will, but I know I'm not in Toby's league. It's okay." She picked up the red stuffed pig off her desk and turned it over in her hands. "But I'm having problems. I want to start dating, but I can't get past some... issues. I could use some help with that, from somebody I trust."

"You want my help," said Will. Emma nodded.

"I could help you with Sue at the same time," she offered. "If you think it would. Help."

"Yeah... yeah!" He cocked his head at her. "That could... if you really think you could do it, and if I'm not going to hurt you, that could work."

"All right, Will." Emma held out her hand with businesslike efficiency, and he shook it. "You've got yourself a girlfriend."

"Wow. Uh... so..." Will sat down across from her at her desk and smiled. "Hi."

"Hi," she replied, suddenly breathy, her eyes wide as saucers.

He grimaced. "This is kind of weird, isn't it. We've been in this exact situation a hundred times... only this time, I could just lean over and kiss you. If I wanted to."

Emma looked taken aback. "Uh... do you want to?"

He shrugged, leaning in, and she retreated across her desk. "That's what you do when you're dating, right?"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on..." She reached down next to her desk and pulled out what looked to be a dental hygiene kit, complete with little hooks and mirrors and three kinds of toothpaste. "I just need to clean up first."

Will was taken aback. "Uh... Emma. I don't care. We've kissed before."

"No, you caught me by surprise sneak attack." She shook her head, her smile fading. "I'm sorry, this is a completely unattractive quality."

Will grinned. "You're adorable. And you're right. We need to do this right..." He sat her down in front of the desk. "Let's go on a date. I'll cook."

"I didn't know you could cook," she said, her smile returning. That was better. She looked so much more relaxed. Will knew that Emma needed to be wooed, to be swept off her feet. She deserved that - even if he wasn't really her boyfriend.

"There's so many things you don't know about me," he said, grinning bigger. "And I look forward to sharing them all with you."

Finn stopped Mr. Schue outside the auditorium. "Uh," he said, and decided the direct approach usually worked best. "I saw you and Miss Pillsbury. In her office. Did you try to... kiss her?"

Mr. Schue looked a little sheepish. "Yeah... that."

"Dude," Finn said, dropping his voice against the throng of students passing by, "you're not cheating on Toby, are you?"

"Finn, you of all people should understand when things are complicated." Mr. Schue didn't look happy, though. "If you must know, Miss Pillsbury is helping me... like a disguise, in front of Coach Sylvester, so she can't make trouble for us. For me, or Glee club."

"Oh." He blinked. "I think... you know, Rachel's kind of doing that for me, too. Except I don't think she knows she is."

"Hmmm." Mr. Schue frowned at him. "That doesn't sound like you, Finn. Are you planning to tell her the truth?"

Finn was silent for a moment. "I... I think I have to. I mean, I think she's just about the only one in Glee who still thinks I'm straight. The rest of the school, though... I can't let it come out. It's bad enough that he's out about his relationship with Kurt. If they found out Puck was with me and Kurt, they'd never let him stay with us. They'd send him and Sarah away to a foster home. But... I really don't like lying." He squirmed, thinking of Carl. Lying to Mr. Schue was even worse than lying to Rachel, but that was something he'd never be able to talk about. Not until he was out of high school, Carl had said. If they were even still together then.

Mr. Schue gave Finn a sympathetic look. "I know it's been hard on you since the baby drama... trust me, I get it... and hiding like that? It sucks."

"You seem to be handling it fine."

Mr. Schue nodded. "Well, it's because I realized I had to find this new person inside of me. The one that was okay with what happened."

Finn thought about Kurt and Puck, walking down the hall together. He could feel the lies he was still telling, lurking just under the surface, and he flinched away from them. "I just feel so bad about myself."

Mr. Schue shook his head, smiling. "Finn, that guy who made all those bad choices, who ignored the signs about who you really are... he's gone. This new, more experienced, more interesting guy is here, and I brought you here to introduce you to him. Help you move forward."

Finn paused. "Uh, you mean, like, meeting someone else? Because I really think I've reached my limit..."

"No, it's not about meeting someone else. It's about being okay just being you." Mr. Schue put an encouraging hand on his back. "C'mon, you're a rock star, Finn! Feel like Jagger... Morrison."

"Yeah, I like that. Morrison." He thought about the copy of Waiting for the Sun that Carl had pressed into his hands, and felt his stomach clench with anticipation. "Hey... the Doors have a hello song. So maybe I could find myself and do my Glee assignment at the same time?" Not to mention giving Carl what he wants.

Hello, I love you
 Won't you tell me your name?
 Hello, I love you
 Let me jump in your game

She's walking down the street
 Blind to every eye she meets
 Do you think you'll be the guy
 To make the queen of the angels sigh?

Even singing a song about a girl when it wasn't really about a girl was hard. But it wasn't hard to feel sexy, not when he had the right motivation. He could tell; everyone could see it. Kurt was clearly blown away, and the pride in Rachel's eyes was impossible to miss. Even Brittany and Santana approached him afterwards.

"You're a really good dancer," Britt said.

Finn thought that might have been the first time anyone had ever said that to him. He smiled in confusion. "Thanks, but... my feet weren't really moving..."

"That was the best part."

Santana jumped in, looking crafty. "Britt and I were wondering if you wanted to go out."

His confusion grew. "Like, on a date? With which one of you?" What the hell are they playing at? They know very well what's going on with me and Kurt and Puck.

They smiled at each other. "With both of us," they chorused.

"We heard you're wanting to figure out this girl thing again," Britt added. "I won't tell you who told Santana, but his name rhymes with f-"

"Britt," Santana hissed. "Ixnay on the iming-ray."

Brittany pouted. "You know I can't understand you when you speak your native language."

"Thanks, but I think I've got the, uh, girl thing covered," Finn assured them. Santana put a hand on his arm. It felt amazingly familiar, and nothing like Rachel's. He looked at it for a while before moving his arm away.

"Finnocence, the only thing you have covered are those ridiculous nipples of yours. Frankly, after that performance of yours, we're seeing you in a whole new light." Santana smiled at him with a distinctly predatory manner. "And going out with two girls? Can you think of better camouflage?"

She had a point. "Okay," he said. "I have something on Wednesday night, but - "

"Cancel it. I'll let you know when." Santana gave him a little wave as she and Brittany sauntered away.

More hiding. It's exactly what I don't want to do. He sighed. At least Britt and Santana had no illusions about who he was. Rachel, on the other hand... his guilt flared again as he watched her talking with Mr. Schue across the room. I have to do something.

The opportunity for something happened in the hallway the next morning after the two cheerleaders approached him, apparently ready to eat... something... right then and there. He watched them nervously.

"Breadstix," said Santana. "Eight o'clock. Table for three?"

Rachel eyed Britt and Santana walking away from Finn's locker with a suspicious glare. "What did they want?"

Finn hesitated. "Oh, nothing... just the time."

She tried that link-arms thing again as they set off down the hall, and Finn felt it tugging on his spine. "I know being my boyfriend is a challenge," she said. "I'm not Quinn, I don't look like her, I'm not popular, and my personality, though exciting and full of surprises isn't exactly low-maintenance, but... I'll always be honest with you. Painfully so. And all I ask in return is that you're just honest with me."

Shit. That was just about the worst thing she could have said to him. He took a deep breath and said the words he'd been thinking all night. "I don't think I want to be your boyfriend."

Rachel went still. "What?"

"Look, Rachel, you're really awesome, but I think I need to... connect with my inner rock star before fully committing to... one woman." That all sounded like a load of bullshit, even to him. He tried again. "I need to find out who I am now."

Her face went hard. "I'll tell you who you are. You're a scared little boy. You're afraid of dating me because it might hurt your reputation, which, though you'd never admit it, is very important to you. You hate what Quinn did to you, not just because it hurt but because it was so humiliating."

Finn had no trouble summoning up a worried expression, but it was more about Rachel's anxiety than about anything she was saying. "You're freaking me out," he said, hoping he sounded genuine. "It's like you're inside my head right now."

"I just see you for who you are," she retorted. Finn stifled a sigh. If that were true, I doubt you'd be here right now. "Unlike you, who can only see me as this silly girl who made a fool out of herself in her first Glee club rehearsal."

"That's not true," he protested, but she'd built up a head of steam, and she wasn't stopping.

"And that's where you lose, Finn. Because if you take a second and look at me you'd realize that I'm the only person in your life who knows you and accepts you for who you are. No matter what."

He watched her take off down the hall in a huff, feeling another twinge of guilt. Better to get it over with now, though, he thought, running his hand over his neck. Maybe I should just tell her the whole truth. She's right; she deserves it. She's been nothing but my friend. A crazy one, granted, but... what in my life isn't crazy right now?

But he had to wonder what Rachel had already guessed, when she sang that song in Glee.

When you see my face
 I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
 When you walk my way
 I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell

If you find a man that's worth a damn and treats you well
 Then he's a fool
 You're just as well
 Hope it gives you hell

"You just left them at the restaurant?" asked Carl.

"It was a stupid idea to begin with," Finn sighed, leaning back in Carl's arms. "They just wanted to talk about how hot I could be if I changed my image, and spend time together. So I just got in the car and drove out here. They can take a cab home. I really don't know what I was thinking, agreeing to go on a date with them."

"Mmmm," said Carl. He stroked Finn's bare shoulder, raising goosebumps. "I can imagine what you were thinking. Two beautiful girls, on a date with them both... I can imagine that very well."

"Yeah, but you like girls," Finn protested. "Women. Whatever. You've had girlfriends."

"Yes, and so did you. Fooled around with her well enough to think you might have sired a child with her." Carl's hand crept to his chest, and Finn shivered at the brush of his palm against his left nipple.

"That was before." Finn caught his breath as Carl's fingers pinched, rolled, prodded. "God."

"Nice." Carl's lips smiled against his cheek. "Before what?"

"Before guys. Before I realized what I was missing. Before Kurt, and Puck, and - god." The other nipple, now, and harder, much harder than he thought he would have liked, and there were nails involved and - "God!"

"Shhhh," Carl soothed. "Don't get so tense. Just let it happen. Finn, just because you love men doesn't mean you can't continue to love women, too. You don't need to put yourself in a box. The best thing you can do for yourself is just to be honest with your attractions. No categories, no limitations. Simply... sensation." He dug in again with his nails, and Finn whined, trying to breathe through it. "There's no gender there."

"I do like boobs," Finn admitted. "I miss them, sometimes."

"See? That's something none of your current lovers can provide. There's nothing wrong with wanting that." The nails skated down Finn's abdomen to the tense muscles below his navel, and Finn thrust up reflexively. "Calm down," Carl said again. Finn tried his best.

"So... what, you think I should... date girls?" He thought of Rachel's crestfallen face today, her voice saying be honest with me. "I don't think I could do that and pretend not to be with you guys, too."

Carl's fingers were on his pelvis now, tracing patterns on the skin between his thigh and his cock, which was apparently off-limits. "I'm not asking you not to be honest," he said. "If there were a girl in your life you might feel comfortable enough with to date, I can imagine you might tell her... almost everything."

"Almost," Finn agreed, trying not to move his hips. "Okay, yeah, there might be... somebody. But I don't know... she's a lot of work."

Carl chuckled, and the vibration sent uncontrollable shivers down his body. He tried to control his breathing. "You think that anything worth having is easy?"

"No, maybe not."

"What was that?" His lips closed on Finn's ear and bit down, hard, at the same time his hands wrapped around Finn's cock. Finn cried out, first wordlessly, then the words flooded out in response to Carl's demand.

"Sir, yes, sir, god, yes..."

"You're entitled to have everything," Carl said, his voice impossibly calm, even as his jeans-clad erection ground against Finn's bare, well-spanked bottom. "Everything you want. But you have to be willing to work for it."

Finn managed to continue making noise. "I don't know... if it's worth it."

"It's worth it if you decide it is." Carl's voice was right in his ear, and his strokes became both slower and more intense. "It's your life. No one can choose it for you." He chuckled, low and sultry. "But right now... you have no choice. Right now, who's in charge?"

"Y-you are, sir," gasped Finn. "Oh... oh, god..."

"That's right. And you're going to give it up to me. Right now."

It was immediate and sharp and completely involuntary, and within ten seconds, Finn found himself sprawled back on the couch, twitching and blinking up at Carl. He smiled down at Finn.

"You'd better head home." Carl extracted himself from under Finn's dead weight and walked toward the kitchen, leaving him there to consider his words in solitude.

By the time he ran into her tomorrow morning, Finn had decided what he wanted to do about Rachel. He gave her a brave smile.

"Hey, Rachel, can we talk?" He paused, then pressed on. "I realized I don't want to date other girls. Only you."

She barely glanced at him. "I'm glad you've come to that realization, but you're too late. I've met someone. A boy who's finally worthy of my talent and love."

Finn's mind went blank for a moment. All he could think was, no way. Rachel's in love with me. Nobody else. Which was way more possessive than he'd expected to feel about her. He shook his head. "Whoa, wait... do I know him? Is he bigger than me?"

"Oh, he doesn't go to this school," she went on blithely. "And he's a senior. His name is Jesse and he's the male lead in Vocal Adrenaline. We're both aware that our Romeo and Juliet romance will be a challenge, but our deep respect for each other's talent will carry us through."

Finn frowned. "Rachel, don't you think that's kind of suspicious? That we make it to regionals and suddenly the top guy from our main competition picks you up?"

Rachel put on her best superior look. "I know it's hard to believe that anyone would like me without an ulterior motive..." Finn tried not to wince, because that was exactly what he'd been doing. "But you have to respect that our love is real." Her eyebrows were pitying. "Move on, Finn. I finally have."

Finn watched her walk down the hall with trepidation. It wasn't a good situation for him personally, granted, but all he could think at the moment was: what happens to Glee if this Jesse guy breaks Rachel?

He hesitated for just a moment before heading to the choir room.

"Mr. Schue," he said, "we have a problem."

Toby didn't even bother to open the garage when he got home on Thursday evening; he just left the car on the gravel driveway and stumbled into the house, rubbing his bleary eyes and trying not to think about the lesson planning he still had to do before the next day. He pawed in his jacket pocket for his key for more than a minute before he remembered he hadn't bothered to lock his door. Living in a podunk town like this means you don't have to do that shit. Guess there's got to be some kind of benefit to being in Middle-of-Nowheresville, Ohio.

He opened the door to the mud room and the second door to the family room, tipping his bag onto the couch and leaning on the piano to take off his shoes before heading around the fireplace to the dining room - and stopped short. Sitting at his dining table was Will, resplendent with candles and dinner spread before him, an expectant, self-satisfied smile on his face.

"I came in your back door," he said, then paused with such a comical look of embarrassment that Toby had to laugh. "I really didn't mean that - like it sounded."

"You'd better, darlin'," Toby purred, and opened his arms to welcome Will's embrace.

They didn't make it past the couch before their clothes came off, and by the time they got back to dinner, it was cold and the candles were half the height as which they'd started. They sat naked on Toby's mismatched chairs, and ate Will's delicious noodles and salad and grinned like idiots across the table at one another.

Toby took a sip of wine. "Please, don't tell me you drove all this way out here to visit me only to go home."

"No, I took Friday off." Will looked apologetic. "I'm actually here for work. I need to have a conversation with your director about one of her students."

"Really? Who?"

"A boy named Jesse. He's dating Rachel."

Toby nearly choked on his forkful of noodles. "Jesse St. James? Gracious light, Will, that boy is as gay as - uh, me."

"Huh." Will sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I'm not sure what to think about that. Finn thinks he's manipulating her, and I'm inclined to agree, but... I had to come out and talk to someone. What's her name? Ms. Corcoran?"

"Shelby, yeah." He took another thoughtful bite. "She'll talk to you. I haven't quite figured out Jesse yet, but I've only met him a few times. Manipulative, though, yes, and talented and power-hungry."

"Well, I hope a conversation tomorrow will help me figure some of it out. We really can't handle losing Rachel from New Directions." Will hesitated, then added, "Uh, another thing... Emma and I have come to an... arrangement."

This sounds interesting. Toby tried to stay calm. "Oh yeah?"

Will nodded soberly. "She's helping me with a little misdirection for Sue, and the rest of the community. She's... pretending to be my girlfriend."

Toby put down his fork as calm went out the window. "Emma? The woman who was so desperately in love with you that she decided not to marry her fiancé?"

Will held up two hands in pacification, interrupting his impending tirade. "She said she wasn't looking for that from me. That she understood it wasn't going to be that kind of relationship. She needs... well, she's looking for a man, somebody she can trust, but she's never... I mean she's never..." He raised a meaningful eyebrow at Toby.

"No kiddin'," Toby murmured, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head.

"Yeah," Will agreed. "She's dealing with a lot, anxiety and her OCD. If she could just get over some of these issues, she's sure she could handle a real relationship. But right now..." He shrugged, taking another bite of salad.

Toby watched him eat in silence. "You're thinkin' you can help her with those... issues."

"Well, yeah." He glanced up at Toby, then back down.

"Will..." He leaned forward, placing both hands on the table. "You're gonna have sex with her?"

Will flushed. "I don't... Toby, it's not like that. I don't want her that way."

It was all Toby could do not to rise to his feet and yell, but somehow he managed to keep it under wraps. "Yeah. You've only been talking about her for the past year, like she was this perfect precious thing. Tell me you don't want her that way."

"I don't!" he protested. "Not like - god, Toby, why are we doing this? It's not like how it is with you. It's never been like that with Terri, or anybody else. Not anybody else."

"Maybe not, but it doesn't mean you don't want it. Don't miss it." He stared at Will until he looked away. "Yeah. I gave up everything for you, William. I came to a nowhere town, left all my friends and my community - for what? So I could watch you make a mess of things with another girl?"

Will looked desperately at the door. "Maybe I should go," he whispered.

Toby closed his eyes. "Your solution to everything. Well, you can't run away this time, Will. I'm here now, in your state, in your space. You have to deal with it. Make a choice. What's it going to be? Me, or her?"

"You, Toby," Will said passionately, coming around the table to take Toby's hands in his. "It's you - it's always been you."

This time, they managed to get up to the second floor, sprawled on top of Toby's queen-sized bed. Will's hands were strong on Toby's arms, and their mouths were hot and insistent. There wasn't any question in either of their minds how much they both wanted it.

Lying together in the dimness of the evening, Toby's head on his chest, it was hard to remember why he'd been angry at all.

"We've both always had other lovers," Toby said, listening to Will's slow heartbeat. "If you really want that, I'm not gonna tell you no. I don't even know what bothers me so much about the idea of you with Emma."

"It it because she's a woman?" Will murmured, touching Toby's hair. "I feel so bad for her, Toby. She's scared of men, of all these invisible enemies on everything she touches. She's been my closest friend these past couple years. And she knows about you, which is a huge relief. I want... to help her, you know?"

Help her. Toby sighed to himself. "Yeah, I get that. As long as you're thinkin' it's not going to backfire and hurt her in the end." Or you. Or me.

"I think, if I can really help her get past this phobia, maybe she can start to put her trust in someone. Someone who can really take care of her." Will sounded sad. "I don't think I can be that person. But somewhere out there, there's got to be someone who can."

Waking up with Toby, jockeying for space in the shower, brushing their teeth together, having a bowl of oatmeal in the big kitchen - it felt like the sweetest kind of dream to Will. "Can I make you lunch?" he offered, and Toby's answering smile went straight to his heart.

"Darlin', I'd love that, but I promised I'd meet with my principal during that time. He's going to take me out and discuss the VA boosters." He leaned in and gave Will a kiss before grabbing his jacket. "Good luck with Shelby today."

Will saw him turn left at the highway toward Starbucks. For a moment, he considered following him there, just to see the boy who reminded Toby so much of Colin, but he decided he really didn't need one more thing to worry about.

Driving Toby's route to school was an experience he tried to savor, to take it all in and appreciate every turn, every street sign and tree along the way, so he'd be able to remember it when he was back in Lima. It was amazing how being closer to each other in space was making him feel closer to him in his heart, too.

The school was just as posh and gleaming as he'd feared. It was kind of nice to think that Toby would have that kind of work environment, but he couldn't help but feel a little stab of envy. What I wouldn't give for an auditorium like this one for my kids, he thought, as he made his way down the aisle toward the brunette in the center. He watched Vocal Adrenaline tear up the stage with a ripping version of "Highway to Hell."

"Stop, please, just, dear god, please stop," said the director, tossing her pen down. "Seriously, guys, it's like watching beige paint dry."

Will watched as she asked Jesse to demonstrate a show face. The boy was tall and handsome, with curly hair that reminded him of his own - though he'd had no idea how to style it, back when he was in high school - and, from what little he'd seen and heard, clearly talented. He sighed. Rachel would be completely smitten with him. He held out his hand. "Excuse me, Ms. Corcoran? Will Schuester."

She looked at him blankly. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are."

"I coach the McKinley Glee club," he said. Her face darkened.

"I don't usually cotton too well to my competition sneaking in and watching rehearsal..." She smirked. "... but I also have trouble seeing you guys as competition."

He sighed. "I believe you have a student named Jesse St. James? I think he might be dating one of my students. I'm more than a little concerned with the whole fraternizing-with-the-enemy aspect of their relationship."

"You think we're spying on you?" she scoffed.

"Honestly? Yes."

Shelby nodded. He thought he detected a hint of respect in her face. "Noted. But I don't stand for any funny business, and Jesse's a good kid. I mean, what can you do? The heart wants what the heart wants." She eyed him. "Sometimes there's that little spark."

He watched her, suddenly nervous. "Uh... yeah, I suppose that's true. But my kids have said in no uncertain terms that if Rachel is dating Jesse, she can't be in our Glee club. And I'm not going to lie; we really need her."

She laughed. "I'll be the first to agree with you, that Jesse and Rachel should not be dating. I'll make that crystal clear to him." She gestured with her head. "Come on; I've got to finish this rehearsal, and then we can continue this conversation in the teacher's lounge."

It was absolutely not in the plan for Will to enjoy watching Shelby work, but it was clear she was talented and knowledgeable. When she said, "I'm sure Mr. Grey hadn't intended for your turns to look like that," he about choked, but he managed to keep his thoughts to himself.

It also was not in the plan for him to end up on the couch with Shelby, his hands in her hair and their mouths all over each other. He wasn't even sure how it happened, exactly, but when he realized she was talking about work and trying to get his shirt off at the same time, Will held out his hands and leaned back on the couch.

"Okay - wait, wait, we have to stop. I just can't do this."

She leaned on one elbow, looking crestfallen. "Aw, I'm sorry, I'm all business. I'm trying to work on that."

"No, it isn't that."

"What, are you gay?"

Will started guiltily. "What? … No!"

She shrugged. "Because most of the show choir directors I make out with are gay."

He wasn't even sure how to respond to that. "I - why would they make out with you, then?"

Shelby gave him a duh look. "Because they're insecure and confused, like the rest of us? Because human beings are more interested in making a connection and having physical contact than what our genitals require to get off?"

It sounded so rational the way she said it. "I think I need a cup of coffee," he said, his eyes on the counter across from them. "You want one?"

She watched as he scooted out from the couch and over to the kitchenette, taking two mugs down off the rack. "I think coffee's not going to solve my problem," said Shelby glumly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I spend every waking moment thinking about Vocal Adrenaline. I have no life. I mean, now that we have a new choreographer, maybe it'll be easier, but... seriously, Will, I don't think you understand how much work it is. I haven't been on a date in three years." As he handed her a mug, she smiled at him slyly. "I did lie to you earlier. I do know who you are."

Will froze, trying not to panic. Toby wouldn't have told - maybe she saw a picture of me, or -

"I saw you at our fall invitational. I thought you were really cute."

He relaxed, smiling, and rummaged in the fridge for some milk. "I know what you mean about being obsessed with work. I'm so committed to the Glee club, and to... uh, the arts. They played a big part in ending my marriage."

She tilted her head quizzically. "How long have you been divorced?"

"Um... well, I'm not really divorced yet. And... actually, I'm seeing someone I really care about. Only isn't working for some reason..."

"Whoa," she said, shaking her head. "You're already seeing someone else and you were just making out with me?"

He winced. "Yeah... I'm kind of a mess."

"Look, I don't want to tell you how to live your life," Shelby began.

"Please," Will begged, "be my guest."

Shelby paused, blinking at him for a moment. Finally, she said, "I think you need to take some time. To reintroduce yourself to yourself. You just finished being somebody's husband, and that didn't really work out, and now you're running off to be somebody's boyfriend? Seems to me you need to take a little breather."

She stood, approaching him with a little smile. "Look... that hair, that dimple... I think you're about the cutest thing I've ever seen. Here's my number. When you get things sorted out, give me a call. Thanks for the coffee... and the making out? Kind of hot."

He tried to smile back, but he couldn't get any words out. She paused in the doorway. "I need to get back to work, but - I'll talk to Jesse, okay? Don't worry about him. Like I said, he's a good kid. Believe me, I trust him like he was my own son."

Chapter Text

 

Episode 1.14: Hell-O, Part Five - Toby, Puck, Emma, Finn

Toby stood on his porch and watched while all four doors of Kurt's Navigator opened and kids poured out.

"I thought you were just bringing Brittany? Aren't we doing garden stuff today?" Toby pulled his jacket closer around himself; yeah, it was a little damp and cold to be thinking about planting already, but Brittany had just gazed longingly at the swath of yard between the house and the lake after her lesson last weekend and told him that he really needed to at least think about plots. Once it warms up, we won't have long to get things into the ground, she told him, and since he was trading her gardening skills for dance lessons, he felt like he couldn't complain.

"We are," Kurt called. "Puck wanted to talk to you about a kitchen garden."

"Dude," Puck said, bounding up the stairs. "You live in the middle of freaking nowhere, and you can't eat take out every damn night." He bumped Toby boyishly with his hip. "I do know how you value your - what was it, baby?"

"Girlish figure?" Kurt asked with a smirk, joining them on the porch. Toby just nudged them into the house and gave Brittany a hug.

"I have plans!" she told him excitedly. "This is the most fun part, picking out what you want. I think you need to grow strawberries. They make great ice cream, in the summer." Toby waited for her to follow the boys.

The last of them, Rachel, was standing shyly at the bottom of the steps. Toby didn't know her very well at all, other than by reputation. Loud, Puck had said, and Kurt had called her lonely. Finn had remained oddly silent, but Toby also didn't know Finn quite as well. He was busy, and from what he'd gathered spent most of his Saturdays doing something in Columbus.

"Hi, Rachel. Come on, it's awful cold out here. The others just make themselves at home, but I can give you the dime tour if you'd like."

"Thank you, Mr. Grey." She moved carefully up the steps, staring at her ballet flats like they were going to betray her and send her sliding over the slick wood.

"Toby, please. I'm only Mr. Grey to my students, and even then only because they need the discipline of formality. But you're not one of my students, so... please, come in." He ushered her into the living room, and took her coat. Always a gentleman, Shelby told him whenever he did the same for her. Too bad you don't play for my team. Toby was secretly grateful, because he was a little afraid of Shelby. She seemed like she took great pleasure in chewing men up and spitting them out.

"Toby! Can we make cocoa?" Puck called out from the kitchen.

"Follow the noise," he whispered to Rachel. "Tell Puck yes, and I'll be right along."

She smiled at him and walked carefully to the back of the house. He felt bad for her, clearly tagging along and a little on the outside of things. He just wasn't clear on what she was doing here, with the others.

Puck found the cocoa at the top of the cupboard, next to the instant (yuck) coffee. "How can you even keep instant in the house, man? That shit's disgusting." He glanced at Toby, who was watching from the doorway.

Kurt handed him a pot and headed over to the fridge for the milk with a little smile. "It's for the days when someone oversleeps and has to skip his Starbucks run. Or could it be you secretly don't need coffee at all, and you just have a fixation with the cute barista?"

"I definitely need the coffee," Toby said, but his light blush spoke volumes. "Though the cute barista doesn't hurt anything."

"Whatever," Puck said, wanting to join in on the teasing but still not a hundred percent sure how to do it the same way Kurt and Toby did. He turned to glance at Rachel. "Cocoa? I don't know . . ."

"That's okay," she said, reaching into her purse. "I carry my own tea, Noah, because not everyone is aware of all the different things that contain animal products. Thank you for asking."

Puck turned back to the stove, set the kettle on for Rachel's tea and poured a healthy amount of milk into the pan. "You're talking to the wrong guy, Berry. I know exactly what's in everything I make." He raised his eyebrows at her suggestively. "Everything."

She turned as pink as her raincoat and coughed. "I'll remember that," she muttered.

Kurt added cocoa to the milk in the pan and set it on low, choosing a spoon from the pot next to the stove. "Be nice," he whispered. "She's out of her element here."

"Why did you invite her anyway?" He hoped they were whispering soft enough.

"She asked to come along. And she needs friends, if we're going to distract her from dating that Jesse kid. She's not hurting anything, or anyone. Just . . . try. For me, sweetheart?"

Puck sighed. It felt weird, with Rachel there. Like they couldn't act the way they usually did at Toby's. It didn't feel safe. "I'll try," he muttered.

The window out the back looked over the garden, and further down the hill, the smaller of the two lakes. He could see Brittany walking the space, touching the dirt, looking at what plants were already buried there, under the snow. Then he watched as she stood, and turned, facing the garage, talking to someone. It was a dark-haired woman. At first he didn't recognize her, but as she turned toward the house, he saw her eyes.

"Holy shit," he whispered. Then he stopped. He couldn't say anything to Kurt, or anyone, because he remembered exactly where he'd seen this woman before.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Kurt looked over his shoulder. "Do you . . . know her?"

"No," he replied softly. "No, I don't. She just looks familiar, is all."

She came right to the house and through the back door into the kitchen, calling, "Toby? It's January, honey. You don't start gardening in Ohio until - oh." The woman took in the kitchen full of boys with one glance.

"Shelby," Toby said with a funny kind of twisted smile. "It's Saturday. Is there something you need that couldn't be settled with a phone call?"

She arched her eyebrow in a manner that looked remarkably familiar. "I don't know how things were for you in Denver, Toby, but at Carmel, we don't ever stop teaching." She handed him a sheaf of papers. "My notes, from Thursday's observation of your senior dance class. I had some thoughts on the - uh, that number with the lifts."

Rachel was watching her, head tilted to the side. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "You must be Shelby Corcoran." She turned to Puck and Kurt. "The coach of Vocal Adrenaline."

"Yes, Rachel," Toby sighed. "Shelby Corcoran, some of my young friends. Rachel, Kurt, and Noah, and you met Brittany outside. Boys." Toby looked at them. "Why don't you take Rachel out and show her the studio."

"Actually," Rachel fidgeted, twisting her hands in the hem of her unicorn sweater, "I saw a market on our way in, and I'd love some soy milk and raw sugar for my tea. Kurt, is there any way I could borrow your car?"

"She's a little crazier than I thought if she expects to find soy milk at that store," Puck muttered. He averted his eyes from Shelby's face. He couldn't quite tell if she recognized him or not, although he thought he'd seen a flash of awareness when she'd come in the door.

Kurt handed her the keys to the Navigator. "Not one scratch," he said.

"I'm a very careful driver," she said, grasping the keys before flouncing out of the kitchen with a little wave.

"I wouldn't mind a mug of cocoa myself," Shelby said to Puck with a brisk smile. "Toby, can I have a moment with you in the dining room?"

"Of course." Toby ushered her through the door with a backward glance to Puck. "Don't burn my kitchen down."

"No worries," Puck said, sounding as offhand as he could manage. But as soon as Toby was out of sight, Kurt was on him in an instant.

"What the hell? Are you sure you don't know her, because it seemed like maybe she knew you."

"Kurt," Puck moaned, setting the spoon on the stove. "I can't... fuck, man, I saw her at Dr. Howell's, okay?"

"You - oh." Kurt's eyes were huge as he glanced through the doorway to the dining room. "You saw her there? What do you mean?"

"I mean, I saw her coming out of Dr. Howell's office." He drummed his hand against his thigh in agitation. "It was . . . right around when my Ma died, so maybe I didn't see right. But I'd swear it was her."

"Wow. Um... you know you can't say anything, right?"

Puck sighed in frustration. "God, Kurt. I'm not three. I'm not just gonna talk about that with anyone. You know that. I get that it's not just a secret for us; it's like that for other people too. I just . . . I'm curious, you know?" He tried to catch a glimpse of Toby and this Shelby woman talking in the dining room, but Toby kept shifting his place and he could only see the side of her head. "Plus, she was kind of upset when she left. I think she was crying."

Kurt picked up the spoon and stirred the cocoa. "Curiosity killed the cat, sweetheart. And whatever she was or wasn't doing there, it was her business."

"Yeah, I know. I mean, I probably looked like a huge mess the last time I left there, myself." He sighed. "I just -" He stopped, as Shelby returned to the kitchen.

"Toby wants to talk to you, Kurt," she said, seating herself at the bar stool. She nodded at the door, clearly waiting for him to leave. Kurt paused, glanced at Puck once, then vanished.

Puck busied himself with pouring her a mug of cocoa, and tried to ignore the butterflies dancing in his stomach. Kurt was right, he couldn't say anything. He decided to wait and see if she did.

"Thank you," she said, taking a tentative sip. "Oh, it's just right to drink."

"Yeah," Puck shrugged. "You have to be careful not to get it too hot, or you scorch the milk, and then it's just nasty. And, you know. Too hot to drink, then, too, and all the whipped cream melts. But Toby doesn't have whipped cream, so." He was babbling.

"So." She gazed across the counter at him, and folded her hands with a sigh. "Let's just get this out there. Did Carl send you?"

"Excuse me?" He wasn't stupid, but he really wasn't following.

"I know where I saw you," she snapped. "There's no way you're here by chance. So, what is it? Are you checking up on me, what?"

"I was right," he mumbled mostly to himself before lifting his gaze to meet hers across the island. "You saw me there, but I didn't even know who you were. I was there for . . . um."

"Oh, my god." She stared at him. "You're one of his clients? Aren't you in high school? He doesn't do stuff like that with minors. Well... Jesus." Her cheeks were red. "I'm sorry - that was inappropriate of me."

He felt a little affronted at the idea that he'd need to pay somebody to give him what Kurt and Adam did because they loved him, but he couldn't explain that. "Uh, I'm not a client. Not anymore. I mean, I was, but only because Tess said he should teach us. It wasn't something -"

"Tess." She paused. Now her cheeks had gone pale again. "How do you know her?"

"Long story. We -" He shook his head. "I can't say anything more without asking... uh, somebody."

"That tells me something. You have someone, then." She paused, and let the words flick out quietly across the counter. "A Top."

"Heh. It's that obvious, huh?" He shrugged, and smiled at her. "Two of them, actually," he admitted, feeling happy. "Kurt said it wasn't my business, but. Are you - ?"

"I think that might not be any of your business," she said, looking dangerous, but Puck knew enough to tell the difference between Toppiness and bitchiness. He smirked at her.

"Sure. Whatever." He watched her glare at him with a sense of satisfaction. "I know the score. You wouldn't be there to see him if you were one, too. So you're like me."

"You have no idea what you -" she said, raising her voice, then cut off, dropping to a furious whisper. "Fine. Think whatever you want. What do you want from me?"

Puck almost snickered. "Excuse me?"

She gestured imperiously. "Come on. What do I need to give you to keep quiet?" Her gaze became calculating. "Just because I don't do that doesn't mean I can't make it worth your while."

He almost laughed. "Sorry, babe. I've got enough people feeding the Puckasaurus to keep my schedule pretty full. I don't need one more."

Shelby nodded, watching him. "All right, then. So what? Everybody has a price."

Puck sighed. "Forget it. No price. I'm not going to tell anybody I saw you there."

But she gave him an incredulous look. "Of course you will. You're just like my ex-husband. There's not a Top on this planet that couldn't roll you with one word. I need some leverage. Come on: money? What's it going to take?"

He just stared at her, not knowing what to say. Shelby reached out and fingered the bottle of Emilia Romagna Manicarda on the counter, wiping off a dollop of oil and placing a finger in her mouth. "I wouldn't have pegged Toby for a foodie. He brings leftover takeout for lunch. What's he doing with fifty dollar olive oil?"

"It's mine," said Puck, appropriating the bottle. "I'm making dinner tonight."

She targeted him with that vicious eyebrow again. "You? Please. You wouldn't know a merengue from a soufflé."

"Not unless you count the fact that they're both made with whisked egg whites," Puck said, shrugging.

"Hmm." Shelby paused and cocked her head. "But no olive oil?"

"Yeah, if you want your egg whites foamy instead of stiff." He wrinkled his nose. "No fat with egg whites."

She laughed. "Okay. You convinced me." Then she cocked her head. "You some kind of chef, huh? Bet I could cook a meal for you that would knock your socks off. Would that be worth a closed mouth about my presence in Carl's office? And no cheating?"

Puck opened his mouth to say dude, I said I wouldn't say anything, but then he closed it again. This chick sounded like she knew what she was talking about. At the very least, it'd be an opportunity to show her up. At best, he'd get some free food out of it. "Okay," he said, holding out a hand. "You've got yourself a deal, Ms. Corcoran."

"Shelby," she said, shaking it. She took a piece of paper from Toby's shelf and scribbled a number and an address on it. "No cheating," she repeated with a stern look, handing him the paper. "You're on your honor."

Puck watched her leave through the back door and walk around to the front of the garage. Less than a minute after she departed, Kurt was in the doorway. "Is she gone?" he hissed.

"Yeah," said Puck. Kurt heaved a huge sigh.

"God, she's stressful. I feel terrible for Toby, having to deal with her every day."

Puck shrugged. "I don't know. She's kind of a ball-buster, but I admire that." He set the Manicarda on the counter. "And she knows her olive oil."

Jesse was a little surprised to find a gleaming blue Navigator in Shelby's parking space. He'd told Rachel she could park there, since it was Saturday, but he didn't expect a girl from Lima to have such a slick ride.

It was a long drive, as he knew well, but he'd been pretty sure she'd show. There wasn't any reason for him not to believe his fawning and smooth words wouldn't find their way into her heart. She was as easily manipulated as most of the boys he dated. He stuffed down the irrational guilt he felt about doing it to a girl, though. As though a girl were any less worthy of deception than a boy. He ducked through the back door that he'd left propped open and into the auditorium. She was already on the stage; he reached over and flipped the switch for the brightest spotlight.

"Jesse?" he heard her fearful voice cry, as she squinted into the glare. "I carry a rape whistle!"

"It's just me," he said, chuckling, and strode out on stage. "Most spots are 2500 watts. This one is ten times brighter. We have to wear sunscreen on stage, but it's worth it."

Rachel tucked her hair behind her ear. "I guess everything is bigger and brighter here." She stared at him with the same intensity as the spotlight. "I have to ask you something. And I need you to tell me the truth, because if you don't, there will be consequences. Life and death consequences. It'll be the kind of heartbreak that girls like me carry for the rest of our lives. Like Barbra in The Way We Were."

Jesse couldn't help it: his face split in a smile, and he threw his head back, laughing incredulously. "Oh, my god," he said. He gathered her up in his arms and held her, gazing down on her. It was a little bit shocking, but he was feeling twinges of genuine fondness for this girl. "You're more of a drama queen than I am."

She was silent, giving him the most effective kicked-puppy look he'd ever seen. He sighed, then stepped back and held out his hand. "Hi," he said. "I'm Jesse."

Rachel shrugged listlessly. "I know who you are."

He shook his head. "You know Jesse St. James, star of Vocal Adrenaline, your competition at regionals. I want to introduce you to the real Jesse. Jesse Lawton. The guy who's nuts about you. The guy who would never hurt you."

She still looked suspicious, but she stepped into his arms again. Jesse held her head against his chest, not even bothering to fight the feelings of protectiveness that washed over him this time. She needs somebody to take care of her. Just like Dad said: some people need that. Maybe... maybe I can take care of her? Maybe this doesn't have to be all about a lie. Maybe there can be something good in it, too.

"No one can know," she said, and he stroked back her hair from her face.

He nodded soberly. "I understand." I have plenty of secrets. What's one more?

But as she leaned in for a kiss, he spied Shelby in the wings. She didn't look happy, but he tried to focus on what was in front of him. One thing at a time. Wouldn't do for her to get suspicious. I can deal with Shelby later.

Later came more quickly than he'd anticipated. She found him on his way back to the parking lot.

"What do you think you were doing back there?" she hissed. "I told you to watch her, not try to get into her pants!"

"Relax. It's not your problem how I keep an eye on her, right? If I can handle it, you can too."

Her glare was hard enough to cut glass. "You have no idea what you're messing with. You need to get it through your head that there can be nothing between the two of you. Understand? This is a job, and that's it."

"Whatever you say, mom," he drawled, grinning at her outraged expression. He reached out and patted her cheek. "You're so adorable when you're pissed."

"God, if your father didn't like it so much, I'd kick his ass. You're acting just like him." She made a flickering motion with her hand. "Get the hell out of here before I suspend you or something completely inappropriate. And keep your teenage mitts to yourself, understand? I thought you were gay."

He grinned bigger as he headed out the door. "I'm not interested in getting off. This is acting. A perfect opportunity to see who I can convince."

But later, he couldn't help taking his phone out of his pocket and sending her a text: No one will know. Don't worry.

You're wonderful, she replied, with a little smiley face. See you Tuesday, Jesse Lawton.

Seeing his real name printed out like that gave him a shiver. He hadn't used that name since he'd decided to go into show business, and Shelby had coached him to use a stage name. Now, he wondered how much of that coaching was because she'd had his best interests at heart... or her own.

Finn didn't come in for dinner. Carole watched him out the front window until she was sure he wasn't playing some kind of a trick, then she put on her coat, went out and sat next to him, legs dangling off the porch. He smiled at her halfheartedly.

"Where are the boys tonight?" she asked.

"At Toby's. Brittany Pierce is trying to convince him to put in a kitchen garden."

She nodded. "You and Puck..."

Finn turned away. "He didn't say anything to me today."

"I suppose you didn't say anything to him, either, hmmm?" She watched him shake his head. "What's going on?"

"It's about Rachel. She went out to Carmel with the guys, too." He sighed. "I think she's seeing this one boy from Carmel. She promised Glee she wouldn't, but... I'm pretty sure she is, anyway."

Carole studied him. Rachel had been over at their house more often than usual, but it hadn't been for more than a brief visit. "And this is a problem because...?"

"He's, like, the lead singer guy. Apparently he's a senior and he really wowed Rachel."

Now that was a tone she hadn't expected to hear in his voice. "Finn? You're not... I mean, Rachel's not your... "

"We were, kind of? She sure seemed to think we were dating. But then she said she wanted honesty, and... I just couldn't pretend, anymore. Not without telling her about me, and the guys. And she... uh, she's worse than Puck at keeping a secret."

Carole put a hand on his shoulder. "Honey, I'm not trying to make any assumptions here, but didn't you tell me you were gay?"

"Yeah," he said, and sighed. "I'm... I don't know, mom. I thought I liked girls for a long time. And there're things about girls I still like. And Rachel, she's kind of special. I don't feel about her the way I feel about Kurt, or Puck, or... but she's awesome. And when we sing together, I definitely feel something. Because, you know, performing with someone, singing with them... or for them... that's amazing. And nobody sings like Rachel." He kicked the snowbank. "Last week she got really mad at me and sang this song. Telling me to go to hell. To hurt me."

"Yeah? And?"

Finn shrugged. "And it did." He gazed pleadingly at her. "That should mean something, right?"

"Honey, it sounds an awful lot like you're trying to convince me of something." She patted the shoulder. "Or yourself."

He didn't respond. It wasn't the first time she'd challenged him about a decision, but it didn't happen very often. She tried again. "What is it you want from her?"

Finn considered this, as he usually did. "I want her to be happy," he said. "She's not... well, people don't treat her so well. That's not right. She's a good person. And she's been honest with me."

"That sounds a lot like what a good friend would do," Carole said. "You don't have to date a girl to be her friend."

"She's more than a friend, mom." The snowbank was taking a real beating under his foot. "I don't know what she is, but I think... I have to figure this out."

Carole shivered in the mid-January evening, squinting into the sun. "I wonder if this has anything to do with what's happening with Puck."

"Mom..."

"Because if I had a fight with my boyfriend and wasn't speaking to him, I might be feeling pretty lonely. Huh?"

He visibly wrestled with this idea. "I don't think so, mom," he said at last. "Because I still have Kurt, and... and Carl, and I still think I might... want... something with Rachel."

She sighed. "Do you know what I mean by the word finite, Finn?"

"Uh... is it a kind of rock?"

Carole tried not to smile. "It means a thing that's limited. The opposite of infinite. You are a finite resource, Finn. You can't keep spending yourself and never expect to run out."

"You think I'm going to run out of love?" Finn sounded perplexed.

"No, honey, not love. Time. Energy. Those things are your finite resources." She kissed his cheek. "I'm pretty sure you have enough room in your heart for everyone you'd ever want to love. But you can't split yourself infinitely thin. Something's going to have to give."

"Yeah, well..." He bowed his head. "Looks like it might be Puck."

She knew she wouldn't solve any of his problems right then, so she just patted him one more time and said, "Don't stay out here too late."

"I just have a phone call to make." He dialed a number, and Carole could hear, as she was going back into the house: "Hey, Rachel? It's Finn. I - I have something I need to tell you. About me, and Kurt. And... well, do you want to come over?"

Emma didn't have any trouble getting into Will's tiny apartment. He had told her exactly where she could find the key. I'm going out for an early movie with Toby tonight, he'd said, and then back to my place for dinner, so I can't see you. He'd be so surprised. This would make up for her epic freak-out at the prospect of having sex. It was so nice of him to try. I think it really floored him that I was a virgin. She grimaced as she adjusted the silverware for the eighteenth time. That's a title I'd be more than happy to be rid of.

"Beautiful table." Emma startled at the sound of Terri's voice. "Meticulous, really. I guess being crazy has its benefits."

Emma straightened her shoulders and gazed back at Terri defiantly. "It's date night," she said. "Actually, it was tomorrow, but Will wanted tonight, so..." She reached for the platter on the sideboard. "I'm surprising him and Toby. And I know he keeps a key under the mat." She knew her smile wasn't very nice, but she didn't feel very charitable toward Terri.

Terri approached the table slowly. "You're really loving this, aren't you?" she murmured.

"I take no pleasure in your pain, Terri," she said. "But I am enjoying Will get a second chance at happiness, yes."

"Oh, and you're the one to introduce him to the magical new world of bliss?" Terri's eyes were venomous. "What, you think he needs another girl? Because I'm pretty sure he's done with the fairer sex."

"I don't have any illusions about what Will can give me. He's my friend." Emma tossed her head. "Now, is there a reason that you're here? 'Cause I'd kind of like you to be gone when Toby gets here."

Terri stalked past her into the family room, staring at her in perplexity. "I'd just like to pick up the rest of my Bruckheimer DVDs." But she didn't get far. The Jazz Singer was sitting on the table, and Terri snatched it up. "Whose is this?"

"Mine," Emma said, but Terri was already shaking her head.

"It's his, isn't it? God, he's pathetic. And not even creative enough to choose something original. Hello was our prom song." Terri sounded satisfied. "No matter what Toby gave him all these years, he's still not over me. You can tell him I said that. He's not ready for a real relationship with him. Or whatever this is with you. He's nothing but a confused, immature boy who wouldn't know the truth if it bit him on the butt." She handed the DVD back to Emma. "He's going to break your heart."

He did that long ago, Emma didn't say, and averted her eyes as Terri went out the door.

Finn knew, no matter what Carl said about him, that he just wasn't all that smart. But he'd learned well enough that he should trust his intuition when it came to people. And it was pretty clear that Rachel wasn't telling him the whole truth when she told him the reasons why she couldn't date him.

It's the team, she'd said. We can't have any drama right now. We have to focus on regionals. But her eyes had flickered away from his, and she'd pursed her lips and closed her eyes in those telling motions he'd begun to recognize. She'd spoken so eloquently about wanting the truth, but now that she had some from him, she wasn't willing to share her whole heart anymore. It hurt, a little, because Finn had actually thought he might be able to trust Rachel.

So when Rachel ran off the stage at the end of their Hello, Goodbye number, Finn followed her back to the choir room, where she was stuffing her clothes into her backpack.

"Hey." He came to a halt a few steps away from her. "After you change, you want to get a smoothie?"

"I'm not going to change," she said, brushing her eyes with the side of her hand. "I'm going home. Right now. I can't stand being here, not one more minute."

"Because you're going to see him," he said, and she paused, long enough for him to know he was right. "So what was all that about being honest with me, then? Guess you've given that up already, huh?"

"Yeah?" She rounded on him, eyes blazing. "And you were so truthful with me? Turns out practically the whole Glee club knew about you and your whole squadron of boyfriends. Boyfriends, Finn?" She was fuming, and he knew better than to get in the way of that. "You knew I'd be supportive, and you still didn't tell me."

"No, I knew you wouldn't get it," he replied. "I knew you'd think there was something wrong with you, if I wanted to date you and still be with other people. I think I know you well enough to expect that. You didn't just want to be with me; you wanted me all to yourself."

"And what's wrong with that, Finn?" she said, throwing her arms out. "What's wrong with wanting that? Isn't that what most normal people want?"

He felt himself flinch. "Are you listening to yourself? Normal people? Tell me, do you think it's normal to be gay? Or bisexual, or whatever?"

"Of course I do, Finn," she whispered. "My dads are -"

"Yeah, I got that. That's normal, but you don't think it's normal to be in love with more than one person? Because I am, Rachel. I'm in love with them."

She scowled at him, fierce and thoughtful. "Puck, and Kurt."

"And other people," he insisted. "So why can't I be in love with you, too?"

For a minute, he thought maybe he'd broken her. She looked almost terrified, and put a hand over her mouth, shaking her head in denial. "No," she said.

"I'm not saying I am," he said, backtracking with an outstretched hand. "But... I don't know, Rachel. I like you, a lot, and... I think I could be."

"Finn..." She shook her head, taking a shaky breath. "You told me you were gay."

"Or bisexual, or whatever," he added. "Rachel, I like you. What does it matter who else I like?" He reached out and captured her free hand. "You want truth? I don't know how I feel about girls, but... when we sing together, I feel something. It's real. I can't ignore that."

"No," she said again, but this time it was in agreement. He let out a breath.

"Okay." He squeezed her hand and gave her a smile. "Okay. So can we at least say we're friends? You don't have to understand this about me, Rachel, but... give me a chance to show you it wouldn't make a difference."

"It does make a difference, Finn," Rachel whispered. "I can't... be with you if you're with other people. Boys, girls, that makes no difference. But I have to be the only one. I'm just not built to... to share like that."

Finn wrinkled his brow. "You're so sure about that. Just like you were so sure you could give up that Jesse kid." He abandoned all attempts at scorn, and just gave it to her honestly. "I don't think you want to give it a chance because you're afraid."

"Afraid, Finn?" Her voice rose, and she took a step closer. "Of getting my heart broken? Of course I am. Of being ignored in favor of your relationship with... I don't even know who else?" She flailed a hand at the risers. "How could this be going on right under my nose, and you didn't even tell me?"

He shook his head. "I haven't told very many people, Rachel. My mother, and Kurt and Puck and their families. Mr. Schue, Toby, Brad. Quinn. My... uh, my dentist. And that's about it. You're the next one who knows, and it has to stay that way. We can't risk Puck being sent away if Social Services finds out about us. I'm trusting you not to tell."

"And I won't, Finn," she replied, stony-faced. "Just like you won't tell anyone about me and Jesse."

This was supposed to result in fewer lies, not more. But he nodded, reluctantly. "I won't."

Carl gave the pasta a stir, then held the wooden spoon out for Finn to taste. He opened his mouth obligingly, and he nodded his approval, but his heart didn't seem in it.

"What's happening at school, Finn?" he asked. "How's Spanish coming?"

"Better," Finn said, with that dangerous crooked smile. "I think I'll get a hundred on my next quiz, or something close, anyway."

"Excellent." Carl reached into the pasta pot with tongs and lifted out a large scoop, which he plopped in the bowl on the counter.

"I, uh." He paused. "I thought about what you said. About... girls, and how I feel about them."

"You mentioned that, yes. Any conclusions?"

Finn took the bowl and got a fork from the silverware drawer, then perched on the stool across from Carl. This still made Finn taller than him. "I think I could date this one girl. And we were, kind of. I mean - I don't know; it doesn't matter much now anyway. I told her about everything, or almost everything, and she kind of freaked out?"

"She's bothered by the idea of you being with other boys," he guessed, but Finn shook his head.

"Nah, actually, I don't think that's it. She was mad I didn't tell her the truth. No, it was the idea of dating more than one person at a time that was too hard for her to deal with. She's kind of crazy, but... I don't know, I like that, maybe? And the gay thing, well, she's got two gay dads, so..."

The phrase was distinctive enough that Carl stopped breathing for a moment. Don't jump to conclusions, he thought, feeling the flesh along his spine stand up. As casually as he could, he asked, "What's this girl's name?"

"Rachel," Finn said.

Carl set the wooden spoon down on the counter, very carefully. He tried to appear as though he were simply leaning on the edge, rather than gripping it for dear life. Finn was going on in his usual enthusiastic manner.

"She's really talented. I love singing with her. I mean, you showed me that, sir. Singing with someone, how much that can touch you inside. Doesn't hardly matter what you sing, it's just..."

"Musical chemistry," Carl murmured. Finn nodded.

"Yeah! That's just it. Musical chemistry. Like, the fact that she's a girl, when we're doing that? It kind of doesn't matter anymore."

Carl managed to clear his throat. "We... Finn, you and I could do that together. Sing together, at Irene's coffeehouse, on Saturday. You... well, you don't have to go out with this... girl, just because you're grasping for some way to connect with her." He couldn't bring himself to say her name to Finn. He thought he might actually pass out if he tried.

"That's what my mom said," Finn nodded, eyes downcast. "I thought I knew what the hell I was doing, but... now I'm just confused, sir."

He sounded so bereft that Carl was stirred into action. His own worries always dropped away in the face of Finn's anxiety, and he just had to take care of it. Carl stepped close and put an arm around his waist, letting Finn lean in close. Finn's sigh mirrored his own.

"I pressured you into questioning your feelings for girls," Carl began, but Finn immediately stopped him.

"No, sir - you were right. I do have feelings for her. I just don't know what to do with them, because they're not exactly like any of the feelings I have for anybody else."

"Just because you have feelings doesn't mean you have to act on them."

"Well," Finn admitted, "I guess I am kind of busy."

Carl had to chuckle. "Yes. You are kind of busy."

"Yeah, so... one more person to take care of, I don't know. Seems kind of dumb. But... maybe I have to figure it out?" He looked at the wall. "And things with Puck... they're not so good right now. I guess I have a little more time than I used to."

Carl tried to be completely detached from any irrational distaste he felt about Finn and... the girl being romantic together. It was clear Finn wasn't trying to molest her in any way. He considered offering advice about the difference between musical chemistry and actual chemistry, but decided in the end that he didn't have enough rationality in his brain at the moment to offer a good explanation.

"I told you I would never stand in the way of you and other relationships," Carl said quietly, feeling the heat and pulse of Finn's neck against his cheek. "But I feel... uneasy about this one."

"Oh, well..." Finn laughed. "Rachel. She's fine. And things with her might be complicated, but I think it'll be okay. And I don't - I mean, I don't want -" He put a tentative hand on Carl's stomach, and Carl felt himself respond, despite the startling news, despite everything. Actual chemistry, Carl wanted to say, but he didn't.

"She's nothing like you," Finn said.

Carl managed to stifle his laughter until he sent Finn off to the library to choose a DVD for after dinner, but once he was alone, it was too much for him, and he buried his face into his hands. A sound came out, like a mix between a sob and a hysterical scream. This isn't happening, he thought for one indulgent moment. This isn't my life.

Then he took out his phone and dialed the number for Tessera's house phone. "Steven," he said to the majordomo. "I need you to get a message to Tess. Not immediately urgent, but... I don't think I can talk to her directly right now." I might throw up.

"Certainly, Carl. What can I tell her?"

"Tell her..." He stared at the phone in his hand. What? I screwed everything up by telling Finn he shouldn't assume he's exclusively gay? I pressured Finn into dating more people when he's already stretching his limit? That Finn chose the one girl I never would have expected, and she's my freaking daughter?

"Tell her," he said, rubbing his forehead, "I think I need a spanking."

Chapter Text

 

Episode 1.15: The Power of Madonna, Part One - Burt and Tess

Burt shuffled his feet under the desk and moved his coffee cup from one place to another. It seemed equally awkward in the new place, and he moved it back.

He sighed. And I thought having one son was hard enough. Now I have three. And a daughter. At least the three of them were talking again, but the tension around here had been thick lately. Kurt and Puck were on the phone every night with this Adam character, and Finn... Finn had hardly been around at all in the past couple weeks. Carole seemed largely accepting, but she hadn't been very forthcoming with him about her feelings about his new... thing.

He needed to talk to someone, someone who might understand - better than he did himself. Someone with experience dealing with the complicated nature of the situation. Burt took his ball cap off and rubbed his forehead. It was his favorite ball cap, and Carole had put it through the wash without asking him. Now it was far too clean and rubbed uncomfortably behind his ear.

He flipped the page in his notebook and gazed unhappily at the number on the next page. Then he sighed and picked up the phone, dialing the number with a certain amount of trepidation. She was very nice. No matter what she might... do, for a living.

"Hello," came the dark voice, with a certain amount of crowd noise behind it, though it muffled quickly. "This is Tess."

He cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair. "Uh... hi, there... Tess?" he said. "This is... Burt Hummel. Kurt's dad. I hope this isn't a bad time."

"Of course," she said warmly, and the background sounds faded significantly. "I just didn't recognize the number, Burt. How are you?"

"I'm all right, thanks. Er - how was your holiday? I heard you had a..." He trailed off, thinking of Finn's thing, and Carole's comment that had led him to scribble the number down in his notebook to begin with: Carl is an old friend of Tess'. "A guest, for Christmas?"

"I frequently do. There's a lot of extended family and friends who come around during the holidays. We close Tessera for a long weekend four times a year, and we always spend Christmas at home. My father usually comes, and James, Stephen and Alec stay with me as well, they have nieces and nephews who come out to go sledding on the hills around here."

"That sounds nice. We were glad to have Puck back home in time for Christmas, too. I hear you had something to do with getting him back to Ohio." He smiled, as though she could see him. "I should thank you for that."

"Hm. He was on his way back, Burt. He was pretty nervous about returning to you. I'd like to wring his father's neck for him, certainly, and his mother's as well. Noah called from the road, asking if he could stop and visit, and I made certain he stayed and got some rest."

"Well, you did better than just about anybody else did, at giving him what he needed." He paused, carefully not thinking about Adam in California, and what he might or might not have given Puck when he was in Santa Fe. Burt suddenly needed a glass of water. He pushed his chair back and walked through the open doorway to the kitchen, running the tap for a minute. "For whatever reason, he listens to you, Tess. That's... well, I get that it's significant, for a kid like Puck."

"Thank you," she said quietly into the silence. "It's not easy when they're at that age. I'm more used to young people after they've gone out into the world. I did a lot of mentoring during my Army service; it tends to be second nature now, when I see someone in distress."

Burt tipped the water glass under the tap until it was full, and took a long drink. "You know, Carole's husband Christopher, he was in the Gulf conflict. Died before Finn was more than a few years old."

"I wasn't overseas at that time. I was stationed in California, at Fort Irwin - it's a training base, and troops rotate through there on their way home at times." Tess' voice was sort of soothing, calm and even.

"Yeah, I avoided the military myself. Too much anti-war influence in my family for it to be kosher." Burt knew he was making useless small talk, and it was starting to piss him off He took himself by the metaphorical shoulders and gave himself a stern shake. "Uh... none of that is why I called, though. I'm not sure if you've heard about the boys' upcoming trip to California, to see that singer... Lady Boo-boo, or something...?"

"No? Not at all. When is this?"

"Next weekend. I really don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to this." He gazed out the window at the backyard, watching the snow settle on the picnic table, and grimaced. "No, okay, I know exactly what I was thinking."

Tess laughed outright. "I imagine you were looking at your little boy's pleading, starry eyes... a singer, you said? I know that feeling well; it's difficult not to cave in - and sometimes it's better to give way."

"Well, see, it wasn't just that she's a singer, it was that Kurt had done this song..." Burt gave Tess a brief summary of Kurt's experience working up a version of Lady Gaga's - that was her name - song about hair, and Puck's brother's association with her, and her subsequent enthusiastic invitation to her home in California. He smiled to himself, remembering Kurt's flabbergasted response. "I know Kurt's fixation with performing. It's been like that since he was eight and he took first prize in our neighborhood talent show for his medley of songs from Funny Girl. I can't in good conscience stand in his way. I mean, jeez, apparently, she's bigger than Elvis or something."

"I don't believe you are giving in, Burt," said Tess. "It sounds more like you're giving your son every possible opportunity. I know the name, though I wouldn't recognize her on the radio. Some of the younger set chatter about her when they get into discussions about music. Where in California is this?"

"Bel-Air. Los Angeles is where they're flying in. Carole and I got them rooms at the Omni. Puck's brother Timothy helped us set it all up. And they'll be there with Brad, who helped Kurt with the song originally - he's the Glee club's accompanist."

"How old are they? Brad and Timothy? Do you trust them?"

"Well, Timmy's just a boy himself. He's twenty-one; been on his own since he was sixteen. To hear Kurt tell it, he walked out when his father was still at the Puckerman house. I don't know the details. Brad's an adult, maybe my age, a father. He teaches Kurt piano lessons. I've spoken with him..." That was something of an exaggeration; Burt had done nearly all the talking, but Kurt explained how Brad was, and how words didn't come easily to him. It had been fine, once they'd found common ground in discussing Brad's young toddlers and Kurt's experiences in piano. "He'll play chaperone, but..."

Tess sighed a little. "But you don't know him well. Burt, Finn's a steady boy, and Kurt isn't exactly rash. And the two of them manage Noah well. I do understand your concern though, now that you've explained. I... hmm," she mused.

He paused, listening to the quality of her silence. "What?"

"Well. I realize you don't know me that well either - but my father's about forty-five minutes out of LA. He's retired from the USMC, and he works with young men who are transitioning from the military into civilian life - he's been doing this for years. The boys he mentors tend to call him "The Colonel," rather than use his name, it's actually not a nickname - he retired at that rank. I'd be happy to give you his number - he's used to being pulled out of bed at all hours for phone calls and emergencies, not everyone has an easy time going from the USMC into civilian life, and often..." Tess sighed. "He's had any number of medical discharges lately, and that's not an easy thing for an active young man to bear, a physical disability. He'd be happy to be on call for you and the boys, Burt. He loves young people."

Burt leaned back on the counter, considering. Tess was right; he didn't know her well... but there was probably a reason he'd picked up the phone and dialed her number at nine o'clock at night, at a time when he'd felt anxious about his son - and his son's boyfriend - taking a trip alone across the country. "That's really kind of you, Tess," he said, feeling the tension across his shoulders ease somewhat.

"Bah," she told him. "They're young, and they need looking after, yet. If they get into trouble - even if someone's just anxious and homesick. Beau - my father - he's an old softie, though I'll thank you not to tell him I said that."

"Whatever you say, Tess. You gave Puck the kind of guidance he needed when he was lost and alone in the middle of - well, Iowa. It stands to reason your father could do the same in the wilds of Los Angeles." He grinned at her chuckle.

"He's better than I am, frankly. And he's certainly had more experience. I've referred any number of young men in difficulty to him, if I wasn't able to connect with them. Not everyone responds to a female." Her voice was wry. "Some of them are more stubborn than that."

"You got that right," he agreed, setting his glass in the dish drainer. "I've got a whole houseful of stubborn young men, and I can't say they respond all that well to a male, either. Hey, don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. Maybe I'm a little overwhelmed, yeah, but..." He laughed. "I'm a lucky father."

"They get confused, and they tend to be awkward when they're still growing," came the dry suggestion. "And you are lucky. I would have dearly liked to have hung onto Noah for another day or two, to be certain he really was all right. I've spoken with Kurt a few times now, and he is an absolute sweetheart, you've done such a good job with him."

Burt felt an uncharacteristic flush of pride. "He's a good kid," he agreed. "So much like his mother. I'll tell you, all this... the three boys, everything they're doing... I don't know. I sure as hell couldn't have done it when I was their age. I think I was still trying to figure out how to tie my own tie and keep from flunking algebra when I was sixteen."

She sighed. "Well, the world moves faster now than it used to. They have to grow up more quickly than you or I did. It's a shame, in some ways, but - they're good boys, Burt. They have the attention they need. Well... Finn has his mother, and Kurt has you, but Noah... I can't help but worry about him."

"Yeah." Burt thought of the Puck who had left Lima, broken and full of confusion, and the Puck who had returned nine days later, calm and focused and ready to try again. "But I'm thinking he might have... somebody. This Adam character? Puck had me say a few words to him on the phone, and he seems like a nice enough guy. He's doing something for Puck... I don't know. I try not to ask for specifics." But you did, he reminded himself. You said you were asking, that you wanted all the details. Even the really gay ones.

"Yes. Noah spoke with me about that, at some length. And I spoke to Adam for a few minutes myself, on the telephone. Burt, I... understand... what Adam's done to help Noah. And no, it's not easy to wrap one's mind around, if one isn't used to the concepts involved. I do understand, and I can offer this to you: the important thing, in the end, is that Noah is safe, that Noah is happy, and that he has a good support system around him. The specifics, the details?" Tess sighed, heavily. "They are just sixteen, Burt. If you feel you need those details, you ask for them. Those boys are honest, they love you. And - if you would like... hmmm... more information on those details, please feel free to call me. I can probably fill in the blanks." She chuckled. "And I would be quite startled to find a conversation that makes me uncomfortable, these days."

"Thanks," Burt said, honestly moved. "I'm - well, sometimes I feel like I'm getting a quick education in some things I never expected to hear about, in relation to my sixteen-year-old son, if you know what I mean. But... yeah. I did ask for details, and I'm trying to be ready to listen to and accept them, as they come up."

"For your sake, and Kurt's, I am very happy to hear that."

He mopped his bald head with his sleeve. "It's not easy, I'll tell you. Half the time, when I look at Kurt, I still see the kid who liked to dress in his mom's sparkly evening gowns and ask me to read chapter books to him before bed. That feels like yesterday. And now, I can see the boy he's become - the man - and that little kid is still inside him. It's hard to put the two together, sometimes."

"I understand. Kurt doesn't have the easiest path." She hesitated again. "Burt, anything he finds that makes him stronger or more confident, I feel very strongly that he should pursue it. He's a very precious and unique soul, your boy. And he loves you, and trusts you."

"I know he does," Burt said, feeling the reverberation of Kurt's trust inside his chest. "I feel so lucky he does, believe me."

"Yes. That's a very rare, and lovely thing. I also recall stressing to Noah the importance of honesty, when we spoke. It is no less important here. When I listen to the stories that some of my boys have told me, over the years, some of the stories that Beau's boys have told..." Burt heard her swallow before going on. Her voice had wavered on that last sentence there, and he hated to think of the things she might have heard.

"You have something very strong, you and Kurt. He relies on you, Burt. It means the world to him, that you're expressing patience as he tries to find his way, that you're there for him to go back to when he needs. I think that Noah might grow to trust you in that same way, eventually. Now, it is very likely they won't be able to easily articulate the... parameters of their relationship to you, to be able to explain how they are feeling, or why they feel that way. Right now, they are relying on what feels right. You're right there to ensure they aren't coming to harm, emotional or physical. And I'm right here, Burt, to help with that articulation, if needed." Her voice was stronger now. Burt could hear the confidence and assurance in her words, and the firm tone.

"Again, that's generous of you." He took the few steps back into his office from the kitchen, and settled heavily in the chair beside his desk. "I think the problem is that I don't even know what to ask for."

"You don't need to. Just talking things over usually helps." She paused. "And... forgive me if I'm making any assumptions, Burt, but Carole spoke with me, particularly about Finn, and I think the two of you should have a serious conversation."

He paused. "Uh, we have been talking about Finn, but... why?"

"The details are between me and Carole - although I suspect she'd tell you everything she told me, given the opportunity. She may be a resource for you in unexpected ways."

Burt felt like he should understand what she was saying, but it was like she was speaking another language. All he could do was say, "Thank you."

Tess's voice softened. "What the boys are exploring, participating in, this is something that should be worked through, slowly and carefully, with deliberation. The boys are going to rush, to make mistakes here and there - but isn't that the way of young people? And they have you, and Carole, to fall back on. I've made all three of them aware that they're to call me with questions. Perhaps..."

"Perhaps?"

"Perhaps you might all come down to see me, Burt. You and Carole, and all the boys."

He frowned, but even as he did, he stood and reached for his calendar, wedged between a photo of Elizabeth and the World's Best Dad mug on his desk. "I don't know. Would Sarah be welcome in a place like that? She's just a kid."

"Of course! Burt, Tessera is used by ordinary citizens as a country club as well. There's plenty to do around here - there's a pool, a small gym facility, horses, a sledding hill... If she likes to cook the way Noah does, I'm certain my head chef would love to spend time with her, too. His nieces are about Sarah's age, and he's completely smitten with them, spoils them dreadfully. There are guest rooms just outside my own apartment, in the private wing, it won't be hard at all for you to stay here as a family. Conversations irregardless, it might be a nice vacation for all of you."

The idea became more appealing the more Tess told him, and he found himself giving in under the force of her persuasion. "A... family vacation? That's not a bad idea. You don't think we'd be too much underfoot? Four kids, plus the two of us..."

"How would you possibly be underfoot? The private wing alone is twenty-eight thousand square feet, Burt. Three of my managers are in residence in the wing with me, and they have their own family and friends coming and going as well, in the private guest quarters here. And Sarah may still be very young, but the boys aren't exactly children. There's a little theatre here, depending on when you come - there's a small Shakespearean troupe that performs locally, a set of historians and theatre professionals associated with the university."

"Hey, you just said the magic words. Kurt's going to be all over that." Burt glanced over the appointments and athletic events penciled in on his calendar for the next few months. "When's that happening?"

"Their next performances are just after Valentine's day, I think it's probably Romeo and Juliet, if you can bear that. I'd have to be in my office to call up the schedule for the rest of the year, or locate my majordomo. And... if it's not too presumptuous, would you mind a suggestion?"

"Uh - no?" Burt was actually feeling a little overwhelmed, but he wasn't going to give up the conversation now. He took a quiet breath and listened.

"I've known Carl Howell for a very long time - he was stationed at Irwin, though not in my unit," Tess said, clearly taking care with her words. "And it's very evident that he and Finn have formed a relationship. I might suggest that he be here as well, if there are going to be family discussions."

"Carl." Burt pursed his lips absently, flipping forward to February in his calendar. "Yeah, he and Finn... He's kind of... well, there's a difference in ages between them, isn't there? I mean, he's older than me. I'm not quite sure what to think of that."

"Yes. Carole and I have discussed that. And I can assure you," she continued, her tone dry, "that Carl and I have discussed things at length - particularly in regards to responsibility and good conduct. The details of both conversations, however, are confidential, unless Carole or Carl choose to share them, or indicate to me that they are comfortable with my sharing them with you. That can be discussed between the four of us, as adults, with or without Finn present."

Burt tried to set his judgment aside. It wasn't a simple matter, no matter what Tess said about Carl. "We might have to do that," he said uneasily. "I'll leave it up to Carole, of course, but... it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, for Finn to be in a romantic relationship with someone so much older. What's the phrase - an unequal power dynamic? How can that be healthy, really? It'd be so easy for a grown man to take advantage - "

Tess was quiet for a moment before gently interrupting Burt. "I would like you to know that in our discussions, I have strongly advocated for Finn. Carl has a responsibility to me, Burt. I don't intend to let him take advantage, if I can help it. But that is the one of the conversations we might have in person. I am not just speaking of one conversation between Carl and myself, I am speaking of many conversations."

"I'm not doubting that," Burt said, hesitating. "I just want to make sure Finn doesn't get hurt."

Tess's voice took on a harder tone. "I have... endeavored to insure that Carl is thinking things through, quite thoroughly, and presented him with a number of concepts and thoughts that I'm quite certain he'd rather not have heard. Yes, it is a difficult situation. But I believe, as with anything, that patience, communication, and honesty will protect not only Finn, but Carl as well."

Burt thought of the look on Carole's face when she'd told him about Carl, the faith she clearly had in Finn, even in this unusual situation. "I... it's clear to me there's stuff here I don't really get, Tess, about Carl and Finn's relationship. But Carole claims to understand it, and I trust her."

"You're going to have to come out and discuss the things that you 'don't get,' Burt. There's no reason in the world for you to be in the dark. Either here on the telephone, or in person."

He sighed and stretched his back, setting the calendar down on his desk. "I just can't imagine trusting Kurt to an older man like that."

"Would you like to borrow a chastity belt, perhaps?" Her tone was quite dry. "I'm fairly certain there will be an older man at some point, unless he finds his soulmate more quickly than usual."

Burt let out a wry laugh. "Yeah, well, I'm just hoping he doesn't inflict it on me until he's a lot older himself. Like, thirty."

"Burt, I don't think it will matter in the least how old he is, it's not going to change how you feel about him, my dear."

"Also probably true," Burt acknowledged. "He's always going to be that little boy, in my head. I'm trying hard to remember he's also a young man, too."

Tess chuckled. "Of course he is. I often struggle to see Carl as a successful professional - I still tend to see him as the young, cocky Lieutenant who washed up into my office years ago. He's grown up, my boy has - I understand. It will never be easy. It's a leap of faith, Burt."

Burt smiled into the phone. "It's a lot easier to imagine taking it when I'm not making these decisions all on my own. Having Carole with me, and knowing the boys have friends like you... that's a big thing. I'm really grateful."

He heard Tess swallow. "I am so happy for you. Carole is wonderful, and you are blessed, with your family."

"Hey, and we'll definitely have to talk more about coming down to visit your place. Tessera, is it? Sounds fantastic."

"Yes," she laughed. "And yes, it's a play on my name, I like to save that story for the tour, though. I do hope you will come, Burt. It would relieve my mind to no end to be able to see those boys, and see that they are all right. Those little monsters of yours have gotten under my skin, I'm afraid."

"Mine, too." He squinted at the clock and stifled a yawn. "Thanks again for talking so late. I'm an early-to-bed kind of guy, but I'm guessing you're just waking up. I should hit the sack."

"Sleep well, Burt. Try." She laughed a little, here. "Try not to worry. Or if you must, at least try and be clear about what you're worrying about. Good night - and thank you for calling."

Burt replaced the receiver on the hook and let out a deep sigh. It was hard not to worry, when he knew what kinds of things the boys faced at school every day. He just hoped that with all these people there to support them, they might be able to get through it unscathed.

"Dad?" Burt had barely flipped open the books for the garage before looking up to see Kurt standing in the doorway of his office, hesitating. "I need your help."

Burt pushed his chair back from his desk and waited. "What is it, son?"

Kurt sighed. He looked positively exhausted. "It's Noah. He's... well, he's really missing Adam. A lot. Tonight more than usual, and he hasn't gotten through to talk to him for some reason. It's the first night since they've met that they haven't talked." He leaned heavily on the door frame. "He really needs to see him. This is too early in their relationship for them to be apart."

He laughed a little, shaking his head. "Still blows my mind to hear you guys talking like this about... each other's guys. What can I do?"

"I'm going to LA next week, to visit with Lady Gaga. Me and Finn, and Brad and Timothy." Kurt bit his lip and looked expectantly at his dad.

"Don't remind me," Burt grumbled. Then he realized what Kurt was talking about. "Oh. Adam...?"

"He's going to be at the Screen Actors' Guild Awards in Hollywood that weekend. I thought, maybe, if we could get Noah a ticket, that he could come with us, and see him."

Burt didn't want to be the dad who jumped all over the money when things like this came up, but he couldn't help imagine the numbers in his checking account, dipping down below the safe limit. He shook his head. "Those tickets weren't cheap, Kurt. I don't even know if we can get another ticket this late."

"I know. It's a lot to ask." Kurt's expression was positively pleading. "I'll work extra hours at the garage - whatever I have to do. Noah's had a lot of bad in his life lately. I just want to give him something good."

Groceries from Aldi this month, he thought, his mind reaching for possibilities, even as he nodded. And I can let the car insurance payment go next month, no late fees there, and... maybe I can manage it. He called up a web browser window. "Let me see what I can come up with. I'm - " His words cut off as Kurt tackled him around his neck, and he laughed. "Hey, I'm not promising anything! I'll come down to your room in a little while and we'll talk, after I look up plane fare and check our budget for this month."

Kurt let go of the stranglehold on his dad's neck. "Thank you, dad. And - can Noah stay over tonight? Adam hasn't called him back and he's kind of falling apart. He didn't want to ask, but I think he's not going to get any sleep tonight if I -"

"All right, Kurt. Can you give me a minute, here?" He waved Kurt away. "Go take care of him - whatever you do. I'll make a lot of noise when I come downstairs."

Both he and Kurt were smiling as he went back to his computer. Burt already knew he'd be paying whatever goddamn fee he needed to get the ticket for Puck. Anything that he finds that makes him stronger or more confident... Kurt should have that. Both he and Puck should.

But as he went through the process of booking the ticket, which did indeed cost over a hundred dollars more than they'd originally paid for Finn and Kurt's tickets - and he gritted his teeth at the prospect of weeks of tuna and mac & cheese for dinner in the coming month as he clicked the Buy Ticket button - the worry started to creep back up his arms and into his neck, making his shoulders tense all over again. Kurt and Finn in Los Angeles. Puck with Adam. Jesus Christ. He paused to bury his face in his hands before picking up his phone and calling Carole.

"Please tell me I'm not insane," he moaned, before she could even say a word. "I just bought Puck a ticket to Los Angeles so he can hook up with his goddamn boyfriend. The rock star one."

"Sorry, honey," she said, after a moment. At least she sounded amused, not horrified. "That definitely qualifies as insane. And very sweet."

He laid his head on the desk. "I don't think I can handle this on my own, Carole. I just talked with Tess, and she told me all kinds of things that sounded reassuring until she hung up, and now... I don't even know."

"Do you want me to come over?" Her offer was genuine, he knew.

"No, it's all right - you don't need to leave Finn alone there. I'll be okay. I think."

She made a pensive humming noise. "Maybe you need more time to talk with Tess. She's very calming. She mentioned that Tessera is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. Why don't you invite her up for a few days?"

There was an idea. "You think she'd come?"

"I think she dotes on Puck and has a particular affection for Kurt. And her history with Carl... I could use some reassurance in that area, myself. Do you want me to call her?"

Burt was already sitting straighter in his chair. "No, I've got it. Hey..." He paused. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Sure. I could stand to hear it more often, though." She was smiling. "I love you."

"I love you, too. I'm going to head downstairs and inform my son just how insane his old man really is, and then I'll give Tess a call back. And then I think I'll be banging my head on my desk a little."

Carole laughed. "Try not to give yourself a concussion."

Chapter Text

 

Episode 1.15: The Power of Madonna, Part Two - Kurt/Finn/Puck

When Finn opened the garage door to Kurt's basement, he could hear Kurt playing the piano. It wasn't such an uncommon occurrence since Kurt started taking piano lessons with Brad, but Finn didn't think he'd heard this particular song before.

Puck was seated on the green couch, holding a piece of paper. Finn approached him tentatively. "Hey," he said.

Puck glanced up, then back down at the paper. "Hey."

They hadn't said more than a few words to one another since Puck sang that Adam song for Glee, in eyeliner. It was starting to feel like such a long time to be distant, and for such a stupid reason, that Finn was tempted to just reach out his hand and say, We cool? But then he remembered Puck's stony expression when he said Get the fuck out of here... you and your girlfriend, and he kept his hand to himself.

He did sit on the other arm of the couch, though, listening to Kurt, and eventually said, "What's that?"

Puck held out the piece of paper. Finn realized, with a start, that there were tears in Puck's eyes. "This is... a plane ticket. To Los Angeles. Leaving Friday."

Finn found himself suddenly grinning. "Oh, my god, Puck... no shit? You're going, too? How did that happen? Did Adam send you the ticket?"

"No." Puck resisted, but finally he smiled, too, staring at his lap. "Burt got it for me."

Finn's voice faltered. "Burt got you a ticket to LA? To see... Adam?"

"Yeah, Kurt asked him to." Puck still wasn't looking at him, and his voice was hoarse. "Said I needed it."

Finn didn't know what to say. He felt a whole range of conflicting emotions. The predominant one was relief. Puck does need it. He has Kurt, but he needs Adam, too, to give him what he needs. On the heels of that awareness was shame, that he'd promised to give Puck what he needed, and then he'd failed him. And following quickly after that, like a rolling cloud of dust after a herd of wild horses, was sudden wild hope.

Because of Patrick. Patrick, the boy in Irene's coffeeshop. Finn thought he might want... what Puck wanted. Or something like it, anyway. And for the first time since Puck had left, Finn thought, maybe, he might be able to give it to somebody again. Not only wanted to, but felt that he might be able to do it. Maybe... maybe that means I could give it to Puck again, too.

"I'm so glad you get to come along," Finn said. Puck gave him a sidelong glance.

"Yeah? 'Cause I thought maybe you'd just as soon stay home. Have a whole fucking weekend with Carl and Rachel." Puck's spiteful tone made Finn's stomach turn over. "Isn't that what you really want?"

"No," said Finn slowly. "I want to go to LA to meet Lady Gaga, with Kurt and Brad and Timmy. And you."

Puck's jaw clenched. "Having a hard time believing that. Because we never see you anymore. Me, or Kurt."

Finn watched him grind his teeth, wanted to tell him Stop, but he really didn't feel up to seeing his Voice fail so spectacularly yet again. He made an abortive gesture to touch Puck's knee, and ended up just leaning on his arm on the couch at an awkward angle.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know I've got a lot going on."

Suddenly he wanted so much to tell Puck all about Patrick, to say I met a boy in Columbus, and it's not a sex thing, but he totally wants me to Top him, and I really want to. And I'm freaking out about it. But all he could manage was, "Me and Carl, we went to Columbus to this open mic."

Puck sounded completely uninterested. "Yeah, you said. Same one as last week?"

"Yeah. We sang some songs, me and Carl. One, uh, Indigo Girls song, from the CD I listened to when you were..."

Kurt's piano suddenly cut off. A minute later, Kurt was standing there, glaring at him from across the room, his hands on his hips.

"What, were we too loud?" Finn said. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"No," he said testily. "You're not loud enough. Jesus Christ, can't you just yell at each other and get it over with?"

Finn shook his head miserably. "You know I can't do that. Not anymore. Not after what happened."

"After what happened, Finn?" Kurt strode over to the couch and put a protective hand on Puck's shoulder. "After you hit your best friend? After he left town? After you found your Top?" His glare intensified. "Or after you started adding new relationships and subtracting the old ones?"

"I didn't," Finn protested, but it was weak at best. There wasn't anything he could say that would stand up to scrutiny, all the way down to the stupid boyfriend-girlfriend calendar in Finn's locker. And what were they going to say about Patrick? It didn't matter he wasn't anything like a boyfriend. It's just more time away from home. He looked away.

"Be honest, Finn," Kurt said, his voice tight. "Do you want to break up with us?"

"What? No!" Finn stared at him in astonishment. "God, Kurt, are you serious?"

Kurt tightened his hand on Puck, and his eyes closed. "I just have to know."

Finn stood, bumping his shin on the coffee table, and came around to the back of the couch as quickly as he could, reaching out for Kurt. Puck didn't turn to face them, and even as Kurt's hand left Puck's shoulder to clutch at Finn's back, Finn replaced it with his own, gripping Puck tightly. He could feel Kurt shaking.

"Baby, no," he said again, attempting to be soothing in the face of his own desperation. "You and Puck, you're my family, remember? I'm not giving up just because things are hard."

"There are all kinds of ways to give up," Kurt whispered fiercely. He wasn't letting go, though, and Finn figured that was a good sign. "I know you love Carl, and… I want you to have that, I really do. But I miss you."

Finn nodded against Kurt's hair, holding his head close to his chest, feeling troubled. "Okay. Yeah. I miss you, too. Both of you."

"Hell of a way to show it," muttered Puck, but he reached up and touched Finn's hand on his shoulder, interlacing their fingers. Finn gave them a squeeze, casting around for something he could do to make it right.

"Can we… let's go in your room, Kurt, and sit on your bed, the three of us. And talk."

Kurt nodded, but Puck hung back when Finn tried to tug him to his feet. "Talk about what?" he said, his face closed and mistrustful.

"All the stuff that's going on. Hell, the trip to California. That's going to be coming up in just a few days." Finn felt Kurt stiffen. He looked more closely at him. "Maybe you're feeling… worried about it?"

"Something like that," he murmured. "Come on, Noah. It'll be fine."

Puck stood and followed them silently into Kurt's room. While Finn and Kurt propped themselves up against the wall, he sat in the corner of the bed, as far away from the two of them as he could get. Puck hugged his arms around his knees and glared at him stonily, still clutching the ticket. "All right. Go ahead. Talk. You first, since you seem to have so much to talk about."

"Noah," Kurt cautioned, and he dropped into silence. Kurt put a hand on Finn's thigh, and gave him a wan smile. "Start with Rachel."

Rachel. God. "Okay," Finn said, running his hand over his forehead. "Rachel… well, you know she thought we were dating. And I figured, what the hell, I can be her pretend boyfriend as well as I used to be Quinn's, but then she said something to me about being honest, and… I couldn't do it anymore. I told her I didn't want to be her boyfriend."

"You didn't tell her why, though." Puck raised an eyebrow.

"Not at first," he said.

"You - you told her?" Kurt was aghast. "What the hell, Finn? You know what that means for us – she's never going to be able to keep it a secret!"

"No, she said she wouldn't say anything to anyone," he insisted. "You're just… she wants to understand. About us, and about everything. She just needs time. It's all a big shock. She had no idea I was gay."

"Yeah, and you know what, Finn?" Kurt shook his head in irritation. "Gay guys don't date girls."

"I'm trying to follow what my heart says to do," Finn said stubbornly, trying not to feel the sting. "I know she's a girl. But I feel something, when we sing together. It's not pretend."

"Hey, it's okay," said Puck, surprising him. He moved close enough to brush Finn's knee with his own. "You don't have to explain your feelings. And you don't have to use any names for yourself you don't want to use."

Kurt closed his eyes briefly, rubbing his forehead. "Fine," he said. "Yes. I understand. I'm just trying to reconcile this thing with Rachel, and the things you said you felt about boys. About me."

Finn kissed his forehead, and Kurt allowed himself to be kissed. "I still love you," he said. "Whatever Rachel and I feel, it doesn't change that. And anyway, she doesn't want to date me anymore."

"Yeah. This thing with the guy from Vocal Adrenaline… Jesse somebody?" Puck grimaced. "Bad news. I know players, because I was one. Even Shelby said he and Rachel shouldn't go out."

"Shelby?" Finn said, puzzled. Kurt sighed, but Puck went on, his voice alight with new tension.

"She's the coach of Vocal Adrenaline, over at Carmel? We saw her at Toby's this weekend, and... dude. She was at Carl's."

"Noah!" Kurt hissed. "What does it mean to keep something a secret?"

Puck looked wounded. "Hey, I thought we were talking. Getting it all out in the open. I'm not supposed to keep secrets from Finn. So… yeah, I saw her at his office, back before I left for Santa Fe. And she saw me, too. She totally thinks I'm going to squeal, even though I told her I wouldn't say anything to anyone."

"Because you're such a perfect example of virtuous silence," said Kurt, rolling his eyes.

"Because I said I wouldn't," Puck shot back. "And I won't, not to anyone else. But she's bribing me with dinner." He shrugged. "Should be interesting. And maybe I can get some information while I'm there about this Jesse guy, because I don't trust him."

"Well, she said she wasn't going to see him anymore," Kurt said.

Finn didn't reply to that, knowing he'd have to lie, and if he was unwilling to betray Rachel's trust, staying silent was the only thing he could do.

Kurt turned toward him. "So, you and Rachel. You're… what? Friends?"

"Maybe," Finn said. "Trying to be. Honestly, or as honestly as I can be. I… I want to tell her as much as I can. Not about Adam, or Carl, I know, but… everything else."

Puck looked thoughtful, but Kurt just winced. "Everything else? Finn, you really think she can handle that?"

"Yeah," he said. "I think, at the very least, our friendship could use some honest communication. Hard stuff. Rachel can tolerate that. She's pretty tough."

"Well, I guess I'll have to trust you on that one." Kurt sighed, moving a little closer to Finn's side. Finn put an arm around him and hugged him. "And things with Carl, they're… fine?"

An image came into Finn's mind of the last time he and Carl had been together, doing things on his bed that were not quite sex, but were still a hundred percent satisfying, and which definitely fell comfortably into the realm of fine. "Yeah," he said again, this time with a little smile. "He's still making us go slow. It's been… hard. And shut up." He hit Puck on the knee when he snickered. "Hard to be… the way he wants me to be."

"Submitting to him, you mean?" Kurt said, and after a moment, Finn nodded. "But… you want that, right?"

He nodded again. "I do, but I'm still having a tough time with it."

"I'm guessing we can both relate to that." Kurt patted Finn's chest. "You'll manage. I know he'll take care of you."

Finn didn't even know how to respond to that. Then he suddenly thought of Patrick. "Uh," he said, and took a deep breath. "There's… something else."

At his change in tone, both boys drew closer to him, Puck putting a hand on his foot, and Kurt rubbing gentle circles on his chest. "Okay," Kurt said. "Go ahead. We're listening."

He laughed shakily. "You don't even know what it is."

"Doesn't matter," Puck said stolidly. "Whatever. Fuck it. Family, right?"

Finn found himself blinking away tears, caught between their twin expressions of support and love. "Yeah – I just can't believe you really want to hear about all this."

"I might have a little trouble with it, but it doesn't mean I don't want to hear it," Kurt said. "Now come on; the suspense is killing me."

"There's a boy in Columbus," he said quickly, before he could keep any of it back. "At the coffeehouse, where Carl and I go. Patrick, the one who was singing.  And he needs a Top. And I think… I think I can do it."

"Oh… Finn," Kurt murmured, and Finn watched Puck take his hand back.

"You're fucking kidding me," he said harshly.

"I didn't think I even was going to be able to do that anymore," Finn tried to explain, imploring Puck silently to look at me, just look at me, but Puck's eyes were fixed firmly on something across the room. "I didn't think I could do it at all. But Carl said… Carl said I needed to try, if Patrick wanted it, and if I wanted to give it. And I think I do."

"Patrick, huh?" He sounded furious. "You fucking him, too?"

"No," Finn shouted, and Kurt shushed him. He tried to modulate his voice. "It's not about the sex. Like Carl said, it's not always."

"It is for me," said Puck. He punched Kurt's pillow in frustration. "And you can quote Carl to me all you want, because I know it always was for you, too, Finn."

Finn glanced at Kurt, who looked torn, then back to Puck. He cleared his throat, and very quietly said, in his most directive Voice, "Look at me."

Puck flinched, but he kept his eyes on the floor.

"Yeah," Finn said, the bitterness seeping out of him. "That's what I thought. You don't really want it from me anyway. You don't even listen to me anymore.  What does it matter who else gets it from me?"

Puck was silent. This time Finn was the one to reach out and touch his knee. "Dude, I love you. You've been my best friend since second grade. And whatever else we were… it's different now. Doesn't mean I'm not going to still want to give it." Still want to give it to you, he couldn't say. "And now I think I might… might be able to do it again, with Patrick."

Kurt was sitting very still, and his hand tightened on Finn's. "You're taking on a lot," he said. "Carl thinks this is okay?"

"He didn't at first," he said. "But he thinks I need it. Just like Puck needs Adam." He watched Kurt go red at that, and he paused, looking from him to Puck in confusion. "What is it? You… Puck, you are still… with Adam, right?"

"Yeah." Puck sighed. His anger had vanished. He finally looked up, but it was at Kurt. "Baby, you've got to explain it to him."

To Finn's surprise, Kurt shook his head, covering his face. "I can't," he said.

When Kurt was scared like that, it didn't matter whatever else was happening; he just needed to be there for him. Finn put his arms around him and held him close, waiting for him to unfold. "You listened to me," Finn said. "Now let me listen to you. What's going on? You… and Adam?" Then, hearing what he'd said: "Baby, you and Adam?"

"I don't know," Kurt moaned into Finn's shirt. "But you have no idea how confusing it is to… to have these feelings for somebody I've never met."

"I bet." He cast his eyes to Puck, who was patiently watching Kurt. "You knew about this? You and Adam, you talked about it?"

"Yeah," Puck said. He smiled then, and it was startlingly clear and calm. "I love him. Both of them. And now – fuck, Finn, now I get to go to L.A. and see him, and Kurt's going to be there, too. That's like… tiramisu and chocolate mousse."

Finn had to laugh. "I did kind of see it coming," he said. Kurt made a grumbling noise in response, and he held him tighter. "What, all those phone calls, and you don't think I'm going to guess?"

"Friends," Kurt protested. "We were just friends."

"And now?" Finn prompted, feeling his baby squirm. He grinned. "Friends; sure. Yeah. Well… I'm happy for you, I guess."

Kurt twisted his head up to face Finn. He was still red. "I know you don't like him."

Finn shook his head. "I don't know him. But everybody else seems to have gotten Adam Lambert fever, so… I'll have to keep an open mind." He cupped Kurt's face and drew him up for a reluctant kiss. "Come on, baby. It's fine. Whatever happens, just… don't try to hide it from me."

"I won't. I feel like we've all been ignoring each other all week, and I hate it." Kurt reached for Puck's hand, and he took it, glancing up at Finn. "I hate it."

Finn watched as Puck pursed his lips, then heaved a sigh, and put his other hand on Finn's. "Okay," he said. "I hate it too, all right? And… whatever, Finn, you can do anything you fucking want with Berry, and Carl, and the starting lineup for the whole basketball team for all I care. I miss you."

Finn reached out, curling a hand around Puck's neck, and pulled him in until their foreheads touched. He could feel the tension pulsing between the two of them like a heat wave. "I miss you, man," he whispered. "So much."

Then Puck was leaning forward on his knees, cupping Finn's face, kissing him, and the wave crashed down on both of them, every bit of confusion and uncertainty transformed into lust. Kurt moaned in relief. He let Puck's hand go, stroking along the back of Finn's thigh, encouraging their connection.

"God, so hot." Kurt watched them with hungry eyes as Puck tore his own shirt off, then tugged desperately at Finn's.

"You, in two minutes, fucking me," Puck insisted, and Finn felt his body respond very enthusiastically to that. He unzipped his jeans and lifted himself off the bed, twisting and kicking them to the floor. Even before he could get his boxers all the way off, Kurt was passing him the lube.

"Let me get you ready for him," he heard Kurt say, his voice low and rougher than usual. "And I'll be here, right behind you… when you're ready for me."

Finn wasn't sure how he kept moving with that idea present in his mind, but he somehow managed to kneel over Puck, stretched out on his back, and then spread concentric circles of lube-slick pressure into his waiting ass. He listened to Puck's enthusiastic moans, knowing he wouldn't have to touch his cock for Puck to enjoy the activity, but wanting so much to feel the heat of him in his hand.

"Come on, man," Puck groaned, his hips snapping forward. "Enough fucking around."

"I don't know how I feel about you telling me what to do," Finn teased, laughing at Puck's response. He bucked forward at Kurt's touch, thrusting several times into the curve of his slippery hand, and then nudged against Puck's body with anticipation.

"That's it." Kurt's encouragement fired him as much as the slickness, or the sight of Puck opening up for him. He reached forward and took Puck's hips in his hands, letting Kurt guide him inside. They both gasped at the same time. "God, you feel so good."

Puck's eyes opened, looking up into his. There was a challenge there. He wasn't submitting to Finn anymore, not the way he had in the fall - but there was still trust, and Finn could see love there, too. And even though Finn wasn't at all sure he deserved either one, he was so grateful to see them both. "You want this, huh? With me?"

"Yeah, man," he said softly, reaching for Puck's face. There was no question he was where he wanted to be. "With you." He might need other things, other people - but this experience with Kurt and Puck... that was irreplaceable. "I'm sorry if you doubted that."

Kurt stroked a patient hand up Finn's back, as he leaned over Puck. Kurt never hurried; he always took his time loving Finn, and listened to what he needed. In that moment, he resolved never to take that for granted. "No, you're right," Kurt murmured. "We're family. I've got to trust in that."

Even filtered through the passion and pleasure of the moment, Finn felt tears choking his throat. "You won't lose me," he promised, reveling in Puck's encouraging sounds. "I'm not going anywhere, no matter what."

Finn could hear Puck's breathing getting more ragged, his cries growing louder and more insistent, but his own rhythm faltered and stalled when he felt Kurt thrust against him from behind. "Oh, god, Kurt - "

"Let me," Kurt said, tense and shaking a little, but waiting for Finn's permission before moving any further. Finn had to admire his self-control. "Please."

Finn couldn't do anything more than nod. He felt Kurt's steady pressure, opening him slowly, without any more than incidental lube. It was just the way he liked it, but it had to be slow, or he knew from experience it would hurt afterwards. Right now, though, it didn't feel anything other than fantastic, caught between Puck and Kurt this way.

"I want to fuck you, like this," Finn muttered to Puck, watching his eyes roll up into his head as Kurt leaned their collective weight into him. The push of Kurt inside him, and Puck taking it - Finn knew he wasn't going to last much longer. "You, in Kurt, and me on top... just like this."

He gathered Puck up in his arms, letting his legs take Kurt's weight. He cherished the moment, the fragile trust that hovered between them, and as Puck began to come apart, he kissed him deeply, hoping with every bit of himself that Puck could tell just how he felt. I love you, and you're still a part of me.  Even if you're changing -- even if I am, too -- I still need you.

Finn was still kissing him when Kurt gripped Finn's hips and began a steady rhythm, filling him with long, slow strokes. With every one, Finn thrust further into Puck's body. Finn knew him well enough to know he didn't have to ask Puck if it was too much. Puck didn't have a too much setting.

Maybe just a not enough setting, he thought sadly. He needs more.

"You need what Adam can give you," he whispered into Puck's ear. He felt Puck nod, nearly boneless underneath him, as Kurt continued his penetration. "And you need it from Kurt. What about from - from me?"

"I don't know," he heard Puck whisper back, sounding agonized. "It's not the same as it was, Finn, but fuck, that feels so good, don't stop, don't stop..."

"Not doing anything," Finn said, kissing his neck. "It's all Kurt. And I'm not telling, I'm just asking. Do you want it from me?"

"I don't know," Puck repeated. He sounded more panicked now, his eyes contorted with fear and confusion. Finn sighed, and ran a tentative hand over his head.

"It's okay." He glanced behind him to see Kurt's face set with concentration, and two lines of tears streaking his pale, perfect cheeks. "You don't have to know. I'm still here."

"Do you feel me, sweetheart?" Kurt's voice was intense. He wasn't speeding up, but his movement was growing more deliberate, more focused. "You feel me taking what I want?"

"K-Kurt," Puck stuttered. Finn couldn't resist a moan, and he nearly lost it when Puck echoed it. Kurt took another deep breath; he was close, too. Even Kurt had his limits. Finn knew the magical staying power that came upon him when he was satisfying one of his boys' needs, how it seemed like he could last forever - until it snuck up on him, and he just needed to take.

And here I am, being taken by one of my boys, he thought, bemused. And I'm inside the guy who's been submitting to me all my life, and he's not feeling one shred of that energy. Things do change.

He consciously relaxed on top of Puck, feeling every bit of that amazing body underneath him. Then he reached back, as best as he could, and reached for Kurt's hand. "Go on, baby," he urged. "Take what you need from him. I want to feel it."

Kurt didn't resist. He gave in with a cry, slamming into Finn as he gave up all pretense of control. It wasn't just about being between Kurt and Puck as they loved one another. It was being present to all the things that went into what made them who they were, the attraction and desire and need, the intricate dance of give and take. Finn had always been bowled over by this thing they'd created in just a few short months, and to have front row seats to their connection - it was nothing short of breathtaking. All he could do was let it wash over him.

"You're mine," Kurt growled, the pressure of his hips driving Finn deeper into Puck. It was almost like he weren't there at all, except of course he was, his whole body was between them, his heat and flesh adding a dimension he couldn't have described before encountering it. "Tell me."

"Yours, god," Puck groaned, "I'm so fucking yours."

Finn couldn't have said which of the three of them came first, but after several long moments in which their hard breathing eased, it was Puck who shifted the pile of their bodies. To Finn's surprise, Puck reached for him, kissing him, searching his eyes uncertainly. "You okay, man?"

Finn nodded. "That was... just, wow." He felt a lessening of pressure as Kurt moved off of him, then a twinge of passing soreness. He knew it would get worse before it got better, but it had been so worth it.

Puck nodded, clearly relieved. He wormed his way out from underneath them, stretching his stiff legs, and took Kurt's fuzzy white robe off the back of the door. "I need something to drink – back in five with water." He shut the door quietly behind him.

Finn felt Kurt's lips on his ear from behind. "He could have poured a glass in the bathroom."

"Yeah. I guess he was leaving us alone to talk."

Kurt helped him roll over, noting Finn's wince, and he bundled himself into Finn's arms. They clutched at each other; Finn wasn't sure which of them was comforting the other, exactly. He listened to Kurt's sigh.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be upset by that. Being there, when we were... like that. If you're not doing it, with him, I wasn't sure if that would be too much."

Finn shrugged. "I was there a couple weeks ago, when you were spanking him. Why would this be too much?"

"Was it too much?"

He shrugged again. "I don't think so. He didn't think so. And... god, Kurt, honestly, I think I'm going to take what I can get at this point, you know?" The tears pricked his eyes again, but he fought them. The last thing he wanted was to be crying when Puck came back. He already thinks I'm weak and useless.

Kurt turned his head and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "Well... thank you. I miss you so much, and this was just right for me, to see the two of you together again, and for me to have you both."

"You deserve it, Kurt," Finn whispered. "I - "

Puck slipped back in through the door, juggling three full glasses of water. He smiled at the two of them, and set the glasses on the nightstand before hanging up Kurt's robe and taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Come here," Kurt said, reaching for him, but Puck shook his head. Finn could feel the tension locking his throat closed.

"One more thing I didn't say, before, and I figured, this is the time, huh?" He put a hand on Finn's shoulder, stroking it gently. The contact was so welcome, Finn didn't care how tentative it was.

"Anything, sweetheart." Kurt curled his hand around Puck's hip, holding on.

Puck laughed quietly. "You guys probably already think I'm crazy for dreaming about my daughter. I'm still doing it, though, and... they're getting more detailed. Like, I can remember more of them, and... I'm having these conversations with her, and sometimes we start one one night, and the next night I get to keep going?" He shook his head. "Tess said it's just me, getting to know this possible future, that it's not real, but... it sure as fuck feels real."

After what they'd just done, it seemed kind of ridiculous to feel worried about a few touches, but Finn felt like if he did the wrong thing, Puck might just disappear. He could. He could go back to his apartment, and you won't get to sleep with him tonight, and... He swallowed the panic. "I guess it couldn't be real," he said, "but maybe it could be... something. Right?"

Kurt was thoughtfully stroking Puck's chest. "There are all kinds of things we don't understand about how the human brain works. I don't think we can discount any of it. Does it really matter, if it's real or not? We won't know until... until she's born, anyway."

Puck nodded, his smile returning. "Just a couple months, now. Uh... but that's not really all of it." He took a deep breath. "And it's even more crazy. The boy? From the club?"

They both nodded. Neither of them had seen the boy, but Finn had heard Puck describe him enough times now to feel like he might know him, somehow.

"He's in my dreams, too. He's... taking care of her, usually. Like, a dad."

Finn took his hand. Puck didn't use the word dad to describe himself. It was always papa. "You guys are together?"

Puck nodded. "Something like that. And it's always just us. When she can talk, she talks about Kurt, and you, Finn. But you're never there."

Kurt seemed completely unconcerned. "That makes sense, if it's what Tess said it was. You're getting to know them both. You already know us, so..."

"Yeah, maybe?" Puck sighed, and this time when Kurt opened the covers, he crawled inside, curling up in the space between the edge of the bed and Kurt's body. Finn laid a hand on Kurt's hip from behind them.

"Don't worry about it," Kurt said, soothingly. "Whatever it is, we'll find out. All of us, together."

"Yeah?" It about broke Finn to hear Puck like that, so uncertain and scared, and to not be able to do anything about it, but he let Kurt take care of it, to be what Puck needed. Then he thought about Patrick, looking scared like that, needing him. I can do it, he wanted to say to Puck, if you'd only let me.  If only you'd take a chance on me again, I won't let you down this time.

"Yeah," Finn said, squeezing Kurt's hip. He felt Kurt tighten his arms around Puck. They slept like that, and as far as Finn could tell, none of them had any dreams.

Burt didn't say a word about Finn spending the night the next morning at breakfast. The three boys and Sarah took up all the spots at the dining table, so Burt ate in the kitchen.

"We need a bigger table," Sarah said, swinging her legs across to kick Finn. He knew this meant she was happy to see him. He kicked her back and grinned, passing the cereal box.

"We need a bigger house," Kurt said, glancing at the kitchen. "If we're sticking together, it's going to get a lot crowded in about three months."

"If?" Sarah scoffed. "You're joking, right?"

Puck grinned into his English muffin. "Yeah, Kurt, come on. After all the crap we've gone through, there's no way we're going to give up now."

Kurt's smile fed something inside Finn. Seeing him happy like that - it was enough. It was. That, and Puck's familiar bravado. "This can be home, for now," he said. "We can deal with being crowded. And a baby doesn't take up too much more room, huh?"

"Never lived with a baby," Puck shrugged, sipping his juice. "Guess we'll know for sure when she gets here."

"Guess so," Finn agreed, and watched Puck's shoulders settle a little more. He smiled privately to himself. Stealth Topping. Okay, I can figure this out.

While they washed the dishes, Finn found himself humming the tune that Kurt had been playing on the piano the night before. Kurt laughed, looking embarrassed. "Of all the things to get stuck in your head, Finn," he said, setting his bowl in the dish drainer.

"I don't mind," Finn said. "It's nice."

"Yeah..." Kurt paused, laying his head on Finn's shoulder. "It's... it's mine."

"Yours?" Finn looked at Kurt in confusion, then set the sponge down. "You mean, you wrote it?"

Kurt nodded, his cheeks pink. "Brad's been trying to get me to share some of my compositions with him, but I'm not sure I can. I thought, if I could play them here, with all of you listening, maybe I could do it for him. Or..." He went silent.

Finn waited for the or, but Kurt didn't say anything more. He dried his hands on the towel and took him in his arms, holding him tight until Kurt sighed.

"I love hearing you play," Finn told him, nuzzling his head. "I don't care what it is. But knowing you wrote that, that's even better."

Kurt didn't respond. Finn let him lean back, looking into his eyes. He realized, with a start, that Kurt was taller now. When had that happened?

"Even if..." Kurt glanced away. "If it's not for you?"

Finn turned that over in his head for a long moment, trying to be honest. "It kind of hurts," he said. "But it feels good, too, knowing it's for someone else you love." He touched Kurt's hair, trying not to mess up the style. "Who's it for?"

"Adam," he whispered.

Finn nodded, breathing through the hurt. He kissed his cheek. "It's okay, baby. You get to have everything you want. I'm still here, and I know you love me."

"I really do," Kurt said, gripping Finn's arms. He looked a little desperate, and Finn kissed him again, trying to calm him. "I'm not trying to replace you. It's not at all like that."

Finn laughed. "Baby... of course it's not. I get it, believe me. It's fine. If there's anybody who should get that, it's me, right?"

Now Kurt smiled, relaxing. "Yeah. All right."

Finn made sure to stop Puck by the door before they walked out. "Hey. Last night..."

Puck watched him warily. "Yeah?"

Finn hugged him, feeling Puck stiffen, then give in.  "Thanks," Finn said. "For trusting me. For telling me how you felt, even if it sucked. I need that, sometimes. I get stuck in what's going on for me, and I forget how much... how much it means, what I already have."

Puck's amazed smile was better than everything they'd done last night put together. "Really?" Finn could hear, in that word, some of the trust they'd once had in each other, and it gave him hope.

"Really," he said. He kissed Puck, once, then let him go. "See you in class, okay?"

Chapter Text

 

Episode 1.15: The Power of Madonna, Part Three - Kurt

Mercedes leaned in at lunch, her arm around Kurt's shoulders, and whistled at the picture on his phone. "Hot. Definitely hot."

"I know," Kurt sighed, holding up the screen and admiring it in profile. "I wish. But I was talking about her last night, and now I can't get her out of my mind. Something about her curves..."

"Sure, if that's your kind of thing." Mercedes shrugged. "But I wouldn't mind giving her a ride."

"What the hell are you guys looking at?" Tina said, craning her neck. When she saw, she made a face. "Oh. A car."

"Not just any car," Kurt insisted. "A 1964 and a half Mustang convertible. This one's in Caspian Blue. 260 v8, leather interior." He sighed wistfully. "I think I may lose my power of speech."

"Doubtful," Mercedes snorted, with a nudge. "Anyway, you've got no reason to stop talking. You're going to see Lady Gaga next weekend. It doesn't get much better than that. Are you absolutely losing sleep over it? Are you packed yet? Girl, don't we need to go shopping?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, touching the screen. He really didn't know how to say I'm not looking forward to my trip for the reasons you think, anymore. He didn't know what to say. After the conversation he'd had with Finn and Noah about being honest,now here he was with this friendship... possibly more... that he couldn't ever talk about with anyone. He tucked himself back into his maroon hoodie and sighed.

Mercedes cocked her head. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts. I know you haven't traveled before, Kurt, but really, it's not a -"

"No," he said, setting the phone down. "No, it's not that. It's - complicated. And I don't think I can tell you."

Tina's eyes widened, and she gestured at the exit. "If you need me to go, I can -"

"Either of you," he expanded. "Anyone, really. It's..." He thought hard, biting his lip. "Well... it's this car. I have a - a fantasy, about owning one someday. And now there's a very nice model... that I might get to have. It's rather unexpected."

"You might get to have a car?" Tina said, looking confused, but Mercedes gestured for her to shush.

"This car," she said, gazing at him intently. "It might be in California?"

Kurt closed his eyes. "It might be."

She nodded. "This car's name wouldn't be Max, would it?"

For a moment, Kurt wasn't sure how to respond. Mercedes' eyebrows went higher on her forehead. She sighed. "Quinn told me something about Puck's boyfriend, Max, from Santa Fe. He's, like, some big shot and nobody can talk about him. Is that him?"

"Yeah," Kurt whispered, feeling stunned. It was almost harder, hearing Mercedes say untruths about Adam. He wanted to stop her and say no, no, wait, his name's not Max, it's Adam, and he's the most amazing man... and he invited me to sleep in his bed with him and Noah. But he knew he couldn't, no matter how much he might want to. "That's... not his real name. But that's who I was talking about."

Tina looked back and forth from Mercedes to Kurt. "This is the guy Puck went to Santa Fe to meet?"

"No, he - he didn't meet him until he got there, and it was just chance. But he's... incredible." He let out a shaky laugh, leaning back in his chair. "He sings. On, uh, on stage. And he has this absolutely unbelievable voice. But Noah can't tell anybody about who he really is."

"And now you, and he...?" Tina looked troubled. "Kurt, you're already in a... complicated relationship. Are you sure you want -"

He let his eyes close again. "Yes. I think so. … I don't know. God... I really can't."

"Hang on, hang on." Mercedes took his hand and took a deep breath. "Puck knows about this, and he's okay with it?"

Kurt thought about what Puck had said to him the night before, when he asked the same question. I'm fucking thrilled. Do you get that? You can have anybody you want, I don't care, as long as it makes you happy - but you, and Adam? Other than you and Finn, it's kind of the best thing ever.

"Yes," he said. "He's okay with it."

"And Finn?" She pointed that eyebrow at him. "He's okay, too? Because, yeah, I don't know when I started caring about Finn Hudson, but..."

"Yes," Kurt repeated, loud enough to startle the girls at the table next to theirs. He brought his volume down. "Yes. He's okay. I... we talked, last night, all of us. But really, nothing's happened, and... I don't even know, yet, what's going to happen."

"Okay," Mercedes said. Her arms wrapped around him, warm and comforting. He tried not to cry. "This just seems like a lot more stress than you need, Kurt."

That made Tina laugh. "You haven't noticed? I think Kurt thrives on drama."

"True," he admitted. He smiled at both of them. "I hate keeping things from you."

"Yeah, I'm not crazy about it either." Mercedes patted his hand. "But I'll take what you've got. Honestly, Kurt, your life's better than my soap."

Kurt did his best to focus on the ordinary events of school. He took notes in American History - not very good notes, admittedly, but they were probably better than the ones Finn or Noah had taken, so he could at least share them when they studied - and smiled in all the right places at Artie's terrible joke on the way to Glee.

But Mr. Schue threw him for a loop when he wrote the name Madonna on the board and underlined it with a flourish. "What comes to mind when you see that name?"

"Genius," Rachel declared. Kurt felt himself waking up for the first time that day.

"Icon," he added breathlessly.

"Hall of Fame MILF," Puck added. Kurt kicked the back of his chair, but Puck just smirked.

Mr. Schue nodded. "So, we're all aware of Madonna's musical and cultural significance. Which is why this week your assignment is to come up with a Madonna number."

A chatter of excitement spread through the girls in Glee, while the guys mostly looked stunned. Rachel immediately turned to Kurt, and he responded to her excited smile, feeling the rush of ideas flowing through him. "I don't even know where to start," she whispered, reaching across the risers for his hand. But Puck frowned.

"Mr. Schue," he said, wrinkling his brow, "as a dude, Madonna makes me feel kind of uncomfortable."

"And you didn't feel uncomfortable wearing that eyeliner last week?" Santana muttered under her breath.

Finn glared at Santana and jumped to Puck's defense. It made Kurt feel a little funny to hear him do it, but he smiled at Finn anyway. "Yeah, she's smokin' and everything, but can't some of us do something else? Uh, the guy version of Madonna?"

"Adam Lambert?" Brittany chirped.

Finn choked and turned red. "I was thinking more like Pantera."

Mr. Schue went into a diatribe about treating the girls in Glee with respect, but Kurt listened with only half an ear, nodding vaguely. He'd had a sudden inspiration, all the parts of which were laid out in his head like the scenes of a movie. It probably didn't hurt that he'd seen the Vogue video over four dozen times. I know exactly how it will go, he thought. When Mr. Schue paused for breath, Kurt raised his hand.

"Mr. Schue," he said, "I don't think we can have an honest conversation about Ms. Ciccone without acknowledging her images are as indelible as her songs. I would like to honor her contributions by tackling a multimedia project. With Mercedes."

She turned around and smiled at him. Rachel looked vaguely hurt to be excluded. Kurt made a mental note to find some way to include her in the project, too.

"Great - go for it, Kurt," Mr. Schue said, waving a magnanimous hand at him.

"I'm still not done." Puck crossed his arms with a wounded pout. Kurt nudged him again with his foot, but he was ignoring him. "No chick intimidates Puckzilla. I just don't think her music translates to show choir."

"Really?" said Rachel. "Well, I, for one, couldn't disagree more. I can think of several songs that translate perfectly - and I'm going to prove it. Who's with me?"

Mr. Schue split the class up into three groups for the rest of the period. One group discussed Rachel's Express Yourself project; Mercedes, Artie and a few others listened to Kurt outline his ideas for the Vogue video experience. The remaining guys - and they were all guys - were with Puck. He was talking about something with fierce concentration, but Kurt couldn't quite hear what it was. By the end of class, Puck's group looked like they had something to work on, judging by the high-fives and grins. Puck came over to Kurt and put a casual arm around his shoulder.

"Multimedia project, huh?" he said, nodding at Kurt's rough storyboard. "Looks pretty awesome, baby."

"Don't try to butter me up," Kurt said briskly. "You were dissing my Madonna. It's not going to end well for you."

"I wasn't," Puck protested. "She's awesome. I just don't think guys' voices are cut out to sing her songs. Uh, except maybe yours." He grinned. "Actually, you'd sound pretty fucking amazing singing that one song, Live to Tell...?"

"Too little, too late," he said. The idea was somewhat compelling, but Kurt waved him away, making shooing motions at the door. "We have costumes and lighting ideas to talk about, sweetheart. Go on; I'll see you at home later."

Puck didn't look very happy about this idea, but he obliged, taking his backpack and heading out behind Finn. Rachel's group had finished by now, and Rachel caught up with Finn on the way out the door, chattering about their choreography.

"You know, I think there might be some tuxedo vests in the costume room that we could alter for the video," Mercedes said, rubbing her chin. "Though I doubt they'd have any that would fit me."

Kurt shook his head. "That doesn't matter, anyway, since you're singing the Madonna part."

"Me?" Mercedes gave him the biggest duh look. "No way. That part is for you, Kurt. If there was anybody I ever wanted to sing backup for, it's you."

Kurt felt his cheeks burning, but he smiled. "Please. You're the most insanely talented singer I know, and that includes Miss Wanna-Be Material Girl, Rachel Berry, over there. You've got plenty of Madonna in those lungs of yours."

"But you sound just like her," Mercedes demurred. "You're meant to sing this. Come, on, Kurt, let's hear it."

Kurt laughed, and leapt into his best imitation of early Madonna.

Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me
I think they're O.K.
If they don't give me proper credit
I just walk away

They can beg and they can plead
But they can't see the light, that's right
'Cause the boy with the cold hard cash
Is always Mister Right, 'cause we are -

"Well, he sure sounds like a girl," drawled a voice from the hallway, followed by a long, lanky redhead wearing a nasty grin. Kurt felt his smile drop from his face and he took a step back.

"You're interrupting our rehearsal, Rick," Mercedes snapped. "This isn't your classroom."

"Hey, school's over," said Karofsky, emerging from the other doorway. Kurt hadn't even thought to move for the second exit, but it looked like the two hockey players had effectively cut off both routes of escape. "And it's a free country. We're not doing anything wrong."

"Yet," muttered Kurt, eyeing Rick warily. They didn't call him Rick the Stick for nothing - and it wasn't because he was tall and skinny; it was his speed with maneuvering the puck. His swing could do some damage before either of them could do anything about it.

"I was hoping I might find your boyfriend," Karofsky purred. "That would be the one who'd promised to give Rick here a blowjob."

"Fuck that," said Rick, but Karofsky put up a hand, and Rick stayed in the doorway.

"Nobody's giving anybody anything." Kurt hated the way his voice sounded so terrified. Strong. Be strong. They won't pay attention if you can just show them you don't care. But he'd never figured out how to do that. He did care. He was scared, and hurt, and so angry he could -

Karofsky took another step, and Kurt grabbed the choir stool beside him, shoving it to the floor with a clatter. "Get the hell out of here!" he shouted. Karofsky raised an eyebrow, glancing back at Rick, and smiled. He came forward.

Mr. Schue emerged from his office. He paused when he saw Karofsky. "Anything I can help you with, David?" His voice was mild, but he wasn't smiling.

"Just stopping in to tell Kurt how much I liked his song," Karofsky replied. He was all sweetness now, his face relaxing. "He's so talented."

"Yeah, he is." Mr. Schue wasn't moving. "I think they said they had some more work to do, so why don't you save the compliments for another time?"

"Sure, Mr. Schuester." Karofsky headed toward Rick, motioning him back into the hallway, and they took off without another word. But Kurt saw Karofsky flash him the peace sign, the obscene gesture that Kurt knew stood for Puck and Finn, and the things they'd done with Kurt in the janitor's closet, months ago. He closed his eyes.

"Thanks," he whispered. He felt Mercedes' hand on his arm.

"Puck told me David's been bullying you, Kurt." Kurt opened his eyes to see the hard expression on Mr. Schue's face. "I thought that had subsided. The business with the locker -"

"No, it's nothing like that," Kurt assured him. He shivered. "They slushied Noah the other day. That's all."

"It's still not okay," Mr. Schue insisted. "If this happens again, I want you to come tell me right away. I won't let them treat you, or any other student, unfairly."

"C'mon, Kurt, let's go look in the costume room," Mercedes said, gathering her things. "Thanks, Mr. Schue."

The hallways were nearly empty, but Kurt found himself glaring at every student who passed them, looking for something to do with the adrenaline inspired by their brief encounter. Mercedes watched him with concern.

"God, I thought maybe it was over," she sighed. Kurt laughed, though it wasn't funny.

"Karofsky's never going to leave me alone," he said flatly. "He hates me."

"He's just a small-minded bigot who's threatened by your glamorous self." She put an arm around Kurt as they walked. "You're not going to let him scare you, now, are you?"

Every day, he wanted to say, but in that moment, it was too much to confess. He put on a brave smile. "No way."

They rummaged through the racks in the costume room. The vests were hopeless, but they found some vintage tuxedo jackets that Kurt thought he could work with. "Brittany's mom is dynamite with a sewing machine," he said, fingering the cheap satin lining. "I'll take them over to her house later this week."

"You need to try this on." Mercedes held one jacket up against Kurt's back, then draped a white length of satin over it. "And this scarf. You could do your hair just like in the video."

He smiled despite himself. "I've got some pomade in my gym locker."

They were giggling on their way down to the locker room, Mercedes carrying an elegant black suit. "That neckline looks just like the dress in Madonna's third costume change," Kurt said. "If we can focus the camera up here, it wouldn't matter if the rest of the outfit wasn't quite right. You need a mirror?"

"The girls' locker room has plenty of mirrors," said Mercedes. "Just yell for me when you're ready, okay?"

An empty men's locker room didn't smell much better than a crowded one, sadly, but Kurt managed to struggle out of his multiple layers while holding his breath. The jacket really was perfect for the video. He gave his bow tie a tug to straighten it and folded the soft satin around his neck. He had to apply even more hair product than usual to get the right look, but even in the glare of the locker room lights, it looked good.

"Vogue," he murmured, hearing the faint echo, and smiled.

Kurt poked his head into the girls' locker room. It did smell better. Completely unfair. "Mercedes? Come see."

Mercedes emerged far enough to ooh and aah over Kurt. "The suit doesn't fit me, though," she said sadly. "Way too tight in the bust. Whoever made this outfit made it for somebody built like you."

"I'm not playing Madonna," Kurt insisted. "It's going to have to be you. Or else we ask Quinn or Rachel or somebody to do it." He grimaced, touching his hair. "I hate to say it, but I'm going to have to wash my hair before I put my own shirt back on. I don't want to think about getting pomade out of Versace."

"I'll hang this back up in the costume room, then," she said, retrieving the tuxedo jacket and white satin scarf from Kurt. "Be right back. We should stop at Consigning Women on the way home to look for more costume ideas."

Kurt took as quick a shower as he could. He hated hearing the open echoes of the room around him. It never felt quite safe to be in there alone, even enclosed in the security of his shower cubicle.

It was completely silent when he came out, but it was clear someone had been there while he'd been showering. For one thing, there were snowy, indistinct footprints on the floor.

For another, all of his clothes were gone, along with his towel.

Kurt slowly approached the red and white pile of neatly folded clothing that had been left in their place. They might be booby-trapped for all he knew. But once he lifted the note off the top of the pile, he knew exactly what the trap was. It was the clothing itself.

You're so invested in sounding like a girl, read the note, in surprisingly neat script. I thought you might like to dress like one, too. On the bench was his wallet and his car keys. His bag was gone.

He hadn't expected Karofsky's writing to be so tidy - or that he'd be able to spell, use grammar or adequately punctuate his sentences. Somehow that made him all the more terrifying. Kurt unfolded the Cheerios uniform and shook it out, trying not to let the feelings of panic choke him.

"Mercedes?" he called, but it came out in a strangled whisper. Still naked, he edged closer to the door, feeling more exposed than he knew what to do with. "Mercedes?" There was no answer. He called as loudly as he could. "Anybody - Mercedes, are you there?"

Still no answer. Kurt thought, Hey, at least I'm not in a locker this time, and stifled the hysterical laughter that followed. Then he turned back to the pile of clothes and the note, and took a long breath.

He hesitated only a moment longer before struggling into the cheerleading top. The skirt only reached to mid-thigh. Kurt was particularly conscious of the fact that Karofsky hadn't left his underwear.

"You can do this," he muttered, smoothing the pleats. You're no stranger to humiliation.

Kurt didn't learn until much later that Rick had crank-called the office to lure Mercedes away from the locker room. He accepted her frantic apology, of course, once she found out what had happened. He wasn't at all upset at her.

At the time, as he exited the boys' locker room wearing the cheerleading uniform, all he could think was: This is exactly what Mr. Schue was saying in Glee about the way boys think about girls. That being a girl is shameful. I can't let this be about that, no matter how embarrassed I am, no matter how powerless I feel.

He tipped his chin up, straightened his shoulders, and faced the world as a Cheerio.

Kurt took a cue from the unfortunate locker incident and resolved to tell Finn first, but Sarah was there when he got home. She just looked him up and down and wrinkled her nose. "You joined the Cheerios?"

"No," he sighed. "I have to change, and I have to find Finn. Is he here?"

"Still finishing up basketball practice," Sarah said. "But Noah's in the kitchen. Are you okay?"

"Not really. I have to - just let me go talk to Noah, all right?"

She let him through without another word, but her expression was clear. You're going to explain this to me, right? He nodded tiredly, tugging the Cheerios top straight as he moved toward the kitchen. It was far too tight across his shoulders.

Puck was at the stove, stirring a pot with a wooden spoon and moving his hips, chanting:

If I take you from behind
Push myself into your mind
When you least expect it
Will you try and reject it
If I'm in charge and I treat you like a child
Will you let yourself go wild
Let my mouth go where it wants to -

He turned, noticed Kurt, and stopped. The spoon fell out of his hand. He just stared for a long, long moment, his mouth slack. Kurt didn't say anything, staring back, watching the expression change on Puck's face from shock to concern to something else he wasn't sure he could identify.

Then Puck crossed the kitchen floor and took Kurt's arms in his strong hands, gripping him a little more tightly than was comfortable. "Tell me," he demanded.

It was too much for him to handle. Kurt felt his control slip away as he closed his eyes and started to cry.

"Baby," Puck said unhappily. He hugged him awkwardly, gingerly, like Kurt might break. Kurt didn't have the heart to say you're doing it wrong, so he just let him hold him and pat his back while the tears fell. "Hey... what happened? What's with the outfit?"

"You don't want to know," Kurt sniffled, his chest constricting.

"Did you - dude, just tell me, okay? This isn't funny."

"Damn right it's not funny," Kurt hissed. "You think this is a joke? Fine. I went into the locker room to try on a costume for Glee, and then I showered, and when I came out of the shower my clothes were gone. And Karofsky and Rick left me this. Are you happy?"

Puck pulled away to stare at him again, and his face went hard. It reminded Kurt so much of Mr. Schue's expression in the choir room that he almost laughed. "Those fucking pricks," he swore. Then he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving the pot bubbling on the stove. He was still wearing his Is that a sausage on my grill, or am I just happy to see you? apron. Kurt heard the front door open, then slam closed. A minute later, Puck's truck roared to life, and quickly disappeared.

"Shit," said Kurt. He peered into the pot and put the lid on what appeared to be marinara sauce, turning the stove off. Then he sat at the kitchen table and rested his head in his hands.

When Sarah appeared again in the doorway to the kitchen, he let her lead him downstairs. Without a word, she opened his second drawer and handed him a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. She crossed through their connecting bathroom and into her room, turning on some music as she returned. Kurt had shed the skirt, leaving it on the floor in a heap, something he never did with clothing, but he hadn't managed to get the tight-fitting top off yet.

"Lemme help you with that." Sarah took his arms over his head and shimmied the shirt off his shoulders. "Damn, Kurt, you've got biceps."

"I know," he said dully. "It's a little weird for me."

"Don't talk to me about weird," she snorted. "Not until you've bled for a week and lived to tell about it."

"Point." He watched her pick up the skirt and the top and fold them reasonably neatly on top of his bureau. Then she paused, picked them up again, and dropped them outside his doorway onto the floor. He wasn't sure how she had realized he couldn't bear to have them in the room with him, but somehow she had.

Then she stood in the doorway and crossed her slender arms. "You're going to eat something, right?"

"I need to talk to Finn," he said. "Can I borrow your phone?"

Finn didn't pick up right away, which may have been because it was Sarah's number, but Kurt thought it might have been because he'd been in the shower following basketball practice. There was something ominous about Finn being in that same locker room following the events of that afternoon. He called back a second time, and Finn picked up then.

"Baby, what's going on?" he said cautiously.

Kurt tried to take an even breath. "Why do you ask?"

"Because Rick came up to me halfway through practice and practically gloated, right in my face. Said he had your bag, your phone. I looked inside it, Kurt. Your clothes... they were in there. Are you okay?"

"No," he said, feeling his bottom lip curling into a grimace. "No. Noah - he's coming after Rick, and Karofsky. You have to stop him. I don't know what he's going to do, but -"

"Kurt." Finn's voice was short and commanding now, and Kurt stopped talking, holding his breath on the sob that threatened to overtake him. "Karofsky - did he hurt you?"

"No. Nobody laid a hand on me. Noah can't do anything to him, Finn; he's going to get suspended."

Finn ignored his tone of voice and went grim and quiet. "Yeah. He might. I might not stop him, either."

"Finn!"

"Hey, I'll try, but... well, you know how much effect I have on him these days. Can I get your promise that you're not hurt?"

"Just scared, and angry, and..." Kurt gulped. "I need you. Please."

"You're there with Sarah? Can you call your dad, have him come home a little early? My mom's at the hospital until late, but I could..." He heard Finn sigh. "Forget it. I'll be home as soon as I can."

Home. Finn seldom called it home. Kurt knew Finn didn't mean his own house, the one with his dad's furniture, with all the memories of their past life. It was this house he meant, Kurt's and his dad's and Sarah's, the one Finn stayed at more often than not these days. Our home. They were small comfort right then, those words, but he hung on to them anyway, something he could clutch to his chest and believe in and hope for. Our home.

"Yes," he whispered, "please, come home."

"I will," said Finn. "I love you, Kurt."

Kurt set the phone on his desk and stared at the floor until Sarah came back into his room. She didn't knock.

"Can I call Tatenui now?" she asked. "Or should I try Noah? Because he might actually listen to me, even if he's not gonna listen to Finn."

Kurt didn't bother to ask how Sarah understood Finn and Puck's relationship, because he knew she'd seen plenty over Christmas break, enough to fill in some gaps. Actually, she seemed to get it better than his dad did. He nodded. "Try both of them, but I wouldn't be surprised if Noah doesn't answer. He's got his own vendetta against Rick and Karofsky, and I think he might do something really stupid today."

"Noah's awesome at doing stupid things for what he thinks are good reasons," Sarah agreed. She didn't seem concerned, though, and Kurt didn't have the energy to pursue it. He just nodded, closing his eyes again. This time Sarah pulled him into a hug, and he had never been more grateful for it.

"Don't talk about it," she whispered. "Wait for Finn. Come help me finish dinner. We'll bake chocolate chip cookies if he takes too long."

Kurt might have appreciated Sarah's care more if he hadn't felt so drained. It wasn't like there wasn't anything good about spending an evening making dinner with Sarah. It was that all of it had the same bland flavor, the same wasteful grey color. He couldn't see the value in any of it. But he let her do her steady best to make the marinara and to put the pasta on to boil, while he sliced the vegetables and sautéed them.

"So - they took your clothes?" Sarah watched him nod, and rolled her eyes. "What, are they twelve? Can't they come up with something better than that?"

"I think Karofsky had a particular message in mind." He set the spatula on the counter, watching the slices of squash sizzle in the pan. "He's trying to make me feel powerless. Which, uh, he does. But I think in this case, he picked the wrong method, because he's trying to do it by implying that girls are somehow... less. And that just pissed me off."

"Of course it did," she declared. "Girls are obnoxious and catty and kind of stupid, but they're not any worse than boys."

Kurt smiled, kissing her cheek. "You've got that right. Boys can be sufficiently obnoxious and catty and stupid all on their own."

His dad got home first, and he was livid. "Kurt, I'm calling the school," he said, slamming his keys down on the table.

Kurt exchanged a glance with Sarah. "Dad, trust me, it's just going to make things worse. I'm not in any danger. They're just messing with me, trying to imply that I'm - that I'm the girl in this relationship." He felt his face go red as he realized what his dad probably thought about that.

"Well, as far as I can tell, there aren't any girls in your relationship. It seems to me they're humiliating you in front of the whole school." He glared at Kurt. "You want me to sit around and let that happen?"

"No." Kurt put a hand on his dad's arm. "I want you to let me handle it in my own way. And if I need help, or if I feel like I'm in any danger, believe me, I'll come to you. Okay?"

Burt sat down slowly at the kitchen table. For a moment, Kurt thought that he looked far more tired and confused than he had this morning. He looks old, thought Kurt.

"I do trust you, Kurt," he said at last. "And I'll stay out of it, for now. But I don't like it."

"You're not the only one who thinks that." Kurt heard the front door open and close. "That might be another one of them, right now."

Sarah gestured at the dining room. "Go on, I'll finish dinner. You can wash dishes for me tonight."

Kurt hurried into the entryway to find both Puck and Finn standing silently. Puck had dirt all over the legs of his jeans, and he looked as sullen and pouty as Kurt had ever seen him. Finn wasn't touching him, but he watched Puck warily, as though he was a firecracker that might blow up at any moment. He had Kurt's messenger bag strapped over his shoulder.

"You gonna tell him?" said Finn. "Because I will, if you don't."

"Fuck you," Puck shot back, glaring at Finn. "It's none of your fucking business."

"Hey!" His dad's bark froze Puck in his steps, and he glanced up to see Burt standing in the doorway, his expression outraged. "You know I won't have language like that in this house."

It seemed for a moment that Puck was going to yell at his dad, but then he looked at Kurt, and seemed to deflate. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Now, can the three of you talk this out without cursing, or hitting one another? I'd like to be sure we all agree that we're on the same side, here. All of us. Because I think we still have enough rooms in this house for the three of you to all get sent to them at the same time."

"It'll be okay, dad," Kurt said, indicating for Puck to precede him down the basement steps. "We'll be back upstairs for dinner."

Finn and Kurt took a seat on the couch, but Puck moved restlessly around the basement room, circling them. Finn passed Kurt's bag over to him, then took his hand. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

"Better," Kurt said. "I'm managing. What happened?"

"I didn't hit him, if that's what you're wondering," Puck grumbled. "Not that I didn't totally want to."

The expression on Finn's face was hard to read. Kurt watched him wrestling with something. "You know Rick's car?"

Kurt did. Rick was very proud of it. "The 1956 Chevy Bel Air. My dad did some custom work on it." He held his breath. "Noah..."

"Britt gave me the bag of fertilizer," Puck said. "I didn't steal it."

"I don't think she knew what you were going to do with it." Finn's face contorted, and he looked away just as Kurt realized what was going on. Finn was trying not to laugh.

"Noah, what did you do?" Kurt begged. "Would somebody just tell me?"

Puck crossed his arms and looked obstinate. "I put a little bit in each seat, and some more on all the floors. And on the dash. And I just left it for him to find, when he got out of basketball practice."

Kurt closed his eyes, picturing the scene all too well. "Are you saying you covered Rick's precious baby - the car he works on every chance he gets - in shit?"

"He deserved it," Puck protested. "Tell me he didn't."

Kurt took a deep breath. "Sweetheart... that's not the point." He reached out his hands, and Puck came right over to him, clinging to them like he was going to drown. "You can't make this a he-hurt-me-first revenge match. It's never going to get better. I'm always going to be gay, and they're always going to be jerks."

"Yeah, and I'm always going to kick their asses for wanting to hurt you." Puck wasn't backing down. Kurt just shook his head.

"I can't - I can't deal with this right now, Noah." He touched Puck's face. "Why don't you get out of those dirty clothes and meet us upstairs for dinner."

He nodded silently, and went into Kurt's room to change. As soon as he'd closed the door, Finn offered his arms, and Kurt stumbled back to the couch to sit on his lap, shaking.

"God, Finn," he said, and then started laughing. Once he started, he couldn't stop. Finn held him as tightly as though he were sobbing - and, really, it wasn't all that different.

"It was priceless," Finn whispered, making Kurt laugh harder. "Really. You should have seen Rick's face. I'm just glad Puck had already taken off, or else there really would have been a showdown."

He nodded, wiping his eyes on Finn's t-shirt. "Does he know it was Puck?"

"I guess he's got to. You'd never do anything like that, and I was at practice with him the whole time." Finn kissed him, and then again, and again, over and over again. "Baby... let me just have a minute to freak out, okay? And then I'll be all right."

"Yes," Kurt said, feeling the compression of Finn's fierce embrace. He groaned. "Yes - please."

"When they were threatening Puck in the hallway last week... I just needed for you to be safe." He gripped Kurt's neck in one hand, and Kurt gasped, tipping his head back. The energy between them was desperate and raw and so necessary. It wasn't like that very often, but Kurt drank it down, filling up on Finn's need to take care of him. He met Finn's wild gaze.

"I'm safe," he promised. "Shaken, but not broken."

The door to Kurt's room opened, and Puck emerged, looking somewhat more subdued in one of Kurt's t-shirts and boxers. He eyed the two of them. "You guys want some time alone?" he muttered.

"No, dork," said Finn, grinning. He held out a hand. Puck made a face, like he smelled something bad, but he came over and took it.

Kurt took the other. Even lopsided and misshapen, it was their circle, still the three of them. He breathed it in. Home.

"Thanks for coming back to me," he said, watching Puck struggling, but willing to leave it alone. For now. "Both of you. Let's go have some dinner."

Once they finished the dishes, Finn kissed him and picked up his bag. Kurt watched him with some trepidation. "You're going… back to your house?"

Finn nodded. "I haven't finished my math, and Carl's been coming down on me about doing my Spanish. I don't think I can slack off this week, especially not with us flying out on Friday. But I'll be here tomorrow night." He nodded at Puck, who was slouched at the dining room table, noodling on his guitar. "Anyway, I think he probably needs something from you tonight."

Kurt felt a shiver of anxiety. It was hard not to feel inadequate when it was clear that what Puck needed was so much more than he could deliver. Thank god he's going to see Adam in five days."You're probably right," was all he said. He didn't want Finn to worry.

Finn gave him a little wave. He stopped next to Puck on his way out, speaking quietly to him. Puck didn't respond, but he didn't say anything nasty, either, which at this point might be all Kurt could expect from him. Then he disappeared, and the front door opened, closed.

It was quiet in the kitchen. Kurt stayed there for a few minutes, listening to Kurt playing a song on his guitar. Under his breath, he sang along:

My life is not a game that I play to entertain you
And if you can do it better, then you're welcome to my fame
I'm not gonna waste my time correcting myths and rumors
You believe what you wanna believe
I don't wanna say goodbye
I don't need a reason to cry
Kinda makes me wanna
Kinda makes me hafta

Puck stopped when he noticed Kurt in the doorway to the kitchen. He frowned at him. "What?"

"I didn't know you knew so much Madonna," Kurt said.

Puck shrugged. "Sarah listened; I kind of had to memorize it. And I told you, nothing wrong with Madonna. She's not in my range, is all."

Kurt approached him slowly, and when Puck didn't move away, he stood behind him, putting a hand on his neck where it met his shoulder. Puck sighed, relaxing into his touch.

He bent and touched his lips to Puck's temple. "Are you just about done here?"

"I guess. I was thinking about heading home."

Kurt tried not to feel it like a slap. He's going to do anything he can to push you away,he could hear Finn saying. He smoothed Puck's head. "Not yet. We've got some business to take care of first."

Puck gave him a look like he was nuts. "Whatever."

This translated pretty clearly as you don't know what I need, or possibly you're not nearly enough for me, but Kurt wasn't going to let him alone with that thought long enough to be convinced. "Look at me. Come on."

Puck kept his eyes fixed on the table for another five seconds while Kurt waited patiently, then sighed and looked up. Kurt smiled encouragingly. "That's it. I'm not angry, sweetheart."

Puck looked suddenly uncertain. "No?"

"No," insisted Kurt. "We had a hard day. You made some bad choices. I need to address them with you, but I'm not angry. I know you did it because you love me and you want to protect me."

"Yeah," Puck agreed vehemently. "I do. 'Cause it's not right, what they're doing to you."

"And you think what you did to Rick's car was right?"

His stubborn expression came back. "He deserved it."

Kurt made his voice as gentle as he could, stroking his hand over the skin of Puck's head, to his shoulders, and back again. "You said that before. I disagree. And, tell me, who's in charge here?"

Puck waited a few moments before answering. "You, I guess."

Ah.Kurt held out a hand. "Your guitar, please."

He looked startled. "Uh, Kurt, what –"

"I'm just setting it over here." He took it carefully by the fingerboard and set it in the corner. "You… come with me, right now."

He didn't speak any more loudly or sharply than he had been, but Puck moved with alacrity, leaving the chair where it was, and followed Kurt downstairs. Sarah watched them leave from the upstairs couch with his dad, but she didn't make a comment.

Kurt felt the tension inside himself growing, winding up, like a rubber band stretching tighter, tighter. By the time they reached his room, his jaw was clenched and his hands were restless. I need this, he thought, always amazed to discover it. How do I always forget so easily?

But the answer was clear. He'd spent his whole life dealing with the stress of his life in conventional ways. To suddenly have this unconventional method at his disposal, no matter how effective… it was a shift in paradigm. He knew it would take time to make it part of himself.

Kurt drew Puck close to him, kissing him, letting him feel the need in his touch, in the way he positioned his body, establishing his control. Puck didn't resist long, and soon he was open-mouthed and gasping with desire, stumbling against the bed. Kurt palmed his erection through his boxers and brought his mouth right against his ear.

"I'm going to ask you this question again," he said. "And I want a better answer. Who's in charge here?"

"You," Puck said immediately, groaning, his hips moving in a slow grind against Kurt's hand. "God, you are, please."

"Better. So, tell me, sweetheart… what's going to happen to you if Rick goes to the police and files a report against you for destruction of property?" He didn't move his hand away, but held it still, not giving him any more pressure than Puck could get by thrusting.

"Uh…"

"Even if there's no associated citation, I imagine they'll fine you. Who's going to pay it? My dad? You think he'll appreciate that?"

Puck had a pained expression now, and Kurt didn't think it had anything to do with his erection. "God, Kurt, I didn't –"

"No, you didn't. And you don't, do you? That's why you need – me." He almost said us, but Puck wasn't ready to think about Finn. "Remember? It's part of our agreement?"

Puck squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm such a fuck-up."

"Stop that," Kurt said sharply. He grabbed Puck's hands and held them tight in his. "Everybody needs help sometimes. This is one way I can do it for you. I want to, sweetheart. You may not feel bad about that, understand?" Puck hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Kurt took a deep breath. First hurdle.

"Good." He touched Puck's chest, making light circles, while the other hand stroked down Puck's back to rest on his bottom. "Now, I know you're not going to Finn for help right now… but you're going to see Adam in five days. He gave me something to make this easier. A tool. I want you –"

"Kurt!" Puck looked horrified. "You're not going to –"

Kurt cut him off with a sharp strike on his behind. "I want you to get your paddle."

"Fuck, Kurt," Puck moaned, but Kurt could feel the way he was responding to the idea, how he was suddenly vibrating with need, his muscles tense and his cock straining for friction.

"Yes. And I want you to take off your shorts and your shirt, and kneel right here on the bed. Quickly, now." He released Puck with a little push, and watched him stumble, wide-eyed in shock - then go right to the bureau and thrust his hand under Kurt's clean handkerchiefs to get the small leather paddle Adam had sent as a holiday gift.

They hadn't had an opportunity to use it yet. No, that wasn't exactly true. It was that Kurt had been afraid, afraid that he wouldn't do it right, that it wouldn't work. That even with the tool, he still wouldn't be enough for Puck. And that would be the end, for them. Discovering that he couldn't satisfy Puck, in this way he so clearly needed, would destroy him. But he had to know. And he wasn't going to give up, not yet.

"Go on," he said, making his voice stern, and watched Puck jump to obey, stripping off his shirt and shorts and climbing onto the bed, hard and quivering. Kurt ran a hand down his back, watching the goosebumps rise on his smooth, muscled flesh.

"So beautiful," he murmured. "Such a good boy. Hand it to me, now."

Puck passed the paddle to Kurt, and he grasped it in his right hand, feeling the firmness of it, its quiet, simple strength. There wasn't anything showy about it, but it was well-made, with no rivets or overlapping parts, stitched securely around the edges in a simple double row. Kurt thought of the suede flogger, the way the impact made him feel when compared to Finn's hand, and he shivered. This would be intense.

But Noah needs that, he thought, and braced himself against the bed.

"You made a careless choice," he said, his hand with the paddle resting on Puck's back, "and for that, you need a reminder."

Puck let his head hang down, his back heaving in erratic breaths. "Yes… sir."

"Yes," Kurt agreed. "That's right. And I'm going to keep going, sweetheart, until I think you're done. Do you understand? No counting tonight. Just let me take care of it."

It was a risk, but they'd never used safe words or anything like that before, and Kurt wasn't going to require them now. Puck had placed his trust in Kurt's hands from the very first day he'd let him hold him, when Kurt had offered to help take care of him, on that day Puck had made them breakfast at his house. He wondered what Adam would say about safe words.

"Yes, sir," came Puck's quiet reply, his back bending as he rested his head on his crossed arms. He waited, trembling. Kurt's hand stroked down his spine.

The first impact always seemed easy to handle, Kurt knew, and Puck usually took a while to move from appreciation to discomfort on his way to release, but by the third stroke of the leather paddle, Kurt could already tell the difference. He was making more noise, squirming and twisting away, and Kurt had to tell him several times to hold still. Even with the distance between the second floor and the basement, he had a moment of unease when Puck gave a shout.

"My father wouldn't like being woken up by this," he cautioned, and after that, Puck muffled his face in one of Kurt's pillows. Perhaps he even had the wherewithal to consider Sarah, sleeping two doors away in her own room. Knowing how they'd grown up, the noises she was usedto dealing with – he never wanted her to think he was hurting Puck, no matter what she might understand about their relationship from her eleven-year-old perspective.

It went on for what seemed like a long time, but Puck didn't let go of his control completely until Kurt leaned in and reassured him, "I'm okay, sweetheart. Let me see that you are, too."

"I can't," Puck moaned through gritted teeth. "I can't… all I can think about is you, and that goddamn fucking asshole Karofsky, taking –"

"He didn't take anything from me, Noah." Kurt was starting to hesitate a little, watching with each swat of the paddle how the flesh of his thighs and buttocks were becoming more red and raised. "My clothes, yes, but – he couldn't take my pride. He couldn't take this away from us. How could he? He can't touch what we have."

"I should have been there." He wasn't resisting at all anymore, just taking it, taking what Kurt had to give him, letting the impact drive him into the bed. "What good am I to you if I can't – if I can't-"

Oh, sweetheart. Kurt felt his own heart wrench. He resisted the urge to stop and hold him, knowing he couldn't give up now. This was what Noah needed. Instead, he intensified the strokes, hanging on to Alex's advice: You can't do lasting damage with a paddle, as long as you don't hit anything fragile. Puck cried out.

"I don't need you to protect me," Kurt snapped, feeling the tension surge and peak. "I just need you to let go. Do it. Now."

And, to Kurt's astonishment, Puck did, his muscles relaxing all at once in a series of enormous sobs. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I'm so sorry… so sorry, baby, I let you down…"

"No," Kurt begged, "no, no, don't say that, you're fine, you did just fine, sweetheart…" He let the paddle fall as he climbed up on the bed behind Puck, suddenly frantic to touch his skin, to feel the contact of Puck's body, under him, holding him down. "God… I need – Noah?" Kurt clutched him in both arms, not caring about Puck's raw, red skin, but thrusting against him. Puck met his thrust with a desperate whine.

"Yeah, baby, please… I need that too, come on…"

Kurt didn't quite believe what he was doing, but before he could think, his sweatpants were on the floor and the lube was in his hand. He was preparing Puck and himself in quick, fierce strokes, and then he was on top of him, crushing him into the mattress. Claiming him.

"Mine," he said, with each breathless stroke into Puck's body, and heard Puck's begging response, yours, please, yes. "Mine; you're mine."

It was over in minutes, his own cries escalating to overtake Puck's, and he had to put his own hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. Then Kurt was panting, his legs like jelly, and he fell onto the bed beside Puck.

"Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, touching Puck's behind, and giving a little exclamation at his flinch. But Puck was laughing.

"No – baby, I'm fine, I'm totally – fuck – really." With an effort, Puck rolled to his side, shifting his legs gingerly. "Holy shit."

"I think you're going to have some bruises," Kurt said, somewhat horrified. Puck laughed harder.

"I think I'm gonna have trouble sitting," he clarified. "For fuck's sake, Kurt; Adam used the lexan paddle on me when he came to visit on New Year's, and it didn't feel like this. What the hell did you do?"

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm – " Then he stopped, shook his head, and gave a helpless laugh of his own. "No, I'm not. I'm not sorry at all."

Puck grinned at him, his face flushed and streaked with tears, but looking entirely relaxed and completely satisfied. "You'd better not be."

Kurt appreciated that Puck never seemed averse to cuddling afterwards, because he always seemed to need that, the reassurance of touch, the connection between them. He was careful to allow some space, but Puck didn't seem to need that, either, and tucked himself in flush against Kurt's stomach.

"That, uh…" Puck chuckled, already drowsy. "That seemed pretty intense for you, too."

"Yeah," Kurt whispered, and kissed his head. "I think we both needed it. And tomorrow, when I talk to Adam, I'll be sure to thank him for his present. It really… made an impression."

Music credits:

“Material Girl,” Madonna, from Like A Virgin, 1984.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0FXPqYpt0g
“Erotica,” Madonna, from Erotica, 1992.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WyhdvRWEWRw
“Goodbye to Innocence,” Madonna, from Just Say Roe, 1994.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmvPHmnvHG4

Chapter Text

 

Episode 1.15: The Power of Madonna, Part 4 - Carl and Tess

Carl took a seat in the reception area of Hiram's office. He nodded at Oscar at the desk. Oscar gave him a sunny smile, straightening up. "Good morning, sir," he said. "I'll tell Hiram you're here."

"Thank you, Oscar," he replied. "How have you been? It's been over a year."

"Oh, I'm doing very well, thank you," he said, with an obliging bob of his head. "This job's working out perfectly. Hiram is a very kind employer."

Carl knew firsthand how different some people were at work compared to the way they were at home, but as far as he could tell, Hiram was not one of them. For the eighteen years Carl had known him, he'd always been gracious, meticulous and a little bit detached. Those qualities, plus his involvement in the BDSM scene, made him a perfect boss for an eager-to-please slave like Oscar.

"I'm glad to hear that," Carl said, smiling. "Hiram's a good man."

"Don't start spreading rumors," said Hiram, emerging from the office with a brisk chuckle. He hugged Carl. "You're looking good, my friend. Come on back. Oscar, get the man an iced tea, that's a dear."

"Right away, sir," Oscar nodded. Hiram smiled privately to Carl.

"It's easier to get away with such titles when you're in administration," he murmured. "Nobody thinks I'm more than a little quaint and stuffy for requiring it from him."

"And you're actually both of those things, so…" Carl grinned. "I'm glad Oscar's working out for you. There's no shortage of positions for a good slave, but I wouldn't feel comfortable placing him with just any employer."

"Well, I may be a poor excuse for a Top," said Hiram, settling himself behind his desk and gesturing for Carl to sit across from him, "but at least I can treat him well. And it's no effort to meet his more… personal needs."

Carl nodded. Everyone had their kinks. For people like Oscar, it was convenient that they could get them met at work, but for Hiram, it was just a job. He got what he needed from his own Top, at home. "And how's Leroy?"

"Busy as always," he sighed, fluttering his hand. "This commute to Toledo is playing havoc with our social life. He's always gone. I swear, Carl, it's worse than when Davis was working for that dreadful firm in Cleveland."

"He's a lot happier since he started working for himself," Carl agreed. Oscar appeared behind him, handing him his iced tea, and beamed when Carl thanked him. "He has enough loyal clients to keep himself fully employed, now. Any chance Leroy could open his own practice?"

"Oh, I don't know. He says his specialty is too limited for a city like Lima, but when I suggest expanding his practice outside of grief counseling, he says I'm getting pushy, and that usually ends badly for me." Hiram gave Carl a pointed look, and Carl nodded in sympathy. "So I try not to bring it up. If you ask me, he's getting a little set in his ways." He waved it away. "No matter. In two more years Rachel will be done here, and we'll be able to retire wherever we damn well choose."

"And where might that be?" Carl asked politely. He listened to Hiram chatter about New York with half an ear. Hiram and Leroy weren't the only ones looking forward to that year. At the time of the adoption, the agreement they'd signed stated that Rachel could learn the identity of her birth parents, if she chose, once she turned eighteen. Carl wasn't going to miss that opportunity. She's the only child I'll ever have. I watched her grow up, through her adoptive fathers, and if she wants to know me, I'll be waiting. Two more years... it's not really that long.

"And how about you?" Hiram was asking. "Davis tells me you'll be hosting Jesse for a time while Rachel and Nathan are in Bali? What's that all about?"

Here it was. The reason for his visit. Carl grimaced and leaned forward, using his most persuasive body language. "Jesse's having trouble with some of the students at his school," he said. "He wants to transfer to McKinley for a semester. Shelby won't tell me the details, but – he's the star, and it's not always easy for him, especially at a school like Carmel. Jealousy, competition…"

"Oh, I know," Hiram said, looking wise. "Rachel goes through that with some regularity."

Carl cleared his throat. "Uh… has Rachel told you anything about Jesse?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just that… I hear they've gotten to know one another, through their activities in Carmel's Vocal Adrenaline and McKinley's Glee club. That they're becoming… close."

"You're better informed than me. Rachel hasn't mentioned him at all. Unless – wait a minute." Hiram's blank look shaded to alarm. "They didn't go to a Wiggles concert on Sunday, did they?"

"I have no idea," Carl said, but he could see Hiram was working up to his own conclusions.

"For the love of –" He sighed loudly, his voice rising in agitation. "There's somebody she's been seeing… and after she and Finn broke up, I was glad she was dating someone else, but I figured she was just waiting to tell us his name when she was ready… I should have expected something like this, with the two of them being in music in the same state, but really, I thought two hours apart was enough to keep them from running into one another." Hiram splayed both hands on his blotter, staring at Carl in horror. "Carl, what are we going to do?"

"I wish I could help," he said. It was a relief to hear, even in the midst of all the confusion, independent confirmation that Rachel and Finn weren't currently dating. "It's an awkward situation."

"Damn right it's awkward!" snapped Hiram. "How do you tell your daughter that she can't date a boy because - he's her brother, when she's not supposed to have any brothers?"

Carl was silent. He'd never appreciated the fiction that Leroy and Hiram had told Rachel about one of them being her birth father, although he might understand why they'd done it. There wasn't anything he could do about it now. Not for two more years. You could tell her the truth, he might say, but that would just upset Hiram further, and he'd always been a little high strung.

Hiram sighed. "I suppose I'll have to talk to Davis and Shelby about it. And Leroy will have his own opinions, I'm sure. God." Then he blinked. "Wait – isn't Jesse gay?"

"You know kids these days," Carl said vaguely.

"Mmm. I suppose so. Playing up and down the Kinsey scale. I'm a little surprised Rachel hasn't hit her experimental lesbian phase yet, actually." Hiram leaned back, looking more pensive than upset now. "What about you, Carl? Are the rumors true? You've found yourself a boy?"

He smiled. "No question about my spot on the Kinsey Scale, I hope. Yes, there's someone. He's young, but quite competent. Tess introduced us." That should be enough detail to satisfy Hiram.

"I hear you've been taking him around to the usual spots in Columbus. My eyes and ears there say he's lovely, and quite talented." He paused, waiting for confirmation, but receiving none, went on. "Perhaps you'd like to have him over for dinner sometime?"

"Uh… he keeps a low profile," Carl said. "We're trying to stay private. I don't think he's ready for high tea at the queens'."

"Understood. And I'll keep the gossip to a minimum. I wouldn't know the first thing about staying closeted, but I know how that can be for some people." Hiram rose and came around to the front of his desk to hug Carl again. "So good to see you. Even if you can't bring your boy over for dinner, perhaps you and Davis…?"

"No matchmaking," Carl said sternly. "You know we're no good together, and he's seeing one of Tess' managers. But do let me know what you and Leroy decide to do about Rachel and Jesse, all right? In the meantime, I'll do my best to dissuade him. Maybe I need to find him a boy."

"Maybe he needs a good spanking," Hiram suggested. "If you ask me, it's high time he got one for something."

Carl was grinning as he headed for the elevator. Davis had some influence over his son, but Shelby had made it very clear that neither he nor Carl were permitted to introduce Jesse to any of their "questionable practices." Pretty sure that means I'm not allowed to spank him, then. No matter. Jesse had enough curiosity and drive to discover his kinks, whatever they were, all on his own.

He climbed into his car with a determined sigh, and peeled out of the parking lot, heading for the airport. Task one had been accomplished. Now he had to deal with Tess.

Tess stepped into the terminal, feeling hot and tired after the hideous flight, tugging her carry-on after herself like a crippled duckling. She was annoyed by the fact that the wheel had chipped badly in the overhead compartment, and adjusted the overly tight strap of her briefcase around her shoulder. If she tripped over another business commuter here...

"Tess," she heard, and glanced across the terminal to see Carl Jesse waiting, his hands in his pockets. He reached out to take her bag, smiling. "Can I get that for you?"

"Thank you," she huffed, with some modicum of relief. "That was hideous."

"Traveling on a Monday is stressful," he agreed. He folded the handle back into her carry-on and hefted it off the floor with one hand.

"Mondays are meant for nothing more than sleeping in," she told him, a wry smile sneaking onto her face as she looked at her boy. "Thank you for coming, I was perhaps expecting to see Angela, rather than you?"

"It's not every day you come to Lima, Tess." His smile was a little too slick to be genuine, and she could read the tension in his posture. "I cleared my morning schedule. You have me at your disposal."

"Flatterer," she told him, but her tone made it more like praise than criticism. She was well aware, after taking Stephen's slightly cryptic message, that she'd need to take care of her boy while she was here. "I'm glad to hear it." Her eyebrow arched, and her smile grew fractionally. "Get me out of this bloody airport, love, if you please, before I'm tempted to discipline the next commuter who gets underfoot."

He led her out to the parking ramp and to the car waiting for them, casually spanning two parking spaces. Carl opened the passenger door for Tess, but balked at her expression.

"Carl. Jesse. Howell." She looked hard at his slightly sheepish face, and then up and down the sleek lines of the Corvette, taking in the current year of the model - and the classic candy apple red coloring. "Carl. You may explain yourself, right now."

He blinked, then looked at his hands. "Uh - well, I -"

"Jesse."

"Yes ma'am," he said hastily. "I guess... I needed a little distraction? Though I bought it long before I met Finn, I can assure you."

Tess had to take a deep breath. More than one, actually, but she was well practiced in concealing that from this particular scrap of disobedience standing before her.

"I'm not finding any assurance here, Carl Jesse. Continue, if you please." Her tone was dubious, suggesting that he was probably not going to find a way out of this one, not without a map and a maglite.

"Tess," he protested. "I'm perfectly entitled to drive any kind of car I want to."

She glanced to either side. "Get in the car," she hissed, noting that several clusters of bystanders were looking fairly intently. She seated herself, fixing him with a piercing stare as she pulled her skirts around her ankles.

He avoided her eyes, making a ridiculous show of checking his mirrors. "Maybe you'd like to get some lunch...?"

It didn't particularly matter, the stalling. She couldn't exactly spank him right here in the parking lot. "I would not like to 'get some lunch,' young man, I would like to know the precise reason why you felt it necessary to borrow money to acquire... to acquire a mid-life crisis penismobile."

"Borrow money?" he huffed. "I'll have you know I wrote a check for... what did you call it?"

She stared him down, with long ease of practice. "A check," she said, and her tone made it sound... dirty.

His expression was positively sullen. "I'm doing just fine for myself, thank you very much," he snapped. "I'm not that first lieutenant who left California all those years ago, living paycheck to paycheck. You don't get to come to my town and talk to me like -"

"Then perhaps you would like to explain, perchance, young man, why your... vehicle has its proverbial balls straddling two parking spaces, the same way you used to park when you were a snotty little toerag on base? And why there's a police officer about to tap on your window to ask the same question of you?"

Carl's glance shot to the window, eyes wide, and took in the uniformed figure glaring at him. "Pretty sure he's just a security officer," he muttered. Then he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Sh- uh, great."

"With the ability to cite you for a rather expensive violation, hmm?" She nodded at the clearly posted sign, just before the Corvette's nose. "And mind your mouth, boy."

"I did," he protested, rolling down his window. He gave the security guard a smile and a pacifying wave of his hand. "Sorry... I'm moving it right now."

They managed to make it out of the garage and onto the freeway without any further mishaps, but Carl's shoulders weren't relaxing. "I'm glad to see you," he said. "Really. It's been... a bizarre week."

Tess arched an eyebrow at him. "Nice try, Jesse. Car. Explanation. Now. You had a perfectly serviceable and reliable Saab, which I'm well aware you liked. Not to mention the hit your retirement fund must have taken, if you wrote a check?"

"I don't know, Tess," he groaned. "It was impulsive, okay, but I... You know, all of your managers drive classics - and you've got your Jag, I'd think you'd understand... I wanted something that felt entirely mine every time I climbed into it. And I don't really have the knowledge or time to keep a classic cranking over the way James and Stephen do."

Tess sighed. "All right. I can accept that - but I hope you realize," she suggested, her voice silky and low, "that I certainly won't accept that mouthful of invective? 'Your' town, Jesse?"

"I apologize. That was uncalled for." He slouched in his seat, his eyes on the road. "I really don't know what to do with this situation, Tess."

"I understand that, honey. You don't need to set out to prove that to me in finest of brat forms every time you turn around. That's only going to get you one thing - which, yes, you've asked for, but you certainly don't need to beg with your behaviour."

Carl squirmed under her stern regard as he zipped along the offramp. "I honestly don't think I can help that."

Tess barely managed to prevent herself from staring at him. "Now that sounds like a familiar line. I know just what to do with that, honey. We're close, aren't we?"

"Right around the corner," he whispered.

"Excellent." She waited quietly, until he pulled the sleek car smoothly into the garage of the large house, and the bay door conveniently closed as he was walking around to open her door for her. She stood, taking his hand, and bided her time until he closed the car door.

And then she moved, lightning fast, battlefield reflexes still honed from practice with her managers and in the club, easily contrasting just how out of practice he was. She had his ear in her grip, twisting and drawing him to the front of the car, eyeing the design of the body. She bent him over the hood, ensuring that he was standing at a quarter panel, and not going to be facefirst over the hottest part of the metal hood.

"Tess," he protested, his hands out, frantically twisting his body away from the side of the car. "Let me - really, I don't want to scratch the paint; can't I at least take my belt off -"

"Carl Jesse." She didn't have any patience to listen to such pleas. She simply brought her hard and practiced palm down on his backside half a dozen times, watching his reactions closely, and then added another half dozen for good measure, before tugging him upwards again, still by the convenient handle of his ear. "Perhaps you might attempt to mind me?"

"Ma'am," he pleaded, and winced at her twisting fingers. "Yes, ma'am, I'll listen..."

"Excellent. Thank you, sweetheart," she told him, pulling him closer to kiss his cheek gently, and finally letting go of his ear. "Now then, shall we? Unless you'd like to take your pants down, and continue? That's up to you, honey. I wouldn't mind a glass of water and someplace comfortable to sit."

He rubbed the side of his head ruefully. "You definitely deserve that, Tess. Let me just get your bag."

As often happened with her boy, once she'd given him a taste of what he needed, the words flowed easily, and they were able to be calm together. Angela served them more quickly than usual and left them alone to talk.

"I think she's still a little nervous around you," Carl said, passing the rolls across the table.

"I can't imagine why," Tess replied blankly. "She's been very sweet and attentive?"

"That first time you came to my office, last fall?" He shook his head ruefully. "I think you scared the pants off her. She thinks you're a rock star or something."

"Bah, she and I went for coffee, honey, just the two of us. Remember? She was lovely. And she's a bright young woman. Perhaps you could turn that energy towards her aspirations in life."

Carl sighed. "I keep trying to help her find another employer, but so far, she's refused every one. Not that I'm anxious to do without her, but I'm not intentionally keeping her out of the usual process of slave training. I'll keep sending her to interviews."

"Hmm. Perhaps I'll have another conversation with her, while I'm here."

Carl was clearly looking uncomfortable at the idea of Angela leaving his service. No wonder, considering how much her boy needed taking care of. He shrugged. "I'd rather she be satisfied, of course. She's done a great service for this house, and the office..." He trailed off, drumming his hands on the table.

Tess reached out and laid a hand over his, quieting them. "That's enough," she said. Her voice was calm, the gesture not in the least forceful, and he took comfort from the weight and warmth of her small hand over his. "We're not here to discuss Angela, sweetheart. I believe you asked to see me?"

He sighed, bowing his head. "Yes. It's Finn. He's so young, and has so much in his life still to experience, I - well, I may have advised him to consider dating girls as well as boys, if he thought he might want that."

Tess looked a little puzzled. "That seems like sound advice, Jesse. How did he respond?"

A pained look came over his face. "It turns out there's only one girl he wants to date. It's - Tess, it's Rachel."

Tess' eyes went wide, and her hand went over her mouth. She couldn't help the corners of her eyes crinkling, but... my poor boy, she thought.

"Yeah. Thanks." He winced. "But... God, Tess. I can't help but think I asked for this one."

Tess took a deep breath. "Carl Jesse. You did not ask for anything."

Carl shook his head in clear despair. "He's my boy. And she... for all I gave her up willingly, I've watched her grow, I've given her everything I could... she's still my girl."

"Of course she is," she soothed. "And yes, he's your boy. Was there any reason to think that this might happen? They've lived in the same town for the past four years, sweetheart."

"I know." Carl closed his eyes, leaning both hands over his eyes. His lunch was forgotten. "God, that's not the only thing. My worlds are colliding. No sooner than she and Finn hit a rocky patch did she choose another familiar face to be her next beau. Jesse's dating her now."

Tess had reached out to remove her boy's hands from his face, and froze, in mid-reach. "My goodness. Dating isn't the same now in high school, is it," she remarked mildly, concealing her own startlement well. She firmly brought his hands down so that she could see his face, and covered them lightly with one of her own as he went on.

"I talked to Hiram today. I'm hoping he can shake some sense into her, even if he can't tell her the whole truth about her parentage. Or Jesse's, for that matter." He shook his head, clutching her hands. "Davis is being remarkably calm about the whole thing - I think he expects it's going to all blow over, but I... I just don't know."

"That sounds like an excellent decision. I know you've never agreed with Hiram and Leroy, but you've been wonderfully respectful of their wishes." She smiled a little, at the picture of a perfectly calm Davis, something she'd never personally witnessed, and told him as much. "You might borrow a leaf from his book, Carl Jesse. Teenagers... their emotions come and go, and it's such a whirlwind. And no, I'm not speaking about your boy. That one looks to run a little deeper than most, though I haven't had much time to spend talking to him."

He was so predictable. Carl's shoulders dropped a little. "Yes, he really does. Tess... the more time I spend with him, the more I appreciate what's under the surface of that boy. He's... remarkable." His expression was completely transfixed by the image of Finn in his mind.

She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "As is my boy, right here, Carl Jesse."

He blushed, though of course he did not deny it. "You know best, Tess."

"Now that sounds like flattery," she cautioned.

"I've always appreciated an opportunity to tell you how wonderful you are," he agreed, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Hmm. I seem to recall a particular phrase you used to use with an alarming degree of frequency, however."

He raised an eyebrow. "What would that be?"

She tapped a thoughtful finger on her chin. "I believe it was 'Major Bitch,' if I am not mistaken," she said, smiling sweetly at him.

That made him laugh. "You always pushed my buttons," he agreed ruefully. "I don't think I've ever experienced a more challenging few months than that first couple in your service - and that includes basic training and my time overseas."

Her grey eyes were thoughtful and serious. "Perhaps contrast that with your situation here, Jesse."

Carl fiddled with his teaspoon. "I won't deny things have been complicated. But - Tess, even with all this craziness with Rachel and Finn, I wouldn't have given it up for anything." He took a slow breath. "I can't remember a time when I've been so satisfied, caring for a boy. He's everything I've been looking for... for so long. And - god..." His voice broke. "I know it's not going to last, but I don't care, I just have to have this, for as long as he'll let me."

That got a frown from her. "Carl Jesse," she said firmly. "Those are not the words of a man in charge of his situation."

"I know." He bowed his head. "I don't feel particularly in charge of things at the moment."

She examined her boy, recognizing the clear signs. "I made you a promise once upon a time. I believe I know what you need - and I am here, sweetheart. I will not act, however, unless you ask me."

He knew what she meant. I won't discipline you for anything to do with your daughter. That was his purview, and she kept her promises. "I appreciate that, Tess, and..." He tightened his hands into fists, then released them. "Please. I need a spanking. Help me."

"Very well," she said, her dark voice hushed. "You will go to your office here in the house, you will remove your pants and your shorts. You will place a selection of tools on the desk for me. You will stand in the corner. And you will wait."

"Ma'am, yes ma'am," was his quiet reply, as he rose from the table.

His home office was warmly furnished with wood and leather, much as his office on Main Street was, but the desk had come from Tessera, and there wasn't one piece of art on the walls that hadn't been shot by his own camera. This room was a reflection of Jesse's transformation into Carl, moment by moment, through the years she'd known him. It wasn't a surprise to her the way he moved quickly to obey, opening his second drawer and withdrawing a tawse, a leather strap and a heavy flogger, all well-worn and oiled. He laid them out with care on his desk, moving aside a stack of papers. Then he went to the corner and bowed his head, kneeling in his own familiar pose of contemplation.

Which she was not about to tolerate, more of that brooding. She swept up behind him and planted a sharp smack on his pristine bottom.

"I believe I told you to stand, did I not?"

He looked far too hurt for a simple smack, but he got to his feet and tried again, responding with a quiet, "Yes, ma'am."

She landed a matching swat on the other side. "Hands on your head, young man."

"Tess," he protested wildly, "God, what do you want from me?"

That earned him a half dozen spanks, quick and hard. "Carl Jesse Howell. Obedience," she snapped.

"I'm doing the best I can," he snapped right back.

He stumbled a little as she pulled him away from the corner, taking two quick steps backward with her charge while she grasped his waist and doubled him over, her quirt in her hand to smack down another half dozen times, though not severely.

"Manners," she reminded calmly. She'd had hopes that he would have gone quietly and obediently as she'd asked, given how baldly and calmly he'd asked for a spanking, but then again, this was Jesse.

"Yes - yes, ma'am, I - I hear you." He flinched away, but did not attempt to impede the quirt's blows.

"Corner, Jesse. Standing. Hands on your head." Tess' tone was brisk, but not heartless.

He complied immediately, facing the wall. She was pretty certain those were already tears lurking in his wounded hazel eyes. She glanced around the office, looking at the big desk, and the chair behind it, assessing the spanking implements on the desk. The flogger she lifted and shook her head, sliding it back into the drawer. She laid her quirt out on the desk beside the strap and the tawse, shifting them so that she could reach them from the desk chair, and then seated herself elegantly.

Those were definitely tears. She could see the tiny muscle jerks in his shoulder that always gave him away, and she contemplated her next move. She wasn't certain whether or not he would remain obedient; it was always a 50/50 chance at this point, so she simply sat and observed.

Carl Jesse's posture indicated he wasn't going to give up control without a hell of a fight, but at the same time, he was close to breaking down without scarcely a touch. She wasn't sure who he thought he was fooling, here. Hell, at this rate, Davis could have spanked you, she sighed to herself. You didn't need me for this. Why did you call me, my sweet boy? She stepped back over to him, moving as silently as she always had.

"Perhaps you can behave, now?" It was a simple question, but-

"It's the question of a lifetime, isn't it?" His hands didn't waver from the position on his head, but his tone was bitter.

Tess shook her head ruefully, and brought her hand smacking down yet another half dozen times. "I didn't ask for lip, boy," she told him briskly, and added another six for good measure.

Carl's hands were jolted from where they were locked behind his head, and he had to put one of them out to catch himself on the wall. "Ma'am," he replied, clearly in pain - and it wasn't from her firm swats. "Please."

"Think you can mind your mouth, and mind your manners?"

He bowed his head. "Yes, ma'am."

Too easy, she thought. "Excellent." She swatted the now reddened backside a few more times, though not with as much wrist to it, and reached up to grasp his ear. "Come with me, little boy." She twisted, bringing his height down just a tad, so that he had to lean to follow her, else be in pain.

He followed the path of her hand, as though he could have done any differently, with a muttered curse, and went where she directed him. Then he glanced up at her in muted horror, wincing at his unfortunate choice, because of course he knew exactly how well she tolerated foul language. "Tess, I'm sorry, I -"

Tess, who had frozen briefly at the sound of the curse, marched him straight behind his own desk, where she sat down in his chair. "Bend over and grab the edge of the desk," she ordered.

He clutched at the polished wood like it was the only thing between him and a firing squad. "Ma'am," he choked, the tears already falling.

She didn't wait for him to finish, simply brought her quirt to hand, and brought a full dozen whistling down, striping his backside nicely. He gave in to each impact on his bottom with glorious, almost desperate acceptance, but it wasn't until the last few strokes that he made any noise. These were frustrated grunts, the sound a person might make if they were absolutely at the end of their rope, just before hysterics sat in. She wouldn't put Carl Jess past a good hysterical crying fit, but she'd thought he had enough control not to find himself there without so much as a piece of leather on his behind.

Tess brought him upright again, glancing at the tears streaming down his face. "Are we through with the bratting?"

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered.

"Very well then, Carl Jesse," she said, seating herself again, and positioning her at his side, where she could easily guide him over her knee. "Why am I about to spank your bottom?"

"I'm out of c-control," he stammered. She thought he might be close to a breakdown, by the expression on his face.

"I see that," she said. And she brought her hand down across his backside - not in the great stinging slap that he was clearly expecting, for he winced before she so much as touched him. Instead, she began spanking lightly, the way she might give a bedtime spanking to a brat she was particularly fond of.

"Tess," he protested.

"And how are you out of control?" she inquired, though the motion of her hand never stopped bringing down those light swats on his naked bottom.

"Finn," he blurted, sounding surprised to hear the word coming out of his own mouth. "It's - Finn. He needs - a reliable teacher, a clear set of guidelines, a -"

"Are you failing to set clear boundaries?" Her hand rested for a moment, rubbing at the reddened cheeks, watching him squirm.

He shook his head, desperately choking on the words he couldn't get out.

"Verbally, if you please, Carl Jesse," she suggested, with two slightly smarting smacks to the backs of his thighs. "Are you failing to set clear boundaries?"

"I'm giving him boundaries, ma'am," he ground out. "And he's following them. Not for trying to get around them at every turn, but he's following them." He stared back at her momentarily, and she could see the clear frustration he was feeling.

"Would he be able to repeat those boundaries to me, if I asked him," she inquired sweetly, resuming the light spanking, working her hand up and down the surface of his backside quickly and thoroughly.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, wincing at her hand. "He's a good boy. He'll do anything I ask of him."

"That's very good, Carl Jesse. When you suggested that he might consider dating girls, did you inquire as to whom he might have any sort of feelings?" Her hand never stopped moving, with those very light, almost nursery-worthy swats.

"No," he said. "Rachel wouldn't... no. But I didn't expect her to fall for a football player."

Two more sharp swats fell on his thighs. "I did not inquire as to Miss Rachel," Tess informed him. "You may focus, now. Even if you had inquired with young Finn as to the names of the girls of whom he is enamoured, would you have been able to take any reasonable action, once you heard Rachel's name from his lips?" She resumed the careful spanking, watching him closely.

"I could have dissuaded him from dating girls at all," he protested. "He's not in love with... with her."

"Would dissuading him have been an honest, upright action on your part?" She began to work the swats lower and lower, nearing the bright spots on his thighs.

He shook his head, clearly feeling the burn, but not pulling away. "This whole situation is rife with lies and deceit, Tess. It's - I hate it." He spat the words out like poison. "I hate it."

"Tell me, right now," she ordered, emphasizing the command with another pair of harsh slaps to that same spot on his thighs. "Would it have been honest to try to dissuade him?"

"No!" he cried. "There was nothing I could do!"

"Have you lied, little boy? Have you told young Finn lies, or told his parents lies, or told me lies?"

"I -" He shuddered out a breath. "No. No lies. As much as I can, it's all - it's all been true."

"I don't like the sound of "as much as I can," Carl Jesse," she said, emphasizing the phrase with sharper swats.

"You know I can't tell Rachel the truth," he said, each word torn from his lips.

That earned him a severe spank across the most sensitive part of his bottom. "I do not recall making any inquiries about Miss Rachel, Carl Jesse."

"I can't tell Finn, either. I promised her - her fathers." The tears fell from his eyes onto the well-worn wood of the floor beside her chair.

She laid her hot hand on the back of his neck. "No one expects you to tell Finn, sweetheart. You've been asked to keep a confidence, and you have respected that."

"But how can I let him fall into this untruth? When he finds out..." His eyes were haunted.

"I do not believe that you are allowing him to fall into the untruth. That untruth, honey, that belongs entirely to Hiram and Leroy. And the situation is not controllable from your position, not in the least."

He breathed into her touch. "I don't think he's going to see it that way, Tess."

"There is no good way around it, sweetheart," she soothed, massaging at his tense neck, though her other hand kept him firmly pinned over her lap. "There will be hurt, and for many people, because there have been lies told. They are not your lies; you do not own them. This is about respecting the men raising your daughter. Throughout this, you remain honorable to your promises - to see that Rachel has a kind and loving home, and to Hiram and his partner, to not be in contact with her - including hiding things from your lovers. Finn will see this. Finn is a teenager, sweetheart. He will not see it right away, I believe - but he will see it, see your honesty and your care, and your love, Carl Jesse."

His shoulders shook as the sobs emerged. "It's going to break him," he cried. "I won't be able to bear the expression on his face when he finds out - but god, I see it, Tess, over and over, in my dreams."

Her voice was kind, but firm. "You have your own choices. You can break things off with young Finn now, choose to effectively end the drama and pain. Or you can plan to support him through that potentially difficult time in the future. And might I remind you, you cannot, and should not predict people's emotional reactions to situations. Not even a lover's - not especially a lover's." She patted his bottom firmly, making him squirm.

"No, ma'am," he agreed. "You're right. I just wish..." This time his sigh came more easily. "He sees Rachel clearly, her worth, her goodness. From what I hear him tell me, he may be one of the only people who does. I wish I could thank him for that."

"You can, lovey," she soothed. "You can thank him in your responsibility to him, in your love for him, in the care you show to him. You can thank him by continuing to be responsible yourself, making well thought out choices and decisions, upholding a good example. Do you understand?"

"Yes." He straightened his back, nodding and wiping his eyes. "I can do that. I can do that for him."

"Very good, Carl Jesse. I believe we have a spanking to finish now, don't we?" Her small hand patted unerringly at the sorest spot.

His expression was more amused than horrified. "You don't think that was enough?"

The spanking that followed wasn't exactly a set of love pats. She was swatting a little more sternly than she had before, and she laid down twelve of them before pausing. "Do we assume others' reactions?" She did not wait for a reply, but added another twelve. "Do we allow our own issues to tear us down inside, rather than talking about them?" Another twelve fell. "Do we take on others' burdens?" Still, she did not allow him to answer. "The answer to those questions, Jesse," she asked, pausing for a moment in her work.

"No, ma'am," he mumbled, his head dangling from his neck, chin on his chest. "No. I don't have to choose those things. And... I won't."

"Very good, Carl Jesse." Her hand slapped down quickly and painfully another dozen times, and then fell to the center of his back, rubbing there as she listened to his tears wane.

He didn't even ask, but simply turned and folded into her lap, putting his hands around her neck, clinging as he might have done with his own mother, had they had this kind of trust and care in their relationship. Tess stroked his dark hair, carding her fingers through the strands, which were still too long, would hang in his eyes when he was ready to sit up. She sat there, stroking, waiting for the tears to cease, thumbing them away from his sensitive face here and there, until he finally took the long breath that she knew meant that he was done.

"Now then," she said quietly. "You will see me before you retire for the night, for a bedtime spanking."

"I would appreciate that," he admitted, raising his head from her chest.

"You deserve it, dear one, for bratting and swearing at me like that. Honestly, Jesse," she said, complaining a little.

"I know," he sighed. "I can hear myself clearly, later, like it was a textbook example I was delivering and not a heartfelt tantrum. I wish I could break out of it in the moment, but..."

Tess barely refrained from snorting, simply stroking his hair more firmly. "Well. I will break you of it, sweetheart. This I promise you."

"I miss you, Tess," he whispered, stroking the collar of her shirt. "Nobody gives me what you do."

"I miss you too, little darling. You may come see me more often, you know. It's very difficult for me to get away at times. You are very lucky my schedule was clear this week."

"You're telling me." He kissed her cheek chastely. "Thank you. And yes, I'll come down more often. It would be my pleasure, really, and Davis would adore some company on his weekend visits."

"I believe we should go and finish our luncheon, don't you?" Her eyes sparkled at him, and he winced, clearly thinking of the hard kitchen chairs.

"With pants or without?" he said, with a trace of a grin.

She contemplated long enough that he widened his eyes. Then she smiled at him. "I believe you asked for the spanking, and that although the bratting is enough to net you a disciplinary session at bedtime, you may put your shorts and pants back on - for now." Her smile became sly. "Do you need help?"

"Not this time," he said solemnly. "And Angela will thank you. She abhors bare bottoms on the furniture."

Chapter Text

 

Episode 1.15: The Power of Madonna, Part Five - Jesse, Finn and Tess

Jesse couldn't believe his Uncle Carl had such a big kitchen. He didn't really understand why the whole house was so big, when it was just him living there alone. His housekeeper Angela came by every day, so at least it wasn't a mess, but there wasn't anything elegant about the way his uncle kept house.

"God, you need a wife," Jesse muttered, nudging the ugly green glass bottles on the windowsill. "Or a gay man to decorate for you. What is this shit?"

"Those, young man, would be mementos from the commitment ceremony that ensured that you exist," a voice said tartly from the doorway of the kitchen.

Jesse swung his gaze around to see a lovely, older dark-haired woman, in a flowing blue silk top and matching pants, barefoot. He gave a little shake of his head, smiling to himself. "No way. My dad would never let something that ugly appear in his wedding. If he were still living with Uncle Carl, this place would be exhibiting some style."

"I believe your father has had a great deal of input into this house, and I wasn't aware that a bottle of wine was meant to be aesthetically pleasing, since one is normally observing the label, and enjoying the contents."

Jesse sniffed, holding the empty bottle by its neck and perusing the label. November 15, 1995. Davis Lawton and Carl Jesse Howell. "What is this? Some kind of placecard? Looks like they printed each guest's name on it. Dot matrix, how quaint." He squinted. "Tess Riordan. Oh, she's a total badass. My uncle's told me about her. Of course, I was only a baby when they had their commitment ceremony."

"And you're all of eighteen now? I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Jesse," she said, straightfaced, holding out an elegant hand. "You may address me as Ms. Riordan, if you please."

He paused, startled, then grinned at her, shaking her hand. "The pleasure's all mine, Ms. Riordan."

Ms. Riordan raised a rather elegant eyebrow. "Thank you, young man. Your uncle mentioned that I might encounter you here. I'm afraid I've been in a business meeting for several hours, and I'm certain I missed the opportunity for your uncle to introduce us, tonight."

Jesse waved her away. "Oh, I haven't seen anybody tonight either. Uncle Carl told me just to come in and get settled. I drove in from Akron just an hour ago."

Ms. Riordan glanced him over. "And your classes for the afternoon?"

"My mom got me out of them." He opened the fridge and perused the contents, sighing at his uncle's complete lack of taste in cheese. "I'm transferring to McKinley next week, so there was really no point. Carmel's curriculum is light years ahead of McKinley's, anyway. And really, I have a full ride to UCLA already. The rest of this year is practically a formality."

"I shouldn't think that Carmel's curriculum is that stunning, given the misperception of light years measuring time as opposed to distance. And..." Jesse watched Ms. Riordan's grey eyes turn steely, focusing in on him tightly. "You might do better to disabuse yourself of the notion that the rest of your year is a formality. UCLA can and will rescind a scholarship, if there's a notable change in grades, or... schools."

He hadn't thought of that, but Jesse let the idea slide off him as he poured a glass of Fresca over ice. There wasn't much that he hadn't been able to manage in regards to school, including some entirely unethical things involving grades and other students assisting with term papers. "Vocal Adrenaline members don't have to worry about that," he assured her. "We're kind of like royalty."

"You may find that a college cares nothing for high school programmes, aside from nothing the fact that a student has participated in formal extracurricular activities." The woman smoothed her hands down her waist, and it almost looked as if she were reaching for something which was at present absent from her touch.

Jesse smirked. "They do when you're going to be majoring in performing arts. Especially when it comes to a program like Carmel's. Shelby's a fantastic director, you know. She's been on Broadway." He didn't mention the sudden shift in choreographers mid-year. Dakota had been talented and brutally focused, but he'd also driven several of the more sensitive members out of Vocal Adrenaline entirely. He'd hoped Toby might be a better influence on the group. He was almost sad he wouldn't be there to see that happen, now... but Shelby had been adamant. You've got to keep an eye on Rachel, she'd said. She's the key to everything.

Ms. Riordan seemed to allow a small, controlled smile to cross her face. "As you will. Perhaps UCLA will choose not to disabuse you of that notion. They certainly have corrected similar misconceptions for other students."

He cocked his head at her. "I don't quite follow you," he said mildly.

"Ah," Ms. Riordan replied. "High school - whether it be private school, or private lessons, has little to no bearing on college, Jesse." Her voice was curiously gentle, in contrast to the hard look she was directing at him. "You will need to proceed in college on your own merit, not on the merit earned in high school. And, most sincerely, young man, UCLA in particular does watch for that last semester, and students who choose to let it slide often find that their scholarships, or even acceptances will.. slide.. if you will, and that they do not find themselves enrolled."

Jesse felt an uneasy prickle along his spine. It wasn't a pleasant thought. Not for the first time that month, he found himself wondering how much of his mother's motivation stemmed from a desire to support him, and how much was about her own selfish, hidden agenda. He kept silent, focusing on his drink, and avoided her gaze.

Ms. Riordan's expression stayed calm and collected, her grey eyes observing. "I am glad to meet you, Jesse," she said, and he tried not to think about the fact that she sounded as if she'd gentled her tone for him. "I do hear quite a bit about you from time to time, speaking with Carl, and Davis as well."

He nodded, setting his glass on the counter. "I've been hearing stories about you since I was a boy. You're practically a legend to my uncle."

"I've known him for a long time, honey."

Jesse hesitated, then added, "And my dad - he mentioned this new guy he met, down in Iowa. He's at your place, isn't he? He sounds pretty important."

At that, Ms. Riordan gave him a smile that transformed her pretty face into something stunningly beautiful.

"Yes. James. James is one of the most valued members of my staff, Jesse. He's an amazing chef, and as one of my managers? I couldn't do without him, really. He's been with staff for.. oh my, it must be over a dozen years now."

"Mmmm." Jesse considered this, leaning against the sink. "My dad's got a real thing for him. He... well, until a couple years ago, he was Uncle Davis to me..."

"I know, sweetheart. I didn't particularly agree with the decision to hide your true parentage, but it certainly wasn't mine to make, nor would it have been honest of me to circumvent it."

"Trust me, it was a damn surprise when he told me, pardon my French." Neither "Uncle Davis" nor "Aunt Shelby" had ever made the slightest insinuation that he was anything more than a favored nephew. When they'd finally told him the truth, he'd felt bewildered, and more than a little betrayed by his adoptive parents. Even now, years later, it rankled.

That elegant eyebrow arched again. "Mind your mouth, young man. I believe it's pronounced slightly differently en Francais. I'm very glad they've spoken up with at least part of the truth that's to be had."

Jesse shrugged. It was abundantly clear to him that truth and Shelby had only ever been passing companions, but Davis... "I think I was surprised that Davis - that my dad didn't tell me sooner."

"He loves Bebe very much, honey."

That, too, was still true: no matter how gay Davis was, and no matter how devious and manipulative Shelby was, Davis would always be devoted to her.

Jesse had a sudden clear memory of his earliest tap recital at age six, headlining on the raised wooden stage sporting a sequined white vest, bow tie and too-tight shoes. Aunt Shelby had sat in the front row, beaming at him. Even Uncle Davis, who Jesse knew had been a dancer himself when he'd been a younger man, hadn't been nearly as proud of him as Shelby had been. After that, Aunt Shelby had played a significant role in his performance training. He just wanted to hang on to the source of that pride. He felt some of that, now, when he looked at Ms. Riordan.

She smiled at him still. "There you are, that's exactly what I meant, Jesse. Now. Perhaps you'd rather talk about a more popular subject - are you dating right now?"

"As a matter of fact, there's a girl I met recently at McKinley." Jesse grinned as his uncle Carl emerged from the doorway. Carl froze, darting a glance from Ms. Riordan and back to Jesse, and stood there, slack-jawed, as Jesse added, "Her name's Rachel. She's a talented performer - perhaps a little green, but I have high hopes for her to reach her full potential as she matures."

"And by what standard are you judging this young lady?" Ms. Riordan inquired. Carl shot her a look that Jesse might identify as pleading, and strode forward to touch Ms. Riordan on the arm, giving his head a frantic little shake.

"Jesse," Carl said, a little too loudly, smiling at him. "You - I didn't realize you were coming in tonight? But - it's good to see you, and, uh... I see you've met... Tess." He bit his lip, watching her face for a reaction. Jesse had never seen his uncle quite so tentative before. It was mildly unnerving.

"Yes - Jesse's a delightful young man, Carl, if a bit... undisciplined."

"Uh... yes." Now Carl's face was downright red, and he looked like was having trouble figuring out what to say next. Jesse watched him with curiosity.

Tess' arm slid around Carl's waist from behind, and Carl looked even more startled, if that was possible. "Perhaps we might consider supper," Tess said, turning to Carl, and as she reached out to him, presumably to straighten the collar of Uncle Carl's shirt, which was crooked, she accidentally dropped the book that had been in her hand. The report from the book hitting the floor seemed to echo more than it ought to, and Jesse watched as Carl turned a further shocking shade of red, then bent to pick it back up and hand it to her, which she received with a murmured thanks.

"Oh - yes." He stammered for a moment, getting a stack of dishes out of the cupboard. "Angela should be here shortly with the tuna steaks. She does this amazing thing with horseradish and hoisin sauce. Why don't the two of you - uh, actually, Tess, you can have a seat while Jesse and I set the table."

"What are your plans this evening, Finn?" Carole asked at breakfast on Wednesday. It was strange to be alone with his mother for a meal, and at their own house. More often than not these days, they were all crammed around the oval table at the Hummel house for morning and evening meals, with barely enough chairs to manage - Sarah usually sat on the piano bench.

He poured himself a third bowl of cereal and tried to hide his grimace. "Well, according to the relationship calendar that Rachel gave me that's in my locker, we have a date tonight, but we're not really dating anymore... so I don't know."

Carole smiled gently. "You don't have to go out with her, even if you are dating."

"She's pretty persuasive," Finn said. He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. "I guess I could give the tickets to Kurt. He likes Phantom, right?"

"Burt's having a guest over tonight. I was wondering if you might want to be there." Carole swirled the juice in her glass. "You remember Tess Riordan?"

"Mistress Tess is coming over?" Finn blurted. "Uh - I mean..." He felt his face burning, and desperately looked at the floor.

"I know about Tessera, Finn, and about Tess' relationship to Carl." His mom's voice was far too understanding. He cringed at the implications. "You don't have to worry about pretending with me, remember?"

"I'm trying not to," he muttered. The kitchen table felt suddenly small and cramped. He resisted the urge to get up and pace the room. "Why... why is she coming to visit?"

"Burt invited her. I think he could use her support." She sounded amused. "It might have something to do with the things his son is doing with my son..."

"God, mom." Finn dropped his spoon into his milk, covering his face. "I'm really not ready to talk about that with you!"

Carole stood and cleared the table. Her smile was placid. "There's no point in being embarrassed. I'm not going to ask for details, but... really, honey, you and Puck and Kurt, you're not subtle." She paused behind the door of the fridge, adding, "Or quiet."

"Mom!"

"I don't really think there's a way to spank someone quietly," she went on.

Finn considered crawling under the table, but he didn't think he would fit anymore, not since he'd grown six inches his freshman year. He buried deeper into his arms and moaned.

"Finn..." He felt his mom's hand on his back, and heard her sigh. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but it's important to me you have a person to turn to with these... big issues. You're still a young man, and you shouldn't have to handle this alone. If you won't talk to me, would you at least talk to Tess?"

He jerked back, turning to look at her. "I - um." He hesitated, then nodded. "I think I could do that."

"All right. How about this. Burt and I will take Kurt and Puck to the play after dinner. If she asks, you can tell Rachel you couldn't make it because you had family obligations. I'm sure she'll understand that. The two of you can stay here and have some time alone." She hugged him with one arm around his shoulders, resting her head against his from behind. "Would that be okay?"

"Yeah, mom." He paused, trying to figure out what else to say, but finally just settled on, "Thanks."

He couldn't see her face, but he could feel her smile. "How's Kurt doing? He's looking forward to this trip to California, isn't he?"

"So much," he agreed. "Kurt and Puck both, but Kurt... yeah. Especially." Finn thought about the conversation he'd had with Adam the night before, about their upcoming visit to California, and what kind of things Kurt and Puck and Adam might be doing together once they got there. He tried not to sigh. "It's... not so much about Lady Gaga anymore, but... I mean, that's great, too, but..."

"I had guessed." Her arm tightened around his shoulder, and he closed his eyes. "You're okay with that?"

No. "Sure." He shifted against her. "Don't I kind of have to be? Considering what I'm doing with Carl?"

"Not necessarily. You can have feelings, Finn, even if they're not rational."

Finn tried not to see the picture of Adam he had in his mind, cobbled together from pictures from the Internet and video he'd seen on TV, with Puck... or Kurt. "I don't really think I can in this case. Kurt... he wants this, and he already feels bad about wanting it. He's been so great about giving me what I need, and sticking with Puck... I can't stand in his way."

"Okay, honey. I get that." She kissed him. "Burt told me about something that happened the other day... about a Cheerios uniform?"

Finn winced. "Uh, yeah... it was bad. We were working on our Madonna numbers in Glee, and Karofsky and Rick, they took Kurt's clothes and left him a cheerleading skirt and top. He had to walk to his car like that." He shrugged, grinning. "Adam said he should just join the Cheerios and prove to everybody he didn't care."

"I love that idea!" Carole said, laughing. "And I think Kurt would be a great Cheerio." She put a hand on his back, putting a little pressure. Finn stiffened, because it was such a familiar gesture, one his mom had done before - but he'd never considered it in the context of the way he managed Kurt, or Patrick, before. "And everything is okay with you and Carl?"

"Yeah," he said softly. "He - uh. He said we might do something special for my birthday in a couple weeks." Carl's suggestion had been about that vague, and Finn wasn't entirely sure what it might include, but Finn's dreams were getting more creative and raunchy by the day.

"That's good. I'm glad you're happy." The pressure disappeared as his mother straightened up, and Finn let out a breath. "I have to get going to the hospital. Tess will be here for dinner tonight. I'll see you then, all right?"

"Yeah," he said, staring down into his cereal bowl. "See you then."

Tess watched Finn as he waved out the door, watching Burt and Carole following Puck and Kurt down the steps. "Have a good time," he called.

"We'll be late," Kurt said. "I don't think you should wait up."

Finn watched until they were all safely in their cars and pulling out into the street, and closed the door behind him with a sigh. "I'm kind of relieved I don't have to go," he said to Tess. "I mean, I love Kurt, like, a lot, and I would totally go to any musical he wanted me to go to, but... Phantom is a little over the top for me. Anything by Andrew Lloyd Webber kind of gives me hives."

Tess raised an eyebrow at him. "Yet the man is one of the most successful playwrights..."

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Finn said, holding up a hand. "He's got some good songs... but really, I've never had much of a taste for musicals. Kurt's the one who likes that stuff." He turned the porch light on and checked the lock on the door before turning off the light in the vestibule and coming back into the dining room.

Tess smiled at him. She patted the couch next to her invitingly. "Come sit with me, Finn. I'm glad for the chance to talk with you."

"That's really nice of you, Tess," he said, smiling gratefully. "I'm kind of glad for the same thing. This has been a... crazy month." He ran a tentative hand over the back of his neck and sank into the cushion next to Tess. "Uh. Carl's talked to you, I guess."

"About how he's feeling, Finn. Very little about the details of what's developing between the two of you, that's confidential information to him, and he doesn't have your permission to talk to me about all of it. You're the only one who can tell me what's going on in your heart and in your head, hmm?"

Finn was silent for a moment, his eyes on his lap. "I'm really... well. Happy? And... sometimes it's a little overwhelming, but... I like it." He cast a pleading gaze at her. "I never expected to... like it. Like this."

She laughed, a light and easy sound. "Oh Finn. No one ever does. That's perfectly normal, honey. What's so overwhelming, sometimes?"

"Well, it's only been a couple months since I started everything with Kurt and Puck. Before that, I think I would have told you I was straight." His grin made Tess laugh again. "Yeah. Really. It's been amazing, and I'd never change a thing, but... it's a lot, all at once, sometimes. Just being with guys, and... and the spanking stuff, and the way Kurt and Puck wanted me to take care of them. I was really glad to give it to them, you know?" He shook his head ruefully. "I never thought I would be on the other end. But here I am."

Tess reached over and patted his knee. "I understand, Finn. I can tell you that I truly value a person who can be open - especially to their own self - about their sexual desires, and give themselves permission to just love, and be happy. It does feel alarming, though, doesn't it? I've felt the same myself in the past."

"Really?" He looked surprised and grateful to hear it. "I guess I'm scared sometimes, but - never in the moment. I mean, when it's just me and Carl, I..." He glanced away, his face red.

"Then you need to tell yourself to stop fooling about, Finn. Stop overthinking things, or thinking about what you look like to other people - what matters the most is how you look to yourself. Do you understand?" Her voice was compassionate and firm, her grey eyes steady.

"I'm not - " He stopped, and sighed. "Yeah. You're right. I do kind of think too hard about this. Hard to believe, me, thinking too much." He laughed, shaking his head.

"Oh, Finn," she scolded. "You know better, young man. So, things are starting to feel comfortable with you and Carl, then?"

He put one hand over his eyes and rubbed his forehead ruefully. "Um. Yeah. Comfortable." He peeked out between his fingers. "Can you believe he's the one who's telling us to slow down?"

"Finn," she remarked, a little sternly, "That sounds like a good idea to me. The best relationships are ones that are built up slowly. There's nothing to be gained from rushing a relationship that requires a deep level of trust." She gave him a frown and a pointed glance. "As a matter of fact, I'm fairly certain that you and Noah have an idea of what happens when you rush the trust in a relationship."

Finn nodded soberly. "I got it, Tess. I really understand that, trust me. I mean - me and Puck, we're doing pretty well, but - we're not doing any of that. Not anymore." He cast a desperate look at the wall. "I'm just wishing things could move a little faster. Don't you remember what it's like to be sixteen? It's kind of a lot, waiting for... everything."

Tess' face hardened, and Finn shrank back at the stark look. "I remember sixteen very well, Finn. I started college at sixteen, and I put every fiber of my existence into my classes, and doing well. I wasn't paying attention to boys, or girls, or dating, in any way."

Finn looked impressed. "Wow. I wish I could do that. School's never been my strong suit. I mean, I do okay, but..." He shrugged.

"And has Carl addressed that with you at all?" she asked sweetly.

"I get my homework done," he said, lacing his fingers together in his lap. "Mostly. I don't usually have any big issues with that, but I'm not like Kurt, you know - he's the smart one."

Her frown grew in severity. "That's quite enough of that, Finn. Perhaps I should suggest to Carl that he take that attitude in hand, it's quite unattractive. You are capable of anything you put your mind to - it's a matter of how much effort you apply, Finn. Getting your homework done doesn't sound like the road to academic success to me."

Finn looked startled. "Um. I'm sorry, I don't - I don't think I understand."

"Let's look at this in a different way. I know Carl very well, honey. Carl isn't going to fall for a stupid man. Carl prefers his partners to be thoughtful and intelligent. You're telling me you're not doing everything you can in school, and - it may just be my opinion, but here it is - that's a mistake, and if you were mine, I'd be disciplining you for it."

Finn's face was growing steadily more red as she spoke, and he was directing his determined expression to the carpet. "So what do you think I should be doing instead? I mean, honestly, but I don't see schools lining up to throw scholarships at an average student football player with a mediocre record and a reasonably good high B." He sighed. "And you can bet my mom can't afford school for me, otherwise."

"Do you know what the minimum GPA is to get into 95% of the schools in the USA is?" He shook his head. "It's a 3.0, Finn. That is a B average. And it's not your place to say what your mother can or cannot do - there are ways, and ways, and ways to get through school, financially. Your job, right now, is to succeed as best as you can. And think how much better it will look for scholarships if you up that average by even a half point - to a B+, or an A-. Don't compromise your future with a lackadaisical attitude like that."

Finn nodded slowly. "I get what you're saying, Tess, and... I appreciate it. I really do. I want to be... the kind of guy who makes it. I don't have to do anything flashy, or fancy, or be on the stage or... or win an award or anything. I just want to take care of my family, you know?" He pressed his lips together. "Not that I know exactly what that's going to look like, yet, but -"

"Finn Hudson," she barked. "If you want to 'make it,' then I would expect that you would put forth the utmost effort, so that there are as many possibilities for yourself as possible."

He nodded again. "If you think so," he said. "I know I can try harder. I just never really figured it was worth it."

"Then try harder. I believe," she said, tapping a thoughtful finger atop his hand, "that I shall speak to Carl about that. You are more than worth it, and if it has to be spanked into you, then so be it."

Finn's smile was wry and calm. "Yeah," he agreed. "We've done plenty of that."

Tess snorted. "And you're comfortable?"

He hesitated. "Yes," he began, then stopped. "I mean - yes, it's really awesome. I just wish... well, I guess I have to be happy with the way things are. I can't push it any faster than... than he thinks we should go."

"What is it that you want to push, Finn?" Her voice was calm, and the expectant look was almost commanding.

"I feel a little strange talking about my... my sex life with you," he murmured.

"So you want to push things sexually," came the placid reply. "And if you think for one moment that your sex life involves something I've never heard of before, you've got another thing coming, young man. If you don't want to talk about it, you certainly don't have to."

"No, it's - it's fine," he said, his face red. "I'm just used to keeping it to myself. It's not the kind of thing I can really talk about with the guys in the locker room, you know?"

"Oh honey. All right." She paused, thoughtful. "You should have someone you can ask. I realize that most boys would ask a father-figure, but I can see that Burt... well." She smiled. "Yes. Finn. If you want or need to ask anything, you are very welcome to ask me, or call me, at any time, all right? I'm pretty unshockable." She gave him a slightly mischievous grin.

That got her a laugh. "Okay, yeah, I got that."

"Maybe I should tell you," she mused, glancing at him.

He looked up, startled. "Uh - ?"

"Well. It's no secret that I've had boys of my own, over the years, honey. Some of them have been simply disciplinary agreements, or mentoring situations - some of them eventually were sexual. Perhaps I should share with you just how long I've made a boy wait for that, with me?"

He eyed her in consternation. "I - don't think I want to know," he admitted. "Because a couple weeks is pretty much killing me, already. And I'm having sex with two other guys."

"One of the best, longest relationships I have had with one of my boys - we're still close, honey, though it's friendship these days, now that I have John - that boy waited two years, Finn, before I permitted anything of the sort."

He visibly winced. "Oh," he whispered.

"He needed to wait. There were circumstances, around which I can't break his confidence. I'm not telling you that you will have to be patient for that long, not by any means. But he cared, that much, and so did I, that I waited that long before acting on my own desire, and he obeyed, which in and of itself was a very beautiful, and precious act of love on his part. He never stopped asking, Finn, but he never pushed, and he simply waited."

Finn rested his elbows on his knees, thinking in silence for a good minute before he responded. "I do trust him, to tell me when it's the right time," he said. "But I can't pretend I don't want it to go faster."

"That's all right, Finn. There's nothing wrong with wanting, there's nothing wrong with telling Carl what you're wanting - you're his boy, love. All you need to do is obey." Her look was stern and compassionate at the same time.

Finn nodded soberly. "I can do that. I think I've been doing - all right."

"I expect your backside will find out about it if you're not, love. Your mother is comfortable with Carl?"

"She's met him," he said. "A couple times. He's very polite to her. But - " He looked thoughtful. "He really doesn't show who he actually is to very many people. I don't think Puck or Kurt have really seen him. Not really."

Tess nodded. "That's all right, love. That's part of who Carl is: he's a very private person. As time goes on, if he sees that your mother, and Puck, and Kurt truly want to know him, that will happen - but I will tell you, Finn, it will be a slow process, if I know Je- Carl." She cleared her throat again, to hide the slip.

"It's okay." The look on Finn's face was hard to mistake for anything but what it was: simple devotion. "I understand why he does it. We go to Irene's coffeehouse in Columbus together, and we can be out there, but around here, we're trying to be - careful. I can't really talk about him with anyone else."

"You may talk about him with me," she declared firmly. "And you can be assured that unless I inform you otherwise, anything that you say to me is confidential, Finn - which means that I'm not dialing Carl's number after talking to you, unless I've told you that I'm going to do so. Do you understand?"

"Thanks," he said, nodding solemnly. "I appreciate that."

"And," she said leaning forward to him a little. "I promise to stick to the subject at hand, and not scold about your grades, if you need to speak with me about Carl, or how you're feeling about him. That's something that falls under the term 'full disclosure' which Carl can tell you more about - not something you need to go intently asking for, honey, but it's something that will come up eventually. All right?"

Finn struggled visibly with his embarrassment for just a few more moments before he sighed. "Okay. So - when Kurt and me were starting this, we were kind of - learning together, right? I mean, I didn't know anything about spanking, or tools, or - or collars, or anything, until Puck started asking for it. And I was cool with it. I mean, it felt right. It was just part of what we did." He raised a hopeful eyebrow at her. "Do you know what I mean?"

"Absolutely. And I've talked with Kurt, and Puck, about that a little, honey - and you did absolutely right. You explored it, you looked for what felt right for all of you, and that was so good."

He let out a breath. "Okay. Yeah. So, when we were starting to get to know Carl, I guess - it was hard for me to think of it as anything except part of - part of how two people were, together. When they have... sex." He blushed. "Except we weren't having any of that."

"When you met Carl, that was on my recommendation, love. Did you think of sex with him, that first interview? Or during the visit that I had here before, where all of us were in his office?"

"Um... yeah?" he said softly. Then he covered his face with his hand, clearly mortified. "God. I really did."

Tess thought for a moment. "Carl's business partner. Davis? Did you think of sex with him?"

This startled Finn. "With Davis? No. I mean, he's good-looking, but... no, I didn't want... I mean, I don't want to do anything with him."

"This may sound a little off track, but name two more male authority figures in your life for me, please."

Finn thought about that. "Mr. Schuester," he offered. "And Burt."

"Have either of them ever disciplined you in any way - I know Mr. Schuester is your teacher, has he had you serve detention, or anything like that?"

"Um... I don't think so." He looked confused.

"Have either of them ever scolded you? So that you felt guilty, perhaps?"

Again, Finn took this question seriously, thinking about it for a good minute before responding. "Maybe. I don't remember a time, though. I'm usually - I try to do the right thing."

"It sounds like you're a good boy," Tess soothed. "Even good boys make mistakes - have you ever made a mistake, and talked to your teacher, or Burt about it?"

The look of concentration on Finn's face was almost comical. "Um... I don't think so..."

Tess sighed. "All right. Have either of them ever given you an order, or direction that you maybe didn't want to follow - but because you're a good boy, you followed those orders or directions anyways?"

He shook his head. "No. It's not like that. I don't - people don't tell me what to do. I tell me what to do. I've always wanted to do the right thing, just because it was - the right thing. And..." He paused, and blushed again. "When Carl tells me what to do, I really want to. But not for me."

"Finn," she said, her voice urgent, and expectant, and she paused right there.

"Tess?"

"Stand up, right now," she barked, in perfect parade ground voice, watching him closely.

He startled, and blinked at her, and then got to his feet.

"You just obeyed me, didn't you, Finn."

"Yes?" He looked around himself, clearly confused.

"That must have seemed like an order to you, hmm? And you obeyed me. Finn, look at me," she said, rising from her seat to stand before him. "That's power, Finn. You're a good boy, to obey me," she said in a voice of velvet. "You know that, in your heart. And... do you want me, Finn? Do you want more from me?"

"No," he said hastily. "No, of course not. I just - it seemed like the right thing to do. I mean, I respect you, and I think you deserve my, uh, obedience?"

"Yes, I know, honey. And thank you. Sit back down here with me." He sat, a little closer to Tess this time. "That proves a little point, in a way. It's not the orders. It's not the feeling of respectful obedience, isn't it?" She reached out for his hand. "It's Carl."

His breath caught in his throat, and he shuddered it out. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes. It is."

Tess rested a hand on his shoulder. "That's what I was asking, Finn. Thank you for being honest with me; there's a good boy. Carl knows you're a good boy, and he's trying to do his utmost to ensure that you have everything a good boy deserves. He's being careful, and I think it's a good thing. Can you find a little more patience in that? Carl has so much to show you. Just let it grow, and be strong."

She watched his head drop lower as she spoke, until it was hanging between his shoulders, and he was nodding. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "I can do that."

"I knew you could. I needed to know that you knew you could, Finn. May I have a hug, honey?"

Finn broke into a smile. "You bet."

Tess held out her hand, welcoming him in, letting him move forward into her embrace. She cradled his head on her shoulder, and ran a fond hand over his hair. "There's a good boy, thank you, Finn."

"Thank you, Tess," came Finn's quiet response. "For listening. It's nice to be understood."

Chapter Text

I've done this once before, dear readers, and I hope you will not think me crass for posting nothing but an author's note here in place of a chapter, but I needed a place to explain why it appears this story is suddenly short two chapters.

My cowriter knittycat99 and I wrote a story last year about Finn and Blaine and how they met in Irene's coffeehouse. At the time I did not think much of Blaine, but in the course of writing the story, I fell in love with these two together and their intense connection. It made our lives a little crazy, revising the entire scope of the Donutverse in light of this new relationship, but that's what often happens in poly families. Thus the Coffeehouse story was born.

Originally we were going to include one chapter of the Coffeehouse between episodes of Fingers of Your Fire, but as I began writing the story, it became clear that there is just too much going on, with too many people, for anybody to notice how awesome Finn and Blaine are. So, we're relocating the Coffeehouse interludes and giving them their own story. You'll see that posted this week as There's an Awful Lot of Breathing Room, But I Can Hardly Move.

I don't want to spoil too much, but as it turns out, Blaine is exactly what Finn, Puck and Kurt need. You'll see more of Finn and Blaine, and also Puck/Blaine (and Kurt/Blaine, kind of!) in the next Donutverse story, Dying in America to Come Into Our Own, set in the summer of 2010 after sophomore year.

By moving Finn/Blaine into their own story, I expect to be able to focus more on the three boys' relationship here in Fingers of Your Fire. I hope that helps you, dear readers, to follow the story better. In the meantime, please do give Breathing Room a try. Also, if you like Irene, you can see a 16-years-younger version of her in my side story, Plant Your Love and Let It Grow.

Thank you to those of you who have stuck with the Donutverse through my months of inactivity. There's so much more story to tell. Here are my promises:

- The three boys will end up together.
- While I'm invested in a happy ending, there is lots and lots of angst to come.
- I will continue to follow canon and scripts as closely as possible, and to turn canon On Its Ear with joy and abandon. Yes, this means Finn will propose to Rachel, so keep that in mind - but also keep in mind that is many years away.
- I won't ever just give up writing in the middle of a story. It just might take me a while to get back to it if I'm in the middle of My Complicated Life.

If the discipline bothers you, please consider reading something else. I won't apologize for my kinks, and this has a Mature rating for a reason. Those Magic Changes My Heart Arranges, Gold Mine, Road Trip, 1000 Sarahs and Terrific, Radiant, Humble have zero discipline.

You can get lots of spoilers and clues about what the hell we're doing by reading the futurefic Dance on A Narrow Ledge (ostensibly Finn/Kurt/Mike, but all Donutverse relationships are intact there!).

I love your comments, even the negative ones, and I try to answer every one.

-amy

Chapter Text

 

Episode 1.15: The Power of Madonna, Part 6 - Puck

Puck decided he really didn't care for flying. It wasn't the going up and down he disliked, or even the noise of the engine, which was annoying enough. It was being forced to sit in one place for hours on end, with only a tiny cramped bathroom as a respite. He shifted from one butt cheek to another, sighing in annoyance. No matter how tired he was, sleep wasn't coming.

"You okay?" asked Brad, looking away from the window. The clouds blanketed the bottom half of his view, and above them was nothing but perfect blue sky. Puck scowled at him.

"I guess," he muttered. "Not sure what I have to be okay about."

Kurt was still in California, for one. Puck wasn't upset about that, nor would he have begrudged Kurt time alone with Adam, ever. But it wasn't like Kurt was staying because he wanted to. Kurt's ear infection had been bad enough that Adam's doctor had advised him to reschedule his flight to Wednesday.

Meemee, that was another. At the last minute, Meemee had decided to stay in California to work with Gaga, as Puck had pretty much assumed he would, anyway. But then it turned into this crazy hookup with Adam's security guard, of all people, who was supposedly straight. Puck had never felt protective of Meemee before, but he'd gone all crazy on Jacob's ass, because - well, really, the last thing his big brother needed was another thing to hurt about.

So now here he was, flying back alone with Brad and Finn. No Adam, no Kurt... which left Finn.

He wasn't at all sure where they stood these days. Even after the visit with Gaga, even though he and Kurt and Finn had spent time together, and those hopeful moments when Adam had called Finn his third Top... it still wasn't clear.

We're fucking, Puck thought, watching Finn's own restless movements, and it's not bad. It's just not really what he needs. Or what I need. That was patently obvious, after this weekend spent with Adam in charge of him. It had felt like such - freedom, to wear the collar and cuffs in Adam's house, to be so clear about his role there. He knew it couldn't be like that at home. For one thing, he had to go to school every day, and work at the garage. And he was going to be a papa, for fuck's sake. There was no way he could take care of a baby at the same time he was putting all the control into the hands of others. A brief image of himself wearing a collar like that in front of Burt drifted across his consciousness, and shook his head, amused. No matter how cool he played it, Burt sure as shit wouldn't handle that very well.

The discipline... yeah, he wanted it from Finn. But the last time they'd tried it, he'd freaked out. Could he trust him enough to let him that close again? He knew there had been a time when he'd trusted Finn as much as he trusted Adam, but he had no idea how to find his way back to that. Leaving Adam behind was like cutting off a piece of his body, but Adam had told him it would be okay, and he had believed him. It wasn't even a question. The trust was there, implicit, no questions, completely outside of reason. But Finn... how could he accept that Finn actually knew what he needed, when things had gone so wrong?

And then there was Patrick. Puck felt a stab of jealousy. Finn wanted to be in charge of him. Yeah, he could say it wasn't sexual all he wanted, but Puck didn't see it that way. He was getting sex from Finn, and no matter how good it was, he couldn't say with complete certainty that it was ever going to be enough, without the other stuff. That... was freaking terrifying.

"It was a heck of a weekend," Brad said, interrupting his thoughts. "There's a lot to think about. For all of us." He looked even more pensive than usual. "Gaga and I had a long afternoon together, working through her latest music. She wants me to come back next month."

"Hey, wow." Puck grinned at Brad, surprised. "You two really hit it off, huh?"

Brad smiled and nodded. "Musically, I don't think I've been this inspired since college. It's surprising. Timothy spent a lot of time this weekend getting me up to speed with some of the equipment he uses to do his digital mixes. I learned a ton." He gestured with his head in the vague direction of California. "It seems like he's planning to stay out there."

"Yeah. I kind of figured he would. He never really sticks around Ohio for very long, and he's happier in LA, anyway."

"He does appear to be comfortable with Gaga. And then... there's Jacob?"

"Yeah." Puck wrinkled his nose. "I have no idea what to think about that, but I guess Meemee's happy. I've got to trust..." He avoided Finn's eyes. "Trust that he's getting what he needs. That Jacob's not going to leave him, or... or expect something from him he can't give."

Brad nodded. "Well, it might be a new experience for Jacob, but I don't think either of them are unhappy. I suspect this means enough to both of them that they'll be willing to take some risks."

"Yeah, maybe." Puck turned his face back to the window, wedging his pillow in the space between the wall and his seat, and closed his eyes. He would have liked to have felt Finn's leg bumping against his, but Finn had to sit on the aisle to fit in the narrow seats, so he stayed where he was, huddled in his own space. Eventually, he slept.

The room was dark, less like a nightclub than a dim piano bar, and there were little glowing lights on every table. Puck couldn't quite make out the expressions on people's faces, but the atmosphere seemed subdued, even somber. Then he saw Finn.

Finn's face was blotchy and stained with tears, but he wasn't crying now. Now he was on stage next to a dark-haired guitarist, clutching a microphone, leaning forward into the audience to share the anguish pouring off of him.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vPxgat9Sd4w

Another night slowly closes in,
And I feel so lonely.
Touching heat freezing on my skin,
I pretend you still hold me.
I'm going crazy, I'm losing sleep.
I'm in too far, I'm in way too deep over you.
I can't believe you're gone.
 You were the first, you'll be the last.

It was another cheesy 80s rock ballad, of which Finn had always been so fond. Puck didn't know the name of the song, but it was familiar, and if he'd been there, he would have sung along. Fuck, he could have gone up to the stage to stand beside him, to put an arm around his shoulder, and give him some encouragement. Whatever he was going through, it clearly sucked.

Wherever you go, I'll be with you.
Whatever you want, I'll give it to you.
Whenever you need someone
To lay your heart and head upon.
Remember: after the fire, after all the rain,
I will be the flame.
 I will be the flame.

In the completely ordinary bizarre nature of dreams, Kurt was there, serving drinks in a french maid outfit. But Finn wasn't looking at him, and his yearning and seeking didn't seem to be anything related to Kurt.

Watching shadows move across the wall,
I feel so frightened.
I wanna run to you, I wanna call,
But I've been hit by lightning.
Just can't stand up for fallin' apart.
Can't see through this veil across my heart, over you.
You'll always be the one.
 You were the first, you'll be the last.

Wherever you go, I'll be with you.
Whatever you want, I'll give it to you.
Whenever you need someone
To lay your heart and head upon.
Remember: after the fire, after all the rain,
I will be the flame.
 I will be the flame.

Puck could suddenly see the identity of the guitarist, and he realized it was Carl. His face was sad and quiet, but he was steady on the accompaniment, and there wasn't anything that seemed to be happening between him and Finn.

I'm going crazy, I'm losing sleep
I'm in too far, I'm in way too deep over you.
You'll always be the one.
 You were the first, you'll be the last.

Just as the song drew to a close, Puck caught sight of the television mounted on the wall, and there was Adam, standing in front of a big screen, pointing out incoming storm systems and high and low temperatures with a bright smile on his face. No one in the audience clapped, they just bowed lower over their candle-lit tables, and the silence filled the room.

Puck groaned as he felt the twinge in his neck. Brad's soft voice sounded concerned.

"You okay, Puck?"

"Yeah. Sleeping on an airplane sucks. I don't know how Adam does it." His eyes opened suddenly, and he saw Finn on the other side of Brad, trying not to look at him. "Fuck, Adam was doing the weather. Talk about trippy."

"Weird dream, huh?" asked Brad.

"I'm always having weird dreams. But the guy who - I mean, this one was about different people than usual." There had been no curly-haired boy in attendance, nor was his blonde child there. "There was a song... I don't know. It was just depressing. Like a funeral or something."

"Well, we'll be landing in about twenty minutes, so things'll be back to normal." Brad sighed. "Now I've got to find another babysitter. Kurt was going to watch Duncan and Cory tonight."

"Big date?" Puck grinned at the expression on Brad's face. "You guys have been together a long time."

"Almost fifteen years. It's an anniversary, of sorts. I'd hate to cancel, especially after being gone all weekend."

Puck was surprised to hear Finn's voice, he'd been so quiet through the entire plane ride. "Uh... Puck's really good with kids. He practically raised his sister."

Both Puck and Brad turned to face Finn in surprise. "You think so?" he asked.

"Dude, Quinn told me you were, like, the kid-whisperer with Terri's sister's triplets. And I've seen you with Sarah since we were younger than her. It's kind of awesome."

"Huh." Brad swiveled back to Puck with a hopeful expression. "What do you say? Think you can handle my two little monsters for an evening? We pay the going rate. It's not much, but..."

Puck was still staring at Finn, hearing the words Puck's really good with kids come out of his mouth. A little fire kindled in the middle of his stomach, and he felt himself flush. "Uh... sure. Yeah, no problem. Let me know what time I should be there."

Puck knew how kids worked, so when Duncan's first words to him were, "Where's Kurt?" he didn't get sad or freak out. He grinned.

"Kurt's got a really bad earache. You know, like a tummyache, only in your ear. We're going to make him a get-well card. If you're really good, maybe we can even send him a text message later."

"Cool!" shouted Duncan. He turned around and scampered back into the house, calling, "Cory, Kurt's got a stomachache in his ear."

Laurie was standing by the kitchen table, grinning with bemusement at Puck while she fastened her earrings. "You're full of surprises, knavish sprite," she said, nodding at his guitar. "I see you brought a bag of tricks."

"That, and a few other things." He set it down behind the dining room table. "Better tell me all the important stuff before I get distracted. My teachers always said I had a rotten attention span."

"Emergency numbers on the fridge. Their usual bedtime routine starts at 7:30, and Cory will be absolutely certain to tell you if you've made any changes or mistakes or got things out of order. Trust me. No sugary snacks or milk after brushing teeth. Pajamas and pull-ups are in the bathroom. You willing to give a bath?"

"Sure," he said, shrugging. "Can I throw them both in together?"

"If you don't mind the resulting tsunami, no. You can call if they're being obnoxious and Andi'll talk some sense into them. They'll try to convince you to tell them endless stories, but we find it easier to read first, then go to bed and just tuck them right in." She looked around the room, and shrugged. "That's about it, I think? Anything else you need, just call us."

"No problem, Mrs. E." Puck saw Cory's white-blonde head peeking around the edge of the couch, and he sat down at the table, spreading out paper and markers and other paraphernalia. "Have a good time. We'll be cool."

Duncan came tearing down the hall toward them, and climbed onto a chair and had a pencil in his hand in about three seconds. Cory, meanwhile, still stood in the exact same spot, watching them from behind the couch.

"I want to draw a picture of dinosaurs eating their prey!" Duncan declared.

Puck nodded solemnly. "Well, usually when I do a get-well card for somebody, I try to keep it PG. No rending flesh, okay? How about you draw your family? Tell me their names and I'll write them here at the bottom."

Duncan scooted his chair closer to Puck's, handing him a blue marker. "Daddy. Mommy, and Meema. Cory. Toby. Uncle Will."

"... Uncle Toby, Uncle Will..." Puck recited under his breath.

"Not uncle Toby." Duncan gave him a scornful look. "He's just Toby."

"I'm Puck, and I'm your friend, but I'm not on here."

"Toby's not my friend. He's my... my Toby." Duncan looked more perplexed now. It was a good look on him. He tossed his dark curls out of his face. "Now can I draw a dinosaur?"

"We'll do a big mural later," Puck promised, tapping the paper. "Here, match the people with the names. I want color, detail, the whole shabang."

While Duncan bent his head to his work, Puck knelt down on the floor, not too close to the couch, holding a piece of paper in his lap. He took the marker and started with a circle.

"This is my sister, Sarah," he said, as though talking to himself. "She has long hair. When she was little she used to let me braid it. Now she mostly lets it be curly."

He added a second figure next to Sarah. After a minute, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. Cory's white-blonde hair wasn't quite like the girl's from his dream, but it was close enough that he felt a stab in his gut.

"Who's that?" said Cory, a finger in her mouth.

"My brother. He has a funny name. Want to hear it?"

She nodded, her eyes wide.

"You sure? It might make you laugh."

She giggled in anticipation, leaning against his shoulder. Duncan hung down off the chair, interested.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Meemee," said Puck. Duncan almost fell onto the floor laughing, but Cory just took it in with a thoughtful frown.

"That's like my Meema," she said seriously. "Or like Mommy. They both have an M sound."

"Yeah," he said, impressed. "You want to help me write his name? I'll tell you the letters."

"Cory can do it," said Duncan, already back to his own paper. "She can read and everything."

Puck handed her the marker, and Cory took it, her wet finger leaving a little trace of coolness on his hand. "Go for it, kiddo," he said.

"My name's Cory," she said severely, and he blinked.

"Sorry. Cory."

"It's not really," Duncan sang out. "It's really Coraline. There's a scary book about a girl who can see ghosts and stuff. And there's even a movie about her. But it's not really about Cory, it's about another girl named Coraline."

"Meemee," Cory said, carefully writing the M, then an E. Then she hesitated. "Another E?"

"Bingo," Puck said with a grin. "Boy, you're smart."

Cory didn't respond to this, but she laboriously printed the rest of the letters in MEEMEE. Then she handed the marker back to Puck. He hesitated, then added a figure for himself, totalling three.

"That's it," he said. Cory gave him an incredulous look.

"You have a little family," she said.

Puck felt his throat close up, at the accusation, and he turned away to avoid her stare. "Why don't you make a card for Kurt, Cory?"

"Kurt!" Duncan shouted. "He's your family, too. Right? Meema told me. And Finn. You have three, like we have three."

Three. Puck swallowed the stupid tears that threatened. "Yeah. Maybe. I mean... okay, we do. Actually - there's one more, but..." He shrugged. "I really don't know if he's family or not."

"I think if you want someone to be family, you have to ask," Duncan decided. "And if he says yes, then he is."

The very idea of saying the word family to Adam made Puck's heart pound. "Yeah, I don't think I'm quite ready for that yet." He stretched out flat on the floor, pushing a piece of paper over to Cory. She didn't actually pick up a marker, but she sat down right next to him, holding the paper.

"What about your Mommy and Daddy and Meema?" asked Duncan.

"Well, first of all, I don't have a Meema. I had a Ma, but she died. And my dad, he's a jerk."

Duncan kicked the table. "Cory's a jerk sometimes, but she's still in my family."

The logic of this was hard to refute, and Puck didn't really have the energy to try to convince Duncan otherwise. He took the marker again and pointed it at Duncan. "Fine. But if I have to draw my asshole dad, I get to draw Burt and Carole too."

"Who are they?"

"Kurt's dad and Finn's mom." He drew Kurt holding hands with Finn, who towered over the rest of them. "They're better than parents. And Burt is Sarah's Tatenui. Uh, that's like a daddy."

Cory watched as he finished his picture. "Now you have a big family."

Puck stared at the figure of his dad, off in the corner. "Um. I think I have to add one more." Between himself and Kurt, he drew a smaller figure, using the yellow to add a little tuft of hair. "This is my daughter. She's not born yet, but she will be in a couple months."

"You're going to have a baby?" Duncan looked impressed. "Boys can't do that. Can they?"

He laughed. "Pretty sure they can't. No, there's a girl, Quinn. She's growing the baby."

"So she's in your family too," said Duncan.

"No-ooo," Puck said slowly. "Not really. I mean..." He rested his head in his hand. "God, this is fucking complicated."

Cory crept under his arm and made a nest in his lap. She rested her head against his chest, snuggling into him. "Too complicated?" she asked.

"I don't know. Maybe." He put his arms around her and held her close, and she didn't object. She smelled familiar, like baby soap and little girl smell. "I don't think it's too complicated. I just don't think I deserve all these people."

Duncan held up his picture. "All done!"

The three of them surveyed the drawing.

"I have a lot of people, too," he added hesitantly. "Does... that mean I don't deserve them all, either?"

Puck opened his mouth to protest, and felt the shock reverberate through his system. He stared Duncan right into his eyes - brown eyes, nothing like Brad's blue ones.

"No," he said, as firmly as he could without scaring the kid. "No way. You deserve... everybody. Everybody who loves you. That's your family. Come on, I'll help you write GET WELL KURT."

They were asleep before Puck finished the second book. He did give them kind of a long bath, but that was because Duncan turned out to have a fascination with pirates, and they made a damn mess of the bathroom floor with sea monster waves and everything. Puck turned out the light in their room and mopped up the floor in the bathroom, and tidied the kitchen from their bedtime snack. Then he flopped on the couch and picked up his phone, dialing Adam's number.

"It's weird," he said, when Adam picked up, before he could even say hello. "We've been doing this for weeks, talking every night, but... I just saw you this morning."

"Yeah." Adam was quiet for a moment. "I'm still glad to hear your voice. I missed you."

"Fuck," he whispered, and let the tears come. "So fucking stupid. I miss you, too."

"Not stupid. There's somebody here who'd like to talk to you. Can I put you on speaker?"

"Yeah." Puck knew it would be Kurt, knew exactly what his voice would sound like, and it hadn't been any longer since he'd seen him, but apparently that didn't matter to his heart when he heard Kurt there with Adam.

"Sweetheart," said Kurt. "Where are you? Is Finn there?"

"No, I'm babysitting Cory and Duncan." Puck scrubbed his eyes with the heel of one hand. "I'm way cooler than you, apparently. They said you let them have cookies before bed? Dude."

"Oh - god." Kurt sounded aghast. "I forgot all about babysitting for Brad. He didn't say anything before you left."

"It's cool. I've got it covered."

"Thank you, Noah." He heard Kurt's smile, and it made him smile, too. Puck leaned his head back on the couch, imagining where they might be sitting, what they were wearing, all the ordinary things about Adam's house and his room and his bed and... okay, not thinking about that. "I'm feeling better today."

"Yay modern medicine," said Puck. "And I'm not even sure if I should ask you guys what you've been up to all day."

"Relax. Adam made me rest all afternoon, after your plane took off. We got up and had some dinner, and sang a little. It's been a quiet day. How is Finn?"

Puck closed his eyes, thinking of the family drawing, with Finn and Kurt holding hands. Adam wasn't even in the picture. Maybe he should have added him after all? "I don't know. He went right over to Carl's. I don't even know if he's going to be home tonight."

"Hey." That was Adam, his voice gentle. "You're not going to worry about that. Take care of the kids, then when you're done, go back to your place. Relax."

"Yeah." He felt the bare expanse of skin on his neck, and sighed, feeling each of the complicating factors of his life weighing him down. "Yeah, I guess I can do that."

"And school tomorrow."

That was the least of his worries. "Yeah. Oh, and I'm having dinner with that teacher - the one we met at Toby's."

"Ms. Corcoran?" Kurt again. Puck grinned at the tone of his voice.

"Don't freak out. She's not so bad. She's trying to buy me off, I guess, so I won't talk about seeing her at Carl's. Like I would tell anybody, anyway. Maybe it'll suck, but I don't know - she sounded like she knew what she was talking about."

Adam sounded bemused. "About the food, or about... Carl?"

"Both," he said, shrugging. "Whatever. I'll let you know what it's like."

Puck told them both good night. He didn't promise he would go straight to his apartment, and he felt a little guilty about that. He told himself he was just going to check on Finn, but he thought it might have more to do with Burt and Carole and Sarah. His family. All those people, thinking they could depend on him. How many ways was he going to let them down before they gave up on him?

He was still stretched out on the couch, holding his phone in his hands, when Andi, Brad and Laurie came through the front door, snorting with undignified laughter.

"You guys have a good time?" he said, hauling himself to his feet.

Laurie dug in her purse and handed Puck two twenties. "It was a splendid evening of raunchy, child-inappropriate conversation. Just what we needed. Thanks so much. Did everything go okay? They look like they wore you out."

Puck tightened his hand on his drawing and shook his head, smiling a little. "Nah. They were great. Cory, she's got a lot going on inside that head of hers. Duncan made you a picture; I hung it on the fridge."

"Well, any time you want to come back, we'd love to have you babysit again." Laurie's smile was kind, and she rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment. "Kurt doesn't have to be sick for you to come over."

Puck picked up his guitar, nodding at Andi and Brad as he headed out the door. "Yeah... I'd like that."

He propped his drawing on the dash of his truck, next to the color printout of Adam's face, touching it with two fingers. Then he called Finn, but wasn't surprised when it went to voice mail. Finn'd be with Carl, and nobody was going to get in the way of that reunion, not even family.

I could listen to what Adam told me, he thought, cranking the ignition on the truck. I could go back to the apartment and be alone. But I think right now I need a dad, or the next best thing, anyway.

Burt looked genuinely surprised to see him when he walked into the Hummel's kitchen. He slowly set down the beer he'd been opening. "Hey," he said. "Welcome back. I didn't think I'd see you tonight. Finn told me you were babysitting for Kurt?"

Puck nodded. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands, or where to stand, or what the fuck was going on for about five awkward seconds before Burt came over and gave him a hug. He felt his breath go in and out, and Burt's arms, warm and steady, and just hung on.

"Missed you," Burt said gruffly. It was quiet enough that Puck wasn't sure he'd heard it right, but when he pulled away, the expression on Burt's face told him he probably had.

"Yeah," he said. "Me, too. It's kind of weird to be here, with Kurt still there, and Adam, and Finn over at Carl's -"

"Not weird," Burt assured him. He indicated one of the kitchen stools. "You don't need them to be welcome here."

It was a lot like what Laurie had said. That wasn't quite what Puck had meant, but he nodded anyway, sitting down. He tried again. "We drew these get-well cards for Kurt, me and the kids. I made a picture of my family. It was... confusing."

He handed the drawing to Burt in silence, feeling his stomach knot as he watched him taking in the whole lot of them. Burt pointed. "This one's me?"

Puck nodded, looking away. "I'm not much of an artist, but what the hell."

Burt nodded back. Then he flashed him a grin. "Can I keep this?"

"Really?" It was kind of ridiculous how good it made him feel to hear Burt ask. Immediately on the heels of that good feeling he experienced a wash of relief, and he grinned back. "Um - I mean, yeah, of course."

There was a derisive noise by the doorway. "Figures my dorky brother'd get home and forget to even tell me."

"Hey, your dorky brother's got presents from LA." Puck opened his arms to Sarah's hug. "You want 'em or not?"

"That's how dorky you are, that you even have to ask. Dude, what's this?" She perched on Puck's knee and picked up his drawing. "Is that supposed to be me? I don't even have one earring."

Puck felt the juxtaposition of the memory of years-younger Sarah, sitting in his lap the way Cory had done earlier, with this preteen girl who looked a hell of a lot like his Ma right then. "Shut up," he said, and then hugged her again.

School was pretty lame without Kurt there to distract him and make him go to class, so Puck skipped math and wandered down to Ms. Pillsbury's office. She was pleased to see him, but she was always pleased to see everybody.

"Noah," she said. "How was your trip to California? Did you boys really meet Lady Gaga?"

"Oh - yeah," he said, blinking. For a moment, he forgot that had been the original reason for the vacation. He thought about the whole experience, and had to grin. "She was way awesomer than I expected. She let me make pasta sauce in her kitchen. And, hey, I ran into Neil Diamond in the grocery store. See, he autographed my bracelet."

He held it out to her. She looked a little startled. "Well, you hear stories about being in Los Angeles and running into famous people all over the place."

"Yeah," Puck said, grinning wider. "I met all kinds of people. My brother's kind of dating Adam Lambert's bodyguard."

"Timothy?" She shook her head, clearly bewildered. "He's - my goodness, I hadn't heard from him since he left school. How has he been?"

"He's running sound for Lady Gaga," he said. "That's how we got in contact with her to begin with. Kurt's still in LA, actually. He had an ear infection, so he's missing a couple days of school before he can fly home."

"Remarkable. I'm glad you had a good time. What an opportunity for Kurt - for all of you."

Puck knew Kurt was the really talented one of the bunch of them, and he didn't mind Ms. Pillsbury thinking that, too. He just nodded in fervent agreement. "Yeah. You have no idea how much. Hey... if you were going over to someone's house for a nice dinner, what would you bring with you?"

She looked a little thrown by his change in subject, but she gave it some thought. "Hmm - is this fancy? A date?"

He shook his head. "Not a date, but maybe you want to impress them a little."

"Well... you don't want to bring food, because you wouldn't want to imply you could do it better. Some people think it's not appropriate to bring a gift, because you don't want to make them feel obligated."

Puck wasn't sure how to say he was absolutely sure he could do better, and that he definitely wanted Ms. Corcoran to feel obligated. "So, a bottle of wine?"

She laughed. "You're not old enough to drink, Noah."

"Oh, yeah, I know. But she is." He shifted in his seat, trying to think things through, before he asked his next question. "Ms. P, Finn has been having kind of a hard time since he... since we fought."

She nodded soberly. "I thought you boys might still not be getting along. Mr. Schuester told me about what happened in last week, when David and Rick and the other hockey players threw slushies on you. Are they still giving you a hard time?"

"No, Finn's not doing that. He's still... we're..." He sighed. "Look, can I tell you a secret? You know about me and Kurt, right?"

"I think I might have heard a rumor to that effect, yes." Ms. Pillsbury watched him with concern. "Is that why you and Finn were fighting?"

"No, he's cool with it. Really, he is. I'm trying to say, me, and Finn, we're - he's my -" Puck scratched his head. "How do you say fucking in a nice way?"

She looked as though he might have hit her with one of those cartoon frying pans. "You and... and Finn?"

"Since October," he nodded. "It's me, and Finn, and Kurt. We're a triad, like Brad and Laurie and Andi. Um, you did know about them, right?"

"I... yes." She sat down very slowly at her desk, holding onto the edge. "This is a surprise."

"I thought maybe Mr. Schue already told you. You guys are kind of dating, aren't you?"

"He's my friend," she said absently, wrinkling her brow, like she couldn't quite grasp it. "You and Finn and... Kurt?"

"Yeah. But me and Finn, it's been tough. I thought for a while maybe he didn't want it, and now I think he does, but... it's hard to believe it, after what he said, I guess." He played with the sleeve of his leather jacket, the one Kurt had bought him for Christmannukah. "It's like he's... far away. Like nothing I say really reaches him, and he's just somewhere else."

Ms. Pillsbury was making a valiant effort to pull herself together and focus. "Maybe he's changed his mind about dating boys?"

"Uh. No, I don't think that's it." Puck remembered the confident, sexy expression on Finn's face when he'd sang Hello by The Doors in Glee last week. It hadn't been a girl who'd put that look there, no matter what he said about Rachel. "Pretty sure Finn likes guys. I think he even likes me, just fine, at least for sex. But..." He sighed, the frustration overwhelming him again. "He doesn't really trust me anymore."

"Oh, Noah. I can't imagine that. I would think it would be more likely that Finn doesn't trust himself, right now." She gazed at him, troubled. "He cares about you, very much, and he hurt you. His expectations of himself might be too high for him to let you get close to him again."

"Huh." Puck tried to imagine how that could possibly be. Even if sometimes he needed the same kind of caretaking that Puck himself needed, Finn was... strong. Puck could do things that needed to get done, but Finn made decisions. He thought about things, and had reasons. He wouldn't lose faith in himself. Would he?

"I don't care if he makes mistakes with me," he said, feeling the truth of it. "It's worth the risk. I just want him back, the way it was. I don't know how to tell him that."

Ms. Pillsbury smiled. "I think you just did."

Puck rose to his feet, buoyed by hope. "Hey... yeah. Maybe. Thanks, Ms. P."

"Any time, Noah." She handed him a pass, adding, "If you speak to your brother, would you ask him to drop me a note? He spent a lot of time in my office when I was a very young guidance counselor, and it would be good to know how he's doing now."

"Sure," said Puck. Where was Finn? He held up the pass. "Can you write Finn one of these to get him out of history so we can talk?"

"Talk." She considered him, and he watched her blush as she hesitated.

"I'm not gonna hump him in the hallway, Ms. P. I just need to tell him what I said to you."

"Neither of you need to miss any more class, Noah. You only have two more hours until Glee. I suspect you can wait until last period to... talk."

Puck left with the sneaking suspicion Ms. Pillsbury understood a lot more about teenagers than most grownups did. He managed to make it through to the end of the day, but all he could do was think about Finn.

He caught up to Finn on his way into Glee, grabbing his arm. Finn looked startled, almost scared.

"Hey," he said. "I've got to go rehearse with Rachel. Mr. Schue's got us all on these Madonna projects..."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Puck said. "This weekend, man. Things happened. We have to talk about it."

"It's not really the time," Finn muttered, ducking his head at Matt giving them a quizzical look as he passed them into the choir room. "You and Kurt..."

"Me and Kurt, we're fine. It's not about that." Puck leveled his stare at Finn. "You and me. This is about you and me. And last time I remember talking about this, you said you didn't care if anybody found out about us."

"I promised Burt I wouldn't tell anybody until Sarah's adoption was final," he whispered. His words, spoken so close to Puck's mouth, ghosted over his lips, and Puck leaned in closer. Finn took both hands and pushed him away, hard. Puck felt the shock inside. Finn's expression was equally hard.

"We can't do this now," he said, his breath a little uneven. "And tonight, you've got your thing, and I've... got mine."

"Yeah." Puck didn't mean the word to come out quite as sharp as it did, but he couldn't help pushing back a little with his words. "Didn't get enough last night?"

"No, it's... Santana. She's doing something for me." Now Finn couldn't meet his eyes. Puck stumbled back, eyes wide.

"What the hell? Santana?"

"Later," Finn hissed. He gave Santana and Brittany a sickly smile as they sauntered by. "Hey."

"Ready for tonight, Finnocence?" Santana purred.

"Looking forward to it," he said loudly. Rachel stared at him across the room, her face coloring. She stalked over.

"Why are you doing this?" she said in an undertone. "You can't be trying to make me jealous with Santana. I already know what's going on between the two of you."

"Maybe I just wanted a date," Finn shrugged. "Why does it have to be a big deal?"

She glared at him. "I know you better than that, Finn. Now come on... we have to get this Madonna mashup right."

Puck could tell it was already too late. Finn wasn't acknowledging him anymore, and he couldn't talk in front of Rachel. Nothing's changed. The hope he'd felt earlier drained away as Rachel towed Finn across the choir room, leaving Puck standing there alone as Mr. Schue approached.

"Hey, Puck," he said, smiling. "Welcome back. Can't wait to hear all about your trip. Any current inspiration for Madonna numbers?"

"Yeah." Puck swallowed his disappointment, trying a smile in return. "Yeah, I think I've got one that fits me just fine. Let me get my guitar and I'll play it for you."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUtvUFsPA6Y

There are too many questions
There is not one solution
There is no resurrection
 There is so much confusion

And the love profusion
You make me feel
You make me know
And the love vibration
You make me feel
You make it shine

There are too many options
There is no consolation
I have lost my illusions
 What I want is an explanation

And the love profusion
You make me feel
You make me know
And the love direction
You make me feel
 You make me shine

I got you under my skin

There is no comprehension
There is real isolation
There is so much destruction
 What I want is a celebration

And I know I can feel bad
When I get in a bad mood
And the world can look so sad
 Only you make me feel good

Puck handed Ms. Corcoran the bottle of red wine as soon as she opened the door. She gave him a little frown.

"Should I bust you for underage drinking or applaud your taste in California reds?" she asked.

"I'm not asking to drink it," he said, stepping through the door as she held it open for him. "But I'll tell you it's awesome with beef, and I figured pretty even odds for you cooking red meat for this Ohio boy."

She laughed, her teeth flashing. "You're sharper than you let on, Noah. Tell me, how many times have you talked yourself out of a failed grade?"

"More times than my little sister could count," he said, grinning.

"Hmm. But how old is she?"

"Ten, now. No, wait - she turned eleven. Damn." He shook his head, following her into the kitchen. "Hard to believe. In my head she's still just a kid, but looking at her last night... she's growing up."

Ms. Corcoran studied him curiously. "You care about your little sister a lot for a sixteen-year-old. I didn't give a shit about my sister when I was a kid."

Her house was tidy, but Puck had the impression she'd cleaned up for him, that her usual state was less perfect than she let on. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for his answer, and he realized he'd been staring.

"We depended on each other when my dad left," he said. "First my brother, then my dad. Now my Ma's dead. We've still got each other."

"Noah." Ms. Corcoran looked shocked. "You've been through so much."

"You know, everybody says that, but I have no idea what they mean." He shrugged. "It's just my life. I don't know what it would be like to live any other way."

"I suppose that's true." She reached into the fridge and pulled out a bowl of salad. "Don't you feel angry, though, that things aren't easier?"

He sat at the stool she offered him, and shook his head. "I don't need easy. Nobody owes me anything. I get what I get, and it sucks sometimes, yeah. But I've got a hell of a lot."

She nodded slowly. "Tell me."

"What?"

"What you've got. Tell me what's important to you."

"I've got... people."

"People?" she prompted.

Puck had been assuming all day he'd lie to this Corcoran woman, only give her what she needed to know. Because she was there to bribe him, after all; she was manipulating him, even now. He was sure of it. She was a player, just as he'd been all his life. Until Finn and Kurt fixed him. I don't want to lie, he realized, and it was an unsettling thought.

"Yeah," he said. "My family. Kurt, and... and Finn, they're my boyfriends; we're a triad. And there's another guy, I just got back from visiting him in LA. He and me and Kurt, we're another triad. And I've got lovers in Santa Fe..."

"Hold on, hold on." Ms. Corcoran set the bowl of salad down. She got very close to Puck's face, both hands planted on the counter across from him. "You're sixteen, and you're telling me you're polyamorous?"

"Yeah." He smiled, surprised. "You know that word?"

"Know it. I lived it." She shook her head, and she was frowning again. "You're in over your head."

"Maybe. Yeah, probably. But, like I said, I never asked for easy." He smirked at her. "You're one to talk, if you're visiting Dr. Howell."

Ms. Corcoran's mouth snapped shut into a firm line. She picked up the salad bowl and walked to the table, setting it down. Then she turned back to him.

"So much for pretending this is just a nice dinner," she said, her voice low. "I'm not discussing him. Understood?"

"Fine by me," Puck said, stung. "Don't do me any favors. I'm only here for the food."

It was quiet for a few minutes while she prepared the Caesar dressing tableside. He waited for her to make a mistake so he could razz her about it, but it seemed flawless, from the coddled egg to the oven-toasted croutons. She gave him a curt nod when he thanked her, and took a bite.

"Not bad," he said, appreciating the proper combination of salty-tart from the crushed anchovy and parmesan. "I can't say I've ever made it better myself."

She twisted her pretty mouth as she ate, but she seemed a little more calm once the salad course was over. He watched her surreptitiously as she served the blackened salmon - so much for his prediction of red meat - wondering how much more to offer if she wasn't going to tell him anything about her relationship with Carl.

"The people," he said.

"What, there are more?" She rolled her eyes. "You kids have way too much energy."

"Kurt's dad," he pushed on. "And Finn's mom. They've been really good to me, and my sister, since my Ma died. He's adopting Sarah."

"Your boyfriend's dad is adopting your sister." Ms. Corcoran shook her head in disbelief. "What, is this a soap opera?"

"And there's my kid." He wasn't going to let her derail him. "She's due in April. Her mother's putting her up for adoption, and I'm keeping her."

She stopped, mid-retort, her mouth hanging open a fraction. She looked - hurt, somehow, like he'd managed to reach across the table and slap her without moving an inch.

"You're going to be a father?"

She didn't say it disbelievingly, but enviously. Puck found himself smiling, and took a deep breath.

"Yes." He ate another bite of salmon. It was excellent. "Sometimes I think that's the only thing I'm sure of. My relationships, my parents, my brother, everything - that could stop, anytime, but... yeah, I'm going to be a papa."

She stared at her plate. When she looked back up at him, he thought she might be on the edge of tears.

"Why?" she asked.

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing this? You're sixteen, and you've got so many things you could do, and you're choosing to be a gay teenage dad?"

"What things?" he asked, with a little laugh. "I suck at school. I'm just barely passing. Once high school's over, what do I have to look forward to? A minimum wage job?"

"How do you think you're going to take care of her without that minimum wage job, exactly?" She stood, pushing her chair out, barely disguising her anger. "You're being completely unrealistic here."

"Why? How? This - this is my reality. I didn't choose to have a kid, but she... she chose me." He stared at her across the table. "I'm not going to let her go. I can't."

"You can," she insisted. "I did."

Puck nodded, taking that in. "Okay. So... how'd that work out for you?"

She went into the kitchen with their empty dinner plates. When she returned, she was carrying two pots de creme in ramekins, and her face was composed once more.

"It worked out fine," she said. "I got my career, my life. My kids -" She stopped, swallowed, and went on. "My kids got better parents than I could have been."

"Yeah... well, I can't do that. She's in my head, all the time, this kid. She's in my dreams. I'm doing it. Davis drew up the paperwork -"

"Davis Lawton?" The name was whispered, but Puck heard it. He saw how Ms. Corcoran's face had gone pale. "He's your lawyer."

"Yeah, that's how we met Dr. Howell, kind of. It's a long story."

They ate their dessert in an awkward silence, and Puck tried not to say more, because she was clearly wrestling with something.

"I think..." She wiped her mouth on her napkin, and leveled her gaze at him. "I think I might have to have you over for dinner again, Noah, so you can tell me more of your story."

It was almost midnight by the time Puck pulled into his parking space in the lot by his apartment. He slammed the door and was digging his phone out to call Adam and Kurt when his phone rang.

The number wasn't one he was familiar with, and he considered letting it go to voice mail, but he was really just too curious for that. He stabbed the Answer Call button. "Yo."

There was a silence on the other end, but Puck could hear somebody breathing. He tried again. "Who's this?"

"Noah," he heard.

Puck stopped walking. The sidewalk was empty, just him and the winter streets of downtown Lima lit by streetlights, but it wouldn't have mattered if he'd been in the middle of Times Square on New Year's Eve. He would have heard and recognized that voice. He just didn't know what to do with it.

"What the fuck do you want?" he bit out.

"I have to talk to you," said his dad.

Puck put out his hand to steady himself on the brick of his building. "I can't think of anything you could say to me that I'd want to hear. And I'm hanging up now."

"Wait - please. Noah. Just... I know, I fucked up. A lot." He heard his dad take a breath, and Puck mirrored it, trying to stay calm. "But I got this call from this guy, Burt, and I don't know him from Adam, and he says he wants to adopt you and Sarah, and - "

"Me?" Puck said. He laughed, just one short sound, like a gasp.

"Yeah, and I just - I needed to know. What the hell's going on, Noah? Your Ma's gone, and... god, I'm so sorry."

Puck heard his own voice in his dad's, saying the words I'm so sorry. He thought of all the people he'd said it to over the past three months, people who'd given him a chance. He probably hadn't deserved it, half the time, but he'd gotten it, all the same.

"Okay, dad," he said heavily, unlocking his door and trudging up the stairs. "I'm listening."

Chapter Text

"Why would Puck want to have dinner with a teacher?" asked Brittany, climbing out of the back seat of Santana's BMW. She'd been happy enough to give up the front seat to Finn, which was good because he'd been pretty sure he wasn't going to fold up well enough to fit there.

He had expected he'd just get a ride back to Kurt's house and walk over to Britt's from there, because really, if you stood in Britt's side yard and craned your neck a little, you could see right into the window of Burt's office. But part of him - okay, maybe a big part - didn't want to have to explain what he was doing to his mom or Burt or Sarah. He wasn't going to think about the disappointed, hurt look he'd seen today on Puck's face in the middle of the choir room, or Kurt hundreds of miles away in California, in the midst of his own NRE. This was about...

... well, he wasn't exactly sure what it was about, to be completely honest. But at least he could answer Brittany.

"Ms. Corcoran's trying to manipulate Puck into not telling about something, which he already wasn't going to tell about," said Finn. He glanced across the street, but he couldn't really see into Burt's office from here, and he was probably still at the garage anyway. Just as well.

Santana looked intrigued. "Yeah? I suppose you're not going to tell about it either, are you. Because you're his boyfriend."

It still hit him a little funny to hear it said that way, out loud, like it was perfectly ordinary. He didn't expect Santana and Britt to judge him, in any case. "Yeah," he said, trying to sound confident. "Yeah, he is."

"I was pretty sure you guys were done, after what you did to him." She looped an arm through his, giving him a confidential, sexy smile. "And from what I hear, he's getting plenty from Kurt, and... this other guy? The one in California? He saw him out there, didn't he?"

"I'm not going to talk about him." He looked over at Britt as she took his other arm, startled not only by how close she was, but how tall she was. Taller than Kurt, even. "Oh... hey."

"Hey," she replied, grinning at him. They led him around the south side of the house, where Finn could see Britt's garden, some blanketed in snow and some enclosed in plastic-covered hoop houses. From the deck, she opened the sliding glass door and beckoned them into the house. "Leave your shoes on the mat by the kitchen. You can put on slippers if you want."

The basket of slippers gave him pause. He untied his sneakers and lined them up on the plastic mat, then sorted through the basket until he found a pair that looked big enough to fit him. Brittany nodded in satisfaction as he stepped into the leather moccasins, wool-side in.

"My uncle has huge feet, too, so we keep a supply around." She tilted her head. "You've got big hands, too. Though after a couple disappointments, I realized that big feet don't always match up with a big -"

"Let's leave that up to Finn to surprise us, okay, Britt? How about something to drink?" While Brittany disappeared into the kitchen, Santana perched on a barstool at the kitchen counter, inviting Finn to sit in the chair in front of her. "So... you'd better hear some ground rules before we start."

"Ground rules." He regarded her warily. "Like, you call me names and make fun of me while you ignore me, until I ditch you at Breadsticks?"

She shook her head. "No, like, you're completely fucking silent while you listen to the rules, got it? Now... this is Britt's house. Some things work differently here. You're going to hear things, see things that surprise you. Rule number one is: roll with it. If you don't understand, try to store it up in that tiny little brain of yours, like nuts for the winter, and Auntie Tana will help you crack them later. Nod if you understand so far."

"Um," said Finn, but she glared at him, and he just nodded, feeling more bemused than anything.

"You don't get to tell Britt she's wrong here. I'm under her spell as much as you are. You need something, you wait until you leave to ask for it. Rule number two is: no secrets from Britt's parents. They'll take you at face value, and unless you're doing something more illegal than selling pot, they probably won't care, especially if it's about sex. They don't talk to authorities, so just be honest."

He frowned. "I don't know, Santana. I'm sitting on a lot of secrets, and some of them aren't really mine to tell."

"I really don't care," she said. "Think of it like... not showing fear around a pack of wolves. As long as you're in charge and growling in their faces, they'll treat you with respect, but back down and you're dead meat. Britt's parents are like honesty wolves."

Brittany returned from the kitchen, handing Santana a brown bottle, then popping the cap off one for herself. When she tried to give one to Finn, he shook his head. "I don't drink, thanks."

"Birch beer," said Brittany, shaking her head with amusement. "Jeez, Finn, relax a little We're not going to bite you. Well, unless you're into that."

Finn thought about the row of teeth mark bruises that probably still marked his right hip, thanks to Carl's welcome-home bondage session the night before, and gazed desperately at the half-wall behind Santana. "Sorry. This is just... I'm feeling a little uncomfortable."

"Well, then, that could be rule number three." Brittany looked expectantly at Santana, who shrugged, scowling. "Nobody does anything they don't want to do."

"Well... isn't that kind of the point?" said Finn. "You think I'm being held back by being a virgin."

"You have to repeat junior year too?" Britt said, looking surprised. "I thought you were smart, Finn."

Santana smothered her laugh, but couldn't keep from exchanging a pointed look with Finn. "Roll with it," she said firmly.

"Rule number one," he agreed. "No, Britt, I just meant Santana said she thought my being a virgin was keeping me from being... something. My true self, or whatever."

Santana's eye-roll was practically audible. "I'm sure I never said anything that completely lame. I meant you're not tapping into that sexy vibe. You, singing The Doors? That was hot. Whatever inspired that - that's what I'm talking about. You need to tap that."

Finn closed his eyes and called to mind the inspiration for that song, who was at this moment wearing blue scrubs and wielding a dental drill, working under his more public auspice as Dr. Howell, DDS. I need to tap that, he thought, and shivered. "I... don't really think that... vibe had anything to do with girls, Santana."

Britt and Santana exchanged a glance. Then Brittany held out her hand. "C'mon," she said. "There's somebody in my bedroom I want you to meet. He has more hair on his chest than you do."

He was more anxious than curious to discover what she meant, but when it turned out to be a cat - an enormous fat pudge of a cat - Finn found himself relaxing. He sipped his birch beer and sat on the floor, scratching Lord Tubbington's immense belly while Santana and Britt complained about the Cheerios' recent Madonna numbers.

"Sue expects way too much," Santana declared, stretched out on her side on Britt's bed. "We can't be dancers and acrobats and sex objects and sing, at least not if she expects it to sound any good."

He tried to focus on the conversation. "Wait, she's asking you to sing?"

"She wants us to be Madonna. Only Madonna is Madonna." Britt paused, then added thoughtfully, "Well. I guess Lady Gaga is kind of Madonna 2.0. What was she like, Finn?"

"She was really nice," he said. "I didn't even know what to expect, but she was more human than I thought she'd be. Like, I think she actually cared about having us there. I mean, of course she did; she invited us over, but... she talked to us like we were real people. And dinner was ordinary, just pasta that she made herself, and she even let Puck help cook, and..." And she has a dungeon in her basement, he didn't add. "We all sang for her, and she sang with us."

"Puck mentioned you sang with a couple different people while you were there." Santana watched Finn's face carefully. When he didn't answer, she added, "Kurt's still out there, right?"

"Yeah, he had an ear infection, so he couldn't fly. He's staying with a friend." He stared back at her until she shrugged noncommittally and changed the subject.

"And the three of you are still... together? Today's little spat in Glee didn't strike me as very harmonious." She sighed at his expression. "Come on, Finn. If you're not going to talk about your boyfriends, what will you talk about?"

That was a good question. He had no idea how to dance around the subject of Carl without having to get into some pretty elaborate lies, and he wasn't going to say anything more about Adam. And Rachel... if there was anybody who disliked Rachel more than Santana, he hadn't met them yet. He opened his mouth to say nothing, I guess, but instead, he said, "I met a boy at the coffeehouse in Columbus."

"Now that's more like it." Santana curled around Brittany, one arm on her shoulder. "Is he cute?"

"It's not about that. I mean, sure, I guess he is? But that's not... it's not what mattered." He'd been thinking about Patrick all weekend while they'd been in California, wondering if he'd gone to Irene's without him. Wondering if Patrick had sung for the open mic... and if he'd been thinking about those moments that had passed between the two of them, unexpected and frightening and far too compelling to ignore. "He needs something different from me."

"He's gay?" Santana smirked when Finn nodded. "So tell me, what could a gay guy need from you that wasn't about sex? You're telling me he just wants to be friends?"

"I - no." Finn wasn't sure about a lot of things when it came to Patrick, but he was definitely sure it wasn't simple friendship Patrick was wanting from him. He shook his head. "You really don't want to know."

"Well, I do," Brittany disagreed, her ankles crossed in front of her as they swung off the edge of the bed. "Sounds kind of kinky."

"It's not!" snapped Finn. And I should know. The memory of last night with Carl, hands warm and strong and stinging on his flesh, the ropes binding his arms behind his back, pressing him into the bed - that was kinky. Even some of the things he did with Kurt, and had done with Puck, those had been pretty kinky compared to what the other kids at school were doing with their girlfriends. But what Patrick wanted, that was so simple.

"He needs somebody who sees him," he said. "Somebody who can see all of him, and to reassure him that all of it is just fine the way it is."

Before Santana could open her mouth to make a snide comment, Brittany reached down and put a hand on Finn's shoulder. She was smiling.

"I get it," she said. "It's just what Santana does for me. And you're good at it."

He was a little startled, and more than a little uncomfortable to think about what that might imply about what she and Santana did together, but - following rule number one. Rolling with it. "Yeah, it's something I used to think I was pretty good at, but after that fight with Puck, I kind of... lost confidence, I guess. And now, with Patrick, I think... well, I think I might be able to do it again. Because he needs it so much."

Brittany crept down off the bed and, very carefully, straddled his lap. Finn shrank back a little to find her so close to him, right in his face, but she wasn't demanding anything, just kind of touching him. Petting him, not unlike the way he'd been scritching Lord Tubbington. She gently tipped his face up toward her own and kissed him. It wasn't the first time he'd kissed Britt, but in the past it had always been in the context of a game, or just goofing around. This felt markedly different.

"That's really hot," she whispered into his ear, moving her lips to his jaw. "But don't you want to do this with him, too?"

Finn was having trouble thinking about anything other than the sensation of her words against his skin. "I'm - I'm already doing this with - plenty of guys."

Santana made a low sound, kind of an approving moan. "Yeah... tell us about that?"

"About - what? About me and - guys?" He tipped his head back, feeling Britt's soft lips on his throat, the gentle scrape of her teeth, and braced himself against the floor with both hands, feeling even more awkward than usual in the midst of so much curvy grace. She felt absolutely nothing like Rachel. Britt was already doing things to him that Rachel wouldn't have even dreamed of doing, and he wanted to say wait, shouldn't we talk about this, isn't this too fast for you? because I think it is for me.

Instead, he let his mind go back to those first few days with Kurt, when they'd become friends with benefits. They hadn't been in love then, but the no-holds-barred exploration had been awesome. He'd felt so lucky to have a friend who was willing to shoulder aside all the awkward and complicated and just say hey, try this. He found himself smiling.

"It was surprising, how hot it was," he said. "I started having these dreams, about Puck, and when they didn't freak me out I decided I needed to talk to somebody. So I went to Kurt, and he... offered." He put a hand on Britt's shoulder and squeezed. Her skin was soft, but she was strong underneath, not like Puck, but defined, solid. Bricks under velvet. "Kind of like you guys did, I guess?"

Brittany slid both hands under his sweater and lifted it over his head, tossing it to the side. Her hands skated over his stomach, his chest before raising her own arms in the air. Without one pause, Santana's hands appeared from behind her, stripping off Britt's Cheerios top, and suddenly there were boobs - boobs right there in his face, holy hell. He stared down into her cleavage, peeking out of the top of her bra. "Whoa."

"Touch her, idiot," Santana hissed. "Both hands, hard, on the sides, and don't pinch the nipples because that's totally an amateur move."

Finn took her advice as best as he could, watching Britt respond enthusiastically with a sense of amazement. "This - really?"

"Keep talking, Finnocence." Santana's own hands were resting on Britt's hips - a little possessively, he thought, but she didn't seem to be objecting to what he was doing. "You and Kurt, and don't spare the details."

He supposed it should have been hard to recall Kurt when surrounded by nearly naked girl, but in actuality being immersed in sensory input was a great trigger for memories of him and Kurt on the green couch. "He - neither of us had really done anything with another guy, but we both had a lot of ideas, and we'd kind of trade them back and forth, like, he'd suggest something, and we'd try that, and that would get us going on something else, and we'd try that, and... compare notes -"

"Details, Finn," Santana snapped. "God, you can't even talk about sex right."

"Be nice," Brittany chided, stroking Finn's hair, from his forehead down to his neck. "He's doing great." She dipped a hand between his legs, pressing against his cock. He kind of wanted to apologize for not being harder than he was, but she didn't seem disappointed.

Santana didn't argue with Britt, which Finn guessed might be part of the dynamic between them, but might have more to do with rule number one. He tried to move, to stretch his legs a little, but Santana quickly redirected him back to Britt's plentiful cleavage. "This is your focal point, Hudson. Don't get distracted."

He watched as Santana unhooked Brittany's bra and deposited it in the rapidly growing pile of clothing beside them. Distracted? Who, me? He put his hands back on her breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands with a kind of reverent awe. Santana made imperious eye contact with him over Britt's shoulder.

"Tell her about the first time he got you off," she said. "Anything. Details."

He watched Santana kiss Brittany's neck, and for a minute he felt like the old Finn Hudson - the straight one, the one who thought about girls all the time. Except for those times when he had dreams about his best friend. But that was normal, right?

"Before we knew Puck was into me," he said, letting Britt arch forward against him, responding to Santana's kisses - and his words, maybe? he wondered - "when I was still just with Kurt, he would tell me to close my eyes, and think of Puck's hands touching me. His mouth... sucking me."

He heard Brittany's light gasp, and watched Santana's hands clench on Britt's skin, digging tiny little red crescents into the flesh of her bare hips. Now he could feel himself responding to her touch, but in his mind, it was definitely Kurt's hands on him, Kurt's encouraging voice, urging him not to feel guilty, but to love it. To love him, love Puck, the only way he could, before they'd realized what was really going on between the two of them.

"Rule number four," Santana said, breathing a little harder. "Sucking is better than biting."

Not in my world, Finn would have said, but he was trying to be polite. It wasn't his place to try to convince her otherwise, and really, he was willing to give her that, if that's what she wanted. He bent his head, sandwiching Brittany in between their bodies, Santana holding her up from behind, as he used his tongue on one nipple. He wasn't going to explain he'd learned this particular technique from a professional Dom, but he was pleased to discover it worked as well on this particular girl as it had on him.

When he looked up, he discovered Britt and Santana kissing over Britt's shoulder, their own tongues well-engaged. That was almost hotter than any of the rest had been so far, but eventually she stopped, turned to Finn and kissed him too.

"We have an idea of what Puck likes," Brittany said, nudging him over toward Santana's face to kiss her, but Santana pulled back, quickly shimmying out of her clothes. She helped Britt out of her skirt, leaving just a very brief pair of pink panties, and Britt smiled at him in anticipation. "What did he want you to do to him?"

God. The layers of memories, every fantasy he'd ever had about Puck and shared with Kurt, they were obliterated by the thought of the impact of his hand on Puck's ass. "He wanted me - in charge," he said, a little unsteady. "Taking control. Taking - taking away his fear, his powerlessness. Giving him - fuck, Britt -" Her hands were unzipping his jeans now, smaller and more nimble than Kurt's or Puck's or Carl's, and he groaned at her touch inside his boxers.

"I bet you gave it to him," she breathed, her breasts pressing up against his bare arm as she stroked him. "You're big and strong. Did you hold him down?"

It was almost too much. He thrust forward into her hand at the same time he twisted away from the persistent memories. "We don't do that anymore. Not since I hit him."

"Yeah, I heard about his new guy in California. Max?" Santana frowned, tugging on Brittany's arm. "Come on, up on the bed. More comfortable for me. You're not jealous of him?"

Finn let his head clear a little as Britt deposited her panties on the floor and pulled back the comforter and sheets on the bed. He thought about "Max," the name Puck had invented for Adam when he'd told Quinn about him, and sighed. "Jealous," he echoed. "Um... yeah, sure, I am. But Kurt wants him, so..."

"Kurt?" Santana glanced down at him sharply. "We weren't talking about Kurt."

Shit, Finn thought, his heart sinking. I didn't need to say anything more about that. "I meant Puck. He and... Max. He gives him something I can't, so I... I can't feel bad about it."

"Jeans off, Hudson," she instructed, waving at the floor. "Nothing more than underwear allowed on this bed."

"What, is that rule number five?" Being naked in front of the two of them felt a lot more awkward and embarrassing, more than he had ever felt with any of his other lovers. Something about being the only one with a dick, maybe. He crawled onto the bed and sat between them.

"No," Britt assured him. "It's just a good idea. Naked is way more fun."

Santana had been largely hands-off up until now, so Finn was a little surprised when she was the one to press him into the mattress and straddle him. She reached around behind and unhooked her bra in one swift motion, dropping it onto the floor. Then she opened Brittany's desk drawer, and her hand emerged holding a condom.

"You use these with your guys?" she asked, brandishing it at him. He gulped.

"Um, no," he admitted. "We - not with each other. But with everybody else." The image of what Kurt and Adam and Puck had probably been doing all weekend, using those, was more painful than hot. Somehow the pain made it easier to allow himself to focus on the bodies in front of him, curvy and tanned and smooth. He wondered if he should have shaved or waxed or something.

Santana nodded. "Good plan. Well, you're using one with me. I'm not stupid like Quinn. Me and sperm aren't exactly on speaking terms." She unwrapped the condom and handed it to Britt, who grinned before moving to kneel between Finn's legs. "Now, Britt's going to do her thing, and you're going to tell me more about what you and Puck have been up to. Or Kurt, whatever; he's pretty hot too. I've always had an appreciation for pretty boys."

Finn could feel exactly what Brittany was doing with her hands and fingers and - gaaah - her mouth. He spread his legs wider, bending his knees, and wondered if either one of them would appreciate knowing how much he liked being fucked. But he figured that wasn't what they were there for, and really, if they were going to do anything about de-virgining him, he wasn't going to want any additional stimulation. Santana, sitting on his chest, letting her breasts dangle close enough to brush his face, one hand tucked into her panties - that was pretty stimulating.

"I don't know what else I can say without - ohhhh - without breaking confidence," he said. He shifted his knees, letting them fall open on either side of Santana. She picked up his hand, clenching the comforter beside them, and placed it on her breast.

"Trust me, Finn, anything I tell anybody about this night will be carefully scripted. We have sex with too many people to tell the truth about any of it." She grinned. "Tell me."

His other hand came up to hold the other breast. His hips bucked a little, caged by Santana's thighs, but that was good, too, the way she was holding him down with her body. "Our first time together," he said. "Me and Kurt and Puck, we all did it together. I told them what was coming, days before, so they'd know, and be waiting for it. And I had Kurt shower, and lay on the bed, and Puck got on top of him..."

"Yeah?" He could see the outline of Santana's hand in her panties, her knuckles taut through the thin fabric as they moved in rhythm. He brought one curious hand down to stroke the soft skin of her inner thighs, and she let out an explosive breath of air. "They didn't mind you bossing them around, telling them what to do?"

"No, they like it. They want that." They used to, he wanted to add, because he realized just how hard he'd been holding on to all of this, and getting a chance to talk about it was an enormous relief. He suddenly found himself wanting to tell Santana everything - about Puck and Adam, about how he'd shut himself in his room for four days when Puck had left, and even after he'd come back how nothing was the same; about Carl and how much he liked Carl bossing him around, how much he wanted it. He focused on Britt's fingers gripping his cock at the base as she sucked him. "After Puck was done with Kurt, I took him, right there on top of Kurt."

Santana's eyes fluttered closed as her head fell back, arching into the pressure of her hand. "God," she said. "Okay, Britt, I'm ready."

Finn wasn't quite sure what she meant, but Brittany sat up, wiping her mouth, and moved to lie beside Finn as Santana straddled him. "I guess you won't mind kissing me after I had my mouth on you," she said, stroking his chest. "Some guys think that's gross, but I like tasting myself on their tongue."

"Yeah, I - I like that, too." Finn watched Santana lower herself with one quick motion onto his erect cock. She ground into him, and they both moaned.

"Feels good, huh?" Santana said. Her thigh muscles flexed, controlling the depth of penetration. With each thrust, she took a little more of him. "Yeah, big hands, big feet; I knew it. You're fucking enormous."

"Different. It feels - different." It was, and it wasn't. The pressure was less intense than when he was inside Kurt or Puck, but the heat was the same, and the way she was opening up for him a little at a time felt familiar. Brittany watched them with avid interest, playing with his nipples.

"I like being fucked in the ass too," she said conversationally. "It's better sometimes, but it's messier. I like both." She rested her head on Finn's shoulder, her eyes on Santana. "I like a lot of both."

Carl's words about not letting himself get hemmed in by labels flickered through his brain, but he was pretty sure he'd already come to his own conclusions about this experience. I'm not in love with them, he thought. I'm not in love with either one of them, and it doesn't matter how hot they are, or how awesome their boobs are. This is nothing compared to the way it is with Kurt, or Carl. Or Puck. Why would I want to bother?

"Santana," he said with a sigh, but she put one hand on his chest, holding him down.

"You just be real quiet now while I get what I came for," she told him. "Guys are good for three things, and this is one of them."

No matter what his brain said about not wanting it, his body was still happy to go along with what Santana was doing. When Brittany reached out with a thumb and made little circles of pressure against what Finn assumed was Santana's clit - not that he'd ever really seen one, but he listened in the locker room, and Puck had told him stories - he could feel his climax threatening. Mailman, he thought, trying to stave it off, because the last thing he wanted was Santana pissed off at him for coming before she was done.

"Baby," she gasped, reaching for Britt, and Brittany raised herself up on her knees beside her, kissing her hard. Finn could feel her clenching around him. He closed his eyes, remembering the first time he'd felt that with Puck, the unbelievable sensation of someone else's pleasure, surrounding him - His hands curled around Santana's hips and held her steady while he thrust into her harder, deeper, his ass contracting as he pulsed through his own release.

"Yeah," Britt whispered, hugging Santana's body, letting her relax against her. "That's it... you come over here now, 'kay?"

Santana disengaged, climbing off him to lie on top of Brittany, resting between her breasts and letting her stroke her hair. Finn was left to deal with the condom, which, after a moment, he managed to tie into a knot and toss into the wastebasket.

He put a hand on Santana's back, watching her face. "You okay?"

"It's just sex, Finn," she said sharply. "Get on, get off. But you're not done yet. You still have to satisfy Britt, here. And as much as I'd rather do it myself, you're here to learn, and I'm not going to let you off this bed until she comes at least once. Move out of the way."

Finn shifted to one side, making space for Britt to lie down in the center. Santana gestured with her head. "Down there."

"Uh," he said, feeling uneasy. "I don't - I mean, I'm not really -"

"It's nice," Brittany insisted. She reached out for Finn's hand, pulling him closer, so he was the one kneeling between her thighs. "This is my favorite thing."

"New focal point, Hudson." Santana outlined Brittany's clit with her fingers. She put a hand behind his neck and brought him right down against it, close enough for him to stick out his tongue and -

"I can't," he said. "Really, I don't want to."

Santana rolled her eyes. "God. I'm so embarrassed on your behalf, I can't even tell you. You want to be Rachel's girlfriend and you won't even go down on her?"

"I don't want this with Rachel," he protested. "What we have, it's not about that."

"Well, it should be," Santana shot back. She gave him a shove, and he nearly fell off the end of the bed. "If you don't want her this way, you shouldn't be dating her. You should want it, all the time. It should be something you dream about, something you fucking crave. If it's not like that... stick with your guys."

Brittany didn't look disappointed at all to have Santana descend on her instead of Finn, but he didn't stick around to watch it. Whatever he liked about being with girls, it seemed to be fairly limited to boobs and kissing. He snagged his boxers off the floor with one finger, his jeans with another and shut the door to the bathroom behind him.

Sitting on the toilet, he texted a message to Kurt. Hope you have fun at the party tonight. Things with Britt and Santana were weird.

His response was quick. The party, well, it'll probably be loud. Adam's enlisting help from his ex Drake to try to draw press attention away from me. And weird how? Do you feel different?

Not any different. I just wasn't in love with them. Casual sex kind of sucks.

I'll keep it in mind, if I ever feel the impulse to have any. And I love you, even if you did have sex with girls.

He grinned. Puck has had sex with a bazillion girls, and you love him too. I'm glad it didn't change things between us, anyway. Should I watch the tabloids tomorrow for news about the mysterious hottie at the Avalon Club?

Oh my god, Finn, did you just call me a hottie?

Who says I was talking about you? Finn smothered his laugh with one hand. I'd better go see if Santana and Britt are dressed. I'll see you at the airport tomorrow after school. He paused, then added, Hope your last night there is a good one, baby.

Thank you. Good night.

He could have said I miss you or a dozen other things, but he knew Kurt's attention was on Adam, and he didn't want to make him feel guilty for that. He watched me go through this with Carl, he thought. He deserves a little NRE of his own. It hurt a little, but it wasn't the-end-of-the-world kind of hurt, and the good feeling he had knowing Kurt was happy was bigger.

Santana and Brittany were snuggled around one another when he returned to the bedroom. Britt turned a drowsy smile on him. "My turn in the bathroom," she said. She stretched, then paused to kiss him before heading out of the room.

Finn sat next to Santana on the bed, but she wasn't meeting his eyes.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked.

"Why, because you wimped out on going down on Britt? I told you, I'd rather do it myself anyway. You were just missing out." She scowled at Lord Tubbington, sprawled next to Brittany's pillow.

"I'm sorry. I - I thought I'd feel different after."

"Yeah, well, I've noticed that it takes about twenty or so times before the feeling of accomplishment really kicks in." She glanced up. "How do you feel?"

He shrugged. "I don't feel anything. 'Cause it didn't mean anything."

"Thanks," she said, sounding amused, and nudged his shoulder. "Can't it just be to help out a friend?"

"Sure. I mean, I guess. People have casual sex all the time. I just don't think it's for me."

Santana held out a hand to Britt as she returned from the bathroom, and she joined them on the bed. "Yeah, I don't get that. You're doing two hot guys. What's the difference?"

"Because there are feelings," said Britt. "I told you it was better with feelings."

"Whatever. Well, Hudson, thanks for getting me off; sorry it didn't live up to your bizarre boysex standards. I'd say your guys are lucky you're well hung. But you're going to get propositioned at school once the word gets out I popped your cherry." Santana considered this. "How about I spread the news that you're a terrible lay, and... oh, I don't know, you've got funny-looking nipples. You think that would turn away most would-be suitors?"

"He has nice nipples," Britt said, resting her chin on his shoulder. He grinned at her, kissing her forehead.

"It's just a story, Britt, so I don't have to deal with girls hitting on me. But thanks for the cover story. I think this'll be good enough camouflage until Puck and Sarah's adoption papers are processed and we can come out at school."

Santana punched him on the shoulder. "Way to take one for the team."

Britt's parents didn't look at all surprised to have a boy at the table. Her father shook his hand and smiled when Finn stiffly introduced himself, and her mother gave him a sympathetic smile when Britt said, "Finn needed to lose his virginity with girls, so we were taking care of that."

"You're very thoughtful to help him out that way," said her mother, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. She handed the broccoli to Santana. "I'm sorry if Britt's frankness embarrasses you, Finn. We've always encouraged her to be honest."

Santana made a little cough that sounded something like santaclaus, but Finn couldn't be sure. She, at least, seemed comfortable around Britt's parents.

Brittany shrugged, eating the olives off her salad. "Finn's mostly gay, anyway. His boyfriends are in Glee, too. And his girlfriend."

"We're, uh, not dating. Me and Rachel." Finn took another helping of pot roast, wondering how long Rachel's secret affair with Jesse St. James would stay secret. "I think it's probably better that way."

Mr. Pierce looked blandly pensive. "I wouldn't have expected such a liberal attitude about relationships from someone growing up here. No offense meant to you, Finn."

"No - no, I kind of think the same thing about Lima," said Finn. "It's not really much for open thinking."

"We mostly keep to ourselves," said Mrs. Pierce. "The economy limited our choices about where to live; Phil knew he'd have to take what he could get when he got his Ph.D. OSU Lima was where we ended up."

"He teaches history," Britt added.

Finn had to wonder about the genetics of intelligence, if these two had produced Brittany. "Kurt mentioned something about you being a designer?"

Mrs. Pierce smiled. "Oh, you know Kurt? He used to play over here all the time with Brittany and her garden, making things on our sewing machine."

"Mom, he's Kurt's boyfriend." She grinned at Finn's anxious expression. "Don't worry, they won't tell anybody."

"We won't," confirmed Mr. Pierce. "We're a social circle of two. Your secret's safe with me. But I'm so glad Kurt found someone; he was such a nice boy. Britt, you should introduce Finn to Blaine."

She shrugged. "Maybe. Finn doesn't need any more boyfriends."

They encouraged him to take the last serving of pot roast while Brittany filled her parents in on their latest problems in the Cheerios. Mr. and Mrs. Pierce considered Britt's cheerleading concerns as thoughtfully as they'd listened to Finn talking about the dearth of liberalism in Lima, and Finn relaxed a little more.

"Why doesn't Coach Sylvester have Glee club sing while you're doing your routines?" asked Mrs. Pierce.

"No way," Santana said, shaking her head firmly. "Coach Sue hates Mr. Schue. She's been trying to get us to spy on him since October. She'd never accept his help."

"Yeah, but what if it wasn't his idea?" Finn turned to Santana. "What if she thought... she was taking something from him?" He explained what had happened with Karofsky and Kurt and the Cheerios uniform, and how Adam had suggested he join the Cheerios.

Santana looked dubious. "Can he dance? I mean, does he have moves?"

"It wouldn't matter, if he was doing the singing." He raised an eyebrow at the girls. "You think Sue would go for it?"

"Maybe. Like you said, she'd totally scoop his stars from Schue, if she thought it would hurt him. But would Kurt do it?"

"One way to find out," he said, pulling out his phone. He texted Kurt: If Coach Sylvester asked you to join the Cheerios, would you do it?

It wasn't until Britt had cleared the table and brought out Puck's chocolate chess pie that he received a reply. I can't believe I'm saying this, but... yes? But I think I'd need backup. If she asks me, she has to ask Mercedes too.

Santana made a face when he showed her the text, but she shrugged and said, "I'll pass the intel, and I'll try to make it look good."

Finn shook Mr. Pierce's hand again as he put on his coat to leave, and accepted Mrs. Pierce's hug. "You're welcome any time, Finn," she said, "and please tell Kurt he's welcome too. And your other boyfriend - I'm sorry, I can't recall his name?"

"Thanks," he said. He wondered if anyone had ever died from blushing. "I'll tell him."

Finn trudged through the slushy snow back to Kurt's house, peeking in Burt's office window on the way, but it was dark. He'd be in front of the television. Puck's truck wasn't in the driveway, which wasn't a surprise either; he'd be at his own place tonight, after dinner with Shelby. He didn't bother with a text, and when Puck answered with a wary, "Yeah?" he found himself close to tears.

"Dude," he said. "I - can you come over?"

"Yeah, I guess? I mean, sure, of course." Puck paused. "How was your, uh... your date?"

"Weird. I just... I had a kind of epiphany, and I need to see you. And I'm really sorry about today at school, and about the thing with Santana, and... fuck." He sniffed, wiping his eyes. "I miss you."

"Yeah. I guess tonight was the night for goddamn epiphanies." Puck sounded a little on edge himself. "I'll come pick you up at Kurt's."

Sarah was downstairs on the green couch when Finn walked in through the garage door, stamping his feet. She must have noticed immediately that something was wrong, because she jumped up and came right over to him with the box of tissues. It made him smile, even through his inexplicable tears.

"You're missing Kurt?" she guessed, watching his face.

Finn didn't bother to ask before taking her in his arms in a hug. She was a little startled, but she relaxed quickly enough, resting her curly head on his chest.

"I just learned something," he said, not letting go. "It was one of those things that your parents tell you not to do, but you don't really listen. But I did it, and I realized my mom was right? And - and maybe I could tell you, and you'd hear it from me, and believe me more than you would have believed your Ma, or Burt."

She peered up at him, looking a little flushed. "Is this about sex?"

"Uh, yeah." He laughed at her yucky face. "Well, eventually you're gonna stop feeling like that about sex, and... anyway. I don't have to tell you now. It can wait."

"Whatever," she shrugged. "I'd listen to anything you want to tell me, but I bet Noah's said it to me already."

"See, that's the thing," he said. "I don't know if he agrees with me on this one, because he's had a lot of sex with a lot of people."

"Okay," she said. "Now I think you have to tell me, or I'm just going to be thinking what the hell it could be."

He let his hands slip down her arms to grasp hers. "It's just... you should be in love, when you have sex. Because it's not nearly the same thing without it. And if you're not sure if you're in love... don't."

She nodded, her curls bobbing loose around her face. "Yeah, I don't think I'll be doing that any time soon, but I'll keep it in mind."

"Thanks." He heard Puck's horn honk twice in the driveway. "I'll see you tomorrow, after we pick Kurt up at the airport."

Puck was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel when Finn climbed into the cab. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," Finn replied.

"Date didn't go so well, huh?"

Finn laughed mirthlessly. "It was fine; we didn't fight or anything. It was just... hollow. I told Kurt, I don't think I'm cut out for casual sex."

"Yeah." Puck's nervous energy was practically seeping out of his pores. Only two days away from Adam and Kurt, Finn thought. He stared at the drumming fingers for about ten seconds, feeling helpless, before he finally reached out and grabbed Puck, hauling him across the gearshift into a hug.

"Dammit," he said roughly, feeling Puck's resistance, "if you won't let me give you what you need, at least let me do this."

Puck fought him for another couple seconds before giving up. Finn breathed in unison with him, stroking his head.

"That's it," he whispered. "That's... yeah. Like that."

"Fuck, Finn." Now he could hear Puck more clearly. The tension on the phone had clearly just been the tip of the iceberg. He sounded absolutely wrecked.

"What happened? Mrs. Corcoran, did she -"

"No, no," Puck said. "That was fine. It was - I got a call." He turned haunted eyes to Finn. "It was my dad."

"Oh." He didn't dare say anything more, because it was going either be an echo of his oh, fuck, or something ridiculous and sappy, and Puck wasn't going to react well to either one. Puck nodded grimly.

"Yeah. Burt served him with the adoption papers. He called him, Finn. He called my dad." He shook his head, a little smile. "And Burt, he wants to adopt me, too. Fuck. He didn't even say anything to me about it."

Finn didn't want to let him go, but he leaned back a little, letting Puck slip back into his seat. He kept his hand on Puck's neck, just gentle, not suggesting... anything. Just holding him. "Maybe he thought you'd get freaked out by the idea?"

"I guess. I'll have to talk to him about it." Puck's eyes slipped closed, and the way he leaned into Finn's hand almost made him start crying again. "He wants me to meet him. To talk to him. God, I almost hung up on him, but... he asked me. Begged me, practically. Said he was sorry, and..." He opened his eyes again, looking right at Finn. "I guess everybody deserves another chance."

Finn struggled to keep breathing, the way Puck was staring at him. Like he was trying to ask for something, but he couldn't say the words, so he was asking with his eyes. But of course, that's just what you want to think. You can't make assumptions here.

"Do you really think so?" Finn managed. "I mean... I wouldn't blame you at all, if you decided he... he wasn't worth trusting, after everything that happened."

Puck laughed bitterly. "Yeah, well... you don't know the half of it. I think I probably don't even remember the worst parts. But you know what convinced me? Timmy. He remembers a lot more of the shit my dad did, and he's still talking to him. They would get together once a month, when he was in Ohio. And I figured, what the hell. People can change, right?"

Finn gripped the edge of the door with his free hand. "Maybe. They can make better choices, at least. I think you could watch to see if he does, this time. Can we -?"

Puck slipped out of his trance, shaking his head, and put the truck into gear. "Yeah, sure. Sorry, I'm just kind of out of it."

"No - it's fine." But if I can't hold you soon, all of you, I'm going to climb over into your seat. He had to settle with keeping his hand on Puck's neck, all the way back through the neighborhood in the dark. When they finally pulled into Finn's driveway, he had to make himself let go.

His mom looked concerned to see Puck, or maybe it was their expressions that worried her as she looked up from her paperwork at the dining room table. But she only said, mildly, "Hey, boys. Puck, you want me to set up the guest room for you?"

Puck set his backpack down against the wall. "That'd be great, Carole. Sorry for the surprise visit. My, uh... my dad. He called me, about the adoption. I'm trying not to freak out."

She stood, pushing her chair out abruptly. "Burt told me he'd spoken with him. I'm just glad it's in motion. The sooner we can make that happen, the easier for everybody, especially for your daughter."

Her uncertain glance at Finn, and the way she looked back at Puck, appeared as though she was waiting for Finn to do something. Finn was waiting to do that, too, but he really wasn't going to do it in front of her. "Thanks, Mom," he said.

She nodded, heading for the stairs. "I'll have that room ready for you in a few minutes; I just have to clear away the yarn. Too many projects..."

As soon as she was out of sight, Finn went to stand in front of Puck, both hands on his shoulders, whispering, "Just - let me, okay?" And Puck was nodding, his face crumpling, burying it in Finn's shirt. Finn felt him shuddering, and took it as the sweetest gift, because here was Puck, letting him be the one to hold him while he fell apart. Finn cupped his head and put the other on his back, pulling him closer, closer.

"S-Sorry," Puck muttered through his tears, but Finn shook his head vehemently.

"Need this," he said thickly. "You're giving me - so much. I can't even tell you."

It was, and he felt so lucky, but being close to Puck like that was affecting him more that he wanted to admit. It didn't matter a damn that he'd just been inside Santana, or that he'd just had Britt's mouth on his cock; he wanted this, wanted him more than ever. His lips brushed over the skin on Puck's neck, and suddenly he was kissing him, fierce and possessive. Puck moaned into it as Finn wedged one leg forward between his, giving him a little pressure and letting Puck press back.

"You can say no," he insisted. Puck grabbed at his shirt, clenching his jaw, nose to nose with Finn.

"I'm not going to say no to anything tonight," he forced out. "You get me?"

Finn felt his own knees threaten to buckle at that statement, but he made himself stay steady, to give Puck the support he needed. You're the only one here to do this for him, he told himself sternly, and he'd be damned if the voice in his head didn't sound a hell of a lot like Carl.

"I get you," Finn said. He held Puck's gaze. "But you understand I can't push you without more than permission. You've got to ask for it, and if you don't... I won't do it. Not because I don't want to, but because I need you to ask for it, for it to be okay."

Puck closed his eyes again, nodding even as he tensed, waiting for Finn's lead. Finn kissed him once more, then took his hand firmly, towing him behind him. "We're going upstairs."

Finn knew his mother would pay attention to a closed door, and even though it was already close to ten, she wouldn't bother them until their designated curfew. He took Puck in his arms when he got to his door, pushing him in front of him now, until they were both in the tiny bedroom under the eaves. They'd been there dozens of times before, maybe a hundred, and it had never felt more serious than it did right at that moment.

Puck reached for him in the dark, kissing him hungrily. Finn could see the outline of Puck's shoulders, the tears shining on his face in the moonlight through his bedroom window. They shed their clothes one piece at a time, coming back together to touch and kiss and grasp as each one was discarded. Finn's hands weren't giving Puck a lot of choices, but when they got to the bed, he paused to regain control of himself.

"Tell me what you need."

"Oh, fuck," Puck whispered. Finn felt him go immediately tense under his hands. They stood there in the dark for several long moments, breathing hard.

"It's all okay," he promised. "I'm not going to freak out. I'm just... god, Puck." He heard his voice pleading, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not at all. "You need something, and I can't not give it to you. So - whatever it is you want, whatever you're - ready for... I'm here."

Puck nodded, his eyes cast down. "You're not telling me. Right? You're asking."

"I'm asking," Finn agreed. He let his fingers brush Puck's face, and heard his breath catch. "Because... because I thought I knew what you needed, once, and I was wrong. So I have to ask, you know?"

"I know. I get it. I just wish..." He hung onto the word, and Finn kissed it from his mouth.

"Yeah. Believe me, I know. And maybe someday we can be like that again, where I can... take what I want, and trust it's right for you. But we're not there yet." He rested his fingers at the base of Puck's throat. "But just because it's not easy doesn't mean it's not worth it, okay? I'm willing to - to work at it. At this. Because you're worth it."

Puck let out a strangled groan, and Finn held on, feeling him stagger against him. He lowered Puck down onto the mattress under the window, the same bed where he'd taken Puck the very first time he'd touched him this way, almost three months ago. It felt a little like that, like the first time again. He stretched Puck's arms out over his head, gently now, letting him know it wasn't to control him, but to care for him. His knuckles brushed along the margin of Puck's arm, down his side as Puck lay there, trembling.

"I love you," Finn said softly.

"Fuck, Hudson," Puck replied, in the same reverent tone. "You're such a sap."

Finn smiled, trying not to let the laughter overwhelm him or break the spell of their silence. "Yeah, I know. You're just going to have to deal."

Puck blinked up at him. "Thought you were asking me?"

"No," he said. "Not asking. Not about that one."

He reached up above his head and took Puck's hands in his, interlacing their fingers, and swung a leg over him, holding him spread-eagle on the bed, as wide as his arms and legs would go on the narrow mattress. Puck whimpered. It was a delicious sound, and Finn had to close his eyes for a moment, allowing it to ripple through him.

"You're so fucking gorgeous." Finn punctuated the words with a grinding thrust against him. He wasn't letting Puck's hands up, though he would have, if Puck had asked him. That made it okay, because if Puck didn't want it, he was going to stop, and Finn was listening hard for anything that sounded remotely like no.

Carl made me choose a safe word, he realized suddenly. Puck never had one with me, but... maybe we should. Maybe we need that now. He leaned in over him, close to his ear, feeling the tension increase with the pressure of his body.

"You think you'd be able to tell me no, if you didn't want something?" he asked, kissing his neck. Puck opened his mouth to respond, but it took him a few tries.

"Uh... god... I - I think I would have a hard time saying no to anything you wanted. I mean, I think you wanting it would... make me want it."

The offer was so compelling. Finn would have been more than happy to leave it there, but he needed to be sure. He kissed him again. "I got it, and that's amazing. And... I still think I'd need you to tell me if something felt wrong, or even a little weird. Something you could say that would - get my attention, if you needed me to hang on for a second, or stop."

He could see Puck's hesitation. "I... don't want you to stop."

Finn smiled. "You don't even know what I want to do to you. I've got a big imagination, and a bunch of stuff that might be new to you. Carl's a good teacher, and he's... creative."

"Fuck, yeah," said Puck with feeling. "I'm more than a little curious to hear about that stuff. And... Adam, he..." He stopped.

Finn waited a few moments. "What did Adam do?"

Puck's expression was hard to read in the dark, but when he squirmed a little, Finn let him have his hands back. He touched his own neck, and his wrists, and Finn went still.

"Oh," he said again, feeling lightheaded. "He... um. He put a collar on you?"

"And cuffs. He - he chained me to the bed."

"You liked that," Finn guessed. Puck nodded silently. Finn took a deep breath before going on. "He didn't... the collar, it wasn't, like... a promise?"

"No." Finn could hear the longing in his voice. "No, he's not - we're not ready for that. I mean, dude, I just met him. But Kurt... he said we could get some of those. Cuffs, and... a collar."

Finn struggled with the warring feelings of jealousy and protectiveness that threatened to overwhelm him. He gathered Puck in his arms, holding him close. Mine.

"I'm... I'm glad," he said. "Maybe... if you wanted, we could... look at those together."

"Yeah. That'd be awesome." Puck spoke quietly into his neck, still hesitant. "You're really sure you want that with me?"

Finn let out a surprised laugh, just a puff of air. "Yeah, I'm sure. I've never been so sure about anything." He let go of Puck, giving him a little space between them. He could see Puck's wary eyes, watching him. "You thought I didn't want that anymore?"

"I thought... I don't know what I thought. All this stuff with Rachel, and then Patrick, and I felt..." Puck shrugged.

FInn had a pretty good idea exactly what he'd felt. Replaced. Irrelevant. Unloved. He spoke to Puck in the dark, letting him hear all the thoughts and explanations and fears he'd let go unsaid. It was time to say them all, now.

"For a long time I wasn't sure I could do this at all anymore. But before we left for California, I started to think, maybe I could give this to Patrick. And that... it gave me hope, for us. Because you're - so fucking important to me. I don't think I could name one person higher than you on my list. Not Carl, not Kurt, not anybody. You're my best friend." He touched Puck's bare shoulder. "Watching you and Adam together... it made me mad. Not because I don't think you guys should have that, because he's totally giving you what you need, and that's awesome. But I want to do that, too. I want to be in charge of you, like Adam is with you. Like Carl is with me."

Puck shook his head. "I just don't get it, Finn. I've got all this shit going on in my life. So much of the time, I can't even do what you tell me. Taking care of me... it's complicated. Way too complicated. Why the hell would you want something like that?"

FInn had to smile. "Dude... you're the one who's decided you're going to adopt a baby. I'd say that wins for complicated. Why would you choose that?"

"I told you," Puck said, sounding angry, but then he paused. When he went on, he sounded thoughtful, subdued. "I can't not do it. I just can't stop loving her."

He leaned over and kissed Puck, staying close. "Bingo."

"But you said you couldn't. You said -"

"I was freaking out," Finn said. "I can't swear I won't freak out again, or make another equally heinous mistake. As long as you're willing to let me, though, I think I'm ready to try again." His hand on Puck's shoulder tightened, and Puck sucked in a breath. "And I want it."

"Want it," Puck echoed with a groan, "god, so much..."

This time Puck threw himself into his kisses with abandon, pressing up against Finn, tearing at him like he thought Finn might disappear. He could hear Puck muttering want you, please, fuck me now, but it wasn't until he caught the word yours that he stopped.

"Mine?" he demanded. "You're mine?"

Puck, hovering over Finn's mouth, nodded fervently. "Want that. Long as you can stand me being someone else's too."

Finn recalled Adam's friendly acceptance of him in his living room, and his own words to Burt about Adam: I trust him; this is the best place for Kurt. He'll take care of him. If Adam could do that for Kurt, he could sure as hell do it for Puck, too.

"We'll work it out," he said, between kisses. "Me and Kurt, and Adam, we can work it out." It didn't even seem so impossible, not here, under the benediction of Puck's forgiveness.

And the vision of the collar and cuffs that Puck had planted in his head stayed with him, as he flipped him over and worked the lube into him, made him slick and loose, until Puck was gasping with each thrust of his fingers.

"Tell me you want it," Finn said, although the question by now wasn't for the sake of permission; it was just fucking hot to see him that worked up. The words were falling out of Puck's mouth now, all the ways he wanted Finn to hold him down and take him in dizzying variation, while Finn made himself wait for it just one more second - one more -

And then, in one smooth stroke, he filled him, while Puck muffled his shouts in Finn's wadded-up sheets. Finn managed to last a scant few seconds more before his own release claimed him. He clasped him in his arms, straining into him.

"Mine," he said, and again, urgently: "mine."

"Yeah," mumbled Puck. His words were blurred and indistinct, face half-pressed into Finn's pillow. "Fucking right I am."

They didn't move much at all for several minutes afterwards, just enough for Finn to slip free and adjust his position, holding Puck more securely against his chest. He kissed Puck's ear.

"My boy," he dared to whisper, and felt Puck shudder, once. He craned his neck, anxiously watching his reaction. "If - if you want that."

"Want that," Puck whispered back, his lips trembling. "Want so many things."

Finn knew they didn't have to figure everything out tonight. They'd need to take small steps, to get back to anything like the way it had been. But it was a start. He'd said yours when Finn had said mine. He'd listened, and heard him, when Finn had opened up to him. However long it took, Finn could feel the boy in his arms, strong and solid and familiar. His boy.

"You can have that," Finn promised. "As long as you want it, you're mine."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=299UVPSEWBA

Drew a map of my heart
Painted it melancholy blue
And the biggest room is empty
And it's waiting for you
You can see where we've gone
How our paths twist like vines
But the valleys are so dark
 And the hills are sublime

Cause I know I hurt you bad
And this is not enough
And hearts are usually red
And the edges are too rough
And I'm trying to make amends here
And I don't know where to start
 So I'm giving you this map of my heart

Drawn this map of my heart
Drawn every single scar
When I close my eyes
I can feel exactly where they are
Drew a great room for forgiveness
And a big room for forgetting
Drew a great big room for mercy
 And the biggest for regretting

You can hang it on a wall, you can hide it in a drawer
But one thing you should know
It'll show you what's in store
So if you choose to tear it up and walk away from me
Well, I guess I'd understand
 Cause it's got no guarantee

Cause I know I hurt you bad
And this is not enough
And hearts are usually red
And the edges are too rough
And I'm trying to make amends here
And I don't know where to start
 So I'm giving you this map of my heart

- Lynn Miles, "Map of My Heart"