Then: Four Months Ago

Santana's parties were legendary, and Puck had been hoping for a good one. He really needed something to take his mind off the events of this summer. He hadn't expected to miss Daphne, Nicole and Alex so much. Especially Alex. He'd taught Puck a lot about sex, and relationships, and how things were between guys. And about Puck, himself.

Is it any wonder I don't have a lot of tolerance for the bullshit of highschool anymore? Puck told himself, finishing his fourth beer. He wished, not for the first time tonight, he'd brought his guitar.

"Finn's really drunk," said a voice. He looked up. It was Quinn. "I thought maybe you'd want to take him home."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not really," he said. "I'm not Finn's keeper. Besides, I'm not in any condition to drive."

She sighed. "Well, can you help me take him up to Santana's guest room, then? I don't think he should be out here when she comes around to clean up. He's an… affectionate drunk."

He grinned. "Oh, yeah?"

They located Finn sitting by the hot tub, watching Santana and Brittany make out. "That's really nice, the way they're such good friends," Finn said to Puck, leaning too far back and overbalancing himself. Puck caught him.

"Yeah, nice," Puck smirked. He lifted Finn under the arms and helped him to his feet, slipping an arm around his shoulders.

"Why aren't we friends like that, man?" Finn burbled. Quinn choked back a laugh and Puck's eyes danced.

"It's good to have friends," he went on, stumbling against the wall. Puck steered him up the stairs and into the room Quinn indicated. She pulled the sheets back on one of the beds and pushed him gently down onto the bed, kissing him.

"It's time to go to sleep now, Finn," she said, pulling off his shoes.

"I love you, Quinnie," he said, closing his eyes.

"I'm going to get him some Tylenol and a glass of water," she said. "Can you stay with him for a minute?" Puck nodded, and she disappeared downstairs. He could still hear the sound of the party downstairs, but was suddenly glad not to be in the middle of it.

"Puck," Finn said, and held out his hand. Puck took it, feeling uncomfortable, like he was taking advantage of Finn's inebriation somehow.

"I'm here, dude," Puck said.

"I missed you this summer," said Finn. "It wasn't the same without you. You're my best friend."

"Yeah, of course," Puck said.

"I love you, man."

Puck's mouth was suddenly dry. He wanted another beer. "I, uh, I love you, too, Finn." He disentangled his hand from Finn's. Quinn reappeared with water and Tylenol.

"C'mon, sit up, man. One more drink."

"I had one already," Finn said, and Puck laughed. He took the tablet from Quinn and opened Finn's mouth with a finger, putting the tablet inside. Finn caught his hand and held it like a baby bird. "Tastes bad," he complained, and put a kiss on Puck's fingers.

Quinn began to laugh. "See if you can get him to drink that water, okay, Puck? I'm going to get another beer. You want one?"

"Yes," Puck said, through gritted teeth. "Definitely." He watched her go back downstairs.

"You smell good," Finn said. Puck put the bottle of water up to his lips and tipped it back. Some water spilled out of Finn's mouth and down his chin. Puck slowly wiped it away with one finger.

"You need more, dude?"

"Yeah," breathed Finn, looking at Puck, and Puck's own breath caught at Finn's expression. Puck gave him another drink, watching Finn's lips close around the bottle, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Puck capped the bottle and set it on the nightstand next to the bed, then he helped Finn lay back down again. He pulled the blanket up around his shoulders and stroked his cheek once, twice.

"Is he out yet?" Quinn asked, handing him a beer. Puck shook his head and took a drink, not trusting his voice. Quinn put a hand on his shoulder, and he closed his eyes. "You're a good friend," she said.

"No, I'm not," he said. "I want too much."

"Finn understands," she said. Her hand came down onto his chest and bumped his nipple ring, and he shivered. Her eyes widened.

"Well, Puck, the Mohawk wasn't the only new thing you got this summer," she said, and her voice was thick with curiosity and other things.

"You have no idea," he said, grinning.

"Can – can I see?" she asked. He pulled his shirt over his head, and she put the flat of her hand under his nipple, framing it in the crook of her thumb and forefinger. "Wow," she breathed. "Did it hurt?"

"Yeah," he said, which was true. "It feels good now, though." This was also true, though he would not have admitted that the pain had felt good, too, in a way.

She grinned at him wickedly. He had not seen that expression on her face before, and he liked it. He understood it. "So if I did this –" and she put two fingers on the ring and tugged, and he jumped – "does that feel good?"

"Yeah," he said, running his hand up her back and into her blonde hair, so similar to Daphne's, so familiar to his hands.

They looked at Finn in the bed next to them, sleeping soundly. "What would he do if he woke up right now?" he said.

Quinn laughed. "He would want to watch," she said, and Puck was suddenly so turned on, he didn't think he was going to be able to stand it. He pressed against her hips, grinding against her, and she gasped, feeling his hardness. "Is that for me?" she teased.

I'm not even sure who it's for, he didn't say. Instead he said, "If you want it."

"You know I don't do that," she said, but she did a little grind on his leg, and he could feel her warm wetness through her panties.

"But what if you did?" he whispered, leaning in and kissing her neck, taking her earlobe in his mouth. "Who would know?"

Her breath caught, and she moaned, a delicate sound, delicious and forbidden. He reached under her skirt and pulled her panties down with one sweep of his hand, running a finger through the wetness he found there, and she moaned again.

"Would Finn do this for you?" he said, low and intense. "I bet he doesn't even know how to make you come."

He pushed the heel of his palm against her impeccably groomed pubic hair and slid one finger down, just between her lips. She ground harder against him, eyes closed, still letting out those soft moans, and slid her slender hands down his hips, under his shorts.

"Don't stop," she said, gasping, and pulled his shorts down to his knees. He disentangled himself from the legs and pressed her down onto the bed with his hand, still rubbing, grinding.

One of the many things he'd learned over the summer was that girls wanted it, too. Daphne and Nicole taught him how to give it to them, the many ways they liked it – and there were many – and how to know what to do. "You're going to come first, like this," he said, not letting up on the pressure of his hand. "Then I'm going to make you come again, inside you."

"Puck –" she gasped, and he felt her clenching around his finger. Her moans burst over him like a shower of delicate flowers. He slid his hand away and pressed his cock in the spot he'd left, and when she bucked up against him, he slipped inside. She hissed, "Wait –" but he put his fingers back on her clit and rubbed, and she thrust against him, wanting it. You want it, too, he thought.

Finn turned and moaned in his sleep, and this was just about the most erotic sound that Puck had ever heard. He felt his control slipping, and he sped up his strokes just as Quinn cried out, "God!"

He grabbed her hips and thrust harder, grinding her into the bed, and she moaned the way he'd been waiting for. Finn, do it again, make that noise again, he thought, and then Finn did, and he came.

"You guys are beautiful," Finn said, and they froze, looking at each other, then over at Finn, but his eyes were closed, and he looked peacefully asleep.

He pulled out and she made a sound of annoyance, looking at the soggy mess on her skirt. "Great," she said, and she was just Quinn again. He offered her his shirt, and she mopped up the worst of the mess. They didn't look at each other again.

"He doesn't need to find out," she said, and he nodded, zipping up his jeans and leaving them together.


Now: Friday Afternoon

Finn was on his way home when Quinn called. He almost didn't pick up, but he didn't want to deal with Quinn's voice mails, which were always lengthy and cruel. This was just easier.

"Finn!" she said, panicking. "My parents want you to come over for dinner tonight."

"Uh, that's… nice, but I don't think I –"

"Finn, you don't understand. My dad won't take no for an answer. You need to be here."

"Why?"

"Because you're this baby's daddy, and I'm telling you to," she hissed, and he almost drove off the road, he was suddenly so pissed.

"Okay, Quinn," he said, through his rage. "What time?"

Then he called Kurt. He didn't even think about it. "Kurt," he said, not waiting for him to say anything, "Quinn is making me have dinner with her parents tonight. What am I going to do?"

"Finn – " Kurt sounded like he might hang up on him, but then he sighed. "Okay. You can do this," he said. "How can I help?"

Finn felt a sudden, bright rush of love for this boy. He couldn't believe he'd not recognized the feeling before. "Thank you," he said.

"Of course," Kurt said offhandedly, but now Finn recognized the fear behind it. I'm going to fix this, Finn told himself. I will.

"I need something to wear," he said. "Would you come over and help me pick something out?"

"Finn Hudson, asking me for fashion advice?" Finn could hear Kurt's eyebrow go up over the phone. "Is this one of the signs of the apocalypse?"

"My dad has a bunch of old clothes in the basement," said Finn. "I'm going to see if I can find something to wear down there."

"I'll be right over, Finn." The phone went dead.

When he got home, Finn went down to the basement where his mom kept his dad's trunk. He opened it and took out his dad's army helmet and held it in his hands. It was heavy and bulky.

"Do you miss him?" Kurt's voice said from the stairs.

"I never really knew him," Finn said, and he looked up at Kurt. His eyes were shuttered. "But, yeah, sometimes I really do." He handed Kurt the helmet. "I wonder what my dad would think of me… now."

"I'm sure he would be very proud of you, Finn," said Kurt.

"Maybe," Finn said. "I don't think my mom would have married a homophobe. But you never know, right? Maybe he would have kicked me out."

"It happens," Kurt said. "I guess you'll just have to think the best of him."

He put the helmet away. "Do you miss your mom?"

"There's an old dresser that still smells like her perfume. Sometimes I just lie down in the room and… smell her." Kurt smiled, far away. "I guess it's stupid."

"No, it's not stupid at all," Finn told him, and Kurt's protective smile slipped a bit. He turned away. Finn went back to the trunk and pulled out the next piece of clothing he came upon, which turned out to be a dark sport jacket. "Hey, look at this." He slipped it over one arm, and Kurt came up behind him and helped him put it on. He gave an approving look.

"Not half bad," he said. Finn turned away, oddly shy.

"I can't believe it fits," he said. Kurt brought over two ties to try out against the fabric of the suit and put them over Finn's shoulder.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said suddenly. "About Puck. That surprised me too."

"We don't need to talk about it," Kurt said, but Finn shook his head.

"We really do," he said, "but I need to figure out what to do about Quinn first."

"Are you going to tell her you know about the baby?"

"I don't know," Finn sighed. "I'm not sure it's worth it. I'm so angry for what she did. I wish I could find a way to tell her how much she hurt me."

Kurt paused. "I… think I know a way. But it's not very nice."

"I don't feel very nice right now," Finn admitted.

"Well, when your dad went into Desert Storm, he wasn't empty handed, right? He had a weapon."

Finn paused, confused. "You think I should bring a gun?"

"Finn," Kurt said, aggravated, and he sounded so much like himself that Finn was reassured. "Your weapon is your voice. And I have just the song to give Ms. Fabray a taste of her own lying medicine."