A/N: I swear that I really do work on all of my stories, but several of them have to be handled very…delicately, so updates aren't as frequent. Plus, my foster puppy takes a lot of my time. I actually have the crazy thing swimming laps in the bathtub, just so she doesn't destroy the place.
Temper tantrums, however fun they may be to throw, rarely solve whatever problem is causing them.
~Lemony Snicket
I woke up the next morning tired and cranky. I hadn't slept long enough, but I had forgotten to close the curtains last night and the bedroom had grown too light for me to stay comfortable. I rubbed at my eyes, trying to wake up. Not to mention, how in the world was Finn simultaneously drooling on the back of my neck and digging his elbow into my leg?
I don't think that's his elbow...
I was wide awake in an instant, all traces of sleep vanishing. Oh, God, what did I do now?
If I was freaking out, Finn didn't seem the slightest bit disturbed. He just breathed steadily against my neck, dead to the world. I pushed my elbow back, nudging him gently in the stomach. "Roll over, Finn, please roll over." The words came out as a strained whimper.
Of course he didn't. He just tightened his one arm over my chest and mumbled indistinctly. The horny teenage boy in me overpowered the guilty part and I took measure of the situation I was in. And from what I was measuring, Finn possessed more then adequate equipment.
My conscience tried to speak up, but I mentally shushed it. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I wasn't hurting or scaring Finn right now. Actually, Finn seemed to be having a pretty good time. All I had to do was stay still and let him get off. This was actually a sacrifice on my part.
Whatever you need to tell yourself. But you're right. Right now you're ethically in the clear. You're just fine until you stick your hand down your own pants.
I wasn't going to- yeah, I couldn't even pretend to be indignant about that accusation. One the shock of what was happening had worn off, my libido had come roaring to life. I was a bad, bad person.
"Kurt." Despite his earlier incoherency, my name was perfectly clear coming out of Finn's mouth in a soft moan. "Please."
I twisted to look at him, but his eyes were still tightly shut. I had to be sure. "Finn?"
No reaction. He didn't stop thrusting against me, either. It was a good thing that I didn't believe in Hell, because I would probably burn there for what I was about to do. Even though I felt guilty, I slid a hand into my pajama bottoms. I was already rock hard, and I knew that this wasn't going to take long.
Finn was talking steadily now, but it was all gibberish. It didn't sound like frightened gibberish, though, which was a good thing. The first hint of fear from him and this whole thing was done. I would get up and sleep in Finn's bed (trying not to wonder when the last time he changed the sheets was, of course) and leave him in mine.
It didn't seem to be an issue, though. Finn was mouthing at the back of my neck now, and, if I wasn't careful, he was going to end up leaving a mark there. "Gentle, Finn."
Maybe he wasn't as out of it as he seemed to be, because he eased up instantly. "Finn, are you awake?"
"No, I'm just…I'm….What time is it?...Is…is it dinner?...Never mind, I'm sleeping." He fell silent just in time for me to start giggling. Sleepy Finn was cute Finn. Sleepy Finn was apparently also horny Finn.
My laughter turned into a breathy moan as Finn jerked against me. Right, I guessed I better get on with the horribly inappropriate masturbatory session. I was the worst sort of person.
That didn't stop me from putting my hand back down my pants. Then I thought better of getting disgusting bodily fluids on myself and slipped out of my pants and boxer shorts and tossed them over the side of the bed. Finn seemed to like that, if his increase in speed was any indication.
Since this wasn't a planned self-exploration, I wasn't properly set up. The proper set up involved scented candles, mood music, and proper lubricant. Also, I sometimes required a viewing of Top Gun as a warm up. Usually, though, my imagination (and memories of Finn from the locker room) was enough.
This, however, was the hottest thing that had ever happened to me. Even if Finn was never willing or able to go this far again, I would never forget this. Since it was such a special moment, I was willing to forgo the usual niceties. I could not, however, do without lube. I took a quick survey of my nightstand, looking for anything that might suffice. Nothing, nothing….oh, no, there was no way. No way I could use my $62 an ounce face cream on my genitalia. It was….it was revolting. Then Finn moaned behind me and it got a lot less revolting and a lot more something that was going to happen.
Guiltily, I snatched the tube and popped the top. When I was telling this story to….well, I guessed I didn't know who I was going to be telling this story to, since this was a secret relationship, but someone. When I was repeating this story for the grandkids, this part was getting left out. Actually, every part involving my pants being off was getting left out.
I squirted a little bit of the lotion into the palm of my hand and touched myself again, lightly this time. Only a tiny touch, and it was making me shiver. Finn grumbled against my neck, his hand coming to rest on my stomach. For someone who had barely even thought about sex for most of my life, it was shockingly easy for me to come up with all sorts of mental images of what else I would like him to do with that hand.
I stroked myself a little harder, feeling ashamed, but not nearly ashamed enough to stop. As my father had tried to tell me (and I had screamed and plugged my ears because I was so horrified) it was normal and healthy to masturbate, but I knew that this wasn't exactly what he had in mind.
Without warning, Finn's body stiffened against mine, going rigid and very, very, still. It was the culmination of my fantasies, and enough to pitch me over the edge as well. Once I had quit shaking, I whispered to Finn, trying to see if he had woken up. "Cowboy?"
He snuffled a little into the back of my neck, but didn't respond. I waited for a few minutes, but it didn't appear that he was going to wake up. I was relieved, then felt even guiltier that I was relieved. Like I was some sort of pervert for not stopping Finn, even though I wasn't sure how I could have.
Leave the bed?
Sure, now she had a suggestion. I slid out of bed and padded to the bathroom to clean up, grabbing my pants off the floor as I went. I hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't hurt Finn, I hadn't scared Finn, I hadn't done anything.
Except I had used Finn. Maybe not in the same way that Joseph had, and I was motivated by love instead of a desire to possess him, but it was the same thing. I had used his body to pleasure mine, without asking for his consent. It was wrong, no matter what I had tried to tell myself earlier. So how did I make this right?
Tell him. Tell him what you did and ask that he forgive you. Be gentle and direct. You don't have to be graphic, but be honest.
My stomach rolled in anticipation, but I knew the voice was right. If I didn't say anything about this to Finn, the guilt would eat at me until I couldn't stand it any more. Finn would understand. He would just have to.
I waited for the voice to tell me that I was worrying for nothing, that of course Finn would understand and forgive me, but there was nothing. This time, I was totally on my own.
"Kurt?" Finn's voice was hoarse with sleep. "Where are you?"
"Bathroom." My voice didn't shake, which made me feel a little better. But then the coward in me took over, and I couldn't look him in the face. "I'm about to get in the shower, so if you need something, come get it now."
"But I need a shower, too, and I promise I need it more then you do!" He was still too sleepy-sounding to actually whine, but his tone wasn't too far off. "You take forever to do it, and there's never any hot water when you're done! It's not like you have plans for today and I do!"
He was right on all counts. I'm sure that he was sticky in unpleasant places, which meant he did need the shower more then I did. I took way longer then he did, since I had to not only exfoliate and use three conditioners, but a mud mask on alternate days. Hey, it took a lot of work to look this good.
Plus, you kind of owe him.
Still, I had a schedule to keep and I didn't like cold showers either. But giving in too early would ruin the friendly competition between Finn and I. "This is the first I'm hearing about any plans of yours!"
"No it isn't. I have testing today, remember?"
Just like that, I did remember. Today was the day that Finn would go to McKinley and be tested to see if he would pass the 10th grade. In reality, it didn't matter much, since he wouldn't actually be going back to the building itself until at least December, possibly all year. But, in terms of Finn's self-esteem, it meant everything. The humiliation of being left back a grade would be devastating to him. "That's right. Are you worried?"
He didn't answer, which I found a little concerning. "Finn?"
"Can you come out, please?" His voice was breathy and strange.
He knows.
Well, it wasn't like I hadn't planned to tell him later today anyway. "Sure."
Finn was sitting on his bed, his arms wrapped around his body. Despite his defensive (probably unconsciously so) posturing, he didn't look particularly upset. Embarrassed maybe, but not traumatized. I came up to his side and, when he didn't make any effort to pull away, sat next to him. "What's up, cowboy?"
"I...uh…what happened? I'm all, um, gross and I don't know why." Now he sounded a little panicked, but he pressed closer to me instead of pulling away. Clearly he wasn't blaming me, at least not yet.
As delicately as possible, and using small words, I explained what had happened. Finn nodded throughout, accepting everything I told him without any discernable expression. When I was done, he shrugged. "Sorry, dude."
I was so shocked that I couldn't even correct his use of the term 'dude', something that I despised. "For what? I was the one who took advantage of you!"
"No you didn't. I was the one who took advantage, because I humped you like a nasty old hound dog. You didn't even touch me." Finn just wasn't getting it.
"I was awake and you weren't, which absolves you of all responsibility. I don't think you understand what happened here." I didn't want him to absolve me of all responsibility. He was supposed to be angry. I needed him to be angry.
His eyes narrowed, meeting mine defiantly. "You know, Kurt. I'm not a moron."
Uh-oh. I didn't want him to be this sort of angry. I much preferred screaming, out of control, Finn to quiet, scathing, Finn. "I know that you aren't." My voice was cautious and placating.
"Then don't treat me like one." I could tell that I hadn't soothed him at all.
We were teetering on the edge of a massive confrontation, which was the last thing we needed right now. "I'm not trying to. I'm trying to answer your question as honestly as I can."
He sighed. "Just because I don't agree with you, that doesn't mean that I don't get it. You think you were wrong. I think you weren't. What is it that I don't understand?"
When he put it that way, I guessed that it did make sense. "Because if I'm not to blame then no one is." It came out depressingly small.
"That's a good thing, you know." His forehead had creased, and I knew I had finally confused him. "Sometimes bad shit just happens and it's no one's fault. You just have to accept that and move on."
There was a part of me that wanted to keep arguing, to scream until Finn saw things my way, but I didn't. Because I was wrong, and this time I could see it before my own stubbornness got me in trouble. Besides, I was willing to concede that Finn might know what he was talking about here. After all, he was the king of having bad shit happen to him for no reason. But it didn't change my deep down feelings. "Ok. If you feel like what happened wasn't my fault, that's what matters."
It wasn't, not really, but I wanted it to be and that went a long way towards making it true. But I didn't want to upset Finn, not right before he had to go for his testing.
"No it isn't." Finn was accusatory now, which made me feel defensive, which made me feel guilty again and maybe a little angry, too. My emotions were in a jumble and why wouldn't he just let me feel guilty and get it over with? The pressure was building for both of us, and this could only come to a bad end.
"Fine, Finn. It's not ok. You're right about everything and I'm wrong. Except you seem to have no idea what I'm wrong about, because first you're telling me it's not my fault, then you're telling me it is. Ok, it's all my fault. It's my fault you got taken and my fault that you couldn't talk and my fault that about what happened this morning. Does that make you happy or should I do a little groveling while I'm at it?" I forced my voice to be as bitchy as I could possibly make it, even though all I wanted to do was cry. I would be damned before I showed more weakness in front of Finn then I had already.
"I didn't say-"Abruptly he cut himself off. "You know what; I'm not going to fight with you. I'm going to take a shower, then I'm going to go and take these stupid tests so I'm not a flunky along with everything else fucked up about me. But if you want to whine and bitch and be miserable, do it all by yourself. I'll use Mom and Burt's shower."
He grabbed his clothing off the side of the bed and stood up, stalking up the stairs. He paused at the top, one hand on the doorknob, and I knew he was fighting with himself about whether or not to speak. Finally he did, his voice low. "It's not your fault that I couldn't talk, and I talked for you because I thought that you would listen. But you don't."
If he had screamed and raged and thrown a tantrum, it would have been one thing. I could have screamed right back. Said all the hurtful, hateful, things that I could have come up with. But the hurt in his voice stole mine right away from my lips, and I could do nothing but watch as he left, closing the door with such exaggerated care that it was somehow even louder then a slam.
Without him standing there, my anger cooled and vanished, leaving a gnawing sense of guilt in its place. I listened. I listened to everything Finn told me, no matter how horrible. Didn't I?
You do. Well, most of the time, you do. 9 times out of 10, you listen to everything Finn tells you, and you don't judge him. But sometimes all you do is hear him.
Listening and hearing were the same thing.
Are they?
Of course they were. Whenever Finn wanted to talk to me, I dropped whatever I was doing and listened to him. Then I did whatever I could to solve the problem. So how could he say I didn't listen to him?
Only…I guessed I really hadn't done that just now. Finn had told me that he didn't blame me for what had happened. Finn's generally honest if I ask him directly, which meant that he really didn't blame me. But I hadn't accepted his words and, while I hadn't come right out and said it, I had managed to invalidate his feelings as well with my snarky response. Great.
And that, my dearest, is the difference between hearing and listening. You heard Finn, but you didn't listen to him. Now, how are you going to fix this? And can I suggest doing a better job of it then you did this past time?
Yes, she could. And I could suggest that she shut the hell up, which I was currently doing. How had things gone from being so good the past few days to being so horrible right now?
There was no response to that, leaving me not only unsure of the future, but of the present as well. I sat on my bed, feeling the warmth from where Finn and I had been snuggled just a few minutes before. If I just sat here and waited, would Finn come back? Would the door creak back open, and his heavy tread come down the stairs, miserable and asking forgiveness?
Would he? Should he? Or should I be the one chasing after him, just like always? Did he want me to chase him or should I just let him go for now? I could always talk to him tonight, once he had had a chance to cool down. Or would that be waiting too long? Maybe his anger would fester instead, making what would have been a brief tiff and make up session turn into a fight that neither one of us could recover from. Things had been so easy when I wanted Finn but thought I could never have him.
It's always easy until you do it. I'm sure that your father thought that parenthood would be perfectly simple. He would have this fun jock son, who would sit on the couch and watch the game with him. A strong son who would try and talk him into sharing a beer while they admired the cheerleaders and Mom puttered around in the background, alternately scolding me for trying to drink underage and pretending she didn't see it when he finally gave in and passed you a can with a quick wink. But it's never what you think it will be.
No, it wasn't. Instead of his perfect fantasy, Dad got a gay son and a dead wife. There would be no watching of the game, and certainly no drinking of disgusting, calorie filled beers together. But that didn't mean that there was anything wrong with the way things had turned out, just that it wasn't the easiest way to do things. Right?
Then I was crying and I had no idea why, other then the pressure of everything had become way too much. I made no attempt to muffle the noise, as if I thought that would call Finn back to me.
But it didn't. He was upstairs, with his own worries, worries that both Dad and Carole were too caught up in to pay any attention to me. I pressed my face into my pillow and wiped my eyes. I could get through this, with or without Finn Hudson's help. I didn't need him. I didn't need anyone.
With that thought, I got up and marched to the bathroom. Finn would probably be done in the shower by now. And even if he wasn't, who cared? The basement was closer to the hot water heater, thus the hot water would be diverted to my shower and not his. Let the bastard freeze.
I didn't do it, of course. I was angry with Finn. Finn was angry with me. But I still had choices. We had miscommunicated, but neither one of us had been deliberately cruel. This was a fixable problem, if we would let it be.
With that in mind, I dressed without showering and went upstairs, pulling pots and pans out of the cupboards. Dad raised an eyebrow at me. "You never eat breakfast. Does this have anything to do with why Finn came storming upstairs and threw me out of my own bathroom?"
"We had a fight." I hadn't intended to elaborate, but the truth came spilling out. "I wasn't listening to him. He was trying to tell me something important, and but I thought I knew better then he did. So I was hearing what he was saying, but I wasn't listening and he called me on it."
Dad nodded. "So you plan on apologizing with breakfast? Not a bad idea, actually."
I measured a few ingredients before replying. "He's not exactly speaking to me, so I can't just tell him."
He grunted and went back to the paper. "You know, I wouldn't be so sure about that. If the problem was lack of listening, it would be a little hypocritical of him not to listen to, and accept your apology."
Made sense in theory, but I could think of more then a few examples of hypocrisy from Finn. Not to mention, he was probably still angry with me. "Maybe."
"Just say 'Finn, I'm sorry.'. You don't need to say anything else. Brothers understand each other."
There was nothing in this world I wanted more then to tell him that Finn and I were not, and never could be, just 'brothers'. There would always be that spark between us, no matter what else happened.
But I just gave him a sickly smile. "Right. Breakfast and an apology, coming right up."
By the time Finn made it back downstairs, freshly showered and smelling like soap, I had an omelet and toast waiting on a plate for him. His eyes flickered up to mine, still hurt. "Thank you, Kurt." The words came out in an overly formal tone.
"You're welcome." I kept my voice upbeat, as if things were perfectly normal. "Are you done in the bathroom, so I can take my shower?"
"Yeah." He sat down and started eating, focused completely on his meal. It wasn't exactly a dismissal, and he no longer seemed angry, but the hurt remained. Remembering Dad's words, I reached out and stroked his shoulder, gratified when he sighed and leaned in. "I left you some hot water."
Small words, but I knew what he was actually telling me. He could have easily run out all the hot water out of spite, just like I could have turned on the hot water downstairs and left him with none. But neither one of us had given in to our petty urges. That was a good sign, right? "Finn? After you eat would you mind coming back downstairs for a minute? I have a little good luck gift for you." Not really, but I did have a few candy bars hidden in my dresser drawer for when I just couldn't help myself. Finn would be happy enough with one of them.
"Sure." He finished his meal in two huge bites, washed down with half a glass of milk. "Let's go."
That was just disgusting. I have no idea how Finn has not destroyed his digestive system yet, with the way he barely chews and just crams as much food as possibly down into himself.
Once we were downstairs, Finn sat on my bed while I leaned against the bathroom doorframe, a reverse of our positions just an hour ago. Before I could say anything, he blinked at me. "I'm sorry I was such a jerk this morning."
"You weren't." The words were a reflex, a last ditch attempt to take the blame for myself.
"I was. I was upset and I should have just explained the problem. But I threw a big tantrum instead, and that was being a jerk. Yelling and kicking things doesn't work, I have to make the effort to say something."
This was my chance to rectify my earlier mistake. "Ok, maybe you were a bit of a jerk. But I was, too. I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you when you were trying to tell me something important."
In a flash, I was treated to Finn's dazzling smile. "That's all I wanted." He flushed to the tips of his ears. "And, I'm really sorry about, uh, what I did and can we please never, never, never, talk about it again? That would be really awesome."
"There's nothing to feel sorry about. It was just something that happened, and there's nothing wrong with it or you. But we don't have to bring it up again if you don't want to."
"I don't. Ever. And I don't want to do it again." He was starting to look a little panicky, his eyes wide and showing white all around.
Even knowing what I did about what had happened, his reaction seemed a little extreme. "It's ok. I told you, you don't have to do anything you don't want to."
"I don't want to do anything." He turned his head away from me for a minute and stared at the wall, seeming to gather his thoughts. Then he nodded, still looking away from me.
I hated it when he did that, even though Samantha said it was nothing to worry about. That Finn was just sorting things out in his own mind, having a mental conversation. But, even though I would never say this out loud, it made Finn look crazy, like he was hearing voices, and that scared me.
Because it's not like you've ever had a conversation with the voice in your head, now have you? Let him be.
That was part of the problem. That voice in my head was snarky, bitchy and just plain mean. I didn't want to think about Finn having a voice like that, tearing him down.
I'm not mean, and neither is the voice in Finn's head. Call us your consciences if you prefer. It's not like you've ever bothered to give me a real name.
"Kurt? It's ok that I don't want to do anything with you, right?" Finn was staring anxiously at me, and I wondered if he was having the same thoughts I was. If it freaked him out to see me staring at nothing and talking to my inner voice as much as it did me when I saw him do it.
I smiled, trying to disarm him. "Sure. I told you, this is all on your timeline. Now, do you want your present?"
"Yeah!" Just like that, he was perfectly happy again.
"Hands over your eyes, Cowboy. Otherwise you'll ruin the surprise." If I let him see where I kept my candy, it would all be gone by tonight.
Moving quickly, I slid open my underwear drawer (the one drawer I was sure Finn would never look in) and studied the candy inside. What would Finn like? I suddenly realized that I didn't know. Butterfinger? I knew Finn ate peanut butter. Milky Way? Did he like caramel?
Kurt, yesterday Finn ate a Pop Tart that fell in the sink with all the dirty breakfast dishes. Do you really think he's going to turn down any sort of candy?
Point to the voice. I grabbed the Butterfinger and closed the drawer. "Ok, Finn, eyes open."
"Sweet!" He grabbed me in an overly enthusiastic hug, lifting me off the ground and wrinkling my clothes. "Thank you, Kurt."
He peeled the wrapper off and broke off a large piece. "Here, I'll share."
Under normal circumstances, I would have refused the extra calories, but this was just the sort of day that I kept these treats for. I took the piece of candy. "Thank you."
He nibbled on his own piece, picking all of the chocolate off. "I'm only a little nervous, not much. You're a good teacher, so I'm sure I'll pass."
I smiled and tickled his stomach, listening to him giggle a little before he pulled away. "Just remember, Karofsky passed. And if David Karofsky can pass his sophomore year, so can you."
Finn gave me a tiny smile. "I guess that's true."
"Of course it is. Do I ever lie to you?"
Now it was a big smile. "No. Sometimes you're a jerk, but you don't lie about it."
Not the most flattering response, but I would accept it. "Good, so we're clear. Now, do you want me to come along?"
He shrugged. "Not if you don't want to. I know you kind of hate having to hang around the school."
"I don't mind the school itself, just the unwashed masses residing within said school. But it should be empty today, except for the teachers." The first day of school was next Monday, only 10 days away, and I knew that the staff was already preparing.
"Then you should come. You know, if you want to." He was offering me one last out. "But I really want you to."
That was good enough for me. "Ok, then I will."
"Sweet! I'm going to go tell Mom." He bounded back up the stairs, leaving me to wonder where he found his energy.
Carole had no issues with me tagging along, even offering to take us both out to lunch after. After much glaring on her part, Finn had finally taken the hint and invited Dad to come with us. He had even done it in a nonsarcastic voice. Fortunately, Dad was going to the garage this morning, so there was no way he could join us.
It wasn't until we were actually at the school that I realized the situation I had put myself in. Finn would be testing, which left me with his mother and nothing else for the next four hours. Crap. What was I supposed to say to her?
If I was worried about what to say, Carole had no such reservations. She sat down on one of the couches in the school lobby, her purse clutched in her lap. I sat next to her, leaning in. She stroked my shoulder, then pulled back to look at me. "So, Kurt. How are things? It seems like you and Finn got over your little spat."
Ok, I could handle this. "I gave him a candy bar and he forgave me. Butterfinger."
She laughed, but there was something tight about it. "That's one of his favorites."
I smiled back, but I was starting to get a nervous flutter in my stomach. "I'm glad."
We were both silent for a few more minutes, before Carole sighed deeply. "So, I'm going to assume that you and Finn have had the talk." She must have seen the face I was making, because she held up a hand. "And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."
"I…It's kind of private." I was squirming now, wishing that I was anywhere but here. Please, please let there be some sort of natural disaster. Earthquake, fire, at this point I would even take Karofsky.
"I'll take that as a yes. I know that this is embarrassing for you, but I need you to be completely honest. Are you having sex with my son?"
Oh, God, just let me die.
Me, too.