A/N: No your eyes are not deceiving you, this really is an update. Shocking, I know. Thank you to wood-u-like-2-no, who basically co-wrote this chapter with me to help me out of my writer's block. Some of Puck's best lines in this chapter came from him, so you can thank him for that too. Also to pinklunchboxrevenge (tumblr) and Picklepocket who lent their ears and listened to me whine about how this chapter was never going to happen. I hope the really, REALLY, long wait was worth it!
"Finndiot."
"Remember that weekend you promised me?"
"Duh. Dude, it's gonna be badass. I've got-"
"Let's do it tonight."
"What?"
"Tonight. Let's do it tonight."
"But… there's school tomorrow."
"When the hell did you start caring whether or not there's school tomorrow?"
"Hey, the Puckersaurus don't give a shit. You're the one always telling me-"
"Are you gonna waste my time talking about it or are we actually going to do shit?"
"Dude, what's up with you?"
"Nothing. I'm just ready to have some fun."
"What, the whole 'patient' routine starting to bore you?"
"Ha ha...very funny. Look just pick me up at eight or whatever."
"What about your mom?"
"My mom's doing the whole 24 hour shift thing or something. She won't even be here."
"Cool. Prepare to get stinking wasted. I'm gonna have to pull some strings here, what with doing things on the fly and all, but you're lucky the ladies love me."
"Whatever Puck."
Xxx
He sits on his doorstep, glaring daggers at the ground. His mom won't be home until late, and he's thankful for that at least because at this point, he's not sure if her can look her in the face and not just get pissed.
He's not sure he can do anything, really, and not just get really, really pissed. He knows it's wrong, okay? He knows he's not making any sense, and that's what bothers him the most, you know? He's so angry, and so frustrated and he doesn't even know why, and that just makes him even angrier and even more frustrated.
It just feels so pointless. He tries. He tries and tries and tries, but it kind of feels a lot like he's one of those hamsters caged in the back of Mr. Clarkson's bio lab. He had to clean out their cages once for detention, and he'd spent like ten minutes just staring at them at one point, as they kept running on their little wheels, running hard and going nowhere. That's kind of what he feels like. That's exactly what he feels like, like he's running and going nowhere (more like limping. Ha Ha).
And the more people try to help, the shittier he feels, because they don't get it. They don't get that maybe- maybe he can't. Maybe that's the point. He can't do it, he can't graduate, can't move on, can't do anything with his pathetic life because all he really is, is just another Lima loser. Worse. The worst Lima loser, who's meant for nothing more than spending the rest of his pathetic existence working as the school janitor or whatever.
He's not good enough for anything. He's too stupid to graduate high school, too weak to play football, or any other sport for that matter, which was really his only ticket for getting somewhere. He's nothing. And every kind word from his mother, or Rachel or whoever just keeps reminding him that he's nothing.
They're wasting their time on him.
Xxx
"Where are we going?" he asks wearily, finally getting his seat just right as Puck backs out of the driveway. Puck turns towards him, wearing his typical party mode face with a wide, crazy grin.
"Going crazy, motherfucker," Puck quips.
"Was that wit you tried to pull out of your ass?" he grumbles, not at all impressed. Puck rolls his eyes.
"You'll like it, okay?"
There's a pause of silence between them before Finn sighs, shrugging his shoulders as he leans back. He's well aware of the expectant look on Puck's face, and after a few seconds, decides that the ass won't stop looking and that they'll probably crash into a tree or something, and then he'll probably be permanently paralyzed this time.
"What?" he snaps in annoyance, looking straight ahead.
"You gonna fuckin' talk tonight, or you just gonna stare out the window? It's not really a great view, you know."
Finn shrugs and shifts a bit to make his leg more comfortable.
"What's there to talk about?"
"I dunno. Like you wanting to do this tonight, not Friday? You never wanted to do shit on weeknights 'cause of school."
"Maybe I don't care 'bout school anymore," he mutters, closing his eyes.
It's a dumb answer. And it almost gives everything away. Like, sure, he's not the best student to begin with, what with a C average and all, but it would have been enough to graduate high school at least.
Before that hit took away any chance he had with football.
Before it knocked him into Stupidville, where he can't even cope enough to finish his classes.
He knows it's dumb, that a high school diploma is still better than dropping out, but it feels totally pointless. If he can't get to college, who gives a shit anyway? He knows how the world works. Without college, you're nothing. Less than nothing. And no sports and no diploma meant no college.
No matter how you slice it, he's completely fucked.
"'Kay, cool," Puck's voice breaks through his thoughts. "You don't care. I mean, I don't care neither. What the fuck has school ever done for us, right? But, dude...won't your Mom care?"
"You just said you don't care." Finn snaps at him.
"I don't."
"You sure? 'Cause right now you're sounding a lot like my mom. So shut the fuck up, mom, and just drive, 'kay?"
Puck rolls his eyes and looks at him, shrugging.
"Fine, beyotch. Be that way. Looks like you need what I got more than you know."
The ride is blissfully silent for a while after that. Puck makes a turning towards Breadstix, so he guesses that this means they're heading towards the college side of town. That's just awesome. If there was a place to go that Finn doesn't need to be reminded of, it's the side of town he'll never get to on his own. He sinks down in his seat a bit and closes his eyes again, trying to settle himself down.
After all, he doesn't need Puck against him too.
"Holy sh-...dude." Puck slaps him on the shoulder and Finn opens his eyes to glare at his friend. The other boy isn't looking at him but pointing at somewhere out the front window. "Isn't that...isn't that your mom?"
Finn frowns and turns in the direction where Puck's pointing. Sure enough, in the parking lot of Breadstix, there's his mom. His eyebrows knit together as he sits up abruptly in surprise. She's smiling, clearly happy while she walks arm-in-arm with a man who looks oddly familiar to him. Is that- Is that Kurt's dad?
What the fuck is going on!
"Isn't that the bald dude who runs the tire shop? Dude, why didn't you tell me your mom is bumping uglies with him?"
"I...I didn't know." Finn stammers, looking back through the rear window to try and catch another glimpse of what's happening. All he sees is his mom leaning her head on Kurt's dad as they walk through the doors of Breadstix. His hands are clenching the front seat before he knows it, and his head feels like its about to explode.
"Listen man," Puck starts, and it's taking a lot out of him not to bite the dude's head off right now. "If you guys are tight with the tire guy, think maybe I can get a discount on some tires? 'Cause, like, it's way past the time for these babies to go."
"Just...just shut up, okay? I don't know what's happening. She told me she was working."
Finn can feel the bile rise in his throat as his stomach weighs down with a leadend feeling. Was that really how much of a loser he is now? He's so useless, his mom doesn't even want to tell him these things? 'Cause, sure, having a date isn't a huge deal or anything, but she could have at least mentioned she was dating! That's pretty important stuff, right? Like, the kind of thing a teenage son should know so that if he sees a strange truck in the driveway, he doesn't freak out or something? How many 'overtime's and 'extra shifts' were just her fucking lying to him? How long has this been going on? Fuck, all those times he was feeling like shit because he thought she was working too hard to pay off his hospital bills, were they all lies? He turns towards Puck.
"Fuck, why didn't she tell me?" he asks quietly, more to himself than anything.
"Maybe she's doing a hit and split," Puck says nonchalantly. "No need to know if he's just a one nighter, right?"
He doesn't even control himself this time as he lets his fist crash into Puck's shoulder.
"Don't be an asshole, jackass. That's my MOM we're talking about."
Puck shrugs it off, barely flinching from Finn's punch. "Chill, dude. Mamas and Papas gotta get their mack on too. Better when you don't see or hear it."
"Fuck, Puckerman, shut up!"
Finn collapses back in the passenger seat, groaning loudly as he rubs a hand over his face. The image of his mom's head on Mr. Hummel's shoulder was so a picture he did not need, nor of the imaginary one of her and Mr. Hummel...yuck!
Of course, that's when Puck decides to open his big fat mouth again.
"Dude, trust me, where I'm taking you, the last thing you'll be thinking of is your mom or the tire guy. In fact, I guarantee you'll like what you see."
Finn swallows and rolls his eyes, preparing himself for the worst. Puck's made these claims before.
He knows better than to take his friend at his word.
Xxx
Okay, so the sights are definitely appealing. Or is that revealing?
Puck claps a hand on his shoulder, almost knocking him over in the process.
"Didn't I say you'd like what you see? Welcome to the Dirty Sanchez, my man. Leave your Finnocence at the door and follow me."
He moves almost blindly through the strip club, keeping his peripheral vision on his mohawked friend. He's never been to a club like this before, and everything is new. The men are eagerly watching the dancers on stage, the smell of alcohol is tickling his nostrils, and every woman in the place is gorgeous. Like, seriously drop dead gorgeous with curves in all the right places and bust lines that put the Kardashians to shame.
How the hell did Puck even know about this place?
Oh, right. It's Puck.
Who else but Puck would know about this place?
After finding a table which gives the best views of both the topless waitresses and the dancers on stage, and struggling to actually sit down, Puck flags down the closest waitress while Finn absorbs everything. This wasn't entirely what he had in mind, but he can't bring himself to complain.
His eyes are wide as he takes in his surrounding. There's a voice in the back of his head that sounds a lot like Rachel Berry telling him to avert his gaze. But who cares what Rachel Berry thinks anyway? He doesn't, at least not tonight, and plus. It's their jobs to get him to look, so screw that. His eyes follow Puck's hand as it waves towards the waitress by the bar, his gaze going straight towards her long, shapely legs tucked inside the shortest shorts he has ever seen in his life (he's pretty sure even the person who sweeps the floors in this place is probably a half naked woman).
Wait. His eyes narrow when they move up to her face. Is she really coming over to serve them? Isn't that-
No fucking way!
"Dude. Isn't that-"
"Heya, Polka Dots!"
"Puck!" Leslie hisses as she hurries up to them, her large serving tray suddenly covering up her breasts. "What the hell are you doing here?"
It's probably a good thing she's about ready to burst with anger and focusing her attention on Puck at the moment, because Finn's pretty sure he hadn't been looking at her face until she wasn't so naked from the neck down.
"Just out having a good time!" Puck clarifies, as he nods over towards the bar. "We need two Buds and a couple shots each of tequila."
"You're underage!" Leslie reminds him witheringly, refusing to glance at Finn once. He's trying not to notice the blush moving from her boobs up to her neck, but it's kind of hard when her chest is right up in his face.
"You are too." Puck reminds her just as quickly. "Should I let the manager know you're actually a high school senior, not a college senior? 'Sides, you set my man Finn and I up, and I can totally make it worth your time under the bleachers Friday."
Leslie purses her lips for only a moment before sighing and rolling her eyes.
"Fine. My tip better be good on this one."
"How 'bout I give you my tip and we'll call it even, 'kay?" Puck says, while Finn cringes. Rachel would have dumped that tray right over his head by now. But Leslie isn't Rachel, and Rachel won't set foot in this place anyway, and it's time he forgets about what Rachel would do, because he's not supposed to care, remember?
Leslie leaves them to get their drinks and Finn feels his shoulder slapped as Puck moves his chair closer to his.
"This club is the absolute shit, Finnbecile. Ain't never had a bad time, and I've been comin' here almost two years now."
"No pun intended," Finn fires back, almost smiling.
"Pun totally intended. Seriously, dude, just pick a girl and start talkin' to her. They let you know pretty quick if they're interested in a little personal time."
Finn rolls his eyes. Puck's totally his best friend and all, but the dude is an asshole who has a one track mind. And Finn's pretty sure nothing like that will help him get out of Lima.
"Strippers aren't hookers, Puck," he says, and he can almost hear Rachel say the exact same thing with that obnoxious tone she gets sometimes. Fuck, why can't she leave him alone?
"No shit Berry-clone. But that one is." Puck waves towards the other end of the bar where a sultry brunette sits, twirling her hair and surveying the crowd. "You give the word, and she's all yours man. My treat."
Finn's head snaps back to Puck so fast, it makes his brain spin.
"What the actual fuck, dude?" he hisses, annoyed. "I don't want a hooker! What kind of fucked up shit is that?"
Puck opens his mouth to retort, but shuts up when he sees Leslie coming towards them. They're silent as she places the drinks in front of them, each getting a bottle of Budweiser and two shots of tequila, and a suspicious glance before she rolls her eyes and walks away. Finn doesn't wait before he's downing the two shots, one right after the other in rapid succession. The sooner he can drown away the failure that is his life, the better.
He knows this isn't the best thing to do, 'cause he's been drunk before and it didn't make any of his problems go away, but right now he just needs a fucking break, all right?
"Shut up Rachel," he mutters into the empty shot glass, too quiet for Puck to hear him. He feels the tequila burning through his throat and settling in his stomach, and it doesn't make him feel a thing. Good.
Puck matches him, drowning his two shots and then throwing himself back in his chair, the beer already in his hand.
"Fine, then. What the fuck do you want?"
"I want another drink."
"I'm serious Finn," Puck says quietly. He looks up to find his friend scrutinising him, and that itch beneath his skin gets harder to ignore.
"Oh is that your serious face?" he says lightly instead, taking a big chug of his beer. "I didn't know you dropped your balls, Puckerman."
"That's my line, Finndiot," Puck shoots back, finally smirking. Finn shrugs, downing the rest of his beer before he waves at Leslie for more. He sees the troubled look on his friend's face, but fuck that. He didn't come here to talk.
xxx
"Congratulations dude," Puck's wry voice fills his ears. He only manages to make out an almost smile as he slips all the change he has into the stripper's tiny underwear, his untrained eyes losing sight of her the minute she turns.
"What?" he mutters. His speech is almost slurry, Rachel's voice is gone, he feels a proper buzz settling in, and his head hurts if he moves too much, so he's definitely on his way to getting plastered.
"I think that's the longest you've ever had a girl on you without blowing your load."
"Screw you asshole."
"Dude I'm serious. I mean we both know Quinn's not really the grinding type-"
"How would you even know that?"
"I- well she's frigid as hell."
"Yeah she kind of was," he mumbles. He tries to think of more to say, but right now he can barely remember what Quinn looks like in the first place. Blonde, pretty, kind of mean sometimes. But- "But we did it in her house during junior prom. She wasn't that frigid then."
Puck doesn't answer him, and he turns to his side to find his friend's eyes focused solely on the dancing strippers on stage. He rolls his eyes, wincing when it hurts his head.
He thinks about Quinn again. Quinn who still wants him, who thinks that he's still the same old Finn from before the accident. He remembers the old Finn, and how he had his life figured out, the old Finn who still had hopes and dreams. It makes his head hurt, thinking, so he swipes Puck's beer instead.
xxx
"You're fucking depressing me, man," Puck comments. He doesn't know how long they've been here. Long enough that the sleazier, touchier assholes are starting to come in, long enough for him to smile apologetically when another gorgeous, topless girl offers him a lap dance that he had to refuse because all his money is gone, long enough for Leslie to worriedly order Puck to take him home (but he's still going strong). "You mope around all sad and pissed because you got injured, and I get it man. But fuck, you can't keep doing this."
"What, did my mom and Rachel get to you too?" he slurs out, annoyed.
He snickers when a mental image of his mom and tiny Rachel in her cupcake dress ganging up on Puck pops up in his mind.
"I just-," Puck starts hesitantly, ignoring his joke. "It looked like you were feeling better about things back in the hospital. And I thought-"
"What? That once I came back things were going to fall back into place? That it won't fucking kill me when I see posters of Sam Evans' face all over the school hallway this week? That I'll be fine with my fucking life going nowhere?"
"Dude-"
"Adapt, right?" Finn slurs our sarcastically. He starts to stand, but the room tilts sideways so he sits back down impatiently. "That's what they told me. I need to adapt to my fucking situation. Well how the fuck am I suppose to adapt? I'm not graduating!"
Puck shuts his mouth and stares at him, surprise etched on his features. Finn barely sees his friend's face, his hand reaching out blindly for anything that's not empty. The hilarity of the moment strikes him acutely, and he starts to laugh, giving up on his quest for more beer as he leans against his crutch, breathless.
"Yep. I can't adapt," he starts between giggles. "I can't do anything. I can't do football or sports, 'cause I busted my knee. And I spent so fucking long in the hospital, so fucking long trying to heal and missed so much fucking schoolwork, that now, I can't even graduate. You know what that means?" he asks quietly, sobering up just a little, before a sardonic smile pulls his lips upward humorlessly.
"Huh? It means I'm stuck here, Puck. I'm fucking stuck in this fucking town and going fucking nowhere. So I guess I'm adapting to that, right? Adapting to being a Lima loser, but oh wait, I already was one before, so really, there's no fucking need to adapt to anything, which is a good thing I guess, since I'm so fucking useless and pathetic, I couldn't have done that anyway."
"Finn-"
"Don't-" he says sharply, holding a hand up. "Don't try to make me feel better, okay? Don't try to tell me that you get it, or that you understand how I feel because- because I don't fucking care if you do. I don't fucking care if you care either, or if- if Rachel and my mom does, because it's not happening to any of you, okay? It's happening to me. And this is how I feel about it. Okay?"
Puck opens his mouth, and he prepares himself for a string of insults, or another round of arguments he's too drunk to have. But he guesses this is the reason why they're best friends, when Puck turns around to order another round of shots instead.
Xxx
"Where the hell have you been!"
Finn hobbles past his Mom, snorting as he stumbles into their home. "Out."
"Out where?" His mom asks. Finn watches as she suddenly makes a face and takes a step back, covering her nose and mouth. "Have you been drinking?"
"Yep!" He stumbles again, trying to stand upright. Deciding to give up trying to keep his balance on a floor that's moving far too much for his liking, he lets go of his crutches. It falls with a clang on the floor as he leans against the wall to steady himself. Wow, he didn't know rooms in the house could spin so fast.
"You didn't tell me you were going out, Finn. I called you five times!"
Really? Man, his phone sucks. It's supposed to ring or blare or shake or do something to let him know he's getting a call. Not just sit there in his pocket and do nothing. He frowns and pulls it from his pocket to see it listing all the calls he's missed. And it's blinking a little light in the corner. It's fucking blinking! Finn starts to laugh at how absurd that is.
"Sorry," Finn slurs. Wow, the room is spinning even faster now. But his Mom is standing there completely still. Like, she's glued to the floor. How does she do that? She can stand upright in a spinning room? She must have some badass balance skills he didn't know about. He holds up his cell. "Didn't hear the phone blink!"
"I was worried." she says quietly.
Again, he looks down at her, and she's looks so sincere and so upset at the same time, that he can't help but laugh again. He keeps chuckling as he hobbles by and pats her on the head. "I'm good. Never fear. Just...oh...need the bathroom I think."
Before he knows it, he's face-down in front of the toilet and puking his guts out. And holy crap, that feels horrible and awesome all at the same time. His stomach isn't bugging him anymore. If anything, he feels a bit hungry. But the burning in his throat and nose cancels out the desire for food. And since when does puke get in his nose? He thought it was bad just having it in his mouth, but fuck, it stings in his nostrils.
"I don't...ugh...don't feel too great."
"Serves you right for going out on a bender!" his mom says from the doorway, arms crossed, glaring daggers at him.
He turns his head to the side and notices her standing there, completely pissed. It strikes him as hilarious that the word used to describe how she looks can also be used to describe his drunkenness. They're both pissed because she's angry and he's drunk. Even though angry and drunk are two totally different things. Well, they are to him, at least. How could anyone be angry and drunk? He's seen others do it, but really, it's so easy to be happy when you're drunk. Why can't more people see that?
Finn giggles over the discussion going through his mind when suddenly his stomach lurches. He groans, turning his head quickly back to the toilet bowl. As the contents of his stomach leave via his oesophagus, he can hear his mother sigh and walk away. She returns a few minutes later, a glass of water in her hand. She flushes the toilet while he takes a sip. He watches as his mom runs a wash cloth under running water before she kneels next to him, pulling his head roughly towards her. He groans when it makes his head spin.
"You want to tell me why you're so inebriated?" her voice is quiet as she wipes his face, but there's a steeled firmness to it that would have gotten his attention at any other time. As it is, all he does is stare at her for a moment, his eyes blurring a bit, her form just a fuzzy outline. The last word seems to stick in his mind as something that makes no sense.
"Inebriated?"
"Drunk, Finn. Why are you drunk? How did you even get drunk?"
Finn blinks a couple times. How did he get drunk? Oh, right. That senior Puck's been getting busy with.
"It was Polka Dots, Mom. She gave them to us."
"Who's Polka Dots?"
"Puck's girl. She bangs him under the bleachers. Got a nice rack, too."
"Finn! Where did you learn that kind of language? That's completely inappropriate!"
"Just a metaphor." Finn's words stumble out of his mouth as he pushes himself away from her to lean against the wall. His stomach is killing him. "Rachel says metaphors are important."
"And did Rachel tell you to get hammered tonight?"
Finn thinks for a moment. Did she? He doesn't think so. No, Rachel didn't tell him to get hammered.
She told him she's sorry.
Everyone's sorry. That's the fucking problem. They're all sorry but they don't understand. He doesn't care.
"I'm going to bed." Finn tries to stand but his feet aren't working too well and only the corner of his foot seems to want to stay on the floor. He tries to pull himself up, but his arms feel like jelly. They aren't helping him much.
Fuck it. He can crawl.
He gets on his hands and knees, gritting his teeth at the pain shooting up his thigh as he slowly moves towards his bedroom. Carole watches him for a moment before coming beside him, his glass of water in her hand while the other is stretched out to him. "Here, let me help you."
"Why?" Finn almost shouts, snatching his arm away from her. He turns his head to look at her startled expression, falling back into a sitting position on the floor again.
"I don't need help, Mom. What I need is for people to understand that they can't help me! I am beyond help. I'm not graduating mom. But I'm sure you know that already, since everyone is talking to everyone else behind my back about me."
"Finn-" He bursts out into angry laughter, leaning his head back against the sink.
"I have no knee! I have no grades. I have no shot at college. I'm stuck in this stupid fucking town for the rest of my life. And pretty soon I won't have a mom, because she'd rather lie and tell me she's working when she's dating behind my back!"
Carole's face turns white and Finn watches as she swallows in fear. He feels the guilt somewhere in the back of his brain trying to push through, but fuck that. He doesn't care that she's hurt, doesn't care that she's worried about him or trying to help his drunken ass get to his room. He doesn't really care about anything right now. Except for maybe the fact that his mom has been lying to him for who knows how long. Except for maybe the fact that everyone's been talking over him or behind him or about him, but never to him, unless they're trying to give him a pep talk before dropping another bombshell on him. Except for maybe the fact that he does care, he cares too fucking much and he hates it.
"It's...it wasn't..." Carole takes a breath and plows ahead. "I didn't want to overwhelm you honey- I-"
"Why? Did you think that I wouldn't understand?" He stares up at her, ignoring the tell-tale signs of those lines on her forehead. He focuses all his attention on his feelings instead, feeling his temper beginning to burn, and his voice gets louder the more he speaks.
"Why wouldn't I understand why my mom's dating the Lima Michelin Man? I wouldn't understand it at all because I'm so stupid, right? Too stupid to stay good in sports, too stupid to graduate school. Too stupid for my mom to be honest with me. It's just all me being stupid, isn't it? Isn't it!"
A big splash of cold water smacks him in the face and causes him to cough and sputter and fuck if it doesn't feel like he's drowning. He can't seem to catch his breath until he rolls over face down on the floor, gasping for breath. It takes him a few seconds to sort out that his mom had just literally thrown a glass of water right in his face.
"Enough with the pity party, Finn," she says in a clipped tone, and he's too busy trying to remember how to breathe so say anything. She doesn't anything else, but she holds her hand out towards him, and he determinedly ignores her. He thought that maybe if he screamed it would make him feel better, but the cold water jarred his senses and wiped out all of his anger and all he feels is tired. He's too tired to do anything.
He closes his eyes when he feels his mom squatting next to him. Her touch is gentle as she wipes away the sweat on his brow and it makes the back of his eyes burn.
"You are out of line tonight, young man," she says. Her tone is firm, but he open his eyes to find an almost weary look in hers as she continues. "We will talk tomorrow about what your punishment will be, and believe me, it's going to be heavy. Now you're going to stop acting like an immature child and start being the eighteen year old young man that I raised you to be and accept my help, do you understand that?"
He wants to resist, but fuck, he's too drunk to do anything but nod like the idiot that he is.
"Good."
xxx
He wakes up with what he's pretty sure is the worst hangover of his life to find two aspirins and a bottle of water by his bedside. He wakes up at three in the afternoon, and his mom is gone.
But she leaves a note on the fridge, and she tells him that they're going to have a real talk tonight, and he knows he's in the doghouse. He doesn't remember much of what happened last night, past Puck dragging his drunk ass up to the front door. He knows it's bad though, because he has vague memories of puking in front of his mom and crawling like an idiot on the toilet floor. He cringes, both from the migraine and the memory of him making a complete fool of himself. Puck picks him up at four, looking just a little worse for wear, and the asshole laughs at his dishevelled appearance, not once apologizing for making him late for physio. He knows that coach Bieste lets Puck off early sometimes for his account, and it bugs him because he doesn't want charity, but he says nothing about it because he's in enough trouble as it is.
Terrence, still his own personal slave driver, apparently could spot a hangover from a mile away. He gets an extra half hour of crunch time for that, and a warning that the next time it happens, Natalie will get wind of it. Finn has half a mind to retort that the dude is not his shrink, but he knows better by now than to mess with the guy that can make you physically hurt while claiming that it's good for you. If this is God's way of telling him to never get drunk again, then He's doing a pretty good job at almost making him listen (But then again, God would probably do an even better job at making him listen if he'd never busted his knee in the first place, so...).
He doesn't get home until it's almost six, and his mom is already waiting for him on the porch. Puck learns to be tactful the one time Finn wishes that he wouldn't be, and declines his mom's invitation to stay for dinner. So it's quiet as he sets the table and sits dutifully on his seat while he waits for his mom to finish tossing the salad. She hasn't said a word since Puck left, and neither has he. It isn't until she finally takes her seat that she opens her mouth.
"I owe you an explanation," she starts calmly.
"Mom-"
"No, Finn. Listen to me. Burt and I, it's new. It's barely been a month and we still don't know how serious this is going to get. But you're right. I should have been honest with you. You deserve that much."
"I just- I was just surprised," he mutters, grabbing the back of his neck. "When I saw you yesterday."
"I didn't mean to hide it from you, Finn. We've always had a very open relationship, and I'm sorry for making you think that I would jeopardize that for anything."
"I'm sorry for overreacting."
"I accept your apology. But you're still in big trouble young man."
"I know."
"Leaving the house without telling me?" She starts, listing out his mistakes as he shrinks in his seat. "Not answering your phone, getting drunk God knows where, and coming home in your state?"
"I know."
"I'm giving you a chance to explain yourself Finn, because I know that you're better than this."
She waits expectantly for him to say something, and he knows she wants more than just his apology, but he can't seem to get his mouth to move.
"I was just- I'm sorry."
xxx
"You're grounded. For two whole weeks."
"Okay," he answers quietly, struggling to stand and collect the dirty dishes. He feels his mom's eyes on him as he slowly shuffles to the sink.
"We're worried about you," she finally says. He turns on the tap, ignoring that itch under his skin. "We weren't trying to go behind your back, Finn. But it's hard to talk to you when you won't talk back."
He doesn't say a word as he picks up the first plate.
"You're going to have to talk to someone sooner or later Finn. Even if it's not me."
xxx
Rachel left him about a million missed calls and texts in the past two days. He doesn't return any of them. It's not because he's mad at her or anything. In fact he's pretty sure that by now it's the other way around. He just- he just doesn't know what to say to her. He knows he should probably start by saying sorry for blowing her off. And for getting pissed and taking it out on her. She didn't deserve that. She doesn't- well he doesn't deserve to have a friend like her anyways.
xxx
He's been waiting at Rachel's locker for almost ten minutes now. He's seriously hoping that she's not avoiding him. She might, since she didn't answer any of his texts (He only sent two, at like 2 a.m. last night. But still).
A hand touches his arm and he jumps a little, pasting a smile on his face as he prepares to face her wrath.
"Hey- Oh. Hi Quinn," he says, deflating when he sees his ex-girlfriend standing next to him instead. Quinn smiles up at him, taking his hand.
"Hi Finn. Are you waiting for Rachel? I don't think she's coming by this morning."
He frowns.
"How do you know that?"
"Oh, I just saw her walking to Miss Peterson's class with Puck."
"Puck?" he repeats, confused. Since when did Rachel and Puck start hanging out together without him?
"Mmhmm. So anyway Finn, what are you doing tonight?"
She smooths out the collar of his shirt like it's something she does everyday (it used to be), nonchalantly pressing her fingers against his neck.
"Nothing," he answers, turning his head to slip out of her hold.
"Great. There's a party at my house tonight, after the game-"
"I'm grounded," he blurts out. She narrows her eyes as she looks up at him. "Yeah. So you know, sorry Quinn. But I can't."
"You're trying to avoid me again," she states.
"No, really. My mom just grounded for the next two weeks."
Her brows furrow together as she looks up at him, trying to determine whether or not he's lying.
"Okay," she says once she's satisfied. "So if you weren't grounded, you'll go?"
Honestly, a football party is the last thing he wants to go to.
"Yeah."
She smiles then, grinning up brightly at him before she leans up to kiss his cheek.
"Good. I'll pick you up at nine."
"But I just said-"
"Don't worry about that Finn. I'll handle it. Now I have to go to class, but I'll see you later, okay?"
She doesn't wait for him to answer as she bounds down the hall. He shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders as he starts to hobble towards Spanish. Here comes another day of school.
xxx
So he doesn't know what the hell Quinn told his mom, but whatever it was it worked, because here he is, cramped up in the backseat of Quinn's car with her and Santana. She even told him to have fun, "but no drinking!". Like, what is going on? Quinn and Santana are giggling over something, God knows what, and all he's thinking about is now he remembers why they always used to use his truck, because her car can fold him in half it's so tiny. Then again, Rachel's car is only a little bit bigger than this, even though she's tinier than Quinn. He couldn't find her at school today. He asked Puck where she was during lunch, and Puck told him that she left early to go on some weekend trip with her parents, and it was only a little annoying that Puck knows about this.
Anyway, she still hasn't returned his texts, but he doesn't want to smother her, so he stopped texting. And-
"Finn!" His head snaps up to find an almost exasperated Quinn looking at him, one hand on her hip as she stands in front of the open car door.
"We're here," she tells him, smiling.
"Oh, right. Sorry."
xxx
Her hand is on his back as he hobbles slowly up the steps of her house. He can hear the loud music pounding against the door, and he doesn't have to ask if her parents are out of town this week when two freshmen from the reserve football team almost walked into him while carrying a keg. He stops short near the door, his heartbeats rising rapidly in time without the fast music at the idea of all the people he used to know standing behind Quinn's door. He feels her small palm running soothing circles on his back and relaxes.
"It's going to be fine Finn," Quinn murmurs as she stands next to him. "You're going to be fine."
He looks down at her, and her smile is reassuring enough for him to let out a breath. He hears a loud whistle, and the music dies down while he nods his head slowly.
"Ready?" Quinn asks him as she stands at her door.
"Yeah, sure."
She pushes it open, and he frowns at the darkness as he shuffles in.
"What's goin-"
His words stop short when the lights go on, and his eyes zero in on the large banner hanging over the mantelpiece that says "Welcome back Finn", his ears drowning in a sea of people screaming out the same thing at him. He looks down to find his old friends, most of the football team and all the Cheerios, smiling expectantly at him as he stands rooted to the doorway.
"Oh wow," he says out loud, and for some reason, everyone thinks that this is funny. He laughs along with the rest of them, turns to find Quinn beaming up proudly at him.
"You did all this?" he asks, surprised. She nods.
"I figured you could use a big welcome home party."
xxx
He goes on for almost an hour before the crowd starts to overwhelm him and he slips out the front door. Puck's not here, and it's probably because of that stand-off he has with Quinn. Finn wonders vaguely about what happened between the two of them, but he's soon distracted by Mike Chang, coming out of the party to say goodbye because he has to leave early.
It's been a weird hour, with everyone coming up to him and talking to him like all he's been doing for past six months was just going off to camp or whatever. The fact that he can't play anymore only came up once when Sam came up to him, awkwardly telling him that he was sorry. It hit him then, that he really wasn't as pissed at Sam as he thought he was. It just made him sad when he shrugged it off as Sam told him that the dude was going to try to live up to his name as captain.
They asked him what the hospital was like, and laughed when he told them it was like a hospital, even though it wasn't really a joke, and when Brittany Pierce came up to him and asked him if she could sign his crutches, about five other Cheerios came up to do the same thing. So now there are doodles on his crutches (he's pretty sure that cat face came from Brittany), and he wonders if they can come off.
The front door opens again, and this time it's Quinn, smiling when she sees him.
"I thought I might find you here," she says quietly. He's sitting down on her porch swing, and she joins him, offering him the cup of beer that she's nursing.
"No thanks," he says. "I'm not allowed to drink."
"Doctor's orders?"
"My mom's," he answers wryly. Quinn laughs, nudging his shoulder. They sit quietly for a few minutes as she nurses her beer and he stares at the doodles on his crutches.
"Thanks," he murmurs. "You know, for the party."
"I figured you could use one night of fun," she says. "I know it feels like they don't, but they care about you Finn. They just don't know how to show it. I- I care about you."
He doesn't say anything to that. He doesn't know what to say to that.
"So, how long do you have to use that thing?" she asks. He shrugs.
"Terrence said that I can go off it in a few weeks or so."
"Terrence?"
"He's my physiotherapist."
"Oh. How's your- how's your leg doing?"
"It's okay. I mean, sometimes it still hurts, especially at night when it gets cold. But other than being annoying, it's okay."
"I- I'm sorry, Finn."
"I know. You said that already," he jokes quietly. "Remember?"
She doesn't smile this time, and he knows she means it from the miserable look on her face.
"Really," he says, nudging her. "I'm over it."
There's silence, before she starts to speak again.
"Are you over me?" she whispers.
"Quinn-"
"You know, there are a lot of memories here."
"I- yeah."
"Remember the first time you came over?" He snorts at the memory and nods his head.
"Yeah. I was so nervous I knocked over your mom's flower arrangement, and your dad has hated me ever since."
"He doesn't hate you Finn-"
"He hates me Quinn."
"Okay fine, he does," she answers, rolling her eyes at the smug look on his face. "But only because, you know, you were the first guy I ever loved besides him."
"Quinn," he whispers softly. He doesn't know what's happening, but they're so close he can feel her breath against his neck. She smells familiar, like flowers, like that perfume he never remembers the name of but he knows makes up part of who she is since the moment they met. She smells like Quinn, and he remembers their first kiss on her front porch, and their first time in her room, and the first time she ever told him that she loves him in his mom's car in her driveway when they were sixteen.
"I miss you," she says quietly, leaning closer.
"I'm not- I'm different now," he says. "I'm not that guy anymore Quinn, you know?"
"But you're still Finn."
"I don't know who that is anymore."
"I do."
He turns to face her, and their noses brush from the proximity. Her gaze is confident, a small smile playing on the corner of her lips.
"I know you," she murmurs. Does she really? Because he sure as hell doesn't. He smiles, lips pulling upward to his right. He leans forward, their lips brushing together as she breathes out into their kiss.
A/N: Patience, my dear readers, and I promise I'll try not to wait for the new year before I update the next time =P
