A/N: I figured that it was about time that we had a little family bonding in this fic, since Kurt has been hogging Finn to himself a bit recent. No matter what else happens between the boys, this is a family fic first and foremost. 2nd authors note to follow at the end.

The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together. ~Erma Bombeck

I half expected Finn to do something else confusing and inappropriate on the way to Canton, but he pretty much ignored me, instead choosing to focus on his DS. It was close to a two hour drive, and I quickly grew bored with nothing to do but look out the window and try to block out the sounds of Dad and Carole flirting. You would think that two mature adults would have more decorum then to act like Brittney and Puck. Or Brittney and Santana. Or Brittney and anyone. Way too much giggling and 'oops' touches.

Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer and was forced to seek Finn's company out, despite my solemn vow that I would do no such thing. I pulled his algebra out and gave him a quick nudge, calling his attention. He paused the game and glanced over. "Come on so we can go over this."

He gave a pathetic sigh, but unbuckled and scooted over so we were hip to hip. He looked at the paper and shook his head. "I suck with numbers."

That was true, but I tried to sound upbeat. "Then we'll keep trying until you figure it out. Now, let's take a look here." I shuffled the papers in my lap. "Since all of your answers are wrong, I'm guessing that you didn't understand the assignment."

"No shit." He sounded completely depressed instead of irritated.

I remembered Carole's words from earlier. "Ok, let's back up. If you didn't understand this assignment, you probably didn't understand the basics. How did you pass pre-algebra?"

"Cheated off Brittney." He leaned over and whispered so Carole wouldn't hear, blowing air over my ear in a way that made me shiver.

In other words, I would be reteaching him pre-algebra, too. I took a deep breath and pulled out a clean spiral notebook. "X stands for a number. The point of pre-algebra is to figure out which number it stands for." Carefully, I marked 5+X= 12. "Now solve it.

"Where's Y?" Finn seemed confused.

"There is no Y right now. If you can't solve for one variable, you can't solve for two. Do you know what to do?"

"Um, I have to balance the equation?"

"Right. Now do you have any idea how to do that?" His tone had already told me that he didn't, but Finn gets irritated when you just assume he can't do something.

"No." He was staring longingly at his DS. I told you, I suck at math."

I grabbed the game system and stuck it under my leg. "Don't even think about it. The first thing you have to do is isolate the variable. Do you know what that is?"

He snorted. "I'm not stupid."

"Alright then, do you know how to do it?"

"Uh-uh." He was leaning over the paper now one hand resting on my thigh for balance. I sucked in a quick breath and fought the urge to either push him away or kiss him silly.

"You want to get 'X' by itself, so we're going to subtract five from each side." I wrote it out on the paper, showing him how he was left with X=7. "Do you see how that worked?"

"No. How can you take five off each side and still have it be the same problem? You can't just get rid of things like that." He was totally confused.

I was a little confused, also. "I'm not sure what you mean. Subtracting five from each side doesn't change the equation."

"Yes it does!" Frustration was mounting in Finn's voice. "When you start adding other things, it isn't the same at all!"

Ok, this was why I would make a lousy teacher. Not only did I have no idea what Finn's issue was, I didn't have the foggiest clue how to fix it. Deep breaths, make yourself be calm. I could do this.

Yes, you can. You're just teaching Finn pre-algebra, it's not like you're trying to explain fashion to Rachel Berry. Or Finn, for that matter. Explain to him what an equal sign really is, and you'll be fine.

Once my own frustration passed (and I listened to that little voice), I was able to figure out the problem. I leaned up between the two front seats. "Carole, do you still have those Skittles hidden in your purse?"

Finn gasped. "That's where she's hiding them? Damn, I need to start looking there for everything!"

The Skittles were in her purse specifically to keep Finn away from him, since sugar and artificial dye was like crack to him, and he would eat all of them. Which also meant that they would make an excellent teaching tool.

I took the brightly colored package and sat it in my lap. "You have to think of the equal sign as really meaning 'how do I make this equation true?'. I drew two imaginary lines between Finn and I. "You and I are equal, right? One boy on this side, one boy on this side. Therefore, our equation is true. Are you with me so far?"

"I think so." He was still focused on the package of Skittles, so I opened them up and gave him one. "Don't eat that."

He sighed but held his hand out flat, the bright purple candy looking comically small. "Ok, so now the equation is unbalanced. "One boy with a candy on one side, one boy without a candy on the other."

Finn was totally into it. "But if you get a candy, too, then we'll be balanced again!" He was obviously delighted at his own expertise.

"Right. But if I take your candy away, we're unbalanced."

Now that food was involved, and things were very clearly laid out in front of him, he was finding it much easier to pay attention. "But if we take your candy, too, then we're right! I get it!"

He was so enthusiastically pleased that I found myself wondering how often he actually worked things out on his own, and how often he just memorized them through sheer force of will and recited them back by rote. "Try this one." I wrote 4+X=19 and passed the paper over. Finn accepted it and balanced the equation with exaggerated care, carefully comparing each step to how I had done the first one. Within a minute, he had worked it out to come up with the correct answer of 15. "Good job. I tossed a Skittle at him, smiling as he caught it expertly in his mouth. God, I could put that pretty little mouth to much better uses…

Just like someone else did. Only five words, and they made my stomach clench into a tight fist. Someone else had had those same thoughts about Finn, and they had ended up forcing him. They had hurt him, and terrified him, and done things that he might never recover from. And here I was, having the same perverted thoughts.

Even though Finn was giving off some confusing signals right now, that didn't mean that he wanted me, or that he would be able to handle the sexual part of a relationship even if he did. Which he didn't. Did he?

Your constant indecision is giving me whiplash. Either do something or don't, but quit whining about it.

But what if Finn-

Don't even go there. Yes, whoever dates Finn is going to need to be extra attentive to his feelings and needs, but that's going to be true no matter who it is. You, Rachel, anyone. Besides, you don't give Finn enough credit. What happened was horrible, no one is denying that. But he survived. He survived, and he's still here, and he's made so much progress. Besides, it wasn't just a man who abused him; it was a woman as well. Therefore your argument lacks merit.

He had survived. But he still had miles to go before he was even close to who he used to be. There were less then three weeks before school started, and Finn still hadn't completed the necessary work to pass his sophomore year. Not to mention his fear of men, and the fact that he was refusing to sleep in his own bed, and he-

And you're a wimp. This has absolutely nothing to do with Finn Hudson, and everything to do with you acting like a giant pussy. You can stand up for Finn, but you can't stand up for yourself?

That voice did have a point. Finn liked me, even if he didn't love me, that much was obvious. And if even if he didn't have those sorts of feelings for me, at least I would have put it all out there, and he respected people who didn't play around with him. I could do this.

At the very least, if he didn't feel the same, it might drive him back to sleeping in his own bed. I love the boy, but he's huge! I either ended up squashed against the wall, or on top of him in ways that were not appropriate. I would never force him into anything, but I was 17 and my body had an embarrassing way of betraying me when I least expected it to. Like whenever I was around one Finn Hudson. Or I saw Orlando Bloom in tights.

Even as I thought, I was writing out a few more simple problems for Finn. "Try these."

He was instantly absorbed in what he was doing, giving me a chance to study him without him looking back. Finn's left hand was tapping out a rhythm on his thigh, while his right hurriedly scrawled down some answers. His lips moved as he thought, and I didn't know if I had ever seen anything more adorable.

Sigh. The voice was lovesick, and I couldn't help but agree. I could be so good to Finn, if only he would let me.

"Boys?" Dad's voice came from the front seat. "We're here." We had pulled up outside a nondescript building surrounded by rusty cars. It made Dad swoon and me think of things like tetanus.

Since Finn was occupied, at least momentarily, I opened my door. "I need to use the facilities." Yes, the place was disgusting, but it was still cleaner then any restaurant that we ended up at would be.

Dad blanched for a minute, then smiled. "Of course. Car? Finn? Do either one you need to come in?"

Finn tugged at my shirt, gesturing me closer so he could whisper in my ear. "What are the facilities? Is it something cool?"

I smiled and whispered back. "Bathroom."

"Oh. No." He sat back and picked up the paper, working busily.

Mechanics all seem to know each other, and Dad was already having a conversation with the man behind the counter when I came in. They were talking about (what else?) Finn. I used the bathroom as quickly as I could, wanting to listen in on what Dad had to say about his almost stepson.

"-doing fine. He's talking now, and he seems to be more comfortable. Still acts like I'm Jack the Ripper, but we're working on it. Finn's a tough kid."

"He'll come around. It took years for me to bond with my step kid, and I didn't have any of that other crap going around. How's your boy taking things? He's 16 now, right?"

I was plastered to the wall outside the bathroom, right around the corner from where the two men were talking. "Kurt's 17. He looks more and more like his mother every day. Plus, he's smart, all A's in school. Much smarter then his old man, that's for sure. He's getting out of this place, one way or another."

Did Dad always sound like that when he talked about me? Like he couldn't be prouder of his strange, gay, high strung child? I could feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Even though, deep down, I knew how much my father loved me, it still amazed me to hear him let other people know about it. With new confidence, I came around the corner and smiled at both of them. "I'm done. Where's the part?"

The twin blank expressions on their faces told me everything I needed to know. "There is no part, is there?"

Dad shifted uncomfortably. "No, there's no part. But Finn wanted to go out to eat, Kurt. He hasn't wanted that yet, and I don't want anything to happen that scares him. If I take him somewhere right down the road, people are going to recognize him, and they're going to mob him, and he's going to be terrified. I just…I thought that if we got out of town, then we might have a chance of having a nice family lunch. I don't want to scare him right back into that basement."

Smart thought, Kurt. How come you didn't think of something like that? Come on, now, you're supposed to be taking care of Finn, and you're screwing it up…

I hated it when that voice acted like Finn was my sole responsibility. He was Dad and Carole's, too, and capable of standing up for himself if he had to. I was doing my best.

That's all you can do. Finn has to walk his own path, there's no doing it for him. But there's nothing wrong with clearing the path for him a little first.

"Kurt?" Dad sounded worried, and I made myself smile winningly at him. "What? Oh, yeah, that's a good idea, Dad. But Finn's not stupid; he's going to figure it out if you come back without a part. Bring anything, he's not going to know the difference, but he's getting better and better at smelling bullshit."

"Watch your mouth." Despite his rough image, Dad hates cursing. I also disliked the crudeness of it, but sometimes there was no better way to put things. "But good idea. Frank, grab me something."

A fan belt changed hands, and Dad and I walked back outside. Finn looked up at me, smiling slightly, and held out his completed paper. "Good job, Finn." I hadn't looked it over yet, but he seemed so proud that I wanted to encourage him. "What do you want for lunch?"

"Dunno." His voice was very, very, soft, like he felt that he had to hide it from Carole and Dad. "I don't know where we are."

That again drove home how hard simple things were for Finn. None of the rest of us thought at all about driving a few towns over, but Finn had a very limited amount of places he was willing to go. Home, the police station, Mr. Shue's place….I guessed that was it. He was really being brave here, and no one but me seemed to notice.

But bringing it up would just embarrass him, so I kept that thought to myself. I did, however, squeeze his hand. He didn't look at me, but he did pat my leg. "Dad? We're both hungry, but neither one of us knows any places here."

"Finn, what sort of food do you like?"

"Anything." It came out choked, since Finn is still having trouble talking to Dad.

He tried to get a clearer answer. "Well, Y-Kurt wanted to go to Texas Roadhouse before, is that ok with you?" I didn't miss him fumbling with the name, but Finn apparently did. He looked down and nodded silently. "Then do you want steak?"

Finn still didn't say anything, but his nod was a bit more enthusiastic this time. He loved steak, and baked potatoes, and French fries, and all the other things that could be guaranteed to clog his arteries and cause an immediate stroke.

"Do you want to go to Outback, then? There's one a few miles down the road."

Did he know every heart attack inducing place in a hundred mile radius? Before I could say anything, though, Finn spoke up. "That's good."

That was two more words spoken directly to Dad, bringing the grand total to four. He was ok with talking in front of Dad, though, which confused me. Didn't he understand that he was drawing more attention to himself then if he would just speak normally?

I don't think that Finn feels that way. Now, I don't know how he actually does feel, but he doesn't see things the way you do. He never did, even Before, and it's worse now. Why don't you ask him, though? He'll tell you if you do.

I wasn't going to ask Finn, because I was afraid to know the answer. Call me a coward, call me a terrible brother, call me whatever you want, but I was only 17 years old myself, and I just couldn't handle hearing any more horrors without losing it myself.

Finn did.

Well Finn was just tougher then I was, now wasn't he? He was also bigger, better looking, and had both of our parents wrapped around his little finger. Plus he got the solos I wanted and I would kill to have cheekbones like he did!

Whoa Cujo. I hate to be a bitch, but is any of that really Finn's fault? He certainly didn't ask for the extra attention, and I don't think he's particularly enjoying it now that he has it. Get irritated with Finn for things that are his fault, and God knows there's enough of them, but don't blame him for things he has no control over. He's doing the best he can with what he's been given, same as you are. Besides, he's not better looking then you, that's just your insecurities talking.

I knew that. Of course I knew that. It was just that…well, apparently I was a jerk. At first, when Finn came home, it was so easy to give him whatever he wanted, because he didn't want anything except me. And Carole of course, but mostly me. It was like a dream come true. For once I, Kurt Hummel, had Finn Hudson begging for my attention.

And I loved him even more then before. Finn was still Finn, his sweet, sometimes goofy, sometimes playful, self. Just quieter. But he was still the man I loved, and it was an ego boost that he finally wanted me back.

The funny thing was, it all seemed totally normal when I was doing it. Except for the fact that we weren't leaving the house, I guessed that it mostly had been. Finn and I played games and worked on his schoolwork and watched movies. Later on, we practiced signing. All of it was fun, and normal, and, as long as you didn't count the fact that Finn wasn't talking, we could have been any pair of brothers. It had hurt, but I w as willing to accept that. After all, it was me refusing to treat him like a brother that had gotten him snatched in the first place.

I don't think that that's how it happened. I think that Finn was snatched because he tried to be a nice guy and do the right thing for a woman with a baby. Yes, Kurt, sometimes nice guys get screwed, too. Finn got tripped up by his own sweet nature, not because of anything you did. I keep trying to tell you that, and you keep not listening.

As much as I wanted to believe that, I still couldn't. If I had been a better brother, then this would have never happened.

Maybe not. But maybe something else would have happened, something even worse. Maybe your Dad and Finn and Carole would have all been in a car accident going to pick you up from the mall. Maybe, if you weren't being so much more careful, those moron hockey players would have gotten you alone and you would be the one who was raped and dead. Or maybe things would have just built up until you and Finn exploded at each other in a way that you could never recover from. Which, by the way is exactly what's going to happen if you don't chill out pretty quickly.

That thought made my breath catch. Would that really happen to Finn and I? I had to admit that I had been getting more and more irritated with Finn lately. The worst part was, it was usually over something that wasn't that big of a deal. For the big things, like his talking, or his claustrophobia, or even refusal to leave the house (and yes, I'm fully aware that that makes Finn quite possibly the only person in America who's both claustro- and agoraphobic), I had an endless supply of patience. But every once in a while, some little thing would set me off, and I would want to strangle him. What was wrong with me?

Nothing. You do understand that it's ok for you to feel like that, right? Your life has changed, too, and it's alright to feel irritated over overwhelmed by it sometimes. You've had to let go of what Finn was before, and accept that he'll never be that again. It's good that you can love this new person Finn is as well as the old one, but you're still grieving a loss, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's not fair to take your own feelings out of Finn, and you haven't so far, but your feelings are what they are. Accept them.

Just when I thought I hated that voice and couldn't stand to listen to it any longer, it came through for me. I wasn't sure that I believed what it was saying, but it felt good to have someone, even if it was a voice in my head, telling me that I wasn't a terrible person after all. Thanks.

You're welcome. By the way, you're at the restaurant.

I opened my eyes to find that the voice was right. Finn was watching me quietly, his eyes searching. Thought what he was searching for was anyone's guess. Maybe he needed something, or maybe he was just concerned that I was sitting there with my eyes closed and no expression on my face. "Ready, Cowboy?"

"Ready, ready." He agreed back easily enough, but I could see that he was worried. He hid it better then had in the past, but it was still obvious to me.

Despite that, though, he got up and followed us inside. Since it was two in the afternoon, the place wasn't crowded, and Finn was luckily distracted by touching a stuffed armadillo by the hostess station. While his attention was elsewhere, Dad managed to discreetly ask for a table near the back, so Finn wouldn't feel crowded or snuck up on.

Once we were seated, with Finn's back against the wall and me next to him. Dad excused himself to the bathroom, while the rest of us debated entrees. As soon as he was out of earshot, Finn turned to me and whispered. "That armadillo is so cool! Do you think we could get one for our room? We could put sunglasses on it!"

Not in a million years. "Finn Hudson, dead animals are not décor, period. Don't get any ideas about stuffed armadillos, or deer heads, or snake skins, or anything else that you might be thinking of. Got it?" Even if the thought of an armadillo in sunglasses made me want to smile a little.

His eyes were wide now. "Oh God, what about a snake! Like, a live one! That would be the coolest thing ever! Mom, can Kurt and I have a snake?" Despite his excitement, his voice was still tiny, not carrying beyond our table.

"Sweetheart, no." I had never been more grateful to Carole then I was right then. If Finn got a snake, he wouldn't keep the lid on the tank closed, and it would get out and come slithering into my bed and night, where it would either poison or strangle me, and my face would swell up and turn black and I would look horrible in my coffin! Plus, unless there were made into a gorgeous pair of shoes, I hated snakes. They made my skin feel all shivery with their flickering tongues and slinky movements. "Snakes require a lot of care, and Kurt doesn't look too happy about the idea."

"So, no snake?" He was obviously disappointed.

"No snake. Maybe Burt and I can discuss getting a small pet, if you can prove that you can take care of it."

His eyes lit up. "Small like a Jack Russell or something? Because I love dogs!"

Poor Carole. After raising Finn for 17 years, she ought to know that the word 'maybe' was not in his vocabulary. In his mind, he had just been given permission to have a pet, and he was excited.

She did her best to backtrack. "Small like a rabbit or a guinea pig or something. Not a dog of any sort, and I didn't say it was for sure. You don't know how Burt feels about pets, and you have to remember that you and Kurt share a room. He has to have a say, too."

Finn turned huge brown eyes on me. "Kurt? Is it ok if we get a dog?"

As if I could deny him even the slightest thing. But we were not having a dog of any sort tearing up my clothes and peeing on my furniture and generally being gross. So I tried to bargain. "How about a tank of tropical fish?" They were beautiful, quiet, and would look great against the back wall of our room. "We can get a few different types, some coral, and even a little scuba diver if you want."

His face fell. "Dude, fish kind of suck. I mean, they look cool and everything, but I want something I can pick up and hold. What about a mouse?"

That was only marginally better then a dog. "You'll let it get loose, then we'll be leaving peanut better mousetraps all over the basement. How about a ferret?" They looked kind of cool.

"They stink. Mike had a ferret for a while, until it bit his sister, and it smelled horrible, no matter how clean he kept the cage. What about a cat? I'm kind of allergic to them, but it would still be cool."

"I'm very allergic and so is Dad. Look, Dad hasn't even said yes to anything, yet, so why don't we talk about it later tonight? We can do some research on what might be a good pet?"

"Ok. But not a bird. Birds are scary." He smiled slightly, and I couldn't help the small trilling in the pit of my stomach.

"Not a bird, I promise." I wanted to remind him that Dad hadn't agreed to anything yet, but I didn't want to upset him. He turned back to the menu, his attention on filling his stomach as quickly as possible.

"What can I get you three to drink?" The waitress was tiny, with huge brown eyes and a pair of breasts that even I was impressed by. Under normal circumstances, Finn would have been transfixed. Here was Rachel Berry with actual breasts, his biggest fantasy. But he wouldn't even look up. This was his big chance to practice his speech in front of a stranger, and he was blowing it.

"I'll have unsweetened iced tea." I spoke up quickly in an attempt to get the attention off of Finn for a minute. Maybe he would be more comfortable if he wasn't being stared at.

Except it didn't help. Finn drew deep breaths, and I even saw him start to open his mouth, but nothing was coming out. After a few minutes of trying, he tapped my leg under the table. I looked down, my heart sinking as he formed the finger signs to ask for a coke. "Finn wants a coke, please." I tried to sound cheerful, but my voice cracked somewhere in the middle.

By this time Dad was back, and he ordered a soda as well, despite my glaring at him. Then he turned to Finn. "What do you think, Finn, should we try and demolish a Bloomin' Onion? I think we can do it."

"Yeah." It came out tiny, but clear. "That's good."

I noticed that he spoke around the waitress, but not to her. Now that Dad was no longer the most threatening person in the room, Finn was speaking to him clearly and directly. So basically, all the police needed to do was put someone in the room more threatening then the attorneys, and Finn would sing like a canary.

I'm pretty sure having both Joseph and Lily in the room will be more then sufficient to scare him.

I hadn't thought about that. Finn was going to have to sit there, and look at both of them, and know that they had lied about what happened, and it was up to him to tell the truth. He was the only one that could do it, and they, as the accused, had the right to be there when he did it. He was going to freak out, and this entire case was going to go down the toilet.

And this is your concern how? Yes, it's something to worry about, but not right now. Right now, worry about finding an entrée with less then 1500 calories, and hope that that Bloomin' Onion doesn't give Finn the same horrendous gas that it does to your father.

I decided to take that advice, and turned back to the menu. Some sort of fish would be nice, something that would be good for my skin as well as being low calorie. Our waitress reappeared with the onion and four plates, and Finn and Dad dug in. Carole took a few small petals and nibbled delicately. I crossed my arms over my chest and refused to even look that the 10,000 calorie snack. God, did everything need to be deep fried?

Finn noticed that I wasn't eating, and gestured to the plate. I shook my head. "No, Finn. That thing is repulsive. Do you have any idea what it's going to do to your skin, not to mention your waistline?"

He speared a petal with his fork and held it out, aiming for my mouth. "No, Finn." I made my voice a little more forceful.

For a second his brow furrowed, and I felt bad. Finn was doing so well, even with his not speaking to the waitress. Would it kill me to nibble on a little bit of that onion?

Ask your thighs. If you gain any weight, you can kiss your shot of being on the Cheerios this year goodbye.

I didn't know if I wanted to be on the Cheerios anyway, not with everything else that had happened, but if I chose to give it up, it would be my choice, damn it, and not because some gym teacher with a God complex told me that I was too fat. Which I wasn't, thank you.

Besides, Finn could get very fixed on certain ideas, and I knew that he wouldn't give me a break until I ate at least a little bit. So I heaved a deep sigh and opened my mouth, allowing Finn to feed me the petal. It was…honestly it wasn't that bad. As much as I tried to eat healthy, I still had taste buds, and I loved things that were bad for me. "There, I ate it."

He smiled smugly and went back to trying to out-eat Dad. Carole caught my eye and smiled a little, giving me her best 'boys will be boys' look. Only I was a boy, too. Just not that sort of boy.

And there's nothing wrong with that! You and your father have a relationship at the garage, and Finn and your father eat greasy food together. There's no point in being jealous. You love Finn, and you love your father, don't you want them to find a little common ground?

Yes voice, I get that. Logically, there was nothing wrong with Finn and Dad having a relationship, and anything that helped bond them should have been ok. Even if Finn decided that he wanted me, he was still going to need to like Dad, and Dad like him if we were to have any chance of success. Plus, it would be less stress on everyone in the family, including me, if the two of them were to get along better.

But, deep in my heart, I still felt jealous. Dad loved me, and was proud of me, but I was never going to be the 'dude' or 'buddy' that he wanted. Even if there we had carved out our own niche, it still hurt sometimes.

And I'm pretty sure that Finn isn't the shopping partner or cook that Carole wanted. He's as jealous of you as you are of him, so keep that in mind. There's a point where you both just have to let it go and accept that you are who you are, and you both have parents that love you for both your good and bad points. Otherwise Finn isn't going to be the only one having a nervous breakdown.

Finn wasn't having a nervous breakdown! In fact, he was doing better then ever. So maybe that voice had a point about just letting it go. Ok, I can do that.

Good thing, too, because the waitress was back, and now we were trying to get our food ordered. Finn pointed out the steak he wanted, requiring me to order for him, but he did manage to mumble the specifics on how he wanted it cooked, and what sides he wanted. I noticed that he couldn't look our waitress in the face, or even the breasts, but at least he was speaking.

Once that had been settled, Carole looked over at Finn. "Well, should we tell them?"

He nodded, then turned to look at Dad and I. "I'm not going back to school this year. Not yet."

My stomach dropped. "W-what do you mean, Finn? Isn't this what we've been working towards for the past couple of weeks? If the testing is the issue, I'm sure we can figure out a way to work it out so you can still start on time."

He looked down, playing with the packets of sweetener on the table. "It's not that. It's just….I can't, Kurt. I didn't want to tell you that, because you've been so cool, and you've pretty much wasted your whole summer trying to help me, and I thought you'd be pissed off, but, well, yeah." His ears flamed bright red as he finished.

I tried to regain some equilibrium. "First of all, spending time with you isn't wasting it. Second, I'm not pissed at you, alright?" I waited until he nodded. "When did you decide you didn't want to go back?"

"I don't know. I never really wanted to, but I can't just drop out. I mean, it kind of sucks here even if you have a diploma, and I'll never get a job if I don't. But Samantha doesn't think it's a good idea, and Mom doesn't, and if no one thinks it's a good idea, it probably isn't. But we needed to ask you guys first, because we're a family now, and families decide things together."

Carole tried to smooth things over. "I can home school him for now. It's not forever, just for right now."

Dad nodded. "If that's what you want, Finn, then that's what we'll do. But you do understand that if you aren't a student at the school, you can't do Glee or football, both of which will affect your chances for a scholarship later?"

When Finn looked up, the misery in his eyes made me want to reach for him and damn the consequences. "I don't want to do football without Puck, ever. We always played together, me and him and Fretter, and then there was no Fretter, and now there's no Puck. I don't want to play by myself." He pushed the packets again. "I'll miss Glee, though."

It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Except for the day when Mercedes and I had gone to the spa, Finn hadn't mentioned Puck at all. At least not to the family. It sounded like he and Samantha had done some serious work in private. Since none of us seemed to know what to say about Puck, I addressed the other part of his speech. "Well, maybe you could join us later in the year. Or even come and hang out with us, you know there's always room for you."

He smiled, but it was pained, the sort of smile you give someone who you know is just humoring you. "Yeah, that'd be cool."

"Maybe we can work something out so you wouldn't have to give up on Glee. You were doing so well there." Carole didn't sound very hopeful, but Finn brightened considerably.

Dad tried to salvage the mood. "Well, Kurt, looks like your back to school clothing budget just doubled."

That mollified me, but only marginally. Like Finn was going to get the same amount of money to go shopping with anyway. Two hundred bucks would do him for the rest of his high school career, with enough left over for a new X-box, or whatever system he was currently obsessed with. I smiled gamely at him, before turning back to Finn. "Oh, but Finnegan? Don't think that this means you get out of shopping. We need to glam you up, or at least get you some new clothes. I swear you're already growing out of what you have."

It seemed impossible, but it was true. I don't think Finn's actually getting taller any more, thank Prada, but he's filling out, loosing his gangly look and becoming more adult by the day. I, on the other hand, was getting taller, my face thinning out, but I hadn't bulked at all. Not that I wanted to be some muscle bound hulk, but at least looking like I was a guy would be nice.

"Ok." Finn's easy acceptance surprised me, and I found myself staring at him. "Really?"

"Yeah." He smiled at me. "I mean, I kind of have to, so we might as well do it together. As long as I don't have to wear anything all…" He stopped and looked me over, obviously groping for a word. Please, God, don't let it be 'gay'. I don't know why the thought was so disturbing, I had heard him use the word in conversation before, even used it myself, but something was different between us now, and it was almost physically painful.

Luckily, Finn had other things on his mind. "Complicated. I don't want anything with weird straps and scarves and buttons where there shouldn't be any. Just normal jeans and shirts and stuff."

Oh that poor boy. He really didn't know that 'jeans' was not just normal cut, blue denim. There was skinny, and flared, and boot cut and…..oh Finn, you have no idea what you just got yourself into. "Deal. Jeans and shirts, I can do that. And maybe a few nicer things? Sweaters and such, for dates."

Too late, I realized what had come out of my mouth. I hadn't meant dates with me, even if I did want that so badly it hurt, but I just knew that Finn was going to take it the wrong way. Almost the very last thing he had said to me Before had been that I needed to back off, and here I was, back to old habits.

But Finn didn't freak out. He just looked at me and whispered. "Yeah, for dates. You know what looks good on me, so you can help me." There was something strange and knowing about his smile, like the Mona Lisa. It said that he had a secret, and I would never figure it out, not even if I looked at him for two hundred years. That didn't mean I wasn't going to stare at him until I had exhausted all the possibilities, though.

"Burt, do you ever get the feeling that you've just become superfluous to the meal?" Carole's voice was full of laughter, though she remained poker faced.

My face turned bright red, and Finn looked confused. "Mom, you're always super."

The puzzlement in his voice made the rest of us laugh. Carole smiled. "You're super too, Finn, but that's not what superfluous means. It means unneeded."

If you can say nothing else about Finn Hudson, you can say that he doesn't mind being the butt of a joke, as long as the joke is good natured. "Oh. Why don't things mean what they sound like? Things would be a lot easier if they did."

"They would. But the world doesn't work like that, does it? There's always going to be something that's hard and confusing. But we'll figure it out between the four of us, ok?" Carole's voice was soft, but she had Finn's complete attention. Their eyes, so warm and alike met, and suddenly it was Dad and I who were superfluous to what was happening. An entire conversation passed between them in the time it took for Dad to spear himself some more of the onion. I kept my eyes on Finn and Carole, but slapped Dad's hand under the table. I could practically hear his arteries clogging from where I was sitting.

As suddenly as the silent conversation had started, it was over, and Finn leaned back contentedly. "I love you."

He used those words so easily. Even when he hadn't been talking, Finn never let a day go by without signing to Carole how much he loved her. Most days, he did it multiple times, almost every time he saw her. As sweet as it was, I found it equally fascinating. The only time Dad and I ever said we loved each other was when someone was devastated and crying, usually me. Were Finn's feelings for his mother stronger then the ones I had for my father, or was it something else that made what was so hard for me as simple task for him?

He's just more demonstrative then you are. It's not always about whose better, Kurt. The two of you love equally hard; you just have different ways of showing it.

I puzzled that, and the conversation between Finn and Carole for the rest of the meal. Finn, like the good little Hoover that he was, demolished his steak, baked potato, and salad, then made pathetic puppy eyes at my meal. I knew that he wanted some fish, and I was more then happy to share, especially considering that the portion was twice what someone my size needed, but I was going to make him work for it. "Have a piece of asparagus."

Finn glared at the stalk like it had done something to personally offend him, but reluctantly opened his mouth. I shoved it inside and watched as he chewed. "See? Veggies are your friends."

He scowled. "It's mushy. My salad was veggies too, and it was good."

That was when I remembered Finn's vendetta against all cooked vegetables. Still, he had been a good sport, so I cut him a small bite of Mahi-Mahi and held it up. "Try this."

He nibbled it off the fork, looking thoughtful. "It's good."

"Better then salmon? Because I have a great recipe that I've been dying to try out."

"Maybe a little better. Everything you cook rocks, though, so, whatever."

Be still my heart. Every time Finn said anything complimentary towards me, it made me fall in love with him over and over again. It was sick, that's what it was, but I couldn't help but love him. Yes, he wasn't the brightest, but his eternally cheerful nature more then made up for it. Plus, he was tough. He had suffered, yes, but, like a coal in the ashes, he had survived. "Thank you, Finn, that's a very generous compliment."

Conversation kind of petered out after that, and Dad finally paid the bill and started driving us home. Finn had lost interest in his homework, and I decided it was time to let it go. It wasn't like there was a rush on it any way, since Finn wouldn't be going to school after all.

It rankled at me, even though I would die before I let Finn know it. Yes, I understood what he was going to be up against going back to McKinley High, and that he was still emotionally fragile, but…well, this was going to sound horrible, but there was a part of me that didn't care. It was a part I didn't like to acknowledge existed, but it was there. So what if Finn was going to get teased and harassed? I got teased and harassed every day, and no one stood up for me. If I had known that just giving up and dropping out was a viable option, I would have told that school to kiss my ass two years ago.

Well someone alert the newspapers! See, Kurt, in some ways you're tougher then Finn is. But remember: your issues are steady. You're gay, you'll always be gay, it's not going to get better or worse. But Finn…the truth about what happened, what they did to him, is going to come out eventually. Then there will be plenty of new fodder for them to attack him with. Let Finn stay home, at least until the trial is over, and don't be upset about it. Think of it as a strategic retreat rather then running like a sissy.

The word 'sissy' had never crossed my mind, though, on some level, I guessed it had. I risked a glance over at him, but Finn was deeply absorbed in his game. He wasn't a sissy, and he wasn't a lion, either. He was just Finn, and that was alright for now. I scooted a tiny bit closer to him, and was relieved when he didn't try and get away.

As we drew closer to home, though, he started to get tense and worried. I had been secretly hoping that he had forgotten about the talk we were supposed to have, but no such luck. The fact that he was as nervous as I was was cold comfort. Why did he have to ruin everything by talking, when things were finally going to well?

Because nothing gold can stay. That's from….you know, I don't know who that's from. But you can figure it out while we're waiting. It will give you something to do instead of sitting here and worrying yourself into a stress breakout.

Was it Brown? Milton? Shakespeare? No, not Shakespeare. Next to me, Finn hummed softly, a tune I didn't recognize, but felt like I should. I puzzled on it, the words combining with Finn's melody until it was single, beautiful, song that replayed over and over in my brain.

It was soothing; even though I was no closer to figuring out the answer then I had been when the question was first asked. But we were home, and it was time for Finn and I to have our talk. I had put it off for as long as I could, and fought bravely, but I was finished.

Finn waited until the car was in park before leaning up between the two front seats. "Thank you for lunch, Mr. Hummel."

It was the first time he had spoken to Dad without prompting since he came back. Granted, it was an awkward and overly formal attempt, but he had done it. No matter what the setbacks, Finn was moving doggedly forward.

"You're welcome, Finn. But you can call me Burt if you like." Before, Finn had always called him by his first name, but things had changed. Things always changed.

But not always for the worse.

That was true, and it gave me the confidence to put my chin up and look directly at Finn. "Well, Cowboy? Do we have some business in the basement?"

"Ok." He led the way downstairs, a false show of bravado. I knew that it was false, because I could see the tension in his back and neck.

Once we were downstairs, Finn sat on his bed, and gestured for me to sit on mine. This wasn't a good sign. Usually he wanted me close when he was telling me things that were hard for him. Before he could start, though, my phone shrilled at me. "Sorry, Finn."

I picked it up to cancel the call, only to freeze when I saw the name flashing angrily from the screen. Rachel Berry.

My worst nightmare had just come true.

A/N2: I know, I know, you all wanted to see Finn and Kurt have the talk, and I'm sorry. I swear it was my intention for them to, but this chapter got really, really long on me. Plus, I felt like the divaish, singing elephant in the room had to be addressed before they could have any sort of talk. I really do like Rachel, by the way.