5: Good People, Bad People

They share pizza and silence across the small table.

Finn keeps his hands to his side of the table, trying to make them not shake when he thinks of the sight he saw before – Sam's arm wrapped around Kurt, holding him close and tight enough to suffocate; Kurt wouldn't have any chance of escaping if Sam decided to–

Again, he's trying not to think about it.

Rachel isn't doing the same as him; she keeps reaching over the table to grab more pizza, to talk to him, to try and hold his hand – whatever. It's getting on his nerves (or, more accurately, making his nerves perform a full-blown song and dance number). He can't help but recoil, which isn't fair, because this isn't her fault. And he so shouldn't be letting it get to him like this.

"For a date where the entire point was spontaneity, we haven't done much," she says.

"I know. I'm just... tired," he says. She shrugs.

"It's okay."

He looks down at his pizza. He's really not hungry right now.

She reaches across the table, again. She's trying to hold his hand. "I mean, it's not like–"

"Do you mind?"

She looks shocked. Shocked and hurt. He soon realizes what he just said and feels like the biggest piece of shit ever.

"Sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have..."

"It's okay," she sniff. "I'd prefer you be a little more tactful, but if you don't want physical contact, you have the right to be clear about that."

He bites his lip and hides his hand under the table, balling a fist.

He's not sure how clear he was about that, all and all. However, he was drugged, so you can't really blame him.

He doesn't time his arrival back home so well, because Sam is just preparing to go when he gets there, and they are alone in the hall together.

"Finn, hey," Sam says casually. Finn shuts the door behind him.

"Hey."

He wants to run away right now, but his feet remain frozen.

"How'd your date go?" Sam asks.

"Badly. I kind of acted like a dick to her all night," Finn says. It's almost like he expects Sam to feel guilty.

Sam sighs and looks at him. "Well, sucks to be you. You know..." Sam raises a hand and gently traces Finn's jaw with his palm; Finn's blood runs cold and he looks away, something pricking at the back of his eyes. This can't be happening again.

"...You could probably do better."

And with that, Sam drops it; he takes his stuff and walks out. Finn wants to break down crying; he wants to scream and wail and tear into the carpet.

He doesn't. He goes up to his room, tries his best not to see Kurt on the way there, and tries his best not to sob too loudly into his pillow.

The next Monday he realizes what's happening. It's at football practice, and he's not paying attention. He's more dedicated to avoiding Sam's eyes than anything to do with the sport.

"Hudson, pay attention!" Coach Tanaka bellows, snapping Finn back to reality. Shit. "You off in la-la land? Maybe choreographing your next dances, huh?"

"Sorry, Coach Tanaka–"

"Don't sorry me! I need you aware and understanding what's going on, else this whole team falls apart."

"Well then maybe next time you can be aware and understanding of the fact your girlfriend's got nothing for you and is pining over my Spanish teacher before you two make it to the aisle?"

The guys look at each other in shock. Holy crap, did someone really say that?

Did Finn really say that?

Finn immediately regrets it. That was douchey, not to mention kind of irrelevant. Tanaka's just about red.

"See me afterwards, Hudson," he says, and Finn nods. He's not thinking about that again. He dares to raise his head and meet Sam's eyes for the first time all practice, and he sees how Sam looks. Not confused like the rest of the guys, but not entirely like he gets it either. Finn grabs onto the bench and breathes heavily, trying not to freak out.

He suddenly realizes he's turning into a total dick.

Tanaka's rant was just the usual shit – respect for authority and all that. He used to hear it all the time when he was hanging around Puck. Tananka didn't punish him any further, though, and that made Finn worried – it seems like what he had said really hurt.

He's walking out to wallow some for when he finds himself approached by someone.

No. Not some. Sam.

Fuck.

"What the hell was that about?" he asks, sounding genuinely mad. "I know you have your issues, Finn, but even you've got to be smart enough to know taking it out on our coach because you were off with the fairies, and bringing up that whole thing with Ms. Pilsbury, was pretty much asshole of the year material."

Finn swallows hard. Well, he'll admit he's a bit impressed with the guy's guts. "Really? Well, I guess you'd be the judge of what..." He means for it to come out confident and defiant, but he trails off near the end, thinking of the things he really doesn't want to.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Are you still worked up about that? It was two weeks ago. Get over it."

"You raped me," he says. The words sound ugly. Sam makes a 'who cares' gesture.

"I know, and I said I was sorry, and you said you were cool with it, so what is your problem?"

Finn looks away, not sure if what Sam says hurts him more than it confuses him or vice versa. No-one thinks of things like that that casually, right? "I lied," he says.

"Figures."

Finn sighs. "Look, you... Kurt's like, my stepbrother now. And he was my friend before that. You... you make him happy. In think having a boyfriend in general makes him happy. I'm not going to wreck that for him if I can avoid it. But... you're not going to... do something, to him?"

Sam looks offended. "Kurt is my boyfriend. I wouldn't do that to him."

Finn nods. He believes it, even if he probably shouldn't. "Okay, good. Then I'll leave you guys alone. You said 'get over it'? I'm trying."

He walks off before Sam can say anything more.

He's pretty sure he's not the good guy right now.