She stood nervously on his door step with a warm casserole in her hands, wondering if this had been a foolish idea. But that's what people did, right? Make casseroles for families suffering a loss? And even though Finn had told her he would be fine, the thought of him surviving on junk food was just pitiful. Taking in a breath, she pressed her finger against the doorbell.

Finn groaned as the doorbell jerked him out of a very happy dream. He pulled his fist out of the doritos bag on his chest, wiping his fingers on his boxers as he blinked awake. She shifted from foot to foot, looking anxiously at the door, the casserole dish feeling heavy in her arms.

He sighed, padding towards the door in his bare feet as he wondered why his mother felt the need to still have the neighbor's check on him when he clearly wasn't a kid anymore. He pulled open the front door, his eyes widening.

"Um, hi," she muttered, glancing from the dish to his sleepy eyes. "I, uh, made you a casserole," she stated the obvious, blushing a little.

"What are you doing here?" his throat scratched out. He glanced behind him nervously even though he knew no one else was home, and then down at his purple power rangers t-shirt in embarrassment.

"I made you a casserole," she said again. "Because I thought you, um, might be getting a little hungry for real food..." she further explained, following his eyes to his t-shirt.

"Oh. Well thanks." He took the dish from her hands, feeling awkward as he stood in the doorway in his pajamas.

She forced a smile. "Um, I guess that's it," she muttered awkwardly. "I'll see you later."

"Wait hold on." He frowned and held the door open with his knee. "I'm sorry, do you wanna come in or something?"

"Are you sure?" Her eyes darted to his power ranger shirt again. "I mean..." she trailed off, catching his gaze again.

"Yeah, it's fine," he smiled a little, motioning her in as he set the dish down on the hall table. "Just give me a minute and I'll," he looked down at his boxers, "I'll be right back."

She nodded, standing in the living a little awkwardly, folding her hands at her waist as she glanced around the cluttered room. Finn hurried up the steps, throwing open the door of his bedroom as he wrestled off his t-shirt. Grabbing a pair of jeans off the floor, he threw them on and pulled a random polo out of his closet. He smiled a little at his reflection in the mirror as he smoothed his hair back and tested his breath in the palm of his hand.

She had not moved as she heard Finn hurry back down the steps, smiling as the boy approached her again, looking much more alert this time.

"You know we do have furniture that's for sitting," he joked as he picked up the casserole and headed for the kitchen.

She followed him into the kitchen, which was just as cluttered at the living room. She watched Finn place the dish on the counter, peeking under the foil. "I would totally eat this now but I think if I put anything else in my stomach tonight it will be bad news for everyone," he admitted, sliding the dish on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator.

Emma nodded, unsure of what to say. "So how are you doing?" she muttered.

"Good, now that you're here," he smiled. "Not that you have to stay if you don't want to."

"No, no, I can stay for a minute," she assured him, watching him move a stack of newspaper from the couch and motion for her to sit down. "You must be lonely after spending today by yourself."

"Yeah, but it's okay," he muttered as he sat down on the couch. "We're not celebrating until everybody gets back, but my mom left some cake."

"Celebrating?" she frowned, giving Finn a curious look. "Who's birthday is it?"

Finn looked down at his fingers as he picked at a couch cushion, feeling a little embarrassed as he answered her. "Mine. It's mine today."

"Finn!" she exclaimed, feeling a little embarrassed. "Why didn't you tell me? And you're spending it all alone?" She frowned again.

"It's not a big deal, really," he shook his head. "Do you go around telling people when it's your birthday?"

She shrugged, seeing his point. "Well, Happy Birthday," she told him, smiling at him. "I'm glad I stopped by so you don't have to spend today alone."

"Me too," he smiled weakly. "It totally sucks that somebody has to die for this to happen. I wish you could just come over all the time."

Emma shifted a little in her seat, blushing in spite of herself as she looked at her feet. "It has been nice getting to spend time with you in the past few weeks," she smiled.

"Really?" he dared to ask. "Sometimes I just don't get it."

"What don't you get?" Her brow knitted in confusion.

"Uh...nothing," he replied, chasing his thoughts away as he sat sideways on the couch. "So what have you been up to?"

Emma bit her lip, though she let the topic drop. "You know, the usual...just relaxing a lot at home."

"Is this what you look like when you relax at home?" he raised an eyebrow, gesturing towards the nervous position she was perched in on the edge of the sofa.

"Oh, um..." she looked a sheepish, willing herself to lean back on the couch, relaxing a little. "It just takes me, you know, a little while to adjust to places I'm not familiar with," she told him, knowing that was only half the reason for her tenseness.

"Is it the mess?" he frowned. "I'm sorry about that. Usually it's a little better when Kurt's around."

"No, no, it's fine," she assured him, proving her point as she kicked off her shoes and fell back against the cushions. "Don't worry about it."

"So this is exciting," he teased, shifting uncomfortably from the silence.

"Right up there with swinging and sliding," she teased.

"Hey, what are you trying to say?" he grinned, "I thought it was fun."

"No, no, it was," she assured him. "And I think just talking to you is fun too."

"Well you're pretty lucky. Cause girls pretty much line up outside my house every day to talk to me but I only let the best ones in."

She gave him a playful shove, pretending to glare at him.

"Okay that's a lie," he held up his hands and smirked. "I only let you in. Because you feed me."

"And I only feed you because I'd be sad if you starved to death and couldn't keep me company," she retorted jokingly.

"I'm confused," he frowned thoughtfully. "Is that an insult or a compliment?"

"Take it as a compliment," she laughed. "I just mean to say that I enjoy your company."

He shrugged. "You could probably just get a big dog and that would do the same trick."

"No, a dog would lick me, and shed, and leave unwanted messes everywhere. I'm hoping you're not going to do any of those," she winked at him.

"N-no," he stammered, feeling his blood rush south as her words bounced around his head. "You're right, I'm definitely better than a dog. Geez, you know how to make a guy feel good on his birthday."

"I try," she shrugged, giggling a little. "I still feel bad I didn't know," she told him. "I would've gotten you something...you know, as a friend."

"Wait," he gasped. "We're friends?"

"Oh, you stop that," she whined, nudging him again.

"So what's the catch?" he squinted. "Are you after my money or something? My classic rock collection? I don't get it."

"I don't know, would you believe me if I just told you that you were a likable guy?" she laughed.

"I like that: 'Finn Hudson: A likeable guy.' I need that on a t-shirt or something."

"Maybe that will be your birthday present," she teased him, leaning her head back against the cushion as she turned to catch his gaze.

He leaned back as well, feeling a little bold from her playful grin. "Would you believe me if I told you that you were pretty likable yourself?"

She blushed, rolling her eyes a little. "Yeah, me and all my crazy..."

"Yeah you and all your crazy," he answered softly as he smiled at her. "Crazy smart. Crazy kind. Crazy beautiful," he whispered, feeling his fingers gravitate upwards as he tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Finn..." she whispered, suddenly realizing how close his face was to hers. She stopped breathing for a moment, their eyes locking as he reached to touch her hair again.

"You're crazy perfect," he concluded as his fingers traced her soft jawline, leaning closer as he watched her glance drop down to his lips. "And I think-"

Finn jolted back as his words were chopped off by the chime of the doorbell bouncing off the living room walls.

Emma coughed, flushing beat red, her eyes filled with panic as she glanced from Finn to the door.

"I...hold on," he shot up, hurrying to the window to see who he would be murdering in the next five minutes. When he saw the familiar truck he rolled his eyes. "Seriously?" he grunted.

"W-who is it?" Emma stammered, her eyes flying toward her shoes and her purse, wondering how quickly she could leave without being seen.

"It's just Puck," he muttered, letting the blinds drop as the doorbell rang for the tenth time. "I'll tell him to leave it's okay."

She stood, looking nervously toward the door as Finn went to answer it, formulating a thousand explanations in her mind as Finn opened the door, his massive frame shielding Emma from Puck's field of view.

"Hey birthday boy," Puck grinned, taking off his sunglasses and sliding them into his jacket. "You ready to become a man tonight?"

Emma slowly edged herself away from the couch, slipping into the kitchen as Finn led Puck into the family room.

"Will you just get out of here?" Finn barked, wondering where she had disappeared as Puck flopped into Burt's recliner. "I already have plans and I'm not interested in spending my birthday at whatever sleazy hole in the wall you think you're taking me to."

"Plans? What with that hot red head? You can get with her later. Dude, you know it doesn't count if you cheat on your birthday, right?"

The color drained from Emma's cheeks and she gripped onto the countertop, trying to keep her breathing controlled.

"No, just...we broke up, ok? I just want to go to bed, and I just want you to get up and fucking leave!"

"Jesus, man, where's the love?" Puck flipped the recliner down, standing and patting Finn on the shoulder. "I'm starving. Have you got anything to eat? Let's fix me a sandwich."

Hearing their footsteps approach the kitchen, Emma darted for the steps leading upstairs, her bare feet padding softly against the carpet.

"Who's car is that out front?" Puck asked, pulling open the refrigerator door. "I feel like I've seen it before."

Emma stopped halfway up the stairs, unable to breathe as she waited for Finn's reply.

"What car?"

"The black one," Puck answered, pulling Emma's casserole off the bottom shelf. "Jackpot, this looks good."

"It's my aunt's, she rode down to Cincinnati with my parents for the funeral. Put that back man."

"Are you lying to me?" Puck raised an eyebrow as he ripped the foil off the top of the dish.

"You got a girl in here or something? Cause just say the word and I'll leave you to your awkward birthday sex."

Not wanting to hear anymore, Emma finished her ascent up the stairs, swallowing as she looked down the dark hallway, pushing open a door near the end of the hall that was slightly ajar, toning out the voices below as she shut it quietly behind her.

She let out a sigh, leaning against the door as she took in her surroundings. The room wasn't messy, but it wasn't neat either. A couple large t-shirts littered the floor and the bureau tops were far from organized. She noticed his Power Ranger t-shirt tossed onto his cowboy bedspread, gulping a little as she peered nervously around the room. She glanced at his dressers, cluttered with trophies from various sports. A couple old homework assignments were littered across his desk, and as she took a closer look, she noticed a pile of pink slips piled in the corner, blushing when she immediately recognized her own handwriting on the hall passes.

She was about to leave, knowing she was intruding, when a familiar image on his nightstand caught her eye. She walked over to his bed side, picking up the postcard she had sent him, her eyes widening when she saw how worn and bent up the edges of the card were, as if it had been folded and unfolded many times.

Feeling a little hot, she sat down against the edge of the bed, closing her eyes, as if withdrawing herself from the situation would make it go away.

"Just take it," Finn snapped, shoving the entire casserole dish into Puck's arms as he threw the fork his friend had been using into the sink. "Take it and get out of here. Please," he asked earnestly.

Puck squinted curiously at him, starting to respond and then shaking his head in agreement. "Fine. But I really wish I knew what the hell is up with you tonight. Did something happen? I'm sorry about your grandma and all."

"It's my great aunt, and I'll be fine," Finn answered, leading him back through the living room. "I just really don't need you to be here right now."

"Whatever," Puck replied, grabbing his keys off the recliner. Finn noticed his friend's gaze stop dead cold at the sight of Emma's gold shoes sitting beside the couch.

"Just please leave," Finn begged softly, watching Puck's eyebrows raise towards him in acknowledgment.

"Wow, man," he smirked, smacking Finn one last time on the shoulder as he walked towards the door. "I never knew you had it in you. Wow."

Finn swallowed heavily, as the door shut, convincing himself that he would deal with that problem later. "Emma?" he called out tentatively, opening the hall closet and shutting it as he wondered where she had disappeared. After checking the downstairs bathroom and laundry room, he wandered up the stairs, noticing his bedroom door had been shut. He took a deep breath as he turned the doorknob, wondering what on earth he could say after everything that had happened.

She opened her eyes, feeling a little queasy, unable to say anything as Finn entered the room.

He put his hands behind his back awkwardly, shaking the scenes from too many dreams out of his brain as he searched for something to say. "So I guess now I won't need to give you a tour or anything," he smiled weakly.

"I'm sorry, Finn," she found herself apologizing. "I shouldn't have even come here in the first place tonight..."

"No, don't say that," he shook his head, sitting next to her on his bed. "He's an asshole. An asshole who took your dish."

"Darn, that was my favorite casserole dish," she managed to joke, but her throat was tight as she spoke.

"Really? Crap, I'll see if I can get it back," he frowned and scratched at his head.

"No, no, don't worry about it," she assured him. She glanced over toward him, letting out a sigh. "I should be leaving now."

"But you just got here."

"Carl and I are going out for dinner tonight," she lied.

"Oh," he nodded, twisting his mouth in disapproval. "Well okay then. I don't want to make you late."

She immediately felt guilty, but the feelings coursing through frightened her. She stood, rising from the bed. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your birthday, Finn."

"Yeah, sure whatever," he muttered, following her out of his room and down the stairs. "So what are you doing tomorrow?"

"I'm busy, Finn," she muttered, choking over her words a little. "My husband and I have plans.

"Yeah well, be sure and tell him I said hi," he snapped a little too quickly as he watched her put on her shoes in record time.

She pursed her lips into a thin line, saying nothing as she walked toward the door. Biting her lip, she turned around, glancing at Finn. "Bye," she whispered.

"Wait, hold on," he started, reaching for the door as she started to shut it. "You know I didn't..." he looked down at the door mat, "I didn't ask you to come over here."

"I know," she spoke softly, fixing her eyes on her feet, not daring to look at his eyes.

"And I would..." he swallowed, feeling his insides twist, "never do anything I didn't think you wanted me to do."

"I know," she repeated, digging her toe into the mat.

"Okay then," he looked up, frowning at her lack of a response. "Well I guess I'll see you around."

She nodded, swallowing a gulp a cool evening air, whispering another goodbye as she walked toward her car.