I opened a new file, at 2 am, to write my paper about geodesics and then it turned into Pinn fanfic and suddenly they were miggylol's Special series' (you should check it on AO3 or tumblr) Finn and Puck. And I still managed to keep them really OOc! :D
[I honestly don't fully remember writing it]
He doesn't know how'd it happened, well, of course he does know how did it happened, it's not like it was really fast (kinda surprising) or frantic or rushed (even more surprising… and weird), but he doesn't know why or how did they come from blowing people's heads on screen to that… five times, in one night. Okay, one afternoon, one evening, one night, and a really early morning, which is probably why he's the first to wake up at 2:30 in the afternoon.
But seriously, he feels like someone needs to explain it to him: they were on the couch just playing videogames as they always do on their days off, as rare as they are, and then they were making out. Shirts were lost and some straddling was done, that dragged out for about an hour at least. A dick was sucked and an attempt to blow the other was made, but, y'know, too dangerous. Finally, they stood up and Finn guided him to the bedroom, mouth on neck and hands on hips (and dick slightly pressing against his cheeks). And, once the door closed –totally ridiculous, like, you live alone dude—, that's where things got a little desperate and frantic, but nothing he couldn't take… and not bad at all! He is not as surprised as he thought he would be, if he had ever thought about it.
Now he doesn't know what to do, what's he gonna say when he wake up? Maybe he shouldn't say anything, he probably doesn't have to. But he doesn't know what to think either, and that's the real problem. He's pretty certain it's not love, even if he considered it for a second during the fourth time when his face was burrowed on the pillow and ass up in the air, strong hands bruising (or trying to) his hips and pawing his sides and chest and a surprisingly skilled mouth doing things to his neck, and back, and ears and anything it could reach; but it's not nothing, either. They've been friend since they were kids, and have always been there for each other, except for those horrible high school years he sometimes like to pretend are an implanted memory too. And Finn's been there since Kurt's… you know. And was there in the not-as-bad-as-it-could-have-been we-need-time-for-ourselves not-break-up-that-totally-is-a-break-up. But it's been almost two years since Kurt's been gone and it stills feels like he's betraying him and now he's overanalyzing… and there's movement on the bed!
Finn's is looking at him with that stupid half smirk that's even dumber when is affected by sleep , and his eyes are kind of glowing and he knows it's not because of the Manhattan sun: he knows, and Puck knows he know, but what does he know? He wishes he knew.
Finn moves to sit up, but he is noticeably uncomfortable –he found a special condom in his wallet for the third time, that Emma chick's done a good job getting him to not overthink things and just go with the flow—so he just rolls on his side to face him.
-Shouldn't you be getting ready for work?
-I should have been at work eight hours ago, but you wake up and decided to not let me go—he just grins as a response, the bastard
-Fiiiine — He says while he stands ups—Come on! Let's go make some waffles and then we can get some coffee—He half-smiles before wiggling his eyebrows and getting out of the room into the living room
Was that supposed to be a euphemism for sex, god he's so bad at this. And yet, if this goes on he'll be screwed pretty soon.
-No if you don't hurry and help me with these waffles
...
Yes, Finn is kind of a telepath