Kurt POV

My baby was purring at me today, her engine a familiar vibration through the seats. I had pulled up to Finn's house a few minutes ago, but I couldn't force myself up and out of the car. My stomach was rolling and nervous, and I was still trying to decide whether or not I was going to get sick.

Buck up, you wimp. So what if Finn Hudson doesn't like you back. You'll move on to someone even better, someone smarter and with better fashion sense. But I'll tell you something else. If he does like you, he likes the boy who stands up for himself, even when he knows he's already beaten. So stop acting like a little girl, and get in there.

Harsh as they were, the words propelled me up. I turned off the engine and hurriedly stuffed my iPod in the front of my backpack. A quick scan in the rearview mirror told me that my hair was in place, my clothing unwrinkled and my lips perfectly kissable. In other words, I was ready to kick ass.

Dignity forgotten, I all but pranced up the steps, ringing the doorbell with a firm push. Should I tell Finn right away, or after we had done our homework? I didn't want to lose my nerve, and if I did it quickly, we might be able to forget homework entirely and spend the evening doing much more interesting things.

The door flew open so quickly that I had to jump backwards to avoid being hit. It bounced off the side of the house with a slam that made me cringe backwards and reconsider this entire plan. Finn stood in the doorway, larger then life and looking like he wanted to kill me. His voice was a low snarl. "I fucking told you to-" Abruptly he broke off, seeming to see me for the first time. "Kurt?"

It was starting to look a lot less like I was going to be kicking ass, and more like it was my ass that was going to get kicked. "Uh-huh." My voice squeaked embarrassingly. I backed away cautiously, trying to determine if I should make a run for it, or if it was ok to stand my ground.

Finn visibly deflated, his head dropping against the doorframe. "Jeez, Kurt, I'm sorry. I thought…" He sighed and stepped backwards. "Never mind. Do you want to come in, or did I scare the crap out of you?"

Yes to both. I came towards him cautiously, but his anger was gone, leaving us both still standing. Once we were face to face, I could see that his eyes were red and puffy, almost like he had been crying. Actually, it was looked exactly like he had been crying.

My heart went out to him. Was he in that much pain? I had never been injured that badly, so I had no way to compare. First order of business, figure out what was wrong, and how I could fix it. "What's wrong, Cowboy?"

Oh, God, had I just actually called him that out loud, instead of just in my head? Yes, I had, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead he shrugged limply, closing the door with exaggerated care. He didn't say anything, just stood there passively.

Once we were in the brighter light of the kitchen, I noticed a series of reddish-brown stains across the front of his light blue shirt. It almost looked like- "Finn, is that blood?"

He looked down, seeming surprised and not overly concerned. "Oh, yeah, I guess so."

How could he be so calm? "Ok, where is it coming from?"

Finn seemed to think for a few seconds, then held up his left hand, revealing swollen and scraped knuckles. Oh dear God, what did he do now?

"You, bathroom, now!" My voice was hard, and he allowed me to push him in the right direction without a fight. "Finn, you only have one working hand, what in the world did you do to it?"

I plugged the bathtub and started some cold water running in both it and the sink. The blood on his shirt was dry, and I was pretty sure it was going to stain, but I had seen him wear this shirt multiple times, and it was one of the less offensive pieces in his wardrobe, so I wanted to save it if it was at all possible. "Shirt off, then let's see that hand."

It was a simple T-shirt, and he was able to get it off without needing my help. I tossed it in the tub, then gently eased his hand into the sink. He hissed and flinched slightly when the water ran over the cuts, but he didn't pull back. Now that I had a clear look at his injury, it looked suspiciously familiar. "Finn, did you hit someone?"

"Uh-huh." He was eerily calm right now, which wasn't a good sign. It meant that he had already gone through rage, and tears, and was just too tired to keep on fighting. I had been there, and it was a miserable feeling, to be suffering but not have the strength to express it. "I think I broke Puck's nose. Then his eye. Also, I threw something in the dining room, and it broke, too."

Uh-oh. Apparently all my worrying about what to tell Finn about Puck and Quinn had been for nothing, because he had managed to find out on his own. "Why did you break Puck's nose, and when?"

Finn did that funny half smile thing that he always did when he thought. "About a half hour ago. That's why I yelled at you when you came to the door. I thought it was him coming back to apologize, and I didn't want to see him. I didn't expect you until later. Sorry if I scared you."

"It's alright." His hand didn't look too bad once the blood was rinsed away. I patted it dry and stepped back. "Why did you break Puck's face again?"

He pulled away, his body tense for the first time since I had arrived. "I don't want to talk about that."

Far be it from me to push him. "That's fine, but I'm willing to listen if you decide you do want to talk. Now, have you eaten?"

"Not hungry."

That cemented in my mind how bad this entire situation was. Finn Hudson was always hungry. It takes a lot of food to keep a body that size going. Looking at his sad, broken, eyes, I wondered how I could have ever considered telling him the truth out of spite. I decided to try and different tactic. "Homework then?"

"Yeah, that's ok." He was completely unenthusiastic, but he usually felt that way about school.

It was the last thing I wanted, but I felt like I had to ask. "Do you want me to leave? You seem very…tired."

"No! I mean, I really, really, don't want to be alone right now. Mom's at work, and she won't be home until late." It was as close to begging as I had ever seen him come.

I nodded gently. "Come on, then. Where do you want to work?"

He led me back down to the kitchen, playing the good host by offering me something to drink. I divided the work into piles while he went upstairs to find another shirt to put on. Any chance of me either confessing my feelings or us fooling around had gone out the window, so we might as well get some work done.

I decided to start with English, where we were reading poetry. I opened the book to one of Yeats longer poems and turned it so Finn could see. "Read it."

"Out loud?" He wrinkled his nose. "I don't know, I'm not a very good reader."

The nice thing to do would be not push it, but I really, really wanted to hear the soft, loving words come out of Finn's mouth. Even if they weren't directed at me, I could at least pretend they were. "Just do your best."

Listening to Finn read was….interesting. He either poked along, turning each word into a sentence, and got every of them right, or he read at a normal pace, and transposed the words every few lines. He could always tell when he got it wrong, and backed up to start again. Other then that, his pronunciation was good, and he seemed to know what most of the words meant. The whole thing was kind of weird.

After what seemed like an eternity to me, and probably even longer to him, he stopped and looked at me expectantly. I decided not to make a big deal out of it. "Ok, so what is this poem about?"

Despite having just read it, he looked confused. "Uh, poetic stuff?"

With so many stops and restarts, he probably didn't retain much of what he read. I took the textbook back, my hand brushing across his, and read the poem out loud myself. Naturally, I had managed to pick the one poem that wasn't about love at all, but the end of the world. Hopefully that wasn't some sort of omen for our relationship. "Now, tell me what it's about."

"The rapture, right?" He seemed pleased with himself for figuring that out. "You know, the beast slouching towards Bethlehem, that's the antichrist."

For once, he was right. "I had no idea you were religious." Depending on how religious he actually was, this could be another kink in my plan.

He looked down, the miserable look back in his eyes. "Quinn. She was always threatening me with the rapture when…." He trailed off and picked at his sleeve. "Mom and I don't go to church or anything, though."

"Dad and I don't either." Even though I ached to go over and hold him, I forced myself to be still. I knew what the problem was, but he didn't know that I knew. Until he was actually ready to admit it out loud, I could do nothing but watch him suffer. "I think you're right though, it is about the antichrist."

The relieved half smile on his face told me I was making the right choice. Since Finn was right handed, I made two sets of notes for us, so he wouldn't have to struggle to write with his left.

Once we had dissected the poem to my satisfaction (Finn's satisfaction had been reached about 20 minutes before and his suggestions were becoming increasingly silly), we moved on to Spanish. Again, Finn showed the same poor comprehension when he read, but seemed to get it when I worked with him verbally.

About halfway through the assignment, I noticed him flinching and rubbing at him arm. I paused in the middle of a discourse about my imaginary trip to the library to look at him. "Does it hurt?"

"Yeah. The cut doesn't hurt at all, really, but it's like a really deep down pain."

This time I did get up and put a hand on his back. The muscles shuddered under his thin shirt, but he didn't freak out or flinch away. "Did they give you some pills for pain?" I couldn't imagine they would send him home without anything, considering it was a pretty major surgery.

"They make me sick to my stomach if I don't eat."

"So eat something. If you aren't that hungry, just have some eggs or something. I don't want you passing out on me." If I could do nothing else, and it was looking like I wouldn't be able to, at least tonight, I could at least comfort him by feeding him. "Come on, I'll make us both omelets."

He softened. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I didn't even think that you might be hungry. You should have said something."

"It's alright. Now, where are the pans?"

Finn kind of hovered over my shoulder while I cooked, not saying much. The Hudson's stove was kind of old, and I found it took most of my attention. I was aware of his eyes on my back though, feeling like he was boring a hole in me. "Go get some vegetables out of the fridge, please."

He poured us two glasses or orange juice, slopping it a little with his left hand. I said nothing, though. Finn was going to be in that sling for a long time, and he needed to learn how to get around it.

The omelets finished, and portioned them out onto the plates that Finn had set out. "Here you go, Cowboy." Damn! I had done it again.

If Finn noticed the affectionate nickname, he said nothing about it. Instead he was giving his dinner a funny look. "Why is it that color?"

For a second, I wasn't sure what he was talking about. Then it hit me. "Oh, it's an egg white omelet. There's no yolk, so it doesn't have that yellow color to it. It's much healthier this way."

Luckily, he didn't fuss about it. Instead he started eating, using the side of his fork to cut it into small pieces. Every few seconds his eyes would dart up to me, barely making contact before he looked down again. He was also squirming uncomfortably. He wanted to say something, I could tell, but was he was having trouble getting it out.

Finally, he sighed heavily and set down his fork. "Kurt."

His tone was serious, and my heart dropped. Here it came, he was going to tell me that he knew all about me and my crush and he wanted me to back off. I sat up as straight as I could and looked him right in the eyes. "Yes?"

He poked his meal twice more and rubbed at his face. Twice he started to say what he needed to, then stopped before he could get the words out. Then it all came out in a quick rush. "Puck is sleeping with Quinn, the baby isn't mine. That's what we got into a fight about, and I don't want to talk about it any more."

See, Kurt, it's not always about you.

I tried to figure out the right thing to say. "Finn-"

"I don't want to talk about it any more." His voice wasn't angry, but it was clear he didn't want to argue about it. "I just thought that you should know. Don't tell anyone else though, alright?"

"I promise." For a few seconds, we just stared at each other, his dark eyes searching my blue ones. That feeling was back, the one that told me something far deeper then what I understood was happening.

The he gave me that goofy, but pained, smile, and he was just Finn again. "Good. I knew I could trust you."

The words tore into my chest. He couldn't trust me at all. If I had been honest with him last night, and told him the truth then, he wouldn't be sitting here with his knuckles all bruised and scraped.

No, but he'd still be sitting here with a broken heart. Skin heals a lot faster than emotions do. Now get off your scrawny ass and go give the boy a hug.

My ass was not scrawny! I had actually been told several times that it was very cute. Granted, all of those times were by Brittany, but at least someone noticed. And if anyone should know about cute asses, it was Britt. After all, she had seen nearly every guy on the football team naked, so she had plenty to compare it to. Still, the rest of the advice was sound, so I stood up and slipped my arms around Finn, laying my cheek against his shoulder blades.

From my new position, I could both feel and hear his heart drumming. It sped for a few seconds, then slowed back into a steady rush. His breath was stuttery and his muscles tight, and I knew how hard he was trying to hold it all together. After a minute or so, he breathed in so deeply that my entire body moved and twisted to slip his good arm around me. I allowed him to pull me gently to his side, one arm still resting across his back.

Finn was very, very gentle when he squeezed me, almost too gentle. I wasn't Quinn, and I wasn't going to shatter under his hands. I moved to put my arms around his neck and hugging him as hard as I could without cutting off his breath. That seemed to get the message across, and his grip around my ribs tightened also.

I really hoped I was doing the right thing here. Teenage boys weren't supposed to hug other teenage boys. For the most part, you gave them a rough punch on the shoulder and told them to man up. If the situation was truly dire, and that meant that a close family member or a dog had died, a pat on the back might be alright. A single pat, not rubbing and definitely not a hug. If Finn freaked out, I had only myself to blame.

For a few minutes, we were quiet, nothing to mark the passage of time except the thumps of both of our hearts. Then his arm dropped away, telling me to release my grip also. When he looked at me, his eyes were dry, but so very, very broken. Then he gave me a weak smile. "Thanks, Kurt. I think that was exactly what I needed."

"Glad to be of service." Now was not the time to think about all the other services I would be glad to provide for Finn.

He leaned back in his chair, studying me as if I were some strange new life form. This was the look I had failed to describe to Mercedes, the one that said he didn't quite know what to make of me, but he was determined to find out. "Can we do something else for a while? I'm kinda tired of homework." Then he gave me that half grin. "I think my brain is full."

"Nice try. The more you use your brain, the more capable it becomes. But sure, we can do something else. What do you have in mind?" Please let it be anything but video games.

"I don't know. Talk maybe? You have no idea how bored I am in this house with no outside contact. Well, other then Mom, of course. What's happening at school?"

He carefully picked up his plate as he spoke, balancing the empty glass on top of it. I waited expectantly, my body tense, but he managed to get it to the sink without dropping or breaking anything. I picked up my plate and followed him. "You're still the hot topic of conversation."

"Really?" Both eyebrows rose. "Cool."

"So, which story would you prefer? The one where you're in a coma or the one where you have the shattered spine? Because I can spread either."

"Which one do you think would get me more chicks?" He was suddenly intense. "No, that's stupid; you can't get chicks when you're in a coma. Tell them about the other one."

I grinned back at him, trying to hide the fact that my heart had dropped into my designer shoes. Of course Finn was interested in chasing girls; it had been foolish for me to even consider that he might feel otherwise. Those looks he gave me meant nothing. I blinked hard, forcing back tears. I would get over this, I would have to.

Luckily, Finn was blissfully unaware that he was crushing me. I already knew that I could sing; now it was time to see how good of an actor I was. "Consider it done." I was pleased that my voice didn't waver or crack. I had told both Mercedes and my father that I could be happy as just his friend, now I needed to prove it to myself.

Suddenly, Finn sat back up. "You know what? Don't tell them that. Fuck girls, they cheat and lie and they pretty much suck. Screw them all."

I kept my tone as noncommittal as possible. "They are a problem. I suppose they have their uses, though." Not any uses I would be even remotely interested in, but uses none the less. I jumped up to sit on the counter, just so I wouldn't have to strain so much to look up at him.

He snorted. "Shit, I didn't even get that. Quinn figured it was a one way ticket to Hell. I guess just for me, though, since she could do whatever she wanted with whoever she wanted. Screw her."

I never thought I would see the day when Finn Hudson sounded so bitter about something. He was one of those people who was just built to smile, who could bounce back from any crisis. Only now he was at the end of his rope. Then something else he had said hit home. "Wait, you didn't have sex with Quinn?"

He flushed a little. "No."

"Then why did you think you had gotten her pregnant?" I wasn't trying to pick on him, I was actually pretty confused. Sex causes pregnancy. Without it, the girl can't get pregnant, period.

"Well, see, there was this hot tub-"

I cut him off there, not eager to hear the details of his and Quinn's groping. "Finn, you do realize that it's not possible to get a girl pregnant without sex, no matter what you may or may not have done in a hot tub?"

From the look on his face, it was pretty obvious that he didn't. "Uh…."

Oh, God, this was a bigger mess then I had thought. "You can't. Didn't-" I managed clamp my mouth shut before I blurted out what I was thinking, which was 'didn't someone teach you anything about sex?'. Of course no one had. Sexual Education at this school was the worst sort of joke, seeing as it mostly consisted of rather graphic pictures of STD's, and reminders that abstinence wasn't just an option, it was the only option.

My father had sat my down and given me the talk when I was 13. It had been a terrible, terrible hour or so that neither one of us could look back on without shuddering, but at least I was left with a basic understanding of human reproduction, gross as it was. Of course, I had to find out everything that might relate to gay issues from the internet, but at least he tried. Finn didn't talk about it much, but I kind of got the impression that his mom didn't date much, and there hadn't been much of a male presence in the house when he was little. It was entirely possible that she assumed he had learned it from either school or his friends.

A surge of hate for Quinn raced through me. She had to have known how trusting Finn was, considering that it was obvious to anyone who spent more than 10 minutes talking to him. This wasn't a case of her making a mistake one night, and not knowing which of them was the father, it was deliberate deception on her part. I wouldn't have given her credit for being so sly.

"But Quinn said…" He trailed off, no doubt coming to the same conclusion that I had. "But she lies. God!" He slammed the side of his fist into the counter, the sound like a gunshot in the empty kitchen. Despite my earlier bravado, I found myself backing up a step. Finn closed his eyes for a long minute, dropping his head and breathing heavily. Then he looked past me, into the kitchen. "You know what the worst part about this is?"

I wasn't sure if was a rhetorical question or not, so I kept my mouth closed. I never took my eyes of his though, trying to lend him strength through my silence. The silence stretched on and on, and I started to wonder if he was waiting for me to speak after all.

Then he shrugged. "If she had just said to me 'Finn, this baby is Puck's, but I know he can't be a good father. I need your help.' I still would have stayed with her. But she lied instead. How can I trust someone who lies right to my face?"

That definitely sounded like a rhetorical question, but his eyes were searching my face, asking me to tell him what to do, how he could possibly fix this. Only I didn't know what to tell him. "You're asking the wrong person, Finn. I can't tell you what to do here. Quinn lied, and she lied for a long time. But you have to think about why she did it. I don't really think she did it to hurt you. I think she did it because she's scared. How would you feel if you had to rely on Puck for the next 18 years?"

He gave a soft little laugh, the breathy kind that was really only a step or two from being a sob. "Not so great. His mom won't even let him have goldfish, 'cause he can't take care of them."

I jumped up to sit on the counter, which put us much closer to being face to face. "I'm not excusing her at all, but she's got to be terrified. You, and only you, can decide if this is something that you can forgive."

"Am I, like, a really bad person if the answer is no? I thought she was just mad because I knocked her up and everything, but she's always screaming at me and telling me I'm stupid and stuff. It's not even my fault, so why is she always picking on me?"

I could have gone back to the 'she's scared' excuse, but, honestly, I didn't feel like defending her any longer. "You're not a bad person, Finn. Actually, you're a pretty good person, which is probably how you ended up in this situation to start with."

"Except I'm dumb enough to think you can get a girl pregnant in a hot tub, and I don't know when I'm being lied to."

"Hey, no one's perfect." I nudged his shoulder. "Believe it or not, not even me." I completed the statement with my best smile and head toss.

That did make him smile. "Well, you can be a little diva-like. Sometimes even worse then Rachael. You're cool, though." Suddenly he gave me a feral grin and swept one arm behind my back, pulling me forward and off the counter. I tried to regain my balance, but he was far stronger, and able to toss me over his shoulder with very little effort.

"Put me down you Cro-Magnon brute!" I thumped at his back, but without any real fight. He was moving one handed, and I didn't want to do anything that might cause him to drop me.

He didn't put me down, of course, and, if I was being totally honest, I didn't really want him to. Finn was really powerful, and this would probably be the only time he would ever hold me. He walked us over to the living room, tossing me gently down on the overstuffed couch. He looked at me for a second then flopped down next to me, his eyes glinting. "So, what's a Cro-, Cro-, whatever, you know what I'm talking about."

Finn so cute when he was confused. "It's a caveman. The sort of caveman that throws someone over their shoulder and drags them around grunting!" It was impossible for me to sound really angry with him. Actually, it was very nearly impossible for me to keep from laughing at the playful expression on his face. I much preferred this version of Finn to the quiet, miserable version of a few minutes ago, and I was willing to do just about anything to keep him this way.

We sat together on the couch for a while, not really talking, but just catching our breath after everything that had just happened.

Without warning, and as if we had never paused in the conversation, Finn made a soft chuffing noise. "I wasn't grunting, Polly Prissy Pants." He gave me another heart stopping grin. "These are very good pills. They make me feel all better. So Quinn's a bitch, and Puck's an asshole. It's not the end of the world."

Stoned Finn was happy Finn, so I decided now would be a good time to tell him about his Glee assignment. "So, about Glee."

"Oh, yeah, Glee makes me feel all better, too. Except I'll have to look at both of them and that won't be better. That will suck. Everyone's going to find out, and then they're going to know what an idiot I really am. You'll still talk to me, though, right?"

It was hard to believe that Finn Hudson, the popular quarterback, was concerned that I wouldn't want to talk to him. I leaned back so we were touching, my entire side pressed to his. "Yeah, I'll still talk to you."

There it was again, that smile that suggested all was right with the world, at least for the moment. "What about Glee?"

"Well, we're doing ballads this week. Do you know what a ballad is?"

"Sure, it's a mushy, lovey, chick song, right?" He was slumped back against the couch, leaning in a way that would have made him the perfect height for me to put my head against his shoulder. I didn't, though. "Nah, I'm kidding. A ballad is a story, but you know, with music."

How in the world had he known that? I hadn't even known what a ballad was. "Yes, actually. I'm very impressed with your musical knowledge."

Without warning, he broke into song. "Come and listen to a story 'bout a man named Jed. Poor mountaineer barely kept his family fed. Then one day he was shooting at-"

I interrupted him before he could get too into that horrible southern twang. "Ok, point taken. Mr. Shue paired us up for ballads, and he put you and I together."

I waited for drama and wailing, in which he complained about having to sing to me, but he just shrugged. "Ok."

His easy acceptance threw me for a loop, and I made mental note to see what sort of drugs he was on, and figure out how to procure some for the entire football team. It would be so nice if they were all like this, so gentle and easygoing. Finn gave me a contented yawn. "So, are we supposed to sing the same song, or to each other, or what?"

"To each other." Again I tensed up, but he nodded serenely.

"What did you have in mind? I can't really think of any songs right now. Except for the Beverly Hillbillies, that's kind of stuck in my head.

After a brief debate, we both decided to retrieve our iPods and see what we could come up with. He wandered off upstairs, taking forever to find his. While he looked, I sat on the couch, thinking about today. It had been a lousy one for Finn, but he would get through it. He was tough, whether he realized it or not. I hadn't gotten the chance to tell him how I felt, but Quinn was neatly removed from the picture, which was a point in my favor.

Finn came crashing down the stairs at a speed that made me worry he was in danger of breaking his other arm. He resumed his previous position, putting us shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip.

It hadn't been best day for either one of us, so what? Right at the moment, it was just Finn and I sitting together on the couch and listening to music in the dark. And right at the moment? That was enough for both of us.