“No, Brittany, I don’t know anything about the chances of cats curing PTSD,” Quinn said pointedly, shooting a pained look at Mercedes as she did. “Where do you get these ideas?”
Her friend chattered away about how she was so certain Lord Tubbington had made Finn ‘like a million percent better’, and Quinn bit back a sigh. Why was it always she that got the untold joy of dealing with Brittany’s inanities? Come to think of it, hadn’t she called Kurt?
“Why did you answer Kurt’s phone?” She asked Brittany tiredly, when a quick check on the display of her phone’s screen confirmed her belief. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” she responded. “Kurtsie is having a fashion crisis, he keeps talking about Grimace and cats and puffy vests,” she informed her, clearly repeating Kurt’s words verbatim. “You should see the cape Blaine bought him. I told him that it was ugly when he picked it out for him at the store.”
She sighed. “How is Finn doing?” She asked, trying to retain the hope that she may be able to salvage a thread of sanity in the conversation. A spark of hope entered her mind. Perhaps Finn was home. Surely he could spare a moment for his good friend Quinn. She loved Brittany, but she certainly wasn’t prepared for Brittany’s quirks at that moment. “Actually, is Finn home?”
“Yes, he and Rachel are being boring again,” the response came.
She decided she didn’t want to know. “May I speak to him?” Her tone was pained, and she hoped Brittany didn’t notice. “Is he up for a conversation?”
Mercy had the gall to snicker at her, and she smacked her on the shoulder, slightly harder than actually needed. Be quiet, she hissed, as the clueless former Cheerio did everything besides getting her Finn.
“I think he’s awake,” she heard, hearing Brittany open a door. “He was talking to Kurtsie earlier.”
Ah, Quinn thought. That explained the puffy vests comment. “Wait, what are you doing?” She asked, dreading the sound of what she unfortunately recognized as Brittany attempting to be quiet. “Brittany?” She queried. Her friend made a shushing sound. Quinn felt a wary sense of unease. “Brittany?” She demanded, in a sharper tone than before. Another shushing sound and Quinn had had enough. “Brittany, why are you telling me to be quiet?”
“Because I think they are sleeping,” she informed her, in a rather loud stage whisper. “I’m not sure, though. So I was going to check.”
"Stop!," Quinn demanded, in a rather harsh tone. "Don't check to see if they are awake. Do not disturb them, Brittany." She let out a harsh breath, leveling her gaze at her still snickering roommate. "Let them rest."
"But you wanted to talk to Finn!," Brittany protested, rather faintly.
"No, I wanted to...," she trailed off, not wanting to be rude to the other woman. "Why don't you tell Finn or Kurt or somebody human that I called when they are free?"
"Okay," she said. "Santana says she wants to kick Runt Nut's ass," she informed her. "Does she mean Blaine?"
Quinn sighed. Why did Santana always resort to violence and why did she always get the joy of explaining Santana to Brittany?
Blaine was late, Kurt noted, not at all approving of that decision of his boyfriend's. Honestly, were the situations reversed, he would have been begging for Blaine's forgiveness. So it made sense that Blaine did not see fit to do the same. Kurt was therefore very annoyed.
Add in the fact that he had observed romantic gestures between both of his housemates and their significant others, and his mood was dour indeed. It made sense that Finn and Rachel would be cuddly and loved up, he had rationalized. After all, Finn had just come back from the Middle East, Rachel was pregnant, and they were a happily married couple. Plus Finn was the human equal to a puppy dog. He would cuddle with an inanimate object if he had nothing better to do.
Kurt had been satisfied with Finn and Rachel being abnormal, until he noticed that Santana and Brittany were not, as he though on first glance, getting their sweet lady kisses on on his couch, but rather curled up, feeding each other strawberries. Blaine barely even kissed him anymore.
He didn't even remember the last time Blaine had posted anything about him on Facebook.
But, the lateness was the last straw, he had decided. Ten minutes had turned to twenty which had turned to thirty. He wondered if he had been stood up.
"What are you doing here?," Blaine demanded, eying the taller man that filled his doorway with wariness. "Kurt's not here," he informed him.
"I know that, Blaine," Finn replied, clenching his fists by his sides as he did. "Do you know why I know that?"
Of course Blaine knew why he knew that, but he certainly wasn't going to say or admit to anything out loud, especially not to the hulking 21 year old. He hoped that his companion for the evening had the sense to stay in his bedroom. He really didn't relish the thought of Finn beating him up for daring to cheat on wonderful Kurt.
"Don't tell me he expected me to actually discuss things with him," Blaine snorted, rolling his eyes at the thought. "I have nothing to say to him on the subject of my feelings towards you. You should have been prepared to handle what you saw in that ridiculous war."
"The war wasn't ridiculous!," Finn exclaimed, and Blaine saw fire in his eyes. "I believe in the Army, I believe in myself, we did not fight a ridiculous war! People like you are the reason people are against the war!"
"Then why do you interrupt my sleep?," he asked, drolly.
Finn opened his mouth, clearly about to drop some more right wing propaganda, when his jaw dropped, and he jabbed his finger into a spot on Blaine's neck.
"That's lipstick," he breathed. "That's lipstick, and that's a hickey. You cheated on my brother with a drag queen? You cheated on my brother?!" Finn's voice had risen to thundering levels, and Blaine found himself being lifted up by the shirt collar, suddenly eye to eye with a very angry former soldier. "I don't give two shits what you think about me, you cheated on Kurt!"
"A woman," he muttered, not sure if that would worsen the situation or better it. "She's not a drag queen."
"You asshole!," Finn exclaimed, releasing him with way too much force, causing him to bounce off the ground. "Wasn't your little stunt with my Rachel enough? Now you're doing it again?"
"I lied to him!," he tried to explain, though Finn looked like he didn't have any interest in hearing the explanation. "I'm bisexual, Finn. It's allowed."
Finn's boot clad foot connected with him in a very sensitive area, and he moaned loudly in pain. "That's for lying to my brother, the entire time you've been together. And I don't think bisexual is a secret code for hoeing around."
"You can't tell him," he threatened, though his attempt was sort of pathetic since he was moaning in pain and was pretty sure his ability to have children was compromised.
Finn snorted like a bull, and he stared down at him in disbelief. "You're kidding me, right? You take six years of my brother's life, you lie to him for six years, you cheat on him and you think it's okay! You're a piece of shit, and Kurt deserves better." He shook his head. "But, you're right," he said. "I can't tell him."
"You will," he said. "And if you don't, I can kill you without anyone suspecting a thing."