Chapter Text
It was nearly dawn when the sound of crashing thunder woke Finn. His body felt loose, relaxed. He looked out the window at the gray light of morning filtering through the heavy clouds outside, and smiled. There had been no dreams. No dreams. He'd slept comfortably in Puck's bed, uninterrupted. Light hangover notwithstanding, it felt amazing to be rested.
The events of last night drifted into his memory, and a smile came unbidden to his lips as he remembered Puck's words. Yeah, we're cool.
Then he heard a gasp, and he rolled over to see Puck on the floor, huddled in his sleeping bag, curled into a ball. Puck's eyes were squeezed tightly closed, and there was a line of tension, almost pain, in the middle of his forehead.
"Puck?"
He didn't respond, but as lightning and thunder came again, almost on top of one another, Finn watched Puck shrink into himself, and a cry of wordless terror escaped him.
He's still asleep, Finn thought, and he's scared out of his mind.
Finn scrambled out of bed and reached for Puck's shoulder, then hesitated. He'd heard once it was a bad idea to wake a sleepwalker. Was this kind of dream state equally dangerous to wake from? Finn didn't know, but he thought it would be better not to risk it.
"C'mon, man," he muttered, wrestling Puck's sleeping form onto the bed, cradling him in his sleeping bag like a cocoon between his legs and on his chest. The lightning struck again, and the thunder tore another cry from Puck, then a shuddering breath. Finn whispered inanities and rocked his friend in a mindless rhythm: It's okay, you're all right, nothing's going to hurt you, you're okay.
He wondered why Puck was so scared of the noise and lights of the storm. He wondered how he could have known Puck so well, for so much of his life, and still not know this thing about him. It worried him. He wondered what other things about Puck might still be hidden to him, and this worried him most of all.
He held Puck tighter in the dim light of the stormy dawn, watching the tears leaking from between his closed eyes, feeling his breath slowing, the pace of his heart calming. Finn wiped Puck's snotty, tear-streaked face with the side of his hand. He touched the shaved part of Puck's head with one finger because he'd always wanted to know how it felt. It was rough, like sandpaper, but the skin was softer than he'd expected.
He thought suddenly, I want to know everything about him. All the secrets, all the messy stuff. All of it.
Even as Puck's body relaxed, Finn could feel his own body waking up. The slippery casing of the sleeping bag brushed against his thighs and stomach, with predictable results. Through the bag he could feel Puck's firm muscles and compact form, so different from the bodies he'd held before. Puck smelled like sweat and musk, and he didn't think he'd ever expected that combination of smells to be so fascinating to his nose.
Puck's face turned in sleep toward Finn's, just inches away, close enough for Finn to feel the faint breath of his exhalation. Though his forehead still bore lines of worry, the fear was gone. Finn felt a loosening in his chest, as though something might be breaking out, something long held and protected now set free.
He pressed dry lips to Puck's forehead, and when he pulled away, Puck's hazel eyes were looking up at him.
"Hey," said Puck softly.
"Hey," said Finn. "You were… I think you were having a bad dream."
"Mmmm." Puck's lips twisted. "Yeah. I remember."
"Your dad?" he guessed.
He dropped his gaze. "Yeah," he repeated.
It occurred to Finn that Puck was essentially sitting in his lap, and neither of them were scrambling to change this situation. He wondered why this didn't seem to bother Puck. "Do you want to… talk about it?"
Puck's expression was incredulous. "I promise, you don't want to hear about that."
"No, I do! I… I mean, if you want to talk, I want to listen." Finn took a breath. "There are things friends shouldn't keep from each other."
Puck looked at him sharply. "Um. Okay," he said. "But I should probably get up and shower first. I'm pretty sure even friends don't want to share my morning breath and stinky pits."
I don't mind, Finn thought, but his limited filter kicked in before he could say it. Instead he unwrapped his arms and moved back to allow Puck to extract himself from the sweaty sleeping bag. He tried not to grin when he noticed he wasn't the only one with morning wood, but decided now was not the time to hit Puck with this observation.
Finn knew better than to try to make breakfast for Puck, but he got some oranges out of the fridge and sliced them in half, knowing Puck would transform them into the most delicious orange juice. He cleaned up the family room and tossed out the empty donut box. He brushed his teeth. He tried to feel anxious about all the stuff that had happened between them last night. He couldn't. Puck said they were cool, and he meant it.
Puck emerged from the shower looking relaxed, but subdued. He mixed batter for sweet cheese blintzes (my favorite, Finn thought happily) in silence, and even let Finn make the cheese filling, walking him through the recipe. He fried up some bacon and filled the pancakes with cheese filling as Finn sat at the counter, waiting.
"So how come you eat bacon if you're Jewish?"
Puck gave him a wan smile. "We don't eat milk and meat together either. Or get tattoos, or piercings. Guess I'm going to hell. Not that we believe in that either."
Finn sat next to Puck and cut into a blintz. "So… what do you remember about your dad? He left when you were pretty young, right?"
Puck nodded. "I was eight or nine when my mom and dad split up. I saw him a little bit after that, but he took off about a year later. Do you remember him at all? That was before you came over to my house much."
Finn thought. "I remember a big guy with huge muscles and a bald head. Was that him?"
"Mmmm." Puck swallowed a bite of blintz. "He lost his job when I was six and he didn't leave the house much after that. My mom went to nursing school full time, and he watched us at home after school." Puck's hands stilled, and he closed his eyes.
"Puck?"
He shook his head. "It's OK… it's just hard, remembering some of it. I didn't remember a lot of it until last year."
"I know what you mean. Sometimes I think we wait to look at the big, heavy stuff until we're really ready for it."
Puck thought about that. "Huh."
Finn paused. "Did he… I mean, did he ever…"
"He would hit us when we were bad," Puck said without emotion. "With his fists, and his belt. My mom, too. One time he slapped her and I remember tackling him, trying to bring him down, but the guy was like a brick wall. I didn't go to school the next day."
Finn felt the blintz and juice curdle in his stomach. "God, Puck."
"My sister was too young to remember it, but my brother and I, we used to make plans to poison him or rig his car to crash, so he wouldn't hurt us anymore. But we were just too scared in the end. My brother, he'd cover his head and hide in the bedroom so he wouldn't get hurt too bad, and we'd cover our ears so we couldn't hear it when he punished somebody else."
Finn reached across the table and touched Puck on the back of his hand. Puck grabbed his hand, tightly, fiercely, then let go.
"I think…" Puck was very quiet now. "I think there was… other stuff, too, but I can't really remember it." He looked across the kitchen. "I'm pretty sure that's why my brother left, a few years ago. He got really angry all of a sudden at my mom and took off." He rubbed his eyes, one short, quick swipe. "This is the biggest reason I don't want to be a dad, Finn. I don't want to end up like him. I don't want to treat my own kids like they're less than dirt."
"You won't, Puck! Someday you'll be a great dad." Finn was shocked. "You would never do that to a kid. Never."
Puck shook his head and smiled. It was an actual smile. Finn wasn't sure he'd ever seen that on Puck's face before. "You always see the best in me," he said, and his voice cracked.
"Well, that's because I'm so smart," Finn said, deadpan. Puck busted a gut, which was what Finn was hoping he'd do, and relaxed a little.
They cleaned up the dishes quietly, so as not to wake Puck's mom, and when Puck stuck a Ziploc bag with the last blintz in Finn's duffel when he thought Finn wasn't looking, Finn made his decision. He approached Puck and made him look at him.
"I'm going to hug you now," he said frankly. "And it's not going to be weird. Because you're my friend, and I… we're cool."
He wrapped his arms around a stunned Puck, and held him tight for several long moments. Puck hesitated, then, tentatively, hugged back. It felt warm and sweet and comforting, like--
Like a donut, Finn thought dreamily. A cake donut. I love… donuts.
Finn arrived on time at Kurt's house with a box of half a dozen freshly made cake donuts. Kurt's dad answered the door.
"Can I help you?" he asked guardedly.
"Um, I'm Finn," he said, holding out his hand. Kurt's dad shook it. "I'm here to see Kurt."
Kurt's dad's eyebrows went up under his baseball cap, but he let Finn in instead of making him stand outside in the rain. Kurt emerged from the basement, looking surprised, but he graciously introduced his father as "Burt Hummel," and Finn as "my friend from Glee and football."
Burt nodded. "Oh, yeah, you're the quarterback. I knew I'd seen you before. You're in Glee?" He squinted at Finn. "Huh. Well, can I get you anything? I see you brought breakfast."
"Oh, these are for Kurt. I already ate." He passed the box to Kurt, who peeked inside, then, smiling widely, offered one to his dad. Burt looked inside and shook his head.
"Sorry, I only like the puffy kind. Those are too heavy for my taste."
Finn grinned at Kurt, who cocked an eyebrow, that clearly meant, See? What did I tell you?
"Dad, we're going downstairs now, and before you even say anything, I want you to know Finn is always a perfect gentleman. And we'll keep the door open."
Burt scowled, but he didn't object as the two boys headed down the stairs. "It's good to meet you, sir," called Finn, as they disappeared around the corner.
"Your dad's nice," he said to Kurt.
"Yeah, he's pretty great," Kurt agreed. "My mom died when I was eight, and he's been all the parent a kid could need since then."
"Wow, that's rough," Finn grimaced. "My dad died when I was really little. I barely remember him."
"Another thing we have in common, hmm?" said Kurt, looking pointedly at the donuts.
Finn blushed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Um. Yeah. I guess so."
"So, how did it go last night?"
"It was good, I think. Except I didn't get a clear answer about the, um, the donut test."
"Oh?" Kurt sat and offered a chair. "What exactly happened?"
"He… ate my donuts. The ones I picked out. Stole them off my plate."
Kurt stared, then laughed. "Really?"
"Yeah. I took one of each, one yeast and one cake, and he ate them both. Then when I asked him which one was better, he said he just liked donuts and he didn't want to choose."
"Wow." Kurt took a donut and bit into it delicately, watching Finn. "Sounds like a pretty clear answer to me."
"Uh, really? 'Cause I was kind of confused by it."
"Well, did you get any other… evidence as to his orientation?"
Finn remembered. The foot massage. The nightmare. The hug. His face flamed, and he caught his breath, then smiled. "Yeah… I think I did."
Kurt looked interestedly at Finn's burning cheeks. "Hmmmm. I think you'd better not tell me any more right now. Only... what do you think you're going to do, now that you know?"
"That's the thing I'm not sure about," he admitted. "I know for sure that he's not just a friend. But he is my friend. And if I'm going to keep being his friend, I need to take it at his pace. So what if that means ignoring all the other stuff?"
"Well, I can tell you that if he's your friend, he would appreciate hearing the truth from you," Kurt said. "Even if that truth is difficult."
Finn rubbed his brow. "I really like what we have now, though. I don't want to wreck it."
"Even if you have the chance at something even better?"
He thought for a moment, then nodded. Kurt sighed.
"Well, I imagine you'll figure it out along the way. You are honest, thoughtful, honorable and kind. I suspect you'll manage to enrich your friendship, even if you don't have all that other stuff." He smiled. "If he still doesn't want you, with all of that, hell, he doesn't deserve you."
Finn looked shyly at Kurt. "You think I'm all those things? You barely know me."
"Oh, I know you, Finn," Kurt assured him. "The question is, do you know yourself?" He cocked his head to one side. "What was the verdict of your own donut test? Are you strictly him-sexual, or do other donuts stand a chance?"
"I haven't had any thoughts… like the ones I've had about him… about any other guys," Finn admitted. "So I don't really know, yet."
Kurt bit his lip. "I hesitate to offer this, because I don't want to give you the wrong idea about my intentions," he began, then stopped, and shook his head. "No, never mind."
Finn was intrigued despite himself. "What is it?"
Kurt turned to face him. "I was pretty aggressively pursuing you for a while, Finn. But there's no way I'd stand in the way of someone figuring out his sexual orientation. I want to be perfectly clear that I would not, and I will not, interfere with your pursuit of the boy you love."
Finn's chest hitched a little at the L-word, but he smiled gratefully at Kurt's impassioned speech. "That's really nice to hear, man."
"Aaaaand," Kurt went on, "I also acknowledge from past experience that it might be… useful for you to know whether or not your interest in cake donuts extends past the one flavor you have lusted for."
"Sure," Finn agreed.
"So, to that end, and strictly in the interests of helping you, I offer myself as a test subject."
"Excuse me, what?" Finn paused, looking at Kurt in confusion.
"You can kiss me if you want," Kurt explained.
"Oh. Oh!" Finn was startled. He considered Kurt nervously. "That's, um, a really… kind offer, and you're a nice guy, Kurt, but… I don't think I'm ready for that. With anybody."
"I completely understand," Kurt said graciously. "I will take your rejection in the spirit in which it was given." He led Finn over to a wall of DVDs, mostly Broadway musicals and old black and white movies, and gestured grandly. "Now, I seem to recall the selection of a movie was entrusted to me?"
"Sure," said Finn. "Whatever it is, it can't be worse than watching Sleepless in Seattle six times."
"Oh, I don't know," Kurt mused, and he pulled out an absolutely flawless imitation of Billy Crystal, saying, "There is too much pepper in my paprikash… but I would be proud to partake of your pecan pie."
Finn laughed, honestly impressed. "You are a man of many talents, Kurt Hummel."
"You have no idea, Finn Hudson," he beamed.