A/N: This chapter was originally a lot longer, which is why it has a strange end, but it finally got too long, so I chopped it up. Love to all of my reviewers, you guys have no idea how much I love seeing the review alert in my inbox.
Like all parents, my husband and I just do the best we can, hold our breath and hope we've set aside enough money for our kid's therapy.
~ Michelle Pfeiffer ~
A week later, we had our first family therapy session. I didn't like it, Finn didn't like it, and I was pretty sure that Dad wasn't entirely pleased either, but Carole insisted. I had been as charming as possible towards Carole, trying to convince her that Finn and I didn't really have to go, since he had a therapist already, and I was supposed to start seeing one next week, a prospect I wasn't sure if I was looking forward to or not, but she had held firm. Family counseling was for the family, and that meant all of us. I had tried appealing to Dad, but I think he's afraid of the famous Hudson temper, so he wouldn't back me up.
I took care to put together my best outfit, matching accessories and making my hair and face perfect. Finn lounged on the bed and watched, his face expressionless and his eyes distant. He hadn't said much about this, once his initial objection was done, but he wasn't pleased. His silence had become a weapon, his way of punishing us when things didn't go his way.
Not me, though. Finn never punished me by refusing to speak, something I found perplexing and worrying in turns. While I loved Finn desperately, I was no closer to him then Carole, whom he had no trouble going mute on. My fear was that Finn had never punished me because I had yet to do something that bothered him badly enough for him to do so. The therapy situation wasn't my fault, and I had proven that by attempting to get us both out of it. It made me wonder though, what I would do to piss Finn off, and what my punishment would be.
Not that I feared Finn in the slightest. He would never raise a hand to me, and I knew it, but there are a million ways to devastate someone, and Finn had been taught by the master himself. I gave him a tight smile. "Do need help picking your clothes?"
"No." It came out very quietly.
"Oh. Are you waiting for the bathroom?"
"Yeah." He stood and nudged past me, one hand resting briefly on my back. The touch was feather-light, and really couldn't tell if he was doing it out of a true desire to touch me, or just to help keep his balance.
Finn was like that now, that strange mix of closed off and vulnerable. He hadn't said anything about kissing me on the porch until very late the next day. Then, without warning, he had come over while I was doing my moisturizing, leaning over my shoulder and meeting my eyes in the mirror. "Can I kiss you again?"
Naturally, I had said yes, and he had kissed me, one hand slipping under my chin to raise my face up, the other coming down to rest on my lower back. This time there was tongue, and it was a struggle to keep from doing something embarrassing, like humping his leg or confessing my undying love. I didn't have anything to compare it to, but I was pretty sure that Finn was one of the best kissers in the universe.
Swoon. Now barf.
All, too soon, Finn broke the kiss and looked deep into my eyes. "Was that alright?"
I was too stunned to make a sound. Also, there was a distinct lack of blood making it up to my brain. "I…uh…." I couldn't get my breathing under control.
"Did I scare you? Because I don't want to scare you or hurt you." He was so worried that it caused a physical ache.
"No. You were great, Finn. But I don't want you to be scared either. I want you to do this at your own pace."
"I am." He pushed away from me and went back to his bed, snuggling under the covers. "Thanks, though."
Thankfully, he had started in on his homework then, which allowed me to sneak off to the bathroom for an impromptu shower and jerking off session without him noticing the enormous tent in my pajama pants. How in the world could such a simple kiss turn me on so much?
Finn was still awake when I came out, his mouth still but his eyes telling me that he knew exactly what I had been up to in there. They were not, however, giving me any clue about how he might feel about that. I sat on the edge of his bed. "This doesn't have to mean anything, you know." It killed me to say it, but I had to make myself clear.
His head tilted. "Does it have to not mean anything?" He didn't meet my eyes when he asked.
"No." My hands clutched desperately at each other under the blanket, but my voice was calm. "It can mean whatever you want it to mean."
"What do you want it to mean?" I had his full attention now, his homework forgotten. "I mean, there's two of us here, not just me."
"You know that I love you with all my heart. But…." I took a deep breath and forced myself to be steady. "I understand if you don't feel the same way about me. It can just be a physical thing if you want it to be."
"No." He pushed back and stared at me with dark, angry eyes. "If I do that, then I'm just like him. Just using someone because I want to get off. That's horrible, Kurt, the worst thing in the world."
I hadn't looked at that way, but I could see his point. "That's not what I meant. I'm fully agreeing to a physical thing, you weren't given a choice. But I do want to know what you want out of this. It's not fair to either one of us if we aren't on the same page."
He shrugged. "I don't want just a physical thing, but, I don't really know what I do want. So maybe we shouldn't do this."
By trying to fix and clarify things, I had just irreparably destroyed them. "Ok." My voice was a half question.
"Yeah." He wrapped his arms around himself, looking like I had kicked him. "Does that wreck everything? Cause I really do like you and everything. I just don't know if I like you as much as you like me. I'm sorry, Dude, but I want to be fair."
I appreciated his honesty, even if it wasn't what I wanted to hear. "But we can still be friends, right? I don't want to lose what we have now."
He grinned, that dopey smile that always made my heart clench. "Dude, we're better then friends. We're bros and bros don't give up on each other, no matter what."
Finn had slept in his own bed that night, and every night since. It was good, that he was sleeping better, but all it really did was make my own bed feel empty and cold and even though this was my own fault and-
"Dude, what's wrong?" Finn had come out of the bathroom while I was lost in thought, his toothbrush still jammed in his mouth. "I've been calling you for like a whole minute."
I had been so lost in thought I hadn't even heard him. "I'm sorry, Finn. What did you need?"
He shot me a funny look. "Nothing. I just wanted to tell you that you're almost out of shampoo."
There had been a quarter bottle an hour ago. "Did you use it?" His guilty face told me that he had. "Finn, that shampoo is very expensive. It's also designed to give volume to people with naturally fine hair, which you do not have. I would stomp on puppies to have hair like you do, and what do you do with it? Nothing. There is no justice in this world, I swear."
Both of Finn's eyebrows were raised now, and I had to laugh at his expression. "Never mind, Cowboy, I'll get some more later today. Why would you want to use my shampoo any way? You have your own."
"Yours smells better. It smells like you and that's good." He ducked his head and gave me an embarrassed smile. "Sorry."
"It's fine." Not to mention more then a little bit flattering. "Are you ready to face the music up there?"
"Not really, but we don't have a choice to we? They made the appointment and we're stuck."
Almost on cue, Carole was calling us both. Finn scowled at the door, but took his toothbrush back to the bathroom and marched resolutely up the stairs. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to do the best he could.
Dad was looking for his keys, grumbling to himself. When he turned towards me, I could see the swelling around his eye had gone down quite a bit. He still couldn't open that eye more then halfway, and the horrible black color had actually gone part way down his cheekbone, but it looked at least a little better.
Finn saw where I was looking and visibly cringed. No matter how many times we told him that it wasn't his fault, and that no one, especially not Dad, blamed him, none of us couldn't make him believe it.
Two nights ago, Carole had gone to the movies with a friend. It had been a struggle to convince her to go, and that Finn, Dad, and I would be just fine in her absence. I had set up an evening of pizza, ice cream and sports games, all things that would thrill Finn to no end. Naturally, I had been bored to death and spent most of the evening texting Mercedes on the sly, but anything that brought Finn and Dad a little closer was worth it.
And things had been going so well! Dad had spent most of dinner regaling Finn with stories from his short lived college football career, and their teams (apparently, I wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention at that point) won both games. Then Dad had put in a movie while he cleaned up the dinner dishes, and Finn and I had both gotten absorbed in the screen.
Or maybe Finn hadn't been as absorbed as I thought, because when I looked over, he had been asleep, stretched out on the couch. He hadn't been sleeping as well in his own bed, dreaming and thrashing restlessly, and I wanted him to get as much rest as possible. So I put a blanket on him and left him alone.
It wasn't until the movie finished that Dad made his fatal mistake. On his way up the stairs, he leaned over to pat Finn's shoulder. "Wake up, Buddy, bedtime."
As soon as his hand made contact, Finn jolted awake and gave the most horrible shriek I had ever heard in my life. It was exactly what I imagined a coyote sounded like the instant the trap snapped closed around its leg. I shot to my feet, but I was too late.
Finn reeled about in a blind panic, lashing out desperately. One fist caught Dad in the face, the other in the shoulder. He didn't keep attacking, though. Once he was out of the tangle of his blanket, he had backed up until he hit the wall, then just stood there, stiff and trembling. Dad was holding a hand to his face, his expression one of total shock.
Since there was very little I could do for him, I focused on Finn. "It's alright, Sweetie, it's alright. I'm here; I won't let anything happen to you." I started towards him, then stopped. Finn's eyes were huge and black, not focusing on me at all. Right now he was dangerous, not only to Dad, but to me and even himself. If I crowded him, he was just as likely to lunge at me as he had at Dad.
So I stood about 6 feet away and talked softly and soothingly, avoiding making direct eye contact. Dad moved out of the room, either to give us some privacy or just get some ice, but I never took my eyes off Finn. Gradually, the animal panic faded out of his eyes and his body relaxed slightly. I kept talking. "Come here, Cowboy, its ok. Dad didn't mean to scare you, I promise. Come on, it's ok."
Finally, he had crept forward and allowed me to wrap my arms around him. His T-shirt was drenched in sweat and his muscles were still wracked with the occasional shudder. "There you go, you're safe."
His head shook, but he didn't elaborate, just mumbled indistinctly into my neck. I gave him a gentle nudge towards the stairs. "Go on downstairs, ok? I'll talk to Dad; let him know it wasn't your fault."
"M'sorry." It was barely a whisper. "Tell him, ok?"
"I will." With my promise, Finn turned and fled down the stairs, glad to be out of range of what he was sure was going to be Dad's fury.
I took a deep breath and held it for a five count, trying to figure out how things always ended up going so wrong with Finn and Dad. I couldn't come to any sort of conclusion, so I stepped into the kitchen. "Are you ok, dad?"
He was getting some ice to put on his eye. "I'm fine, Kid. How's Finn?"
"He thinks you're going to kill him." I stepped closer and took the ice and wrapped it expertly in a dishtowel before handing it back. His eye was already swollen shut and getting worse by the minute. Finn had nailed him.
"Would it do any good if I went down there and explained that I won't or will that just make it worse?" His defeated tone told me that he already knew the answer.
"I think it would make things worse. Don't worry, I can handle it." I hugged him one last time, then went downstairs to try and fix things with Finn.
Except I couldn't. Finn refused to believe me, no matter how many times I told him that it was fine, that Dad wasn't angry. In his mind, Dad now had a legitimate reason to hate and abuse him, and that was enough for Finn. In the past few days, Finn has emerged from the basement only a handful of times, slinking around like he expected an attack from all sides. He wasn't depressed this time, he was terrified.
I'm pretty sure that that was the main reason that Carole turned such a deaf ear to our pleas not to have to go to therapy. The worst part was, deep down, I knew that she was right. Our family couldn't keep going like it was, and we obviously couldn't sort it out ourselves either.
"Ready." He had put on a dark blue shirt with Garfield the cat on the front, his favorite. He claimed that it was lucky, even though he had no evidence to back up that claim. "We can do this."
I stood up myself, allowing him to put an arm around my shoulders and pull me close. "Of course we can. We're the Hudson-Hummel brothers, and we can do whatever we put our minds to."
"Yeah, we kick ass." Trust Finn to put it as succinctly as possible.
"We do, don't we?" I squared my shoulders, gaining new confidence from his words.
Dad and Carole were waiting for us at the back door. Carole was wearing one of the outfits I had chosen for her, but Dad was in his basic jeans and a flannel shirt combo. Again, I couldn't help but feel like this had become another boys vs. girls situation. Dad held up the car keys. "Let's do this thing. Boys, would either one of you like to drive?"
Finn shook his head, not looking Dad in the eye. I, on the other hand, had no such issues. We were going to the same place where Finn's doctor was based, and where I would be going next week, so I figured it would be a good idea for me to know how to get there. Especially since my first appointment had been scheduled to coincide with the first time Finn would be going to Dr. Hayden's office, as opposed to her coming to the house. Since it might take most of my attention to keep him from jumping out of the car, it would be nice to be able to cross one worry off my list. "I do."
We shuffled around, with Dad and I in the front and Carole sitting with Finn in the back. He was chatty today, still stuck on the idea of getting a pet, preferably a snake, or possibly something in the lizard family.
I listened to his arguments with half an ear, somewhat amused at their logical and organized nature. If he could apply that to his schoolwork, he would be golden. Dad, too, was listening with a bemused smile on his face. He glanced over at me and raised an eyebrow. I shook my head. "Finn, if you bring home a reptile, I will skin it and turn it into a handbag."
He looked wounded. "You would make Reptilicus into a dude purse? That's cold."
Oh, dear Prada, please tell me that he hadn't named his imaginary pet already. I decided to ignore that part of his comment. "Handbags are for girls, Finn. There's no such thing as a 'dude purse'"
"Then what's that thing you take to the mall when you shop with Mercedes and Tina? Looks like a purse to me."
"T-that…that is a satchel, which his not the same thing as a purse. I use it to hold my wallet and phone." Too late, I realized that I was just digging myself a deeper pit.
"Sounds like a purse, too." The worst part was, Finn wasn't being a deliberate jerk. He was genuinely confused, and trying to figure things out.
At my side, Dad was doing his best not to snicker. I couldn't explain why a satchel wasn't a purse for men, because it really was a purse for men, so I went with distraction instead. "We'll talk about it later. But guess what? Since you're so insistent, I've decided to withdraw my previous objections and allow you to get a rat, provided you can keep the cage clean and do not let it get loose."
His smile was immediate. "Really? I love you, I love you, I love you!" Had we not been in a moving vehicle, I'm sure he would have given me one of his bone crushing hugs as well.
Carole looked at me. "Kurt, are you sure?"
I tried to sound flippant, like we all didn't know that I would eventually give Finn whatever he wanted. "Why not? It will be his responsibility, and he doesn't even want to know what I'll do to him if he fails at it."
Finn's mutter of 'probably make me carry a man-purse' was just loud enough for everyone to hear.
There was a snarky reply to that swishing around in my brain, but I decided to focus on parking the car instead. Dad would kill me if I scratched his brand new car, especially because I had a suspicion that it was going to become Carole's brand new car before long.
I had been having horrible premonitions that Finn was going to flip out and have to be dragged out of the car, but it didn't to end up happening. His unusual calm made me wonder if he wasn't tired of living with the stress of our family, too.
There were any number of toys and magazines in the lobby, and I entertained myself with an outdated US weekly. I kept one eye on Lindsay Lohan's first (or second, or third) round of troubles and the other on Finn, who was quietly playing with a little logic puzzle. While he would have been helpless if it was on paper, once the toy was in his hands, he separated the two pieces with very little effort. He held them up for us to inspect, looking hopeful.
Dad nodded him. "Nice, Finn. You're really good with your hands. Maybe you can come and help me at the garage some time? Kurt's been helping me out for years."
"That would be good, I guess." He was treading carefully now, just like he always did with Dad, but at least they were having an actual give and take conversation.
"Good. We'll pick a day when Kurt can come too, so he can help keep an eye on things. It shouldn't take you long to learn." Then he was back to his copy of National Geographic.
Carole neither played with the puzzles nor looked at the magazines. She just watched us out of the corner of her eye and allowed a small smile to touch the corners of her mouth. Tiny steps, tiny steps.
"Hummel family?" The receptionist's voice cut through our individual musings.
"Hummel-Hudson. We're not married." Carole pulled Finn to his feet as she spoke.
"My apologies. The doctor will see you now." She gestured to the door on the right side of the room. Nice oak, looked good with the flow of the room. The knob could have been better, though. It was a glass one and it looked like something that you might see in a grandmother's house.
Apparently, as much as I disliked the status quo, if I was this obsessed over a doorknob, I was still nervous about trying to change things. Dad must have sensed it, because his hand came down on my shoulder and guided me into the room.
It looked exactly like a therapists office from a movie. Lots of nice clean lines, nice seascapes on the wall, two chairs and a leather couch. Carole and Dad sat on the couch together, and Finn and I took the chairs. I knew that our actions were being watched and analyzed, and I couldn't help but feel like we were making the wrong choices.
He even looked like a therapist. Tall, thin, balding, wearing a suit and tie. I was living in a cliché.
Gay boy in love with his straight stepbrother? Yeah, baby, you're living in a cliché.
The therapist spoke. "Welcome. I'm Doctor Hooper, if everyone would like to introduce themselves."
We went around the room, saying our names and nothing more. "Ok, I want to know why you think you're in therapy with me today. All of you have agreed to come, which means that you all must feel that it's needed."
We all looked at each other, no one quite sure what to say. The one who ended up speaking up was the one who I would have never expected to. "Because me and Mr. Hummel don't get along. I did that to his eye. There's other stuff, too, but mostly me and him. But I want things to be better. I want us to be a good family."
"Finn, that's very good. I want you to hold on to that thought, because we'll come back to it. Now, what does everyone else think? Kurt, you're the next in line."
I didn't have Finn's familiarity with spilling his guts to a therapist, and I momentarily choked. "Well, Finn's right. The biggest problem is him and Dad, but…I don't' know, I think it's just that we're all used to being one parent one kid, and now it's two parents two kids." Was that the right thing to say?
"Alright. Carole?" He was making notes on his pad, and I would have given anything to know what he was writing about me.
"Both boys are correct. It's always just been Finn and I. His father died when he was just a baby, and I've never had a serious boyfriend before Burt, or one that I considered living with. Burt and I moved very quickly, maybe too quickly, and think that was hard on both boys. I want this family to succeed, and I think we need help making it happen."
More notes. "And Burt? You're the last man out."
Dad was obviously uncomfortable. Men of his generation didn't go to therapists, didn't talk about their feelings, didn't even acknowledge they had them. To have to sit here and talk about this in front of a stranger had to be galling to him. "I want us to be a normal family. One where we get along and we aren't walking on eggshells all the time. I don't want to wake up in the morning feeling stressed and worried about the day, and I don't want to go to bed thinking about everything I could have done differently. We're all stressed out constantly and it isn't good for any of us."
"Ok, so what I'm getting from all of you is that you feel like most of your issues are stemming from trying to blend a family with two teenage children?" At our nods, he kept going. "I find it very interesting that not one of you brought up Finn's kidnapping as a reason for therapy. Does nobody feel that that is playing into the family issues, the fear of and aggression towards Burt?"
Everybody in the room startled. Yes, we all knew that the kidnapping, if not the sole cause of our family issues, had worsened them exponentially. But to actually hear someone just say it like that? We never talked about it, except for what Finn had told me that first night, never. It was like we could pretend that it never happened.
And that, my friend, is why the family is in therapy. You all might be able to pretend that it never happened. But Finn can't. And honestly? The fact that none of you can acknowledge what happened to Finn should worry you a lot more then it apparently does. It's not healthy and you all know it.
Point, set, match all went to that horrible voice. I opened my mouth to say something, but Dad beat me to the punch. "Yes, I realize that no one brought it up, and yes, I feel like it's what's causing all of our problems. There were small problems before, but we could have worked them out. Except we didn't get the chance."
I glanced over at Finn, and noticed that he was very intently focused on what Dad was saying. Dr. Hooper noticed it too. "Finn, is there something you would like to add?"
"I don't like it." The words came out in a rush. "When they don't talk about it. I don't want to talk about it every day, but everyone acts like it didn't even happen. It did, and Puck's dead and it's like no one but me notices. It makes me feel like I'm crazy."
His words surprised me, even though they shouldn't have. After all, hadn't he said the same thing just days ago? My brain flashed back to sitting with Finn on the back steps, my head on his shoulder. His voice whispered in my ear, as clear as if he was speaking out loud. I'm not the same person. You and Mom and everyone keeps saying that I am but I'm not, and I can't keep pretending that I am.
Dad sighed and rested his face in his hands. "I thought that we were helping by waiting for you to bring it up. I didn't realize that you felt that way. Why didn't you say anything to us?"
Now Finn was studying his own hands. "I don't know."
Neither Carole nor I spoke, focused on what was happening between Dad and Finn. Only nothing was. They had said their respective pieces and were now finished.
The doctor moved in. "Alright. I'm going to ask a few questions for Finn and Burt. Now, say there were no boundaries between the two of you, no consequences. You wouldn't even have to acknowledge this outside of the session. What would the two of you like to say to each other?"
They exchanged looks but neither spoke. I tried to step in. "Finn, why don't you start?"
He didn't look up, but he did mumble something. Carole reached out and physically pulled his chin up. "What was that honey?"
"I don't know what acknowledge means."
"It means you can pretend that it didn't happen after we leave. But, as long as we're in here, we have to think about it." Carole kept her grip so Finn couldn't put his head back down, but he stubbornly clamped his mouth shut.
"I'll go first. If that's alright with you, Finn." Dad's effort to smooth things over made Finn relax a little. "Yeah, it's ok."
He took a deep breath. "I guess what I want to say the most is that I'm sorry."
Now Finn didn't need any help keeping his head up. He was staring at Dad, completely focused. "How come?"
"Because I failed you as a parent and a guardian. When your mother brought you to come live with us, it meant that I was supposed to take care of you, and I didn't. I let you get taken and I let you get hurt. I'm sorry, Finn."
We were all staring. Dad had never, ever, indicated to me that he felt guilty about what had happened to Finn. Actually, I had never really considered his feelings at all. Of the three of us, he had known him for the shortest amount of time, and had the least connection to him. They liked each other, and they seemed to have bonded, but it had really only been a few weeks, two months at the most. How bonded could they possibly be?
How long did it take for you to fall in love with him? How long did it take for him to become part of the group when he first joined New Directions? I'm guessing that that answer to both of those questions is far less then two months. Face it, Finn's lovable. Stubborn, somewhat stupid and definitely temperamental, true. But under that, he's easy going, affectionate, and so incredibly sweet that it's hard not to fall for him, at least a little. Your father sees that.
Since no one was saying anything, Dr. Hooper prompted Finn again. "Finn? How does it make you feel to hear that?"
"Confused, kind of. Maybe a little good. Like a tiny bit good."
"Okay…" The question hung, and we could all hear the unasked 'why does it make you feel good?'
"Cause, then it means that he liked me before, even if he doesn't now."
"I like you now!' Dad's voice was deeply frustrated. "I think you're tough and stubborn and you made it though something that would have killed most people, including me. I don't know how to make you see that."
"You could have just told me." Finn's voice was quiet, but strong. "You could have said something."
"Well, I'm saying it now. Alright, Finn? You're my kid now, just like Kurt, and I love you."
"Oh." Finn looked at the ceiling, then the floor, then each wall in turn. "Ok."
Carole caught the doctor's eye and drew her finger quickly across her throat. The doctor had done a great job in getting Finn and Dad to open up, but my new brother was at his limit.
He nodded smoothly. "Well, that gives Finn and Burt something to think about. Now, Kurt and Carole. How does everyone feel that things are going there?"
"Good." Carole and I spoke at the exact same time. She smiled gently at me, and gestured for me to speak first.
"It was a little strange at first, because it's been a long time since there's been a woman in the house, but we've really worked things out. We go shopping together, and we have a little garden that we work in. It couldn't be better."
"Liar." Finn was getting his revenge for being put on the spot earlier. "You pretend that you don't care about not doing the cooking and cleaning and stuff, but you do. Mom, too. You both think it's your job and both of you don't want to share it."
I couldn't believe that he had A) noticed that, and B) actually had the balls to bring it up. I shot my most evil glare.
By this point, Finn and I could have entire conversations with our eyes, enough so that he had no trouble understanding what my glare meant. Finn! How could you sell me out like that!
His return glare was just as fierce. Karma's a bitch, dude, isn't it? You did it to me first!
I did not! You were the first one to say that things were bad between you and Dad. All I did was agree with you.
Well, you shouldn't have done that. I'm not the bad guy here. If we have to sit here and pick apart how I feel about your Dad, then you're going to get to have your feelings for Mom picked apart, too. Fairs fair.
I hate you, Finn Hudson.
Well, I hate you, Kurt.
I don't care. See if I let you sleep in my bed tonight.
Newsflash, moron. I haven't slept in your bed the past few nights! So there!
Jerk!
Bitch!
Then, as if we were both following an invisible cue, we turned our heads from each other and sulked, each seeking the eye of our respective parent. Unfortunately, our little spat, though only lasting a few seconds, hadn't exactly gone unnoticed. Dr. Hooper broke the silence. "Would everyone prefer to address Kurt and Carole's issues, or discuss what just happened between the boys?"
Dad cleared his throat. "Boys fight. It's what they do." He didn't say what he had to be thinking, which was that no matter what he said, it was going to be the wrong thing. If he wanted to talk about Finn and I, it would piss me off and ruin the progress he had been making with Finn. If he wanted to talk about me and Carole, she would be irritated with him, and so would I. So, either way, I ended up upset, and he didn't want to have to choose between Finn and Carole. So he tried to bluff his way out of the situation. It might have even worked, had we not been under the watchful eye of a trained therapist.
"Certainly boys fight, though I do find it interesting that you refer to them simply as 'boys' and not 'brothers' or even 'stepbrothers'. However, one of the reasons you are all here is to learn better ways of dealing with things, and letting them block the two of you out so they can fight is never a good thing. What do you usually do when the boys fight?"
They exchanged looks, both looking puzzled. Dad finally spoke. "I….I guess I don't know. They don't fight."
"Ever? I find it hard to believe that two teenage boys, who have never shared a parent or a room never, ever have arguments. You're telling me that they have never once fought with each other?"
"No, they haven't." They only shared for a few days before…" Carole took a deep breath and forced the next words out. "Before Finn was kidnapped, and there hasn't really been a major fight since he got back. I'm thinking that we're long overdue for one, though."
Since Finn and I were still glaring daggers at each other, it didn't take a genius to figure out that the fight was here. "How do the two of you think that a fight should be handled if it occurs?"
"I'd let them work it out themselves." Carole spoke at the exact same time as Dad said "I'd yank the offender up pretty quick."
Carole's eyes went narrow at Dad. "You would yank the offender up? You don't think that discipline is something that we should handle together?"
Suddenly the focus was off of Finn and I entirely as Carole and Dad went head to head. "Well…yeah. I wouldn't be cruel about it, but if you just let them go at each other, someone could be hurt."
"They're 17 years old each and they're good kids! When was the last time Kurt hit someone? When was the last time Finn did? They aren't going to hurt each other, and learning to work things out on their own will only benefit them in the long run. What if I don't like the way you discipline my son? The way you see it, I shouldn't have a say until after the punishment was over." She was fuming, and she wasn't going to back down. "What do you plan on doing to him? Grounding him? Telling him he can't go to practice? Kicking him out of the house? Beating him?"
"Don't be silly. I would never, ever hurt Finn! I'd probably ground him. Maybe tell him no TV or internet. I don't know, it would depend on what he did. That's what I do when Kurt acts up."
When he noticed. Most of the time, I could have done anything I felt like, watched violent movies, eaten nothing but junk food for weeks on end, or all but flunked out of school, and he would have barely noticed. There were really only two things that I could do that were guaranteed to get his attention. The first was not show up on time when I was coming home from school or shopping. Dad was terrified that something would happen to me, and me not being home on time fed into those worries. He might not notice me much when I was around, but he sure noticed if I was supposed to be there and wasn't. Probably 90% of the punishments I had received in my life were related to not being where I was supposed to, when I was supposed to be there.
The other thing I could do to anger my father happened far less frequently, but galled me much more. I knew I was gay, he knew I was gay, and it was generally agreed between us that we just wouldn't bring it up. I was fine with that, considering that I couldn't think of many things more humiliating then having to have to talk about men with my father anyway. However, he seemed to feel that that agreement not only meant we wouldn't acknowledge my sexuality out loud, but that I shouldn't act in any way that might be too gay for him.
The blow out when he found my tiara collection, which had resulted in my losing my car for over a month, was a prime example. It wasn't like I actually wore the damn things outside the house, or even outside of the basement, but even their presence was enough to offend Dad's many sensibilities, so goodbye car, and goodbye tiaras. I never figured out exactly what Dad had done with over $500 worth of glitter and gems, and I had never had the courage to ask. Things were a little better now, but I still caught that shadowy look in his eyes sometimes, the one that wondered why, if he had to end up with a gay son, he couldn't at least have one who was a little less…stereotypical. One that was more like Finn, who was apparently just perfect.
Oh, you just have your panties in a bunch because Finn called you out in front of both of your parents. He didn't do anything wrong.
I knew that. But couldn't I just be mad at Finn for a few minutes?
Sure. But try not to do it in front of the therapist, ok?
Oh. Yeah, not acting like a spoiled brat in front of the therapist might be a good idea. Luckily, no one was paying the slightest bit of attention to me. Carole sighed very deeply and squeezed her eyes shut. I had seen Finn do the exact same thing enough times to know that she was attempting to calm herself before she said something terrible. "Obviously, there are still issues that Burt and I need to discuss when it comes to raising children, so we can be sure that we're on the same page."
"Deciding how to handle the children can be the hardest part of blending a family, but it's very important that you do have that discussion. Not understanding each others expectations and rules just sets the family up for failure. I should probably warn you right now, though, that you have only five minutes left in this session."
Had it been an hour already? If therapy was going to go by this quickly, then I guessed my own sessions might not be so bad. No wonder that it was so easy to get Finn to come upstairs and talk to Samantha.
"I'll bet you think that we're a bunch of freaks now, huh?" Trust Finn to always say what everyone else was thinking.
He laughed. "Well, Finn, most trained psychologists don't use the term 'freak' any more. And, no, I don't think there's anything wrong with this family that can not be fixed. The four of you obviously love each other, or you wouldn't be here, trying to sort things out. And, to be perfectly frank, what I saw here is exactly what I want to see. A little fighting means that you're all emotionally invested in things. It's when I get families in here who won't look at each other, and don't think there are any problems, and don't seem to care what happens that I know I'm in trouble. What I would like to see happen, is all of your talking things out with each other this week. Burt and Carole, you assumed that you were on the same page about how discipline should be handled, but you weren't. Burt, you assumed that Finn knew that you felt guilty about his kidnapping, and he didn't. Finn, you assumed that your family understood that you might need to talk about what happened sometimes, but they don't know that unless you tell them. The four of you need to start talking to each other, and figuring out what your real relationships are, and where the boundaries need to be drawn."
Even though I logically knew that he was speaking mostly to Dad and Carole, I couldn't help but feel like he meant Finn and I. From the sideways glance I received, I knew Finn was thinking the same thing. Again, we communicated without speaking.
Tonight?
Tonight. Tonight I'll tell you what I want and hopefully it's what you want, too.
I just want you to be happy. Even if we want different things, we can still have a special relationship, only as brothers.
I will be happy. You worry too much.
That's rich, coming from you.
A quick smile quirked the corners of his mouth, though he made no effort to deny my words. Both Dad and Carole were talking quietly to each other, but Dr. Hooper's eyes were on us. I ignored him as best as I could. Maybe next week there would be something to say to him, but not right now. Right now was just for Finn and I.
"Before we wrap up this session, is there anything else that you guys would like to share with one another? Remember, this is a safe place, and you can express anything that you need to."
Finn broke his staring contest with me. "Yeah." He turned to Dad. "I'm sorry I busted your eye like that. I really didn't do it on purpose; I just got scared when you grabbed me."
"That's alright, Finn. I know that you're sorry. I probably should have thought a little and been more gentle."
Finn smiled at him, but it was fake and strained. "Ok. So, like, you forgive me?"
"Yes."
"That's good." The fake smile faded, but his eyes were still wary. I wondered what his issue was. He turned back to the doctor, and, this time, his smile was real. "That was it."
Dr. Hooper nodded. "Anyone else?"
We all shook our heads. "Then I'll see the four of you the week after next. Tracy at the front desk will get your insurance information sorted out. Everybody work on talking to each other and making yourselves understood."
We all thanked him and stood up to leave. I put my hand on Finn's back, even though I knew that the doctor could see it. He didn't miss a step, but one arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me close. I leaned into him, knowing that this might be the last time I was able to do this while considering Finn a potential boyfriend, instead of just a brother.
The pair of us sat in the backseat on the ride home. Finn seemed to have recovered his equilibrium and was rambling happily about the rat I had promised him. He was so happy that I found myself getting excited as well. Maybe this wouldn't be such a disaster. And even if it was horrible, rats didn't live that long, did they? At the very least, the thing could have an unfortunate accident involving a peanut butter trap.
Finn was happily listing the things his rat would need, including a cage, and bedding and food and toys. This creature was rapidly becoming a money pit. "Finn, a big cage like you want and lots of toys and special bedding all costs money. Lots of money."
"I have some money. But I want him to have a really big cage, like we saw on the internet. He'll be sad if he's stuffed in a little tiny cage like in the pet store. If he's in a big cage, it will be almost like he's free."
I wondered if Finn consciously understood that he was comparing himself, and they way he had been held captive in too small of a space to the rat in a tiny cage. The rat he didn't even own yet, but was already treating like a beloved pet. I didn't want to bring it up, though. I would just make sure that Finn got what he needed, even if I had to pay for it myself.
"Finn, I'm going to write you a check for what you need, ok? He can be my gift to you."
There was nothing in the entire world that Dad could have done that would have made Finn happier. For the first time, Finn gave him a genuine smile. "Really?"
"Really. Call it a belated birthday present."
For few seconds Finn was quiet, looking down at his lap. Then he smiled again. "Thank you, Burt. That's super cool of you."
Even after all this time, he still didn't consistently call Dad by his first name. When he was happy, like now, he was much more likely to do so. The chances that he would every call him 'Dad' seemed very remote, which suited me just fine, but the familiarity of his first name made things seem a little more normal. It made it easy to pretend that we were a real family.
"Make a list of what you need for this creatures, and one of us will take you to the store tomorrow."
"Ok. Kurt, will you take me? You can help me pick it out."
I'm pretty sure that Finn had picked up on the fact that my agreement to his new pet was somewhat reluctant, and he was hoping that I would me more enthusiastic if I was allowed some input in the matter. I smiled and rubbed his shoulder. "Maybe I could find something that matches the flow of the room."
"Yeah. We'll get one that's flyer grey!" He sounded beyond pleased.
"Dior grey, and maybe." We were pulling up to the house, so I grabbed Finn before anyone else could. If I had to wait much longer to have the talk with Finn, the stress would make me break out. "We're going to go downstairs and get that list started. Carole, please let me know if I can do anything to help with dinner."
Finn wanted to stop in the kitchen and get a snack, but I kept on dragging him towards the basement. "Now, Finnegan. Snacks come later."
He knew what was coming, and his body stiffened slightly. But he was nodding at me, his expression calm. Whatever his decision had been, it was made now, and he wasn't backing down from it.
Once we were in the basement, he chose to sit on my bed for the first time in days. Was that a good sign? It must be a good sign. "So, you want to talk about stuff? I'm sorry if I made you mad in there. I want things to be good for you and Mom, so we can be a family. It can't be that way if no one tells the truth."
He was right. Of course he was right, but I didn't feel up to dealing with that right now. "We'll talk about that later. I want to talk about you and me right now."
His face fell. "Oh. About you and me being together?" He leaned back and nodded stiffly. "Ok, let's talk."