Finn found himself not looking at Puck as they passed each other in the hall, just as Puck had done for the past several days. So he was more than startled when Puck stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest. "Wait," Puck said. "I need to talk to you."

"Um, sure, okay," said Finn, blinking. He had to make an effort not to grab Puck's hand and hold it to his chest, just a moment longer. They were not exactly affectionate with one another, but Finn was used to a certain amount of contact with Puck, between football and goofy wrestling around, and he realized he'd missed it. A lot.

Puck looked at the flow of high school traffic surrounding them, and beckoned Finn to follow him around the corner and down the stairs, out of the view of inquisitive eyes.

"I want to say I'm sorry," Puck said, in a rush, as though he were trying to get it out. "I've been a real jerk to you… to everyone, really. For a long time. I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of. But you… you've always been there for me. You've been my friend when other people gave up on me. My dad, my brother, they took off… but you were still there. Even when I didn't deserve it."

"Hey," Finn said, but Puck was shaking his head, reaching out (reaching out) and putting a hand over his mouth. God. Finn kept his traitorous mouth closed, his lips firmly not touching Puck's hand, his tongue not… he swallowed.

"I need to say this, okay?" said Puck. "You had your turn last weekend."

Finn nodded.

"Okay," Puck said, taking a deep breath, moving his hand away. "Okay. Yeah." He ran his hand over his head. Finn followed the hand with his eyes.

"Are you all right?" Finn asked (half-hoping that maybe, if he interrupted enough times, Puck would put the hand back on his mouth).

"I'm fine," Puck snapped. He stopped and closed his eyes briefly, taking another breath. "Yes. I'm all right. This is just… well, dudes don't do this kind of talking. I'm not used to it with you."

"I don't mind," said Finn. "I mean, I'm not so good at it either, but it's okay. I want to hear… anything you want to tell me."

"Yeah?" Puck didn't look at him. "I'm not sure I believe that."

"You know me, Puck," Finn said softly. "Just like I know you. We've known each other a long time. We have to start trusting one another."

"But that's just it, man." Puck chewed on his lip, and Finn watched with avid interest. "I've done some things that tell me I'm not someone you should be trusting."

"Well, then, trust me. Tell me what you did. There's no way it could be so bad that –"

"I slept with Quinn," Puck said.

Finn felt it like a body blow, heavier than any hit Puck had ever given him. Puck's shoulders lifted a little, with the lie undone, and he let out the tension in a shuddering breath. Then all the rest spilled out.

"It was one time, one stupid party. I swear, it didn't mean anything to either of us. She was drunk and I was drunk and we just –"

"Stop," Finn choked out. "I can't – I'm sorry –" He ran up the stairs.

"Finn," Puck cried, and there was anguish, and Finn saw actual fear in his face. He remembered what Puck had looked like during the thunderstorm. This fear was the same.

Finn stopped, got a grip. Puck… I won't let you be abandoned, not this time. He slowly turned around and sat on the stairs. There was no one in the hallway now. "C'mere," he said.

Puck climbed the stairs before Finn, then sank down on the step in front of him. "C'mere," Finn repeated, and opened his arms. Puck let out a gasping sob, a noise Finn had never heard him make, not in eight years of friendship. It hurt his heart, much as than the words I slept with Quinn had.

He hugged Puck to him, held him tight in arms that had ached to hold him for so long - long before he could possibly have articulated such a desire. He stroked his back and rocked him a little, while Puck cried and said, over and over, "God, Finn, I am so, so sorry, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Puck, it's okay, really," he murmured. But he wasn't at all sure, not at all, as a fear began to build in his heart, right alongside the incandescent pleasure of touching Puck, and he marveled at the possibility that he could feel so bad and so good at the same time.

"I wanted to tell you, but I was so fucking scared," Puck whimpered. "This is me, dude – I don't get scared."

Yeah, you do, Finn wanted to say, but he knew it could wait. "It's okay," he said again, and stroked a hand down Puck's head, down his neck and back, and again.

"It was because – because it was you," Puck said. "I couldn't lose you."

"You won't lose me," Finn promised, reverberating with this revelation. "Not ever. I'm not going anywhere."

Finn felt like they could have stayed in that position for the rest of the afternoon, Puck resting between his legs, wrapped in his long arms, stroking his head and neck and back, feeling Puck's breathing ease as his crying stilled and his tears dried. Every few moments, Finn would feel the shock anew, the repeating monologue of oh, Puck slept with Quinn… but here he is, you're holding him, and it's good, it's more than cool, it's so good, but oh, Puck slept with Quinn…

Finn had no concept of how long it had actually been when Puck slowly pulled himself up and out of Finn's embrace. That was our embrace, Finn marveled. I had an embrace with… Puck. "Puck," he said, then stopped.

"Don't say it," said Puck. "Unless it's something good, I don't think I can hear it. Please. Just… can we let it be, just for a second? We can talk later."

"No, it's… it's good," said Finn, and Puck looked at him, eyes wide. Finn reached out a hand and took Puck's, felt its strength, the fine calluses from playing guitar. "It's more than good," he said, feeling daring, and brought Puck's fingers to his lips.

"Boys?" called a voice. They automatically dropped each other's hands and stepped away from each other, losing eye contact and moving to stand beside one another. Principal Figgins came into view at the top of the stairs. "What are you doing out of class?" he demanded. "Do you have a hall pass?"

"Uh," said Finn, but Puck pulled two index cards out of his pocket, palmed one, crammed it into Finn's back pocket and handed the first one to Figgins.

"Here you go, Principal Figgins," said Puck.

Finn reached into the pocket that had just been smoothly defiled and lifted out a perfectly detailed hall pass. "We were just… just… wrapping things up here."

"I'll come by your house tonight," Puck said, "and we can finish this, okay?" The way he was not looking at Finn now was completely different from the way he'd not looked at Finn earlier that day.

"Okay," Finn said, and his entire body glowed. He thought it was impossible that Puck and Figgins weren't blinded by the light of his blush.

He watched Puck walk up the stairs before him, enjoying the view through an entirely new lens of possibility. And suddenly he was reminded of watching another boy go up the stairs in much the same way, just days ago, and he thought: Kurt. He had no idea what this was going to mean for them. His brain felt a little muddled and overfull of hormones and images. He couldn't even process them all. He just kept walking up the stairs and followed Puck down the hall, watched him disappear into a different room and shut the door, and Principal Figgins delivered him safely to algebra.

He slid into the empty seat beside Kurt (oh, god) and behind Quinn (oh, god), and took refuge in looking for his notebook in his backpack for a few moments, before he had to face their questioning looks.

"Where were you?" Quinn whispered crossly. "You missed Larry dropping the chalk into his pants. It was priceless."

"Puck had something he wanted to tell me," he whispered back, and Kurt straightened beside him, looking quickly at Finn before looking equally quickly back to his book.

"Everything okay?" Quinn asked, and she sounded more nervous this time.

"Okay for who?" he said, and Mrs. Greene said, "Quiet in the back, there," and they fell silent for a time. Quinn gave him a few meaningful looks, but he did not meet them, and when Kurt nudged him with his toe, Finn shook his head.

He wanted to live for a few moments in a world where Quinn and Kurt and Mrs. Greene and algebra and the rest of McKinley High did not matter, where the only factors were himself and Puck, and Puck had said he wanted him, had let Finn hold him and stroke him and seemed perfectly okay with these things, had wanted them. With Finn. He had a hard time believing it was true, that it wouldn't vanish after today was over, and return to the realm of dreams. He held them close in his mind, and petted them and kept them safe, just for a little while. He found himself smiling stupidly at his own hands, twisted in front of himself, remembering the fingers they had held only moments ago, and the way he had (had he really?) pressed them to his lips. He touched his lips now to see if they felt any different.

Puck, he thought gleefully. Oh, god.

When the bell rang, Kurt gave him one quick look, the one that meant You'd better call me or there will be hell to pay, and then strode out, leaving him to walk with Quinn. She was quiet, nibbling on her bottom lip, which Finn knew meant she was feeling vulnerable. He reached out and took her hand, and they walked in silence down the hall.

"What did he tell you," she asked in a low voice.

"He said you guys… hooked up," he said, and he was proud that his voice didn't even quiver once.

"Oh," she said, and looked up at him. "Finn, I'm sorry I didn't –"

"I'm not even angry at you," he said, and shockingly, amazingly, he wasn't. "Or Puck. I know it was just a one time thing, and you chose me, anyway." Then he looked at her, perplexed. "You chose me over him?" he said, wondering. "Why?" How could you not want him, when I know how much I want him myself? He laughed.

Quinn's eyes widened. "Yes, Finn – I did choose you," she stammered, "and I still want to be with you. Puck – he's a Lima loser, he's not like you –"

"No, he's not," Finn said, and his voice was louder than he'd meant it to be. "He's not," he insisted, a little more quietly.

"Okay," she said, confused, but put a pacifying hand on his arm. "Whatever you say. I want to be with you, Finn."

"Okay," he said, putting an arm around her, more out of habit than anything else, but also for the comfort of the normalcy of it. He smelled her hair and looked down the hallway, but didn't see Puck's Mohawk anywhere.

"So we're all right?" she said, smiling.

"Yeah, we're good," he agreed. But he did not allow himself to ask the fear-filled question that lurked around them as they hugged, and he felt the bump of her belly pushing against his.