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When Finn’s phone starts vibrating in his pocket at the beginning of his statistics class, he pulls it out to check, since everyone important in his life knows his class schedule and wouldn’t call him during a math class unless it were important. He doesn’t recognize the number with a 513 area code, though, so he sends the call to voicemail and puts the phone back in his pocket. Five minutes later, his phone vibrates again, and when Finn checks, it’s the same 513 number. Ten minutes after he sends that call to voicemail, it vibrates again; once again, same unfamiliar 513 number. He finally puts the phone in the bottom of his backpack just to stop the damn thing from vibrating his butt off while he desperately tries to understand p values.

By the end of class, when Finn retrieves his phone from his backpack, he has eight missed calls from the 513 number, but not a single voicemail. Whoever wanted so badly to reach him during statistics must not have needed to actually speak to him. He chalks it up to a sales call or one of those “you have stayed in one of our hotels before and have been chosen for a free trip!” scam calls and doesn’t think about it again until he and Puck are eating dinner at the dining hall, when the phone starts vibrating again.

“Seriously?” Finn says, glaring at the 513 number displayed on his phone.

“Are you— no, you don’t have any bills to be late on, so you’re not avoiding a bill collector,” Puck says. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know, but this same number called me eight times during stats today,” Finn says. “No voicemail any time.”

“So answer it now?” Puck says. “Maybe they have the wrong number and they just need you to tell them.”

“Now I’m kind of annoyed with them, though,” Finn says. The call rolls into voicemail and, predictably, the caller doesn’t leave a message.

“Maybe it’s someone in jail and they need to be bailed out,” Puck guesses.

“I thought you got some kind of automated message for those. That would’ve been in my voicemail.”

“Yeah, and most people’d call your stepfather, not you, for bail.”

“513,” Finn says, frowning at his phone. “That’s Cinci, right?”

“Yeah, and pretty much only Cinci.”

Finn’s phone lights up and starts buzzing again. “Jesus Christ. What is this guy’s deal?” Finn says.

“Do you want me to answer it?” Puck asks.

“Nah, I guess I’ll just answer it and tell them I don’t want to buy anything and I don’t believe I’m getting anything for free,” Finn says. He answers the call. “Hello?”

“Is this Finn Christopher Hudson, born August 24, 1993?” a girl’s voice asks, sounding out of breath.

“Uh, yeah. This is him. He. Me. I’m him,” Finn says. “Who is this?”

“It’s Lexi. Alexis.” She pauses, as if Finn should know who she is.

“Okay. Lexi Alexis who?” Finn asks.

“Alexis Hudson,” she says slowly. “Kimberly’s daughter?”

Finn doesn’t know any Kimberlys, but the ‘Hudson’ part is familiar, at least. “Oh. So are you like a cousin or something?”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Alexis says. “She didn’t tell you at all?”

“She who? Kimberly? I don’t actually know Kimberly,” Finn says. “I’m sorry. Maybe you have the wrong Finn Hudson.”

“Your dad was Christopher, right?”

“Right,” Finn says, looking at Puck and mouthing ‘ready to go yet?’ at him. Puck nods, looking slightly concerned.

“Okay, yeah, you’re the right Finn Hudson,” Alexis says. “Kimberly, my mom, uh, was with your dad, when he came down to Cincinnati.”

“Uh, no, he wasn’t,” Finn says. “My mom’s name is Carole, Christopher’s wife.” He stands and puts his dinner trash on his tray, nodding towards the trash can to indicate that Puck should follow him.

“Yeah, I know. After that, after he left Lima, but before he died,” Alexis says. “You know about that at least, right?”

“Look,” Finn says, lowering his voice as much as he can and still have Alexis hear him over the ambient dining hall noise, “my dad went to Cincinnati to do drugs, not to have an affair, but thanks for calling to bring that up, whoever-you-are.”

“My mom did drugs, too!” Alexis says. “That’s… that’s another story. I was calling because I hoped you didn’t agree with your mom about me.”

Finn and Puck exit the dining hall, walking back towards their apartment just off campus. “I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to disagree or agree with or whatever with my mom about. I don’t have any idea who you are or what you’re talking about, other than supposedly your mom and my dad knew each other.”

“Your dad and my dad are the same person,” Alexis says. “And your mom didn’t want my mom or I around.”

“What?” Finn says loudly and stops walking. Puck stops too and raises his eyebrows.

“I’m your half-sister,” Alexis says.

“No, I don’t have a sister,” Finn says. “I’m an only child. Neither one of my parents had any other kids.”

“Sister?” Puck mouths. “Surprise sister?” Finn shrugs and shakes his head.

“I know it’s kind of gross to think about your parents like that, I get it, but I promise you, I’m the daughter of Christopher Hudson and Kimberly Miller.”

“That’s crazy. If I had a sister, or a half-sister, or any kind of amount of sister, I’d know about it,” Finn says. “My dad’s been dead for like 18 years. If I had a sister, somebody would’ve said something before now.”

“Who would have said anything?” Alexis asks reasonably. “I was born after Christopher died, in January 1995. My mom called Carole at least once while she was pregnant. I don’t really know how many times.”

“No, this is insane. If my mom knew, she would’ve said something,” Finn says. Puck reaches out and takes Finn’s hand gently.

“She didn’t want you and I to meet, so why would she have?” Alexis says. “I have a few of her responses to my mom and then to my grandmother later.”

Finn moves the phone away from his face as the ground sways under him. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick, maybe,” he whispers to Puck.

“Sit down,” Puck says, pulling Finn over to a bench nearby and pushing on his shoulders until Finn sits. “Do you need me to take the phone?” Finn nods weakly and relinquishes the phone when Puck puts his hand on it. Puck lifts it up and starts talking. “Hey, this is Noah Puckerman, who’s this?”

Finn closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to let the dizziness pass. Puck nods a few times at whatever Alexis is saying, then turns a little as he responds. He keeps conversing with her for what must be at least five minutes before Puck squats down in front of Finn.

“You want this back?” Puck asks quietly, waving the phone.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Finn says.

“Do you want to see her, see what you think then?” Puck asks, covering the phone with his other hand.

Finn shrugs. “I guess. I should. Shouldn’t I? That’s what I should do?”

“I know it’s not the same as with Jake,” Puck says, “but it can’t hurt, right?”

“I guess,” Finn says. He sighs and holds his hand out. “Okay, give me the phone.” Puck nods and hands it back. “Hello again. It’s Finn.”

“Hi again,” Alexis says. “Your… friend? said you just needed a few moments. I guess I did lay a lot on you at once.”

“Yeah. Jesus. Okay. So, what happens now? Do we, like, meet in person or something?” Finn asks.

“I can probably answer more of your questions that way,” Alexis says. “Are you still in Lima? I can drive up on my off day. That’s Thursday.”

“Yeah. Can I text you at this number? I could text you an address,” Finn says, “and I don’t mean to be a jerk or anything, but if you’ve got, I don’t know, pictures or something? Like some kind of proof you are who you say you are? Because this is all really crazy.”

“Yeah, I’ll bring what I have,” Alexis says. “Plus if your public Facebook photo looks at all like you, we kind of look alike.”

“You found my Facebook?”

“I had to wait until after I was eighteen to contact you, so I found out as much as I could.” She pauses. “Then I chickened out for a few months.”

“Oh damn, we’re really close together in age, aren’t we?” Finn asks. “Oh that’s so weird. This is so weird.”

“Sorry,” Alexis says, sounding like she almost means it. “Shit, I have to get back to work. Text me that address.”

“Yeah, okay. Bye, I guess?” Finn says.

“Bye!” Alexis says, then the line goes dead.

“Jesus fucking Christ this is all really really messed up,” Finn says loudly, not necessarily directly to Puck.

Puck drops down on the bench beside Finn. “Pretty much,” he agrees.

“My dad had another kid,” Finn says. “And my mom knew about it? This is crazy.”

“That’s the gist of the story as I understood it, yeah,” Puck says. “She seemed pretty sure.”

“Oh man,” Finn says. He lets his phone drop onto the bench and puts both hands over his face. Puck wraps his arm around Finn’s shoulders and scoots a little closer, pulling Finn against his side. Finn leans against Puck for a few seconds before giving up and just full-on slumping against him, his head on Puck’s shoulder.

Puck holds him silently for awhile, then squeezes Finn tighter before speaking. “What address are you going to text her?”

“I don’t know,” Finn says, muffled by his hands over his face. “Do we want her to come to our apartment? I can’t tell her to go to my mom’s house!”

“We can meet her at a restaurant or something if you want to,” Puck says. “Or the apartment. I’m good either way.”

“What if this is some kind of scam?” Finn asks.

“Did she ask for money?”

“No,” Finn says. “But she might later, right?”

Puck’s shoulder shrugs. “Yeah, but until she does, it’s a weird scam.”

“What if she wants, like, family heirlooms?”

“You have family heirlooms?” Puck asks incredulously.

“No, but she doesn’t know that!” Finn says.

“She can probably guess that’s a no, though,” Puck says. “What about Breadstix? We could meet her there. Or the Denny’s.”

“Yeah, maybe we should start at a restaurant,” Finn says. “If it goes okay, she can come to the apartment.” He uncovers his face and sighs loudly. “Do I tell my mom about this? Or, god, do I ask her about any of it?”

“She didn’t tell you about what happened to your dad until you were eighteen,” Puck points out. “Maybe hear this Alexis out and then work up a list of questions for your mom, depending on what you think of Alexis and her story?”

“I don’t know what to do about all of this,” Finn says, turning his face against Puck’s neck.

“You don’t have to do anything yet. I’ll text her for you, even,” Puck offers. “And there’s no point thinking about it until Thursday, right?”

“I guess. I mean, we both know I’m gonna obsess over this until Thursday no matter what.”

Puck snorts. “Well, yeah, but if you forget to obsess for a couple of hours tomorrow, you don’t have to feel guilty. Ready to head back?”

“Yeah. I think I want to lie down for a while,” Finn says.

“Totally doable,” Puck says, standing and pulling Finn up with him, then steering him down the sidewalk towards the apartment without saying anything else as they walk. He unlocks the door and pushes it open. “Your bed awaits,” he says jokingly.

Finn laughs a little, half-heartedly. “What about you? You working on anything?”

It’s kind of a loaded question, in the sense that sometimes Puck comes over to Finn’s room for a while or Finn goes over to Puck’s and they fool around, but it’s not too loaded, because it’s not something that happens all the time or every day, and it hasn’t turned into anything serious. Neither of them seem to feel any kind of urgency about it, and why should they? They have no reason to rush. Things can develop how they develop, or they can start a little and then stop if it doesn’t seem like that’s the right direction for them to go, and in the meantime, it’s fun.

“Nothing that can’t wait,” Puck says as he pushes the door shut behind them.

“Did you want to maybe…” Finn jerks his head towards his bedroom. “Help me forget to obsess or something?”

“Yeah,” Puck says, grinning at Finn and taking a step towards Finn’s bedroom.

“Oh thank god,” Finn says. He loops his arm around Puck’s waist and pulls him into the bedroom with him. They don’t shut the door, because there’s no point. Finn uses the convenient arm around Puck’s waist to haul him close enough to kiss. Puck laughs against his lips, throwing his arm over Finn’s shoulders. Everything with Puck is so easy, no stress or worry, so Finn doesn’t mind if Puck laughs. He keeps kissing him anyway.

Puck tugs Finn closer to his bed, their lips still connected. Finn lets Puck get them to the bed. He works on Puck’s belt buckle with one hand, and as soon as the belt is unbuckled, Puck’s stupid baggy jeans fall down. This time, Finn is the one laughing in the middle of the kiss.

“You like that, huh?” Puck asks, barely moving his lips away to speak.

“Just buy new jeans that fit better,” Finn says, still smiling. “I’ll buy them for you, I keep telling you.”

“Then you’d be sad it took more than just unbuckling.”

Finn shrugs. “I’m not afraid of hard work.”

“Uh-huh,” Puck says, reaching for Finn’s waist.

“I’m not,” Finn says. “And pants that fit better would look so good.” He reaches around to grab Puck’s ass and briefly thanks 14-year-old Puck for his decision to go commando and never look back.

“Yeah, but usually I’m walking beside you, not in front of you,” Puck says as he pulls Finn’s zipper down.

“Sometimes you walk faster than me because I’m thinking,” Finn says.

“No thinking,” Puck says, flicking the button on Finn’s jeans open and then pushing his hand inside Finn’s boxers. Finn moans, then laughs at himself for being so easy.

“Not thinking now,” Finn says. He squeezes Puck’s ass. “See?”

“Good,” Puck says, tightening his hand around Finn’s dick and stroking up a few times before running his thumb over the tip. “Very good.”

“Yeah, it is good,” Finn says, squeezing Puck’s ass one more time before letting it go and giving Puck a gentle shove onto the bed. Finn’s immediately on top of him, kissing him hard, more aggressive than their usual making out. Puck returns the kiss with equal force, the hand not on Finn’s dick landing on Finn’s hip and pulling down. Finn lets himself be pulled, and Puck’s hand ends up almost trapped between them, still wrapped around Finn’s dick, with Finn more or less fucking Puck’s hand.

“Yeah, like that,” Puck says, almost like he’s coaxing Finn along. “Exactly like that.”

“Shit, this is gonna be fast,” Finn admits, moving his hips quicker and thrusting harder into Puck’s hand.

“I like it,” Puck says, tightening his fingers just slightly.

“You like me to be easy.”

“Fast’s not the same as easy,” Puck says, but he doesn’t sound like he’s really arguing.

“Mmhmm,” Finn says. He closes his eyes and kisses Puck again, rough this time, catching Puck’s lower lip between his teeth. He only has to thrust a few more times before he’s coming in Puck’s hand. After a few moments pass, Puck wiggles his hand out from between them, both of his hands settling just above Finn’s hips.

“Might’ve been both, though,” Puck says.

“Aw, shut up,” Finn says, eyes still closed. “You’re easy, too.”

“Never said otherwise,” Puck points out, rolling his hips up against Finn. Finn moves slightly off of Puck, enough that he can wrap his hand around Puck’s dick and start jerking him off with what Puck sometimes refers to as ‘rapid dedication’.

“Easy’s good,” Finn says. “Fast’s good, too.”

“Fast ’n easy,” Puck says, then starts to say something else before he shakes his head slightly and moves his hips faster, pushing into Finn’s hand.

“Hmm?” Finn slows his hand down slightly. “You need to say something else?”

“No,” Puck says, with a slight whine in his voice.

“Yeah, okay,” Finn says, moving his hand faster again. He presses his lips to Puck’s neck, licking and biting the spot right over his pulse. Puck lets out another low whine, then comes with a little bit of a shake before relaxing under Finn. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Puck says. “You?”


“Good,” Puck says, squeezing Finn’s hips gently.

Finn reaches across Puck and wipes his hands on the sheet. “You feel like taking a nap?”

“Nap’s good too,” Puck agrees.

“Cool,” Finn says, and closes his eyes, head resting against Puck’s shoulder, his face almost pressed into Puck’s neck.

Finn falls asleep pretty quickly, and the two of them must sleep for a long time, because when he opens his eyes, it’s dark out, and quiet, which means probably after 11. He rolls off of Puck to look for his jeans and retrieve his phone. Sure enough, 12:35.

“Puck,” Finn whispers. “Hey, Puck.”

“Moonbeams,” Puck mutters.

“You staying in here tonight?”


“Yeah, okay,” Finn says quietly. “Night.”

He lies back down next to Puck and snuggles in a little to get comfortable. Now that he’s awake, he’s not really tired anymore, and he realizes he never sent Alexis the address. Puck is still dead to the world, and she’s—maybe, supposedly, allegedly—Finn’s sister, so he makes the executive decision that Breadstix is way too big a deal and that Denny’s is much lower key, so he looks up the Denny’s address and texts it to the number Alexis called him from. He can’t make himself add her to his contacts. Not yet.

A sister. His dad’s other kid. Finn can’t quite make that stick. Of all the things his mom ever said about his dad, which admittedly were only the good things until his senior year of high school, nothing she ever told him made him believe his dad had another kid, or would have another kid, or would ever be in a situation where he could have had another kid. Christopher was an addict, but Finn’s mom never said he was a cheater. Still, if what Alexis claims is true, then not only was Christopher a cheater, but Carole knew and didn’t tell Finn anything, not even that he had a sister out there somewhere.

“This is all so messed up,” Finn says to himself. “So very, very messed up.”

Puck shifts in his sleep, rolling even closer to Finn.“Smithereens.”

Finn laughs quietly. “You are the weirdest sleeper I ever met,” he tells Puck. He makes himself put the phone down and close his eyes again, and just concentrate on Puck next to and slightly underneath him. Puck smells good, and he’s warm, and he’s safe and good, and after that, Finn doesn’t really have that hard a time falling back to sleep.