Finn Hudson sat on his bed, stared at his feet, breathed deeply. He'd been there for a while now, trying to figure out what to say to Kurt. He really wasn't good at this kind of thing. While he would have gladly and without hesitation beat someone up who dared mess with his brother, he was much less comfortable giving Kurt the kind of support he preferred, emotional support. And that was why he could never replace Mercedes, or even Rachel. Finn had seen them together. They giggled, and talked about boys and feelings. Finn had never seen a guy like that, and he didn't think it had anything to do with the fact that Kurt was gay. It was just him, and it was wonderful, but Finn found, totally not relatable to. And that was why he could pace his room all he wanted, mentally beating up each and every one of those idiots who had thought it would be funny to elect his brother as prom queen. But it wouldn't do any good.
And so finally, when he could really procrastinate no longer, he rose and headed for Kurt's room.
He knocked on the door tentatively. Finn had always been more of a barger than a knocker, but he'd learned the hard way to revise that habit, after accidentally walking in on Kurt and Blaine. They hadn't been doing anything but flipping through some magazines, but Kurt had accused him of "ruining the moment", and given him the cold shoulder for a week.
Ok, so Kurt wasn't answering. Maybe he was fine, Finn realized. He'd faced up to his tormenters, showed them they couldn't break him. He'd even gotten in a romantic dance with Blaine. Maybe he was talking to Blaine right now, and Finn would just be a nuisance by coming in. He was just about to turn and leave, when an unreadable, deadpan voice called out "come in".
A little ashamed at himself for being such a coward, Finn entered Kurt's room. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Hey".
"Hello Finn." Kurt was sort of burrowed in a corner of his room, magazines scattered around him. But were they magazines? Finn looked closer, and realize they were actually photo albums. He could just make out a very fashionable 8 year old sitting on a smiling young woman's shoulders. He reddened, feeling like he was interrupting something. Kurt was staring, expectantly.
Do you um, do you wanna talk or anything?" Kurt looked up at his brother with what Finn was pretty sure was an "I fully appreciate your attempt your social awkwardness and help me out here" look. There was a moment of silence. Finally, Kurt spoke. "Do you ever wish you could just be six again?"
Finn raised an eyebrow. "Not really. Do you know how much work it took to get Quinn? I really don't want to be back to square one with that".
Kurt looked unimpressed by Finn's attempt at humor. "But that's what I'm saying! Things were so much simpler when you only had a hazy idea of the difference between a boy and a girl, or how babies were made."
"And all girls had cooties", added Finn, beginning to catch on.
"Mmm" Kurt nodded. They both smiled. Suddenly Finn's eye's widened, and he hopped up from his awkward little squat above Kurt. He had a plan. "C'mon Kurt, grab a sweater and follow me, we're going out."
Kurt's eyes widened. "Out? Finn Hudson, are you mad? It's 12:30, dad and Carole will freak!"
Finn waved him off. "I'll leave a note. Just-trust me on this one, ok?" Kurt stared. Looking back, he had no idea what had possessed him at that moment. Maybe he'd just never seen his stepbrother so intensely into something before. What ever it was, he decided to go with it. He headed for his sweater collection. Kurt, Finn was soon to discover, didn't really do "grab a sweater." After what seemed to Finn like forever, he cleared his throat impatiently. "Can't you just take something warm?" Kurt glared like this was the most preposterous idea he'd ever heard, but chose something apparently suitable and followed him out the door.
Once they were out in the cool night air, Kurt instinctively headed for the car. There was really only one place of any relevance with in walking distance of their house, and that was the convenience store. And if Finn was putting him through all this just because of a late night junk food craving, then so help him god...
But Finn just shook his head and nodded at the two bikes that lay, unused in the garage. They had found them there when the moved in, and no one had had the heart to get rid of them. There was something sad about them, like a lost mitten. "I don't know about you, but I wasn't driving when I was six", Finn explained.
Kurt shook his head incredulously. "You better hope I've improved at this since I was a kid, or else we'll both be making the return trip from wherever we're going in an ambulance", he muttered as he mounted the bike. They rode mostly in silence, Kurt venturing a guess to where they were headed now and then. "The mall?", he tried.
"Nope. That's where the big kids hung out, remember?"
"Someone's house?"
"At this hour?
Finally, kurt realized where they were headed. The playground. Turf of every town citizen under the age of 10. The little park was encircled by a low, easily jumped fence. Stil, Kurt was pretty sure he'd felt the knee of his skinny jeans tear when they leaned their bikes on the fence and climbed.
Strangely enough though, he found himself not caring. And those were his best pair. He took in his surroundings, swallowing a lump in his throat. He hadn't been to this place since...well since his mom died. It was all extremely familiar though. The creaky rubber swings with a pole system that was so rust, it was basically tetanus waiting to happen. He noted with satisfaction that the one on the far right, that they had dubbed "the ghost swing" so long ago, still seemed to swing back and forth on it's own accord. The yellow curly slide, the monkey bars, the sandbox. It was amazing how unchanged it all was, while he himself felt so different.
Wordlessly, he headed for the swing set. Finn followed, taking the swing next to him. They both avoided the ghost swing. They swung in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Kurt spoke. "I feel bad. Your night didn't exactly go as planned either, and I never mentioned it. Girl trouble?"
Finn waved him off. "We're getting away from girl-I mean relationship troubles tonight. We're six remember? Talk about something else."
"Like how it's a miracle those chains haven't snapped under your weight yet, as they're only meant to to hold the weight of a 5 year old?"
"You're probably right", said Finn. He gained full height and leaped off, miraculously landing on two feet, and headed for the sandbox. Kurt followed. Finn immediately sunk down into the slightly damp sand, digging his fingers through it blissfully. But noticing the rather mischievous smile that was now playing across Kurt's lips, he stopped, edging away. But Kurt was fast. In one swift move, he grabbed a handfull of sand, molded it into a ball, and hurled it at the taller boy, hitting him squarely in the chest. Finn laughed, but made no attempt to hit back.
Kurt threw up his hands in frustration. "Well? What are you waiting for?"
Finn looked taken aback. "Dude, let me get this straight. You're asking me to throw wet, dirty sand at you, possibly permanently ruining your outfit?"
"All's fair in love an war. I hit you, you have every right to hit me back!"
Finn shrugged, not one to turn down the opportunity to hurl a glob of sand at someone. He fired, and to his horror, it landed in Kurt's hair. His precios hair. Now he was really in for it. But Kurt only laughed, throwing one back. Let the games beging. After what was surely the most epic sandfight in history, the two sandy, filthy and slightly giddy boys went on the slide. They had a "who can do the most epic trick" competition, which Kurt won by a landslide by doing an accidental backflip down the slide.
Finally, they ended the night sitting on top of the monkey bars, a fate that once made you the bravest kid in the park, made you feel like you were on top of the world. Now, their feet barely grazed the asphalt. The moon was full, giving everything a white glow to it, yet another element to make this night so surreal and dreamlike.
It was Finn who started laughing, a low strong chuckle. Kurt joined in with a much higher pitched giggle, and soon they were both reduced to peals of laughter, so that they had to make an effort to stay balanced atop the metal bars. And Kurt was reminded of a line from his favorite children's book his mother used to read to him, moomintroll. 'They burst out laughing, not because anything was especially funny, but just because he felt so very happy."