A/N: This was one of my favorite chapters to write so far, and it really begins our slow burn. I appreciate all the traffic my story is getting and would love to hear from you!

T for language

Chapter 5

Back in Puck's room, the boys were clearing a space on the floor for the fold-out mattress Finn slept on whenever he stayed the night. Finn shoved Puck's football gear under the bed while the smaller boy used a dirty shirt to plug the gap at the bottom of his drafty window. The night air had made the room freezing cold, and Finn wasted no time diving under the spare blanket he'd taken from the closet.

"You really gotta get that window fixed before winter, man," he said, shivering as he stretched out on his cot. He was a good eight inches too tall for the thing; his ankles hung off the end and rested on the floor. Back when they were younger, they would have just shared Puck's bed, but they were much too big for that now. Sometimes they still shared at Finn's, but only because the pull-out sofa in the living room was the perfect place to crash after a long night of Halo and Guitar Hero.

"Yeah, I know," Puck said, curling up under his blanket and blowing into his hands for warmth. "Mom said we'll get it fixed next payday."

"Hmm," Luckily it was too dark for Puck to see Finn's eyes roll. Mrs. Puckerman said that about a lot of things. 'Next payday, next payday.' She meant well, Finn knew she did, but sometimes she'd get a bit too carried away by her little drinking problem to follow through. He felt bad for Puck. 'Next payday,' his mom would say, but payday would come and go, and along with it went her promises. At least Finn had a mom who kept her word. They may be kind of poor and all, but Finn knew he had a mom he could always depend on.

"Are you excited for our game in Dayton next week?" he asked instead, changing the subject. It was their last regular season game and they were two of the few freshman who'd be starting; a fact that had really boosted their popularity at McKinley.

Puck nodded, rolling on his side to look down at Finn. "Are you nervous?" he asked.

"A little," Finn admitted. It'd be his first time starting, what with Johnson, their regular quarterback, having sprained his neck in that unfortunate cow tipping accident. After Johnson showed up to school in a cervical collar, Coach Tanaka had sought Finn out and told him he'd be starting and that he better not screw it up. "It's a lot of pressure."

"It'll be fine," said Puck. "There's really nowhere to go but up from here. Think about it, what's the worst that can happen? We end the season oh-and-ten instead of one-and-nine?"

Finn snorted. "That's true." The Titans really were a pathetic football team. He pulled his blanket over his head, trying to get warm. "'Night, dude."

As silence fell between them, Finn dozed, fantasizing about bringing the team to victory. In his mind's eye, he saw himself throwing the game winning touchdown, the guys hoisting him onto their shoulders while the crowd chanted 'Finn! Finn! Finn!' Then that hot cheerleader, Quinn Fabray, shimmied up to him, red and white pom-poms dancing under the stadium lights as she threw her arms around him and kissed him right there in front of everyone. That notion made his cheeks warm, so he rolled away from Puck to enjoy these thoughts privately.

Just as he was settling into a wistful fantasy involving Quinn Fabray, her Cheerios uniform and the janitor's closet at school, something crashed loudly outside. Finn barely registered it, but it was the sound of Puck fumbling for something under his bed that made him look over his shoulder. He turned just in time to find Puck on his knees in bed, clad only in a wife beater and his Iron Man boxers, a baseball bat raised at the ready.

"Puck, what are you—?"

"Alright, that's it, you mother fucking demon!" Puck shouted, taking a very powerful practice swing with the bat. "The power of Christ compels you, huh? Well, wait 'til you taste the power of Moses, bitch!" He swung the bat again, narrowly missing his lamp. His eyes glinted in the low light, making him look slightly deranged.

"Dude! Dude! Would you relax?" Finn shouted rolling out of the way just as Puck jumped down from his bed onto Finn's cot. He popped up quickly, ready to swing again. "Jesus Christ, man, stop it!" Finn ducked just as Puck swung for the fences.

"You're not possessing me, cocksucker!" Puck yelled adamantly, looking around frantically for a nonexistent demon.

"Puck!" Finn tried again, but Puck was so distracted and wasn't listening to a word he said. He'd have to try something else to get his attention. Finn thought hard a moment until something came to him. "Dude, look out! It's behind you!" he shouted suddenly, pointing madly over Puck's shoulder.

"Huh? Where!" When Puck turned to look, Finn dove forward, grabbing him round the middle and tackling him hard onto the bed.

"Alright, that's enough out of you," Finn said, half frustrated half exasperated, as he wrestled the bat free from a squirming Puck's clutches and tossed it in the closet.

They found themselves grappling for the second time that night, but unlike their little sparring match from earlier, this one wasn't fun. Using his size to his advantage, Finn eventually managed—with great difficulty—to lay Puck out, holding him down with a hand on each shoulder. Puck was breathing heavily now, that manic glint gone from his eyes and replaced with a look of distress. Finn wasn't sure which look was worse.

They stayed like that until Puck stopped moving. "If I let you up, are you gonna be chill or go all psycho again?" Finn asked cautiously.

"The first one," Puck said in a slightly strangled voice.

He shot Puck a warning look before getting up, leaving him sprawled across the bed. He moved to look out the window, checking for the source of the crash that had set Puck off. "For the love of God, dude, it was a trashcan. A trashcan fell over."

"So…it wasn't a demon, then." At least he had the good graces to sound somewhat embarrassed.

Finn rolled his eyes, dropping his forehead into his palm and shaking his head. "See? This shit right here, dude. This is why I don't like horror movies."

"…Sorry," said Puck, which Finn considered something of a win, as Puck normally wasn't one to apologize.

"There's no such thing as demons, man. It was just a movie. Here, look. I'll show you." Finn made a bit of a show walking around the room, looking under the bed, in the closet and behind the desk, as if searching for monsters. "See? No demons here. All clear. Think you'll be able to go to sleep now?" He knew he was being kind of mean, but he probably would have felt worse if Puck hadn't almost hit him in the head with a baseball bat.

Puck shrugged, wrapping his arms around himself protectively. He looked decidedly embarrassed and uncomfortable, which did make Finn feel a tiny bit better.

"Well? Are you going to be able to sleep or not?" he asked again, tapping a foot on the floor impatiently.

"I guess…" Puck said somewhat evasively, running a hand through his mohawk. He slowly got himself back under the covers and turned to look pointedly at Finn, who was still standing there waiting expectantly for an answer.

"You guess what?"

Puck continued to give him that significant look. "Well, I mean, maybe if you…you know…" he trailed off awkwardly.

"Maybe if I what?"

Puck hit his fist on the bed in frustration. "Aw, c'mon man, don't make me say it!"

"Just spit it out!" Finn said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Alright, fine!" Puck threw up his hands in defeat. "If you could…I mean, maybe if you came up here with me…I'd be able to go to sleep. Okay? There, I said it. You happy now?"

Finn felt himself blush. He was in a state of mild disbelief, shocked that Puck actually said it. Suddenly, all his confidence was gone. "L-like, on the bed?" he stammered.

Puck grunted and rolled his eyes but didn't give a definitive answer. He had too much pride for that.

Finn stared for another moment before willing his body into action. He bent down to pick his pillow and blanket up off the floor. "Er—yeah. Yeah, I could help you with that. Move over."

Puck looked equally surprised for a moment before doing as he was told, scooting over to make room for his friend. Finn slid in behind him, tossing his blanket over them both. He nudged Puck's shoulder, urging him to roll on his side. He then snaked one arm under his neck and wrapped the other across his chest, holding him tight. Puck was tense in his arms at first, but as they settled down, Finn felt him beginning to relax. As he held him, Finn felt an odd sensation in his chest; a sort of pleasurable ache, and he found he rather liked comforting his friend…maybe a bit more than he should. But there was something awesome about having his frightened buddy cuddled in his arms and knowing that he, Finn, was helping take those fears away. It all just felt too damn good. Who knew Puck would be all warm and surprisingly soft and that he smelled good too? Finn sure didn't. He'd never thought about it before. He pressed a cheek to Puck's head, enjoying the raspy feeling of the buzz cut against his skin.

"See dude? Nothing to worry about," Finn whispered, giving him a little squeeze. He wondered vaguely if this was more affection than Puck would be willing to tolerate, but he decided to test his luck anyway. He nuzzled his cheek against his friend's head again and surprisingly didn't get shoved off. "See? You're safe. I got you."

Puck was quiet. If a part of him wanted to tell Finn off for acting gay, it wasn't showing because he appeared to be enjoying this situation too much to care. "God, I'm such a pussy," he lamented, but that didn't stop him from looping an arm around Finn's and holding tightly to his wrist as if he was afraid to let it go.

"Nah, you're still a badass," Finn said, absently tracing his thumb back and forth along Puck's shoulder. He must have been doing something right because Puck was getting heavier and heavier in his arms as he melted into Finn's embrace. His friend's body was warm and solid, and holding him was making Finn's eyelids droop.

"…You sure?"

"Nobody questions your badassness, remember?"

Puck was silent for a while, but his grip on Finn's wrist didn't let up. He seemed to be enjoying the little rub on his shoulder too, because every time Finn showed signs of stopping, he made a little grunt of disproval until it started back up again. Then, just as Finn felt himself drifting peacefully off to sleep, Puck's voice jerked him awake.

"Hey dude, do you have one of those cross things?" he said, his voice quiet, fingers curling and relaxing contentedly on Finn's wrist.

"One of those what?"

"That Christian thing? Like the one Quinn's got?"

"Hmm?" he murmured, absently running his thumb across the planes of Puck's smooth shoulder.

"You know, like a Jesus necklace?"

"A Jesus necklace." Finn repeated, raising an amused eyebrow without opening his eyes or moving his head from where it rested against Puck's. The extent of his Christianity involved celebrating Christmas with his mom. He couldn't even remember the last time he set foot in a church, let alone put on a 'Jesus necklace.' "No, I don't. Why?"

"I just thought it might help." Puck yawned, turning his head to press his cheek into Finn's forearm. "In case of, you know, demons."

Finn laughed, which reverberated pleasantly through Puck's body. "You don't need a cross, bro. You're Jewish."

"I just thought maybe it would help to have all our bases covered." Puck's fingers tightened on Finn's wrist and the pressure felt really good.

"Nah, Jewish dudes don't need crosses to cover their bases. Especially badass ones like you," he promised, readjusting his grip across Puck's chest, pulling him, if possible, even closer against his body.

"'s that right?" Puck asked, his speech slurring. He was barely staying awake now. "You sure?"

"I'm sure. Now go to sleep, bro."

That must have appeased him enough because moments later, Puck's breathing had leveled out and his grip on Finn's wrist went slack, his fingers gently unfurling. Finn smiled faintly against Puck's mohawk before letting sleep overcome him too.