Kurt opened the door to the attic and paused when he saw Finn sitting on the mattress, his legs hanging off the edge. "Oh. I thought you had football practice?"
"I do. I'm just —" He held up his phone, smiling sheepishly. "Waiting for a text from Blaine. I told him to stop studying and eat something before heading to Warblers practice, and he told me he'd send me a picture as proof."
Kurt came over and sat beside him, enjoying the warmth of their legs pressed together. Finn gave him a lovely slow kiss.
"We got the wedding invitation from Katy today," he said. "She added a plus-two, just like she said she would: Finn Hudson and Guest and Guest."He grinned. "Too bad it's in India."
"That was a really nice gesture of her, anyway," Kurt agreed. He nodded at the time on Finn's phone. "You don't care about getting disciplined for being late for football?" He rolled his eyes at Finn's expression. "No, I don't mean that kind of discipline. Of course your coach wouldn't."
"You know, she kind of does, in less obvious ways? Carl told me discipline is discipline, as long as it's consensual. We're definitely asking for it, showing up for practice at all." Finn shrugged. "It doesn't feel bad, anyway, when she makes us run laps or shames us or - whatever. We know we deserve what we get. But no, she's not spanking us. Pretty sure she's not allowed to do that. Though some of the guys could sure use it."
Kurt snorted. "I've thought that sometimes too."
Finn's phone buzzed. When they looked at the picture of Blaine, they made simultaneous ohhh noises. Finn laughed, shaking his head.
"Jeez. He looks —"
"I know. I take two hours in the morning to look that put together, and he just rolls out of bed and puts on his clothes and absolutely kills it." Kurt touched Blaine's uniform blazer with one finger, the smile on Blaine's face as he lifted the forkful of pasta to his mouth.
"I love how you dress," said Finn. "Do you wish I would work that hard to look good?"
"I'm not going to tell you how to dress. Mostly. I do like it when you wear the clothes I buy you."
Finn typed That's my good boy. Then he set the phone down in his lap and leaned his head back against the brick. "Rachel said something today. Something that bothered me. She noticed I upset, and it was because I was kind of missing, um… someone." He paused. "Does that bother you?"
"I told you, I understand. I miss him too."
"Not Blaine." His voice came out soft. "Carl."
"Oh." Kurt slipped his fingers into Finn's hand and looked up into his eyes. "I don't know. How do you feel about it?"
He laughed quietly, not smiling. "I feel — embarrassed. Just seeing him for half an hour in Glee was enough to put me totally off balance. Every time I see him I start questioning my decisions, and I hate it." The last two words came out with force. "I don't want to miss him. I don't want to need that from him. Plus, it's dangerous. Look at what happened to Matt and Coach Tanaka. I know Carl said he has protections in place, that he's covered if stuff ever came out about us, but I still…" He shook his head from side to side, slowly, regretfully. "I would never forgive myself if he got in trouble because of me."
Kurt nodded. "Well, I have thoughts about that, but I want to hear what Rachel said."
"Yeah. So I was upset, and she asked me what was wrong. She thought I didn't like the banana bread she made me, but that wasn't it, it was good. I mean, it wasn't Puck's bread, but I wasn't going to say that, I just told her it was awesome. Anyway, I couldn't exactly tell her why I was upset, so I asked her about the football thing instead. I don't actually care about getting kicked off the team all that much, I know why the Coach did it? And yeah, maybe it's a harsher response than I would given if I'd been in charge, but that's her style. And Rachel said she felt kind of better about it, because if I'm feeling bad about myself, she gets to make me feel good. And she said she wants to be the only thing that makes me feel good." Finn's face twisted. "Doesn't that seem kind of…"
"Controlling?" Kurt suggested. "Manipulative? Codependent?"
"I guess?" He looked sidelong at Kurt. "I know you think she's all those things."
"No, I know she's all those things. You can still love her even if she is, but I think you have to be careful, too. And you have to set very clear boundaries. You have to let her know that's not okay, to expect that from you. It's not healthy, Finn."
"Yeah." He scratched his ear. "Well, I kind of didn't stand up for her when Santana said mean things to her in the hallway. I feel bad about that. I'm supposed to be her protector, right?"
"She can protect herself," Kurt said firmly. "You don't have to treat her any differently than you would treat me or Noah. She's not going to break because of a little insult."
"Yeah. So now I have to decide if I'm going to go into his office or not." Finn took a business card out of his pocket and held it up. It read Dr. Carl Howell, D.D.S.
"Not the dentist office," Kurt guessed. Finn shook his head.
"I haven't been to seem him at all since Rachel got back this summer. It just felt… weird, after things picked up with us. She's his daughter. And all this stuff with Ms. Pillsbury. I know they're not really boyfriend and girlfriend, but —"
"I think they really are," Kurt said. "Even if they're not having sex. That's not what defines a relationship."
Finn looked baffled. "It is for me."
"What does Carl call her?"
"His slave. He wasn't having sex with Angela either."
Kurt frowned. "I don't think it's the same as it was with Angela. Carl and Ms. Pillsbury, they're cute together. They hug and kiss and all those relationshippy things. And I don't think she minds."
"No, but…" Finn paused. "I think she's still in love with Mr. Schue."
"Well, too bad for her. He has Toby." Kurt watched Finn's face. "Right? Too bad for her?"
"I don't know," said Finn, shrugging. "They were dating. I think Mr. Schue wants — that thing she doesn't want from Carl."
Kurt's glare sharpened to laser-like precision. "Finn, Mr. Schue does not want to have sex with Ms. Pillsbury. He has Toby."
"What is the big deal if he does? Look at us. Can't he have whoever he wants as long as Toby is okay with it?"
Kurt put his fingers in his ears and shook his head. "No. No, I'm not listening to this. You know why? Because when Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury were dating before, it was pretend dating. But if he's decided wants to really date her, he's going to end up falling into this it's-easier-being-straight thing he always does, and Toby is going to get left out again. That is not okay."
Finn was looking more and more surprised. "Jeez, you've given this a lot of thought. I guess he does do that pretending-to-be-straight thing pretty well."
"He's going to have to get over himself if they're going to get married." Kurt rose to his feet along with Finn, and sighed, trying to calm himself. "All right. You'd better get to football practice."
"Yeah, she might make me eat pizza and then run laps again. That was pretty gross." Finn gave him another sweet kiss, which was almost enough to calm him down. "I'm going home to help Sarah make dinner. Noah's meeting with his father again tonight."
"Again? He's been doing that a lot." Finn held open the door for Kurt. "I wonder what they talk about when they get together."
Kurt smiled as he breezed through the door. "I doubt it's anything like what we talk about."
Carl removed the tartar scraper from Will's mouth and made a note on his clipboard. "Evidence of some grinding. I'll set you up with a night guard."
"Fantastic," Will said crisply. "Happy to do it."
Carl paused, then sighed and set his clipboard down. "All right… can we stop this right now?"
Will stared determinedly at the ceiling. "What?"
"Well, this is clearly awkward for the two of us." He grabbed the wheeled chair and sat down, moving so his face was even with Will's. "All right, let's talk it out. Bro-to-bro."
"Fine. Bro." Will leveled his gaze at Carl, but before he could say anything, Carl spoke again.
"Emma has feelings for you. Strong feelings."
That wasn't what he'd expected to hear. Will scrambled for a foothold, but it was hard to feel in control of a conversation when he was the one sitting with a paper bib around his neck. "I — I have feelings for her, too. Not like you do, maybe, but… she's really important to me."
"The difference is she chose me to be in charge of her. To help her deal with her issues. That's what I'm doing. It's because I love her and I want her to be happy. Do you understand?"
"Of course I do."
Carl shook his head. "I don't think you do. What we have together, I know she's told you some things. And it's powerful, important. Special. But we're not having sex."
"I know. She told me that too."
"That's good." Carl nodded. "Now, I don't know what's going to happen with Emma and me, but I know what we want to happen. And if there's no sex, we're not going to get it."
Will sat forward, the bib forgotten. "You mean she wants a baby?"
"We both do," said Carl. "That's important to us, just as much as helping her deal with her OCD. So far, she hasn't shown any signs of wanting sex with me. I'm okay with that. But I've been trying to get her to name some other people who might be good candidates." He tapped Will on the chest. "You're the only guy who's come up."
He could only stare at Carl. "You want me to have sex. With Emma." It wasn't the first time Emma had broached the subject with him, but it was definitely the first time anyone else had asked on her behalf. Will wasn't sure how he felt about that.
"I'm just asking you to consider it."
"What if I tell you that I don't think I could do that?" Will pointed at his own mouth. "Rinse?"
Carl reached over and handed him a paper cup. "Will, put yourself in my shoes. She came to me to help her feel whole again. She doesn't want to go the surgical route. She wants to have a man in her life who gives her that feeling. If I can't help her with that, I'll be failing her."
Will handed the cup back. "Okay, fine. I'll think about it. But the second she shows any kind of distress, I'm backing off. Deal?"
"Deal." Carl gave him a little smile. "Now open back up. I want to continue this examination." But it only lasted a few seconds before Carl was sitting back again, shaking his head.
"You know what? I got just the thing for you."
He stood up and walked around to his desk, rummaging around in the drawer. The thing he drew out made Will splutter a little.
"Handcuffs?"
Carl handed Will the leather cuffs. They felt soft, softer than he would have expected, and they were a pretty maroon color with silver tooling. He gave Will a smile. "You've got to give her the control she needs, bro. I honestly think that's why you and Emma didn't work out. There's not a dominant bone between the two of you."
"And you think putting her in — in shackles is going to change that?"
"You gotta get ridiculous, bro. You gotta just start doing things to take charge of her for no good reason. You know, I used to get up at the same time ever day and have the same eggs. Then, one day, I'm driving the hybrid to work, I pass a Chevy dealership. The new Corvettes had just come in, so I stop right on the spot. I make a U-turn and I buy one. Now I take the top down, take Emma for a spin, she doesn't even care if her hair gets messed up." He gave Will a look over his glasses. "You follow me?"
Will wasn't exactly sure he did, but he nodded. It didn't seem like a good idea to say no to that voice.
"Good. Just think about it. And let me know if you need any suggestions." His smile widened. "I'm becoming an expert at throwing Emma off her game."
Will quickly hid the cuffs behind his back when he realized Rachel was sitting in the waiting room.
"You all set?" he asked her as he checked out with the receptionist. "Do you need me to stay with you?"
"I've been taking herbal anti-anxiety pills and reading the unauthorized biography of Britney Spears to stay calm." Rachel looked at him more closely. "Are you okay? Did you have a cavity or something? Is that… candy?"
"It's nothing," he said. "I'm fine. Good luck."
He put the maroon leather cuffs into the glove compartment of his old station wagon and tried not to think about them. He wasn't at all sure he wanted to know why Carl thought Emma needed to be controlled at all, but even less sure why Emma wanted him to be the one to do it.
I could have a baby with her, he thought. It made him light-headed to conceive of it. But he couldn't stop thinking about what Toby had said.
He sighed, leaning on the steering wheel. He considered giving Toby a call, but he knew he wouldn't pick up. How do I know I'm making the right decision if I can't talk to you about it?
Rachel muttered a little, shifting in the chair. Carl reached over and adjusted the nitrous mask, giving her another hit, and she settled back into her comatose state. He resumed the process of heavy scaling on her teeth.
"You know, I can't remember the last time we were this close to one another," he said conversationally. "It's not your fault. It's not even your dads' fault. They said this was okay because you wouldn't be awake anyway, and you wouldn't remember it. And anyway, I don't know if I could be rational about maintaining distance if we saw each other all the time. Being at your school this week was pretty weird."
He sighed and sat back in his own chair.
"Okay, that's not the only reason it was weird. This thing with you and Finn, I thought I'd come to terms with it. I didn't want to be controlling of him — I mean, yes, I did, of course I did, but — not like that. Not about his relationships. He's a capable young man, he can handle his own —"
He swallowed the word subs, looking down at his daughter, still moving fitfully every now and then. Eventually he continued working.
"I remember when you were a little girl," he said, "less than two years old, I think, but you already had a leotard and baby toe shoes and a little tutu. And every time we came over, you would put on a show for me and Shelby and Davis, and your dads and Mark, and you would insist that somebody had the flashlight on you the whole time. If one of us put it down, you'd stop dancing and toddle over and firmly put it back on you. You required that spotlight." He shook his head, smiling at the memory. "You were definitely in control. I honestly don't think you would ever want someone in control of you. But then, I never thought I wanted that either, and look at me? I've got Tess."
He brushed her brown hair back from her face, lighter than Shelby's, the same color as his own.
"And don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't think he could do it. I think Finn could Top just about anybody he wanted to. He has the good instincts for it, and he's building control, more every day. I mean, he was."
Carl paused and held his hands very still until they stopped shaking, then continued.
"I'm sure he still is. So I think what I'm saying is… I want to give the two of you my blessing. Even if you never hear it. Even if he doesn't want it."
He disconnected the gas and deposited his instruments in the container to be autoclaved. Then he stripped off his gloves and took out his handkerchief, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose. Finally, he washed his hands and dried them thoroughly before reaching over and gently touching her face.
"Rachel? Rachel, wake up." He smiled as she began to stir. "You Glee kids are impossible to work on. You're always moving around when you're under."
"Daddy?" she said.
He froze, not daring to respond. Eventually she blinked and opened her eyes.
"Hey," he said roughly. "You're doing fine. Hiram will be here soon to take you home."
She moved her jaw carefully. "Is this real life?"
He smiled again, a little sadly. "Yeah. I ask myself that sometimes, too."
Kurt had never been sent to the principal's office before, but he figured in this case he probably deserved it. He waited in the chair in the hallway outside the office instead of going in to bother Principal Figgins. Mr. Schue joined him shortly, frowning angrily at Kurt.
"Can we talk in your office instead?" Kurt asked.
"No, Kurt. You crossed a line this time when you told me to get a grip in front of Glee club."
"I know. But I think we should deal with this ourselves. For one thing, Figgins isn't going to care about me mouthing off to you in Glee. For another, I'm not going to tell him the real reason I did it." Kurt looked up at him. "Because it's about Toby."
Mr. Schue paused, still frowning, but he beckoned Kurt to follow him. They went into his tiny little office outside the Spanish room and closed the door.
"What's going on, Kurt? This isn't like you."
"You need to stop this with Ms. Pillsbury," Kurt interrupted.
Mr. Schue stared at him. "How did you —?"
"I have eyes, Mr. Schue. I can see what's going on. I see how she looks at you. Now I know you are going to tell me it's none of my business, but —"
"That's right!" said Mr. Schue. He looked completely offended. "It's not any of your business! What Toby and I do, and whoever we choose to date, is completely our business."
He smiled triumphantly. "So you are planning to date her."
"I didn't say that. And Kurt, what if I were? Aren't you dating three people?"
"Well… four. Not that it's any of your business." He brushed his bangs off his forehead. "But this isn't about that, Mr. Schue. This is about Toby. You can't just treat him like a— like you used to, when you were married to Terri. He's going to be your husband, not your toy."
"Kurt!" he gasped. Kurt held up a hand.
"You can suspend me later, but hear me out. Toby does not deserve to bear the brunt of your own uncertainty. I don't care how you define your sexuality, where you fall on the Kinsey scale, whatever. The truth is, he loves you, and he's making a commitment to you. If you're not sure if you can deal with gay marriage, and all the challenges that come with that, you shouldn't do it. But at least have the courtesy to tell him that. Don't just substitute what you have with him for something with Ms. Pillsbury because it's easier." He took a deep breath and sat back. "I'm done."
Mr. Schue didn't say anything right away. He stared down at his desk, moving papers around.
"This conversation has crossed a big line, Kurt. Even worse than before in Glee." His shoulders dropped, and he seemed to deflate. "But then, you and I have been crossing them all year. You're Toby's friend, and I'm… his fiancé." He looked up. "It would be pointless to pretend he doesn't matter to both of us. And given my history, I can see why you'd be concerned on his behalf."
"Well." Kurt tried to quiet the adrenaline that was still rushing through him. "That's very big of you to say."
"So what I'm going to tell you now doesn't leave this room. Not with your boyfriends, nobody. All right? I'm trusting you."
Kurt nodded, watching Mr. Schue warily. Mr. Schue sighed.
"Emma and I aren't dating. But it might end up looking like we are to the outside world." He sounded introspective, like he was figuring things out as he said them. "So if that happens, and I'm saying if, I don't want you to be concerned. Toby and I will work it out. Do you understand?"
Kurt nodded again.
"Now, I care about Emma, but… she's not Toby. No one ever has been." Mr. Schue's face hadn't softened. "I haven't always treated him the way I should. We have a unique relationship. I can't pretend it's always easy for me to deal with. You of all people should understand this, Kurt."
"I do," he said. "But —"
"But you're going to have to trust me, and Toby, that we can work it out together. This has to come from us, without interference from our friends. Which isn't to say he doesn't need a friend like you. He really does."
Kurt blinked back sudden tears. "You're right. There's nobody like him."
"That's not what I said." Mr. Schue smiled. "You're like him, Kurt. You've got that same incredible drive to be exactly yourself, and you don't take any bull from anybody who says you should be otherwise. I've taught a lot of teenagers, and I've only ever met one other person like that. Hang on to that strength, Kurt. You're going to need it to survive in this business."
He rose from his desk, scribbling on a piece of paper, then handed it to Kurt, his face serious.
"I'll see you after school on Friday for detention."
"Mr. Schue," he began, because that was his date night with Noah, but then he stopped himself and nodded. Noah would understand if they had to leave a little bit late. "Yes. All right. I'll be here."
It took Dave about five minutes to text Finn after he'd catcalled Rachel wearing her Britney Spears outfit. Finn hid his phone under his hoodie and read what Dave had typed.
Apparently the gay guys do get the hottest chicks. And what I was doing? It wasn't "personifying," it was "objectifying."
Rachel already corrected me, Finn typed back. She's just dressing up that way to get back at me for rejoining the football team. I don't even like it.
That wasn't completely right. Rachel had said in order for this relationship to work, we can't control each other. That was a pretty clear message that she was declining his offer to be in charge.
That's completely stupid, said Dave.
She's insecure and she wants me all to herself. I think she's doing what Kurt said, pushing to see what she can get, even after I told her my boundaries.
Finn paused, looking at what he'd just written, because it had suddenly occurred to him that that was exactly what he'd been doing with Carl. Except in this case, they were his own boundaries, not Carl's — and he was still pushing.
That's really shitty of her, Dave said.
"You're not kidding," Finn muttered.
On her way back from lunch, Emma heard a familiar horn honk. She turned and smiled, expecting to see Carl in his red Corvette, but instead she found Will idling by the curb in a yellow one, identical to Carl's.
"Will!" she exclaimed. "What is this? What happened to your car?"
"I sold it. He patted the seat beside himself. "Come here, hop in."
She did as he told her, touching all the very clean surfaces of the car as he described how his old muffler had been like the shackles of Marley's ghost. But before he could put the car into gear, Terri was suddenly standing in front of them.
"Get out of the car," she demanded.
He hopped right out. Will and Terri proceeded to have the worst fight, right there in the middle of the parking lot, while Emma sat in the yellow Corvette and felt as uncomfortable as she ever had. Eventually she got out of the car and walked away.
As soon as she reached her office, she called Carl.
"Will and his ex-wife just — " she began, and then she started to cry.
"Emma, listen to me," he said calmly. "I'm telling you what to do. Can you hear me?"
"Yes," she sniffed.
"Put the phone down. Get a cloth from your drawer and put some cold water on it. Wash your face. Then blow your nose and pick up the phone again. I'll wait here while you do that."
Emma followed his directions. With each step, she grew calmer, and by the time she picked up the phone again, her tears had stopped.
"I don't know why it bothered me so much," she said, after she'd explained what Terri had done. "I know he's never going back to her."
"Do you want me to tell you why I think it bothered you?"
"Yes, please."
"Because you hate to see Will being weak. That's not how you see him, and you don't like what Terri does to him."
She felt herself start to cry again, but she stopped herself before it could get out of hand again. "That's right," she agreed. "I don't see him that way. I want — I want him to be in control."
"I know. He might not be able to meet that need, Emms. Are you prepared to deal with that?"
"I don't know," she whispered. She covered her face. "I'm sorry, sir."
"There's nothing to be sorry about, baby. You're such a good girl. You can want what you want. I'll help you when it feels too hard."
She took a deep breath. "I don't quite understand how you can be so nice to me when you know I — when I don't want that with you."
"You get to say no to anyone. To everyone, if you prefer. About anything. I'm going to keep helping you until you tell me you don't want to have a baby anymore."
"I don't think that's going to happen," she said.
"Then I'll help you for the rest of your life."
This time the tears came, and she let them fall. "That sounds like a — a very serious proposal."
"Yes, Emms. It is. You think you might consider that with me? Don't answer yet. Just think about it."
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir."
"It's my pleasure. Can you come home a little early tonight? I'd like to do some shibari with you before dinner."
That sounded so wonderful, she didn't know how to express it, so she just said, "Yes, sir," again.
"All right. You can spend five minutes rearranging your desk before you go back to work."
She smiled, feeling the tension draining from her shoulders, and shook her hair back. "Thank you, sir."
