Thanks for the encouragement...thought I'd have a think about how Finn/Puck happened...
Finn hadn't wanted it to happen.
Not exactly true, but true enough to make him stop suddenly in the middle of something – brushing his teeth, lacing his shoes – and wonder how it had come to this. How he'd gotten here.
He hadn't wanted it to happen. Meaning, he hadn't ever dreamed anything like this was possible. And he dreamed about a lot of stuff. Not knowing about it, made it kinda hard to want.
But now that he knew, he wanted it, like crazy.
Puck and he hadn't been friends for a while, maybe it was back when glee was just starting out, a small club, mixed loyalties and all that 'football or glee' stuff that Coach had put them through. That and Quinn, and the baby...There were a lot of reasons.
But they'd gotten on ok.
And then they'd gone out drinking, taking Finn's Mom's car up to the woods to meet Mike and some of the others. Puck had needed a ride. But after a half a bottle of cheap vodka each, neither of them could drive home. The others had left, but Finn had insisted they stay 'till they sobered up. Finn had scrunched up in the driver's seat, and Puck had stretched out in the back. But, the night was kinda cold, and the vodka in his veins might as well have been ice water. Finn had wound up muscling his way into the back, lying on the floor space, a funky smelling blanket over him.
After a while, Puck's voice had come out of the dark.
"This seat's killing my back."
A long silence.
"Get in the trunk with me?"
Maybe it had all been Puck's idea...Finn was never sure how much Puck planned, and how much was just luck and spur of the moment choices.
Finn had pulled down the seats, exposing the long interior of the trunk. It was darker than the car in there, if that was possible, and it smelt like a dog that the car's last owners had had. Still, they climbed in, and split the blanket between them.
So it was cold and dark and smelt like old dog, and puck edged over, and Finn had edged back. But it was just...being warm, not something they'd tell anyone about, but not something they'd actually have to hide.
But then their hands touched on the blanket, just fingers brushing, but it made Finn freeze. Trying to get comfortable, Puck moved again, and wound up with an arm thrown out lazily, landing on Finn's waist.
It was kinda nice. So nice that Finn had moved closer, and leaned and...somehow, in the dark, put his head on Puck's chest.
Maybe it was being that close. That close up, skin is just skin. Guy skin and girl skin, what was the difference really? 'cept fruity lipgloss and perfume and that powdery make-up feel. Guy skin was still warm, and Puck's was soft, but then, all skin was kinda soft - dude's weren't metal or rock or something, he just felt like Finn did, only a different body. One Finn could touch.
Maybe it was just that, the touching thing.
Either way, arms around each other turned into hands touching clothes, then under clothes, slipping into shirts and fingering waistbands. Finn's skin got hot, and Puck started to sweat, and their shirts kind of tangled up and away, and then they were touching each other, skin on skin. It was easy in the dark, to forget who they were, and Finn wasn't thinking about glee or football or Rachel or his Mom when Puck's quick, dry mouth hit his.
He was just on touching, and burning with how good it felt to have someone else to touch, to put their hands on him.
Struggling out of his pants while lying down was hard, but he managed it. Puck's jeans came off too, and all Finn could hear was blood in his ears, pounding, and the air going in and out of his lungs – not enough air. The trunk was too hot, the fabric on his back prickling – sweat on both of them, and he couldn't breathe with hands on him like that.
His brain wouldn't think back, or forwards, or anywhere outside of the dark little space they were in. And he was rubbing against a hot body, which was rubbing back, and it felt to good that the amount of air in the trunk seemed to halve, until his lungs were burning and his head was throbbing, and he'd made the first real sound of the last eternity, crying out and squeezing the other body tight as his body flared, and seized...and finally...stopped.
It took longer for the body on him, warm and slick and strong. But Finn had lolled sleepily on the hard bottom of the trunk, eyes drifting shut, and he'd let it happen – just let that collection of hot body parts writhe on him, taking until there was nothing left to take.
They'd gone to sleep blind and happy, and woken up awkward, stiff from the cramped trunk, not looking at each other.
Finn had gone home and showered, and tried to forget the unforgettable.
After a few days of crippling humiliation, walking around like a puppy with its tail down, where Finn had closed his eyes and bitten his tongue every time he remembered that night – it faded to be like a dream.
He almost convinced himself that it hadn't happened.
Puck didn't seem to register it as an event. After a week of strained silence, and awkward lack of eye contact, things had gone back to how they'd been before. Not friendly, but...ok. They weren't buddies, they didn't talk if they weren't in glee, or at practice.
But sometimes, under his faded duvet, when Kurt was at Blaine's...Finn would call out in his head, begging an invisible body, with Puck's name.
When they'd all gone up to the woods, drinking again. Puck got a ride from Mike, and Finn had gone alone. It was a thing, he just had to go.
Again, he drank, avoided Puck, and downed paper cups of vodka and soda, and then a few beers.
He didn't drive home, but watched the other headlights drift away as he lay down on the back seat.
The rap on the window had surprised him.
Puck was as buzzed as he was, and they'd left themselves outside when they'd crawled into the trunk.
After that...they both wanted it. Wanted it even when it was daylight, even when they weren't drunk. It was better than being alone and turned on. Better than trying to get on with the glee girls, and there was no risk of one of them getting pregnant.
It was great, almost dizzying, being free like that.
The golden rule? Never tell anyone.
Until Sam.
But...Puck had wanted Sam to join them, just as much as Finn had. Another guy, making it less personal, less private. Less of a relationship.
It was just...guy time.
Fun.
Finn hadn't wanted it to happen.
But he didn't want it to stop.