Chapter Three

"Rough day at the farm, Cowboy?"

Finn sighed, tossing his bag and jacket on the couch with more satisfaction than the gesture should have afforded him. "Uh huh," he said, every muscle in his body tensing up like meat that had been fried on too hot a heat. "Massage before goblins, dude?"

Picking up Finn's backpack, Kurt shook his head and walked over to the coat rack to hang it in its rightful place. "Growing pains. Again?"

"Hardly," Finn replied with a snort. "Have you ever tried to bench press your own weight?"

"No," Kurt said. "But then my weight is substantially less than yours."

"Hey!"

"Sorry." Kurt patted him on the shoulder, ignoring Finn's wince. "It's not a criticism. The Titans would be even less victorious if they had a quarterback with my physique. I'll grab some provisions and get those tense muscles back in their proper places, hm?"

Rushing upstairs, Finn flashed Kurt a grateful smile from over his shoulder. "Cool. I'm stiffer than a surfboard, man."

Scaling the stairs two steps at a time, he reached his hand out for the light switch, fumbled for his iPod, connected it to his speakers and then dimmed the lights before flopping face first on his bed. Should he remove his shirt? Perhaps that would be less awkward than having to remove it in front of Kurt, or perhaps he could keep it on, but...

An over the clothes rub just simply wouldn't cut it for him, because, good god, he ached. He stood up, shrugged his shirt from his shoulders and removed his t-shirt, balling it in his hands. He scrunched up the fabric, a satisfyingly crisp ball in his hands, and paused as he felt Kurt's presence in the doorway.

"This isn't a brothel, Finn," Kurt said, shaking his head, an arch of arm clinging to his hip. He took in Finn's puzzled expression, and swiftly turned the lighting back up.

Finn frowned and squinted as his eyes attempted to adjust to the glare of far too many watts. "I just wanted to relax, dude!"

Kurt quirked an eyebrow up. "To My Chemical Romance?"

"This isn't My Chemical Romance! It's Coheed and Cambria!"

"Can we change it? The drumming is so heavy it's tensing up my shoulders."

"Cream?" Finn sighed, the cool air from the window peppering his neck, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up in a bizarre salute to Ohio's cold, unpleasant winters.

"What? Didn't you say this wasn't a brothel?"

"No!" He blushed. "No, I meant the band."

"Oh," Kurt nodded. "Alright, then."

"Put my 60s playlist on," Finn replied, with a hopeful look; Kurt really had to have been feeling sorry for him if he'd acquiesce to that request, but Kurt said nothing and merely fiddled with the iPod dock. Hey, his nipples were hardening in the icy glaze of a breeze which drifted through the crack in the window, standing up like clothes pegs against his chest, and it was more than a little painful. He was feeling sorry for himself, too, in more ways than one.

"Shall we?" Kurt said, motioning to the bed. "Do you need a towel?"

"Nah," Finn replied, settling down and placing a pillow under his chin. "These sheets are, like, four weeks late to be washed anyway. But aren't you gonna take off your clothes?"

"Charming." Kurt knelt down next to him, breath warm against his ear, but removed his cardigan, leaving him in a thin, white undershirt. He gingerly patted Finn's shoulder. "I'm going to hang this up before it wrinkles and fetch a hand towel. I'll be back in a moment."

As Kurt left the room, Finn allowed the music to wash over him, but then felt his cheeks burn up.

I'll soon be with you my love,
To give you my dawn surprise.

'Dawn surprise'? Holy crap. No wonder Sunshine of Your Love was Puck's go-to make-out song. He should have let Kurt choose the music, for once; at least his bizarre Broadway falsetto songs didn't refer to morning wood.

Thankfully, Kurt soon returned to him, and seemed completely oblivious to the innuendo.

Finn wasn't taking any chances, though. "Can... can you turn the music off?"

Kurt complied, and then begun to rub the massage bar between his hands, the slap and slick of his hands echoing through the room with a clap. As Kurt walked closer to the bed, Finn felt phantom hands ghost over his skin and arched his back up, anticipating, waiting for relief.

"Rachel never did this for me," he said, voice muffled by his pillow.

"Rachel never gave you a massage?"

"Nah," he paused. "She was worried I'd," he blushed. "Well. You know." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Get a little too excited if you catch my drift."

Kurt ignored Finn's lusty groan as warm palms dug deeply into his coiled springs of shoulders. "Excited? With her tiny pitbull claws digging in? That seems... infeasible."

Breathing deeply, trying to relax, Finn realised that Kurt did have a point. If anyone needed an excuse to pummel the crap out of him under the pretence of 'foreplay', it would have been Rachel Berry. Tentative she might have been, but gentle she was certainly not. And the less said about Santana and Quinn, the better.

"Relax, Finn." Kurt said, reading his mind. "Don't think about girls right now."

"Okay," he exhaled. "Oh, what's in that? Smells awesome. Like, Old Spice, but, like, new spice, all sexy and stuff.."

"Vanilla, ginger, a little black pepper oil." Kurt's hands were rubbing circles, and he felt the tension dissipate down to his toes. "It's called 'hottie'."

"What? Oh God this isn't..."

"No, no! It is not that kind of massage bar. Lush have these absolutely ridiculous names for all their products. Anyway; the other one in my parcel was called 'ego'. We can't have you getting the wrong idea, hm?"

"Wrong idea?" Finn frowned into his pillow, was that a slight, or... what other sort of wrong idea did Kurt think he might be getting?

Kurt said nothing, and merely rubbed a slick hand across his back, Finn groaning happily at the contact.

"And to think two years ago you freaked when I swiped a wet wipe across your face."

"That was a -"

"No." Kurt said, softly. "We're not going to talk about that again, and we've both crossed some lines we shouldn't have. Turn over?"

"Nah, I'm good," he replied, as Kurt rubbed small circles along the planes of his back, thumbing the dimples just above the waistband of his boxers. "Oh, that's awesome. You have, like, Harry Potter hands."

"Working my magic, hm?" Kurt said, leaning down, the tip of his nose brushing softly against the back of Finn's neck. At Finn's happy sigh, his tiny nose rubbed the spot, that spot which just melted him like a puddle of butter, Kurt's thumb sweeping circles on his back once, twice, and his body shook in spite of itself. This was... going beyond the realms of good.

"Uh-huh," he groaned.

"Turn around, Finn. Please? I know you're aching all over."

"No, it's..." He paused. Had Kurt really said what he thought he'd just said? "I just..."

"Come on, T-rex. Ninety percent of the McKinley student body have seen more than this, and I'm not about to sign up for counseling."

Finn worked on a reply, but his throat was drier than Death Valley. Was Kurt coming on to him?

"And, no, you do not need a manziere, or sport salami nipples, or have devilled eggs on your chest, or anything of the sort, so don't even start with that. You're honestly not that hideous."

Finn shuddered with relief. It was relief, and nothing more. He knew guys didn't much compliment other guys, even gay guys, but 'not that hideous' wasn't exactly something one said when one wanted to get into the other's pants, at least according to the movies he claimed not to watch.

"I... don't buy it, but thanks, dude."

"Buy it, don't buy it, but shut up. Relax those flailing limbs of yours for once, Finn Hudson. You've earned this."

Finn turned over, and Kurt's hands were gentle across his torso, almost reverent, and Finn counted to five, holding each breath before exhaling, concentrating on nothing but the rise and fall of his chest.

"You have some big choices, but it's down to you, Finn," he said.

"You'll help me though, though, right?"

"Of course I will," Kurt smiled gently, running his fingers down the side of Finn's chest. "What else are brothers for?"

Probably not for giving each other massages which melted the recipient from head to toe; that probably wasn't in the brotherly handbook, and Finn was so glad he was wearing tighter pants than usual that day. He wasn't hard, not at all, knew it was highly unlikely in this situation because with Kurt, there was always a tiny part of his body which held back before slipping and sliding into complete relaxation, and was there a brotherly handbook?

His feelings couldn't have been anything to do with Kurt. It could have been anybody doing this to him, really, but nobody else would touch him, had touched him, with the sole intent of making him feel good. He'd been used, by others, to make them feel good, and even fleeting, hesitant, scared Rachel had seemed like she wanted to possess her claim on him, digging her fingernails into his shoulders and keeping her eyes wide open, but this was different. Nice. He usually kept his eyes open when Kurt did this, but they were squeezed tightly, because the act just felt intimate, and, and... different.

He couldn't figure out why that was the case; perhaps it was Kurt's leg, holding him in place, giving him no polite choice other than to just stay put and feel.

"So," Kurt said, punctuated by his pattering fingertips drifting down the line of Finn's stomach. "Rachel still wants you two to get back together?"

Finn nodded. "Yeah. She does. It's winter break soon, and it'll be so nice not to have to see her for a while. She just... God, Kurt. She's great, you know she is, but, she." He paused, feeling utterly guilty. "She just messes with my head! Fight for me; don't fight for me. Stay, or go, or... I just don't know how much of this I can take."

"Hm?"

"Yeah, Kurt. Hm indeed. I'm just. Yeah. I think I'm tired of fighting. For, for her, I mean."

Opening his eyes, Finn met deep, messy puddles of gray and Kurt's face, usually so intense, looked slightly distracted. He was biting his lip, and his hands hovered above Finn's chest, less sure of themselves.

"Well, Finn." He frowned. "Love never runs smoothly, and we always have to fight for what we want. Sadly, life's not like the movies."

If he dared make this about Rachel or Blaine right now, Finn realized he was just one muscle twitch away from crying out in anguish. He took a deep breath; it was time to test the waters, metaphorically, at least.

"Yeah, Kurt." He said, his voice catching in his throat. "But I'm not sure if she's what I want, anymore."

Kurt sat up on his heels, furrows appearing like lined paper on his creased forehead. "Think wisely, Finn, before you give up on her completely. Nobody finds their true love when they're eighteen, after all."

"That's an insane thing for you to say." Finn paused, looking at Kurt, hoping he would guide this in the direction Finn wanted him to. "You and Blaine are skipping through the hallways, like, like, that Sound of Music thing you're so fond of, and you're telling me you two don't..."

"Well..." Kurt said, looking away from Finn's eyes.

"Have you, Kurt? Found love? I thought you and Blaine, you two were, are..."

A pale hand reached out to his chest again, and Finn couldn't help but shudder as Kurt leaned forward to whisper in his ear, prickling heat over his whole body. "Ssh. You always think too much, Finn. Just relax for me."

Finn sat up, pushing Kurt backwards. "Hey! You didn't answer me. And it is important." He whispered under his breath. "You're important."

Kurt hesitated for what felt like hours, cross-legged and his eyes searching Finn's face for, well, something, he couldn't quite articulate what. "Yes. Blaine makes me feel important, but, I... I... I honestly don't know."

"You're planning your life around him, though. Why else would you have taken him back after what he did to you? Does... does he make you happy, Kurt? Do you love him?"

Kurt hesitated again, but nodded, close to tears and Finn just wanted to lean up and wrap him tightly in his arms, but then realized his chest was covered in oil, and Kurt might have been affectionate with him, even encouraged it, but he would not forgive that getting on his undershirt. The urge was just overwhelming, though, so he sat on his hands instead.

"But you can't say the words to me, can you? How can you honestly say them to him."

"I..."

Finn couldn't remember the last time Kurt sounded so quiet, and so unsure, and his voice was usually like music to his ears but now it was small, and quiet, and lacking that glorious fire and emotion that his Kurt possessed in spades.

"Do you honestly love him? Kurt? Talk to me, bro."

Kurt shook his head, eyes shimmering, though Finn knew he wouldn't see Kurt crying over this, even though Kurt was trying to make a Hollywood romance out of something which wasn't entirely what he wanted, and it just made his heart clench in his chest and anger cloud his mind, because he had seen that sparkle in Kurt's eyes, and the spring in his step. Well, admittedly, it had been a while, but was what happened between him and Blaine all just a lie?

"So, don't you think you deserve something more than that, Kurt?"

"There's... no, Finn. Not yet. But I care about him, and I trust him, and he honestly loves me, and I'm not about to fight for something else when there is someone perfectly adequate in front of me." He lowered his voice. "Not that there is anything, or anyone, else to fight for, though."

Finn tilted Kurt's head towards him. "You are worth so, so much more than perfectly adequate."

"Th-," Kurt threw himself into Finn's chest without so much as a warning. "Thank you, Finn."

And Kurt was. Finn had no idea what being the only out, gay guy at school was like; he never would, but all he wanted was for Kurt to be happy, to protect him from the world as much as he could, to have his back, and he'd fought for Rachel back in Junior year because he loved her so much and Kurt just took Blaine back because he was there? Because he couldn't see himself having any other options?

Finn felt his breath speed up, misting over his face. Was letting his brother, already confused and conflicted about his relationship with his somewhat annoying but clearly devoted boyfriend, massage him the best idea? Of course it was. Kurt had opened up to him, really opened up to him, even though a nagging part of his conscience spoke up to let him know that Blaine would punch him and fling him into the lockers like a frisbee if he had even an inkling of what they were doing at the moment. Then again, there was nothing suspicious about brothers being close; it was what they did, and Blaine Anderson could suck it.

Oh, God, that was a bad turn of phrase, too. Not Kurt. It. Whatever it might be, but wasn't that what the phrase meant? Thinking about it, oh God, it totally did, and why couldn't his brain just shut up, and stop thinking, and go back to relaxing against the pooling warmth of Kurt's hands, and care?

"Ssh. Everything's going to be okay," Kurt said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Finn's forehead, sweeping away his running thoughts with a soft brush of his lips. "You and Rachel. Blaine and I. You'll see. Have some faith in yourself. We'll chat about this later, I promise. Just relax for now."

"Yeah," he said, quietly, reclining back on to the bed. He raised his arms behind his head, shut his eyes tightly and let waves of relaxation swim over his body, allow his blood to settle wherever the hell it wanted to settle. It flushed his cheeks, blanketing him with warmth, and he clenched his hands into the sheets with a grateful sigh.

"Yeah, Kurt. We'll talk. And, yeah. It is down to me, but it's down to you, too." He paused. "You know I'm not Blaine's biggest fan -"

Kurt snorted. "Understatement of the millennium."

"-but doesn't he deserve to have the chance to find someone who can love him back?"

Awkward silence filled the room, and Finn wished he hadn't said what was on his mind, but it was hard to keep quiet when Kurt's current, and future, happiness was on the line. They were lucky to have each other, that was certain, but Finn soon realized the problem.

Before, he had wanted to sweep Kurt in his arms and drum into Blaine that so, so much trust was being placed into his showy, over-enthusiastic hands. And, now, he wondered more than idly whether Blaine knew Kurt as well as he did. That, all along, he'd assumed that it was Blaine who was along for the ride, when in fact it was Kurt who was using him as a placeholder for something better.

Or perhaps Blaine did know, and Sebastian was merely Blaine's awkward way of allowing Kurt a get-out clause.