Chapter Four - following episode 1.16 Home

Blaine's shoulders hurt from too many hours hunched over his laptop, but he had nothing to prove for it. The half-finished English paper staring back at him was due on Friday, and it sure as hell wasn't going to write itself, but all he could do was think about the wanting to reach into his top desk drawer and pull out the little envelope.

The little envelope with the last of his cocaine.

Who would know, really?

But when he did open the drawer, he could see Finn's face, his words, I'm not asking you, I'm telling you.

He rubbed his hands over his eyes, felt his contacts gritty under his eyelids. Thought about Finn's other words. Call me.

He picked up his phone with shaking hands. It seemed like a lot to ask of someone who was practically a stranger. How can he be a stranger after what he - what you - did? Finn wasn't a stranger, of course. And god, Blaine needed him.

He picked up on the third ring, and Blaine heard rustling and muffled voices before Finn's slightly groggy one was in his ear. "B- Patrick? - what's going on?"

"I want- um. I have a little bit left. The cocaine? And I want to-" He couldn't make himself admit wanting to use it, because that made him feel like he had a problem, and he didn't want to have a problem.

"Hang on... Patrick. Okay." He sounded more alert, now. "Just - don't do anything, all right? Tell me what's going on. Where are you?"

"I'm in my room. Sitting at my desk trying to write this stupid paper that's due Friday. But I can't do it. All I can think about is the cocaine. And I'm kind of, um." He knew nobody could hear him but he let his voice fall to a whisper anyway. "I can't stop thinking about what we did, and maybe I'm freaking out a little."

"That's okay. I got it." There was a burst of muffled conversation. "I can be there in... two hours. Can you give me directions? I'm... um, I'm in Lima."

Shit. Lima? "Oh. Okay. Yeah, directions." Blaine rattled off the details of the drive, and listened vaguely to Finn's reassurances that everything would be okay, heard himself promise that he wouldn't do anything until Finn arrived, and felt his thumb disconnect the call.

And now all he could think of was someone in Lima is going to find out.

He had two hours to fill, so he started by ditching his contacts for his glasses. That took no time at all, but it got him out of his room for a few minutes, and his head felt a little clearer, so instead of settling back in at his desk he tugged a Dalton hoodie on over his sleep pants and t-shirt, shoved his iPod and keycard into the big pouch pocket and headed outside.

It was cold. Too cold to really be out without a coat, but the slight sting of the night air in his lungs gave him something to focus on, first the bite of it as he breathed in, and then the little cloud in front of his face with every exhale. He just sat there, watching that cloud, not letting himself think about Lima, or the repercussions of doing . . . what he and Finn were doing . . . with someone from home, until Finn arrived.


Finn sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his phone, not even sure how to handle this. It was Kurt who put a hand on his bare shoulder and kissed him, and Puck who slid an arm around his waist.

"He's having a hard time?" Kurt murmured.

"Yeah," Finn sighed. "Not just about . . . you know. He's got other stuff going on, too."

"It's all part of that, dude," Puck said. "You know what he needs. You'd better take Kurt's car this time, though - my truck's having trouble, and that would suck, to be halfway to Columbus and have it break down."

"Westerville," Finn said absently. "He's at school in Westerville."

Puck waved a hand. "Whatever. You don't want to be breaking down in the middle of the night. Can he take the Navigator, Kurt?"

Kurt nodded. "The keys are in the front pocket of my messenger bag," he said softly.

Kurt watched Finn get dressed in silence. Finn tried to give him as much space as he could to work it out in his head before he brought it up, but he knew Kurt wasn't feeling entirely easy about where things were going with Patrick. Puck just yawned and rolled back over, pulling the covers over himself, but Finn saw Kurt waiting, thinking. Eventually he took him by the hand and drew him, somewhat unwilling, into the bathroom.

"This isn't going to change things between us," he said, trying to pull him into his arms, but Kurt stiffened and turned away from his embrace.

"I'm not thinking about that," Kurt muttered.

Yes, you are, thought Finn, but he wasn't going to get into a stupid back-and-forth with Kurt. Instead he kissed him on the forehead and waited for Kurt to finish pouting and look up at him.

"I love you, Kurt." Finn watched his eyes soften, and smiled at him until he thawed.

"Yes, I know. I just don't know if I can handle... one more person. This is a lot, already."

Finn nodded soberly. "I know how it feels. But he really needs me, and I know I can help. It gives me something, you know?"

"I know," he repeated, somewhat more testily, running his hands through his hair. "I just . . ." he sighed, and turned away. "What about what I need?" His voice was sad, and when he turned back to Finn his eyes were downcast.

"Don't worry about that, baby." Finn smiled and touched his face. "I'll give you what you need."

"But you're leaving." Kurt was trying not to whine, but Finn could hear it seeping out of the edges of Kurt's words.

Finn thought. "It's only ten o'clock in California. Why don't you call Adam? I'm sure he'd be happy to talk to you, and he always makes you feel... I don't know. Like you deserve to feel. Special."

Kurt's faint, fond smile and nod told Finn that his instincts were right. "Yeah," Kurt said, toying with the edge of his shirt. "Adam could do that for me." He caught Finn's eyes, and held them for a minute. "But don't think that gets you off the hook for later."

Finn raised an eyebrow, catching Kurt's chin firmly in his fingers. "Oh, yeah," he said. "You can bet on it."

"Good," Kurt nodded. He leaned in close to Finn with a kind of wicked smile, tucking his mouth right close to Finn's ear. "I can think of something you could do with that flogger," he said, his voice low, before he turned and left the bathroom.

Finn bit back a growl, because damn if Kurt didn't know how to turn him on. He wondered, as he tried to compose himself for the drive, whether having to endure two hours in a car with a persistent hard on was his punishment for leaving in the first place.


Columbus was supposed to have been his safe place, Blaine mused as he paced the parking lot, and he had to go and get into a situation with someone from fucking Lima. Just perfect, he muttered under his breath. He was going to have to be really careful now, because if he let even one more piece of himself slip, he'd be out there exposed without even the protection of his Patrick persona.

It was a scary place to be, reliant on Finn that way without any kind of boundaries at all. Blaine shivered in the cold, and shifted to tuck his legs under him in a makeshift barrier against the cold of the wall. His head was spinning with lots of things, Lima being the biggest, but the muffled voices on the other end of the phone surging to a close second. Had he caught Finn with Derek? Maybe interrupted . . . something. He blushed at the thought, and tried to push it away, because if he was going to keep doing - this - with Finn, he couldn't let Finn think it was about sex. Not that he didn't want some experience beyond some kisses and the night at Masque, but he knew already that what he needed and wanted from Finn had nothing at all to do with sex.

Except, he thought, what if I could have this and sex? Or have this be a part of sex?

And fuck if that idea didn't just about stop him in his tracks.

His breath was suddenly fast and shallow, his mind absolutely reeling, and maybe he was ignoring the fact that he'd gotten almost instantly hard at the idea of some boy holding him down, his hand coming down hard onto his bare behind, and then - god - sliding into him.

Blaine bit back a whimper and debated running back up to his room to take care of things before Finn arrived when he was interrupted by the light crunch of tires. A spotless black Navigator was inching into the visitor's lot, and Blaine was very suddenly out of all kinds of options. He couldn't run; he had to face Finn and accept his help, and he had to hope that Finn wasn't going to notice his absolute inability to control his damn fucking hormones.

Finn unfolded his long legs from the driver's seat, regarding Blaine with surprise, and maybe a little bit of disappointment. "You've been waiting out here a while?"

"Since we hung up. I couldn't . . ." He waved his hand in the direction of the dorm. "I had to get out of my room. Couldn't breathe."

Finn nodded slowly. "I can understand that. But..." He touched Blaine's arm, and Blaine flinched away a little. "You're cold. It's too chilly for you to be out without a coat."

Blaine sighed. "I needed to feel. The cold was what was available. Well..." He shrugged. "The cold or the coke. But I promised you I wouldn't, so... cold it was."

Finn looked like he might step in and hug him for a moment, but he shifted from one foot to another, and eventually the moment passed. "Come on, then," said Finn. "Let's go inside."

He glanced around them as they entered the residence hall. "This place is pretty fancy. Private school, right? You stay here overnight, like a college dorm?"

"Yeah," Blaine nodded, trying to keep his voice and footsteps quiet. He didn't want to wake the dorm supervisor, because that would get him the kind of trouble he didn't need. "My dad lives in Columbus, and I see him most weekends. But not my mom as much, not since the divorce."

Finn followed him up the sweeping staircase to the second floor landing. "Your mom doesn't live around here?"

"No," Blaine shook his head. He couldn't elaborate on that or he'd give himself away, but he hoped Finn knew enough people whose parents had divorced that he wouldn't push things. Luckily, Finn seemed to take the hint, and he just nodded.

"You don't mind not living at home? I think I'd miss my mom."

"Home wasn't always a good place for me." Blaine checked to make sure the hallway was empty, then led Finn down the hall. He held the door to his room as Finn slipped in first, shutting and locking it behind them. "This is better. Not perfect," he admitted, "but better."

Finn nodded again, soberly. He sat on the bed. "It sounded on the phone like you're still not really in a good place, Blaine. Why don't you tell me what's going on?"

Blaine tried to settle the anxiety in his stomach with a deep breath, but it didn't really help. "Like I said, I have this paper. And it's not hard or anything, I just don't want to write it. I was working on it before, and just . . . the cocaine was right there, in my desk drawer. I could have reached out and just taken it. I mean, I couldn't, because I'd promised you, but once I started thinking about it I couldn't stop."

He cocked his head. "What did it make you think about?"

Blaine closed his eyes. "I guess... it's the feeling like everything is right for a little while, like I'm okay. Like I'm not wrong, for being myself."

He felt Finn's hand on his arm, and he shuddered. "There's nothing wrong with you, Blaine," said Finn.

"Maybe if enough people tell me that I'll start to believe it." He traced his fingers over the slight bump in his wrist where the bone was calcified under his skin; when the cast had come off, his hand had been skinny and weak, but now nobody in his new life even knew what had happened to him. "The first time I went on a date with another boy, we got attacked and ended up in the ER."

"Oh. God." Finn looked positively ill at the thought. "That... that really sucks. Are you okay?"

"It was over a year ago," he said, but Finn shook his head. He touched the same spot where Blaine's own fingers had landed.

"I didn't ask if you were okay then. I'm guessing you... weren't?" He met Blaine's eyes, and he felt compelled to nod.

"Broken wrist," Blaine admitted. "A mild concussion. The other guy, my friend? He got it much worse. And my school, well. They were decidedly unhelpful, so... here I am." He fought the word that wanted to fall off his tongue, because he'd chosen Dalton, as much as he'd had any kind of a choice. "Sometimes I feel like I've been... exiled, because I couldn't fit out there in the world."

"Yeah." Finn grimaced. "I have a friend who goes through stuff like that, at our school. But I was thinking, it seemed like you still were holding onto something about this experience." He looked closely at Blaine. "So... are you okay?"

Blaine swallowed hard, and blinked, and he realized he was fucking crying. "Clearly, I'm pretty far from okay," he said with a bitter laugh. "I don't know if I've ever been okay."

"All right. All right... come here. Come on." Finn opened up his arms, beckoning Blaine forward. With Finn on the bed, Blaine was even a little bit taller than he was, but Finn pulled him onto his lap anyway. It made Blaine feel like a little kid, but at the same time, it was just about the safest feeling he'd ever had.

"Why are you doing this?" Blaine's voice was muffled in Finn's sweatshirt. "I mean, I'm just some messed up kid you met in a coffeehouse. Why would you do any of this for me?"

Finn's hand stroked his hair. "Because, once, somebody did it for me. And I had no idea how much I needed it until I got it. He didn't have to, either. He said that guys - men - like us, we need this. Even more than regular guys do. Because we were never taught rules about our kind of relationships, the friendships between guys who like guys. And we need each other, and we need... to be close. To take care of each other."

Blaine's voice came out hushed. "You really don't mind? Taking care of me?"

"No, Blaine. I really don't. I get something out of it, too." His smile was so kind, it almost hurt. "I really like you, and I don't like to see you hurting. But it's more than that. When I take care of you, I get back what I give you. It's pretty awesome, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Blaine shifted, and Finn's hand was settled at the base of his spine with light pressure. Blaine pushed back against his touch a little, and Finn's voice was low in his ear.

"Are you ready for me to take care of it all now?" he asked. Blaine nodded. Finn pressed a little harder. "I need you to tell me. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Blaine said, his voice startlingly clear. He could feel himself calming already, at the thought of it. Finn smiled again, looking almost - proud. But that didn't make any sense, did it?

"Come on. Let me help you." Finn waited while Blaine slid his pajama pants off, and helped him lie down across his knees. It was familiar enough by now, but somehow today it felt different. Blaine was aware of Finn's touch across his back, the way he smelled, and it was all distracting him. He took a deep breath and let it out, trying to concentrate on the relief he knew was coming at the end.

Finn's hand paused on Blaine's bare bottom. "Tell me what you want to let go."

"I don't know," Blaine said, and he knew he sounded sullen and cranky.

"Yes, you do." Finn's hand was pressing, firm and still, and Blaine took in a breath because he also knew what would happen if he didn't give Finn something. Still, he didn't say a word.

"I'll get it out of you one way or another," Finn said, his hand suddenly gone, and Blaine braced himself for the first smack against his bottom. But it was like time was suspended or something, or maybe Finn was giving him one last chance to tell everything. The absence of Finn's hand made Blaine feel like he'd lost his moorings. He sensed the panic rising inside him.

"I shouldn't want this," Blaine cried. "It's wrong to want it. To need it."

Blaine actually heard Finn's hand connect with his skin a half-second before he felt it, like his body was lagging behind his brain, and the first contact shocked him back into himself. "Why shouldn't you want this?" Finn asked, his hand coming down fast and insistent. "It helps you, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Blaine said through gritted teeth. Three more swats increased the burn on his bare ass. "It helps."

Finn leaned over his prone form, getting close enough to his ear that Blaine could feel the heat of his breath. His words came fast and urgent. "Then stop fighting it. Tell me, Blaine. What do you want to give up?"

"I'm scared," Blaine said, the words bringing unexpected tears to his eyes. "I'm scared all the fucking time."

"Of what?"

"People knowing that I like this. That I need this. People at h-home . . ."

"Home?" Finn must have heard the catch in his voice, because he latched onto that word. Damn, why was he so intuitive? "Tell me about your home."

He let out a hard laugh, and grunted in a breath as Finn continued to lay smack after smack against him. "Nowhere feels like home anymore."

"Blaine." Finn sounded gentle now, far kinder than Blaine deserved. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut against that persuasive tone. "That's not an answer."

"I can't." Blaine cried out, then, overwhelmed from the sensation and all the thoughts screaming in his head.

"It's all right. You don't have to tell me." But Finn wasn't letting up, and with each impact of his palm Blaine felt the compulsion to tell, tell the truth, just tell the truth.

"I want to," he said.

"Whenever you're ready. I'm listening."

Blaine closed his eyes, felt Finn's hand come down more slowly, but no less powerfully. He took a deep breath. Telling Finn his secrets seemed to be something he couldn't really control. "Lima," he said finally, and Finn's hand paused briefly before resuming its motion, this time rubbing gentle circles over Blaine's hot flesh.

"Lima," Finn sighed, pulling Blaine up and wrapping him in his arms. Blaine sighed in response, and nestled himself closer into the solidity of Finn's body. It felt good, helped settle him, and Finn seemed to notice, holding him tighter.

"You like that?" he asked, and Blaine hummed happily.

"Yeah," he said.

He could feel Finn nodding against his hair. "Yeah. K - um. One of my boys does, too. I usually have to hold him really tight. He feels stress all over his body, and this helps."

"He's right," Blaine sighed. "It really does help." The energy that was always zinging around his body was blissfully still, and whether it was from the spanking or the way Finn was holding him, Blaine wasn't sure. All he knew was that it was a relief, to feel calm and cared for and safe.

They sat in silence for several minutes, the kind of silence Blaine had always experienced as strained or difficult, but with Finn, it wasn't at all.

When Blaine finally broke the silence with his words, they flowed as easily as though he was writing them in his journal. "My paper, the one I can't make myself finish, it's about Germany between the world wars. Sometimes I feel so behind here, because it's my second school in two years, and I missed some time last year after . . . well. After the beating." He closed his eyes briefly, and he felt Finn's hand on his back, warm and comforting. Blaine let himself draw courage from that touch before going on.

"But anyway, there's so much interesting stuff about the way gay culture was thriving there, and it makes me really angry that gays were just as condemned as Jews were, and it scares me that even though things are moving so fast here, towards acceptance, we could still end up like Nazi Germany."

Blaine hesitated, waiting for Finn to respond the same way he was used to everyone responding when he went off on a tangent like that, an oh, Blaine or an eyeroll, or a look that said please, just stop before you hurt something. But nothing like that happened.

Instead, Finn drew in a slow breath. His arms around Blaine's back tightened. "You've really thought this through. I mean... that's a really intense idea." He almost sounded like he admired what Blaine was saying.

Feeling that Finn wasn't silently judging him made Blaine want to keep talking. "I mean, I can't go into all of that in my paper. That's not the assignment. But it really bothers me, because it feels like sometimes nobody is paying attention. To anyone or anything."

He felt the rumbling vibration of Finn's throat against his cheek as he spoke. "So you want to... what, make a difference?"

Blaine shook his head as best he could within the confines of Finn's arms. "I don't know. I just . . ." he sighed, trying to settle his thoughts before trying again. "Growing up the way I did, where I did, with the parents I had, I never felt like I was a part of anything. I always felt like I was outside of things, and even here I'm not quite with it. I just want to belong somewhere. I want to matter."

"Blaine... hey. Come on. You do matter." Finn pulled back far enough for Blaine to meet his gaze. He looked solemn and earnest, enough that Blaine couldn't help but believe that Finn actually meant what he said. "You really think you don't?"

"I've never been enough," Blaine said, wanting to look away but unable to do so. "Not just by being me. It's like I'm always trying, but I never quite get there."

Finn tilted his head with a curious smile. "Where are you trying to... get, exactly? I mean - what are you trying to prove? Who do you need to be enough for?"

"My parents. Teachers. Friends. Everyone. Maybe . . ." Blaine worried at his lip with his teeth, and tried to hold back the thoughts that made him hurt. "Maybe if everyone else loves me enough, I'll learn how to love myself."

"I don't think it works that way, exactly." Finn touched his chin gently. "I think maybe you need to realize you're pretty awesome, just the way you are, and it doesn't matter at all what other people think."

"Is that how you are? I mean, do you worry about what would happen if people knew about you and, um. Derek?" Blaine didn't even know why he'd asked such a personal question. He tried not to blush, and hoped that Finn wouldn't think he was being too forward.

Finn seemed to refocus, and he leaned back a little bit more from Blaine. "Well... things between the two of us are pretty private, at least in Lima. They have to be, because of... of who he is, and what he does, in his regular life. I mean, I'm only a sophomore."

Blaine nodded. "At Ohio State?"

Finn stared at him for a moment. Then he laughed. "Blaine... I'm a sophomore in high school."

Blaine tilted his head and looked at Finn, hard. He grabbed onto the strongest pieces of information he could reach, Finn and Lima, and pulled on them - and suddenly he was on a sunny playground with scraped knees, Davey pressing a yellow t-shirt into his hands, and a sandy-haired boy scolding him for jumping.

He kept looking, and heard Santana's words, and Davey's, about Finn Hudson and how he was always so good.

Shit.

"You - um. You go to McKinley?" Blaine licked at his lips, and wished he had something to drink because his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth.

"Yeah," Finn said, furrowing his brow.

Blaine poked at his comforter with his finger, let his voice lower to a whisper. "I would have gone there, if I'd stayed in public school. But I, um... went to Catholic, last year."

"You went to - ?" Finn's eyes narrowed into a perplexed stare. "You... went to...?" The way Finn was examining him, Blaine felt like a creature in a glass cage. "You're from Lima? But I thought..."

And then Finn's eyes widened, a fraction at a time, until they were round and his eyebrows were high on his forehead. Blaine looked away, cringing.

"You," Finn breathed. He raised one finger and pointed it at Blaine. "I know you."

Blaine shook his head, closing his eyes tight. "No, you don't."

"No, I do," he insisted. "You're... you're the boy from the park. On the swings. You and... and Dave?" Blaine could hear the distaste in his voice. "Are you guys still friends?"

"No," he whispered. "No. We're not." He folded in on himself, holding his elbows in his hands. Nobody knows who I am. Stop looking at me.

"Blaine."

It was like being caught by the curl of a whip and jerked out of the shelter of his own arms. Suddenly Blaine was entirely exposed to Finn's intense regard. Finn took Blaine's arms in his hands and gave him a tiny shake. "Come on. Look at me." Blaine's eyes shot unwillingly to Finn's, like a magnet. Finn's smile was unbearably kind.

"Stop," Blaine whimpered.

Finn shook his head. "Dude... you can't hide from me. I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't understand why not," Blaine said, coming close to a whine, and Finn's hands tightened.

"Hey. You need this, what I can give you. And there's nothing wrong with that. Okay? I need it, from Derek. And my boyfriends, they both need it too."

"Your... boyfriends?" Blaine paused, listening to that statement. Finn's boyfriends? He wasn't sure he really wanted to know, but he needed to make sure he'd heard Finn correctly. "I thought... you're with Derek? And you have two other boys you take care of, like with me?"

Finn nodded. "I do. I mean, yes. I'm with Derek, but the others, they're really my boyfriends. The three of us, together."

"Oh." Blaine wasn't sure what to say, because the first thing into his head was and you're all okay with that?, but that didn't seem like the best thing to just blurt out, because he didn't want to seem all judgmental or anything. And who was he to judge, really, because he liked getting spanked. "Three of you?" he finally squeaked, because simple questions were probably less offensive.

"The three of us, together, me and, uh... yeah. And me and Derek, we're together, and the other two guys have someone special they see sometimes, in California. So..." He scratched his neck. "I know, it sounds complicated, but... it's honest. It's our rule: no lying, no hiding."

"You were with them, tonight." It wasn't a question. Blaine knew it had to be so, that the muffled voices on Finn's end of the call had been his boyfriends. Both of them. Together? Blaine wasn't sure what to do with those images. "They know about me. About what we do."

He nodded again. "I told them right away. It's okay, Blaine."

"Please," Blaine asked, his voice on the edge of begging. "Don't tell them, where I'm from. That I'm from . . . there. People can't know, Finn."

"Okay," Finn soothed, taking him back into his arms. "Shhh. It's all right. I'm not going to tell anybody, and neither are they. I only call you Patrick, with them. I don't want you to worry about that. I'll keep your secret."

"Okay," Blaine said, leaning into Finn. He felt suddenly untethered again, like he needed the contact to keep him from floating away.

"You have to be up early for classes," Finn said. "I think you'd better go to bed now. Can you leave your homework as it is, or do you have something you have to finish for tomorrow?"

"Everything else is done. Just the paper, for Friday, but I can finish it tomorrow." Blaine blinked his eyes. They were gritty and heavy, and he was suddenly so tired. "Sleepy," he muttered.

Finn cast around the room with his gaze, then lit on Blaine's robe, hanging on the back of the door. "Uh, why don't you go... brush your teeth and get into your pajamas?" He turned a little pink. "If you wear pajamas."

Blaine plucked at his flannel pants, and the collar of his t-shirt peeking out from under his hoodie. "Already in them," he said, tugging his sweatshirt over his head and shivering a little as the cool air of his room sent goosebumps rising on his arms.

"Oh - right. Yeah." Finn definitely looked awkward, pulling down the covers on Blaine's bed, but he gallantly waited for Blaine to lie down before drawing the covers up to his chin. He settled himself on top of the covers, against the wall, one hand on Blaine's shoulder. The silence went on for a while before Blaine turned to him.

"Don't you have school, too? It's two hours back to L- um. Home."

Finn shifted in the dimness of the room. "I'm not going anywhere. You go ahead and get some sleep. I'll be right here."

Blaine burrowed back down under the blanket, but he kept his eyes on Finn, feeling the warmth of his hand through his t-shirt. "You didn't answer my question."

Finn blew out a breath. "Yeah. My business. I can take the heat. Now go to sleep."

Blaine closed his eyes, wanting to say all kinds of things, like don't get in trouble for me and people will worry about you, but his brain felt like cotton and he couldn't open his eyes anymore. He just felt warm and safe in the moments before he surrendered to sleep.


The dark haired boy from the club came into his dreams again, confident and a little cocky, his eyes sparkling. His hands were warm and hard and insistent, and he knew just where to touch to make Blaine gasp and shudder and arch his body for more. And Blaine kept reaching, kept trying to touch and taste and get closer to what the boy was offering him... but there was another person there, too, long-fingered hands cool and gentle even as they held Blaine's wrists, keeping him pinned against the softest sheets he'd ever felt.

"You know you want this," the phantom-voice said in his ear, like bells. "It'll feel so good, just let him take it. Trust us."

Blaine writhed under the weight of the boy, who was straddling his thighs and making it hard for him to move at all.

"You're so hot like this," the boy said, staring into his eyes even as he asked the stranger isn't he hot like this, baby?

"Yes," laughed the boy with the hands, "so hot, and beautiful... and all ours."

Blaine could feel him, changing the pressure points on his arms as he leaned in to kiss the boy from the club, and the sight of both of them above him made Blaine moan.

"I think he likes that," the mysterious voice muttered, voice full of fondness and gentle teasing. "Go ahead, sweetheart... make him scream."

Blaine bolted upright in bed, heart pounding in his throat and shaking off the phantom tightness in his limbs. There were no boys - only Finn, still on top of the covers, fully dressed and wedged between Blaine and the wall, snoring lightly. He hadn't been held down. He wasn't naked, wasn't about to be . . . taken.

But he was achingly, embarrassingly hard.

Finn stirred, and Blaine's embarrassment was thrown into sharp relief as Finn bumped against Blaine's hip. It was obvious that he wasn't the only one who was hard. He heard Finn make a comfortable, almost-talking noise in his sleep as he tucked an arm snugly around Blaine's waist. Blaine felt a simultaneous stab of envy for Finn's lack of self-consciousness and a confusing contentment at Finn's presence beside him.

But - no. This isn't right. He scooted away from Finn on the bed, trying to get himself out from under Finn's confining arm without waking him up. It didn't work.

"Blaine?" Finn murmured. "What - what's wrong?"

"N-nothing," Blaine said abruptly, trying again to extricate himself from the weight of Finn's arm.

Finn's eyes snapped open, whether from Blaine's movement or something in the sound of his voice, and Blaine felt himself caught yet again under the clarity of Finn's gaze.

"What's wrong?" Finn asked again, his voice steady and firm this time.

"Dream," Blaine said, finally pulling away and rubbing at his eyes in an effort to slow his heart rate. He knew if he could calm down, he'd be less . . . obvious.

"Bad one? Nightmare?" Finn let him sit inches away, but kept looking at him.

"Um." Blaine felt himself blush. "No."

"Oh," Finn said, grinning. "That kind of dream." He cocked his head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Blaine thought about how real the dream had been, how perfect the two boys had felt on top of him. How right it had seemed, even when he couldn't understand how it was possible to want any of what he'd dreamt.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "It was, um... kind of intense."

Finn nodded. "It can happen like that, sometimes. Like, once your head gets clear your subconscious wants to tell you all kinds of sh- er, stuff. So you dream about it." He huffed out a laugh. "Mine, man... I've had some crazy ones, let me tell you."

"Are they always, um." Blaine tipped his head from side to side. "You know, those kinds of dreams?"

"I dunno," Finn shrugged. "Mine are, yeah. But one of my boyfriends, he dreams about all kinds of things, and people. Stuff that hasn't happened yet, people he hasn't met yet."

"All kinds of possible futures," Blaine said, as his heart rate finally returned to normal. He was still half-hard, but it wasn't so noticeable anymore, and he felt less like he'd done something wrong, crossed some invisible line.

"I like that," Finn sighed. "All kinds of possible futures." He smiled at Blaine, and let his hand drift between them to rest atop Blaine's, trapping it lightly in a little pocket of warmth.

"You can share that, if you want, with your... your boyfriends. Especially the one who has all the dreams." Blaine wasn't sure he was ever going to understand how Finn could be so calm about having two boyfriends (three, he reminded himself, picturing Derek's kind smile and intense eyes). He shook his head. "How do you - do that, anyway?"

"Do what?" Finn's eyes were amused in the dim light of early morning. Blaine sighed. Of course, Finn was going to make him ask.

"Have so many boyfriends. That just sounds like so much work. I've never even had one boyfriend, much less two... or three." He propped himself up on one elbow. "And don't you get jealous?"

"Sometimes. I don't think any more than I did when I was trying to date one person at a time, though." He still looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"What?" Blaine had to ask.

"Oh - well." Finn grinned and shrugged. "I've got a girlfriend, too."

Blaine jerked back and stared at him. "You have a what?"

"Yeah, I know. She's... well, Derek thinks..." He waved it away. "Never mind. It's just more complicated. But the jealousy, it's less of an issue than I thought it was going to be." His eyes gleamed. "And there are a lot of... benefits, to having more than one."

Blaine coughed. "I bet," he said with a smirk, because Finn had left himself totally open to a little teasing.

Finn's smile widened. "Yeah," he agreed. "Those, definitely. But also, like, just ones you wouldn't expect. Like, if I can't be around, I know they've got each other, so that's kind of a relief sometimes. And, well." Finn ducked his head. "They're really cute together."

Blaine turned his hand over, and waited to see what Finn would do. He wasn't surprised when Finn laced their fingers. "Do you have a picture? Of them?" He let the question out in a rush of breath, unsure of why he'd even asked.

Finn shook his head. "I do, but I need to ask them, before I show you. They trust me, the same way you do."

Blaine nodded. "That makes sense. I wouldn't want to betray their trust."

"I know you wouldn't." Finn leaned in, and before Blaine could do anything about it, he kissed him.

Blaine just sat there, a little stunned. "I- um," he stammered, rubbing at where Finn's lips had touched his so gently. "Why?"

"Why what?" asked Finn.

He shook his head, as if to clear it. "Why did you kiss me? I don't- I mean, what we do isn't about that."

"You're right," Finn said, his face serious. "It's not, but it is about intimacy. And I want you to remember that. I care about you." He held Blaine's chin firmly, so he couldn't look away. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Blaine said in a whisper, even though he didn't really. "But I need you to know that I don't want anything like that from you. No more kissing."

"All right. No more kissing." Finn stroked his face one more time, then stood, stretching and yawning. "I think I better get on the road. If I'm lucky, I'll only miss first period. I shouldn't get in too much trouble."

"I'm sorry," Blaine said. "You didn't have to stay."

"Yeah," Finn said, shrugging into his jacket, "I did. That's part of this, too. Taking care of you afterwards. I wanted to stay, to make sure you were okay. And I'll be okay, too." He suddenly grinned, wide, his eyes alight. "Derek will make sure of that."

Blaine didn't really want to think about Finn and Derek that way, so he just nodded and ushered Finn to the door. "Take the back staircase. It'll let you out in the lobby, same as the other, but you shouldn't run into anyone that way."

"Thanks," Finn said. "Call me tonight, please, to let me know how things went today."

"I will," Blaine replied, standing in his open door and watching Finn's figure disappear up the hall.

"Oooh," Trey's soft voice drifted from somewhere left of him. "Who's the hottie?"

Blaine turned to glare at Trey. "Just a friend."

"Sure," Trey teased, shifting his shower caddy to his other hand and scuffing down the hall to the bathroom. "That's what they all say."