First of all, Finn's mom is pure goddess, and not just because she's okay with me; she can totally wear the stressed out single mom look. Then again, I've been adapting Finn's style of jeans and tee shirt, so my sense of fashion may be dwindling. Besides that, seeing her and Finn just talking together over dinner makes me feel like I may actually be looking in on a functional family, minus one dad. It's just adorable, yet disgusting, when Finn gets so excited about the conversation that he talks too fast and ends up nearly choking on his food. I can't remember ever smiling so much during mealtime. Dad's usually watching television while he eats and I do my homework at the same time just to make it "family time."

When I finally return home, Dad isn't even angry that I've been out so late, not even when I tell him with whom. If anything, he might have been encouraging me. But I do tend to read into things sometimes, so he could have just been asking all those questions about Finn because he's a fan. I'd like to think that he's taking his fatherly role in my life more seriously.

But there's Saturday Glee practice at noon and as I stare at the door, I can't bring myself to open it. I can't believe how things had turned so wrong in just a few hours. Much less can I believe that I don't want to go to Glee…the world is truly ending. For real this time. As I peek through the choir room window, I see Finn standing at the piano while he and Rachel go through scales. Puck is sitting in the corner, tuning his guitar, paying them no attention. I have to go. It's Glee club for crying out loud; the one place where I don't feel judged.

As I walk into the room, the music falters because Rachel's lost her concentration. Finn looks up at me and grins, making me feel warm even though I know it won't last very long. Perfectly on cue, his smile fades away to something between horror and rage. I take a deep breath and walk forward, keeping my chin held high. I don't need my dignity to take a beating as well. I stop a few inches away from where Finn is standing, gripping the edge of the piano so tightly that his knuckles are white. I'm suddenly afraid he might break something and the dangerous expression on his face makes it plausible.

"Who?" is all he says in a low, feral growl.

"Finn, please don't—" I begin to say, but he suddenly slams his palm flat on the piano's surface.

"TELL ME…who," he nearly shouts, struggling to keep a lid on his temper.

"What's going on?" Rachel says, standing up from the bench and walking around the piano before stopping short. "Oh…"

Finn reaches out and gently brushes cold fingers over the corner of my forehead, hardly disturbing the purple bruise that I managed to cover with a side part in my hair. His finger trails down my face, tracing each bruise, the cut below my eye, and my bottom lip which is split off to one side. Then he notices the arm I have wrapped gingerly around my waist. I don't resist as he pulls my wrist away and lifts my shirt. His grip on my wrist tightens.

"Damn, dude!" Puck says impressively. He sets down his guitar and walks over. He nods and arches his eyebrows with interest. "Man, that's a work of freakin' art!"

"Puck!" Finn scolds, the threat prudent in his voice.

"Hey, I'm just saying," Puck says, holding up his hands innocently. "Look at how he got most of the bruises all in one little cluster! Whoever did this must have been big and pissed."

"Neither, actually," I say, brushing my hair away from my face. Finn releases my shirt and wrist, taking a few deep breaths. "It was those five homophobes you two used to dumpster me with. They ran into me on my morning jog and thought it might be fun to get a workout themselves."

Finn nods, his arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm gonna kill them."

"Finn, please wait!" I call after him as he storms out of the choir room. I'm left standing there in physical pain, feeling like I'm about to cry, and totally freaked out that something might happen to him. I know from experience how ruthless those jocks can be…

Finn POV

There's got to be steam flying out of my ears, or I'm at least bright red like in the cartoons. I can feel the blood boil beneath my skin. I've never felt such anger…such rage. It's like coffee or vitamins, driving me forward like nothing ever has before. And beneath it all is Kurt and the guilt knowing I wasn't there to protect him. If vengeance is a sin, I'm making the final payment on my ticket to hell.

"Where do you think they'll be?" Puck asks, appearing at my side. He's swinging his arms back and forth, stretching and flexing his muscles.

"Get back to practice," I mutter, leaving the school building. It's raining outside, but I really don't care.

"Dude, you're gonna need backup," he points out. "Five against one? They'd kill you. Besides, I need a good fight."

"I don't need your blood on my hands too," I say, walking faster since I have the advantage of longer legs.

"Man, I've got your back," Puck presses. "You're either going to shut your trap or fight me right here, 'cause I'm not leaving without one. And I think you'll want to save your strength."

"Fine, just stay out of my way."

We find the guys hanging out in the parking lot of a gas station, all crowded around a truck and whooping loudly, basking in the pouring rain. They look completely cliché in their jeans and letterman jackets, passing a football around the group. I can't believe I actually used to enjoy being a part of that. I used to be friends with these jerks, playing mailbox baseball and everything. No fond memories worth holding onto. I look all around, relieved to see that there are no police cars in sight. I don't need them to stop me too early. I see Puck grinning eagerly, his fingers itching with anticipation.

"Well, well, if it isn't the deep throat buddies!" one of the guys say as we approach. He's big, blond, and thick in the head. But he's strong, I know that much. "What brings you two ladies out of your closets?"

I don't even stop to flinch at the banter and approach him. He thinks he's being brave, not moving away, but his plan backfires when I sock him one right in the jaw. Everybody else stands up and walks forward as they realize what I'm intent on doing.

"Dude, what the hell?" the big guy asks, holding onto his jaw.

"What's with beating on Kurt, dude?" I shout at him. Puck manages to hold me back from starting the fight too soon.

"So we wanted to play kick the fag, what's it to you?" Big Guy retorts with a heavy scoff. "What, you his girlfriend or something?"

"Hell yes!" I shout, slamming my fist into him again.

Two of his buddies rush me, but Puck, belting his native war cries, charges at them, tackling them both at the same time. The three others gang up on me, getting in punches whenever they could. But there's too much fuel in my fire to pay attention to the pain. I just swing my arms and blindly manage to hit whoever happened to be in the way. At one point I found an opening and kicked Big Guy in the diaphragm so that he keeled over painfully. Directly afterwards, somebody punches me in the face so hard I feel blood gush out my nose.

"Dude, sorry!" Puck shouts above everybody else.

I roll my eyes and duck another punch, tackling the guy to the ground instead where I can punch him twice and he's knocked out. Somebody pulls me up by the collar of my shirt and I whirl around to see Puck, smiling like a maniac with blood covering his face. I look all around at the five bodies either unconscious on the ground or moaning painfully.

"Come on, man, let's get out of here!" he laughs, wiping his sleeve across his brow as the rain mixes with the blood on his face.

*

I sheepishly walk through the door and see Mom sitting on the couch, folding laundry while watching TV. I hurt and ache all over, but I manage a smile and a shrug as she looks up at me with horror. It helps that I feel better inside about defending Kurt, even though his bruises won't go away as fast as mine. His skin is much more tender. Mom stands up, her expression growing more dramatic by the second. I know how much she hates the thought of me getting in fights.

"You were supposed to be in Glee…" she says, digging her nails into one of my tee shirts.

"It kinda…just came up," I say. She slowly walks over to me and I gulp. Her temper tops mine by thousands.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she whispers harshly, seeming to be at a loss of a strong voice.

"They beat up Kurt," I say quickly which miraculously changes her attitude. "I wasn't really thinking, Mom, and I'm sorry, but…they hurt him."

She stares at me for a long time and I'm not sure if she's going to cry or lecture me. But she just sighs heavily and hands me the shirt she had been holding onto. It's all wrinkled now.

"I've got to get to work," she says, surprisingly calm. "Just…get yourself cleaned up. Finish the laundry and no cell phone, do you understand me?"

"Yes!" I nod gratefully. She sighs again and walks away. Again, best mom ever. When she doesn't feel so terrible about me doing something bad, she always just takes my phone away. I never really use it anyway. I grin and begin to skip towards my room, then slow down as my ankle burns and a cut on my cheek hurts.

AN: I think I've come to the last chapter in this story. But I love the whole idea of Finn/Kurt that the next time I watch the show I may just start a sequel to this one… Remember the loveliness of reviews!!