Finn decided he didn't need to pretend to want to see Six — Coach Beiste, he corrected himself — and just waited outside her office until she noticed him. She gave him what looked like a smile.

"All right, Finn Hudson," she said. "Come in and shut the door."

He closed it behind himself and sat on the chair across from her desk. Through the window, he could see Puck and the rest of the guys in the locker room, digging into the stack of pizzas that had been delivered. The coach had a pizza box on her desk. She opened the box and shoved it toward him. They both took a piece.

"So go ahead," she said through her mouthful of pizza. "You got something to say, then say it."

"No, no," he said quickly. "I just… I don't actually know what to say. Hi?" He grinned tentatively. She smiled back with thin lips. "Is this totally weird?"

"This is totally weird," she agreed grimly. "But I knew what I was getting into by coming here. You, and Jane — Emma — and Lauren… I'm not gonna cross any boundaries, and you'd better not do that either, you hear me? This is strictly business. This ain't Tib's coffee shop, and we ain't friends here. You kids, I'm your teacher, that's it."

"Yeah, absolutely. I got it." He shifted in his seat. "I think I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about the pizzas. I'm pretty sure that was Coach Sylvester's prank."

"And your Glee coach, Mr. Schuester."

"Oh — no, he wouldn't do that. Coach Sylvester is pretty awful, but Mr. Schue, he's a nice guy."

"Hmph." She looked less than convinced, but her expression had thawed a little. "He wasn't happy to hear about the ten percent cut to his Glee budget, even though it was mandated at the district level." She chewed as she regarded him. "You guys sounded good at lunch on that New York number. You always sing around school like that, just because?"

"Sometimes. It's pretty awesome. Me and Puck and Kurt…" He paused. "And, uh. Patrick. He goes to another school."

"I know," she said quietly. "The four of you. You've talked about your boys in group, though you didn't use names, but I know who they are now. Can't say I ever expected to be coaching two of you. And Kurt's really on the Cheerios?"

"He really is. He's awesome."

She leaned forward with a heavy sigh. "So maybe I shouldn't warn you, but I'm gonna cut all of you from the team, start fresh."

"Oh." Finn swallowed his surprise, then nodded, taking another bite of pizza. "Okay, yeah."

"You gonna give me a hard time for giving you a hard time? I don't want anything that looks like favoritism. If people did find out about you and me knowing each other, it'll be easier if —"

"No, I really get this," Finn interrupted. "We're… kind of good at pretending. I hate it, though."

Her face was kind. "It stinks, having parts of yourself you can't share."

He nodded. "We've got a lot of people on our side, though."

"Well, no matter how it looks from the outside, I'm one of them." She stood up, nodding at the boys outside the window. "I'm gonna yell at you now. Go ahead and open the door."

He scrambled out of his seat and went for the door, letting it swing open as the coach bawled some confusing comments about pigs and spaghetti. As he scooted back into the locker room, the rest of the team shared a commiserating grimace.

"Man, this sucks," said one of the juniors. "She's worse than Tanaka."

"She's just being fair," said the new blonde kid. Finn nodded.

"I'll have to prove myself," he said. "Honestly."

He could feel the impulse inside him changing, like a switch. If I don't have to lie, he thought, making his way through the hallway, I'm not going to. Even if it's hard, it's better than pretending.

He found Rachel hanging Glee posters outside the girls' bathroom by the physics lab. "Hey," he said, taking the roll of tape as she stuck up the last one.

She gave him a delighted smile. It was a little distressing how easy it was to make her happy. He steeled himself.

"I wanted to tell you something."

Rachel's smile faltered a little, but she nodded, following him around the corner into the stairwell. He took her into a hug, letting her rest against his chest.

"What is it?" she said.

"It's about my summer. I didn't tell you the whole truth. The truth is… I met someone." He felt her stiffen. "Somebody I told you about last spring, the boy from the other school."

"Another boy?"

"He's… Kurt was in RENT with him this summer. We were already, uh, friends, and then he and Kurt… and Puck. They all kind of fell for him." He couldn't keep some of the feelings from leaking out as he spoke. "And so did I."

"Oh." She didn't move from within his arms, but she did stay very quiet.

"His name's Blaine. He sings with his show choir at Dalton, the Warblers. He's their lead, and he's amazing, really talented. We're all kind of… into him, a lot. And we miss him." He took her shoulders and leaned her back far enough to look into her face. "I wanted you to know because I care about you, and I don't want to have secrets from you."

She nodded, swallowing bravely. "Thank you. Does he… I mean, do the two of you… the four of you, do that… thing you were telling me about? With the, um. The handcuffs?"

"Yeah," he said. "He really needs that. Discipline. And Kurt and Puck do it with him, too. You'd have to ask them for details."

Rachel let out a little unhappy laugh. "I don't want details."

"It's not about sex," Finn protested. That wasn't quite right, but he didn't want to dig himself any deeper by qualifying that. "Sometimes he just doesn't know how to make a good decision — or he does something without thinking. Or he feels overwhelmed by all the stuff he's hearing from his dad and his teachers and his friends. That's how we help him."

She took a step back, her eyes flickering away as she reclaimed her roll of tape from Finn's hands. "I think I'd better put up some more posters."

"All right."

He didn't say I'm sorry. It wasn't going to be something he apologized for. Either she would understand, or she wouldn't. He didn't push for more contact, either. Letting her put some space between them was probably a good thing.

The young server, Bilal, came out from behind the counter when Puck opened the door to Lazeza, smiling quizzically.

"Where's your sister?" he asked. "And the baby?"

"Beth's with her mom," Puck said. "Sarah's home tonight. It's just me and my dad."

Puck waited at a corner table, not really looking at the menu. Whatever he ordered would be good, but there was something about hanging out with his dad that gave him a stomachache. He gave his dad a wave when he came in through the door, but didn't get up to hug him or anything.

"It's good to have a little man-to-man," said his dad. "How's the little peanut?"

He tried not to bristle at his dad's use of the nickname Shelby had for Beth. She didn't look anything like a peanut. "Good, I guess? I don't get to see her until Friday."

His dad shot him a sympathetic nod over the menu. "It's hard being away from your kid."

Puck fiddled with his napkin. "How come you never told me about your other kid?"

"How did you…?" his dad said, looking startled.

"Sarah told me, after you said this summer that you'd gotten four times the practice holding babies. Three Puckermans plus one more equals four. She didn't tell me anything else, but she told me there was another kid."

His dad nodded slowly. "He… it's your brother. He's a Puckerman, too."

Another brother didn't sound like the end of the world. Puck nodded.

"He's living with his mom, finishing up middle school. His mom and I don't get along so good, but I see him every month. Sarah sometimes came with us when we'd get together. She wanted to tell you about Jake, but I wasn't ready, so you can blame me for that."

"I'm not blaming you." Puck was kind of surprised to find he didn't.

His dad reached across the table, putting a hand on top of Puck's, which was even more surprising. "Jake needs a good male role model in his life. And seeing you, how you're taking care of Beth… you're really becoming a man. I may not agree with your lifestyle, but the stuff you're doing right now, Noah, I'm proud of you."

The whole conversation was so bizarre, Puck wasn't sure what to say. He just nodded.

His dad didn't say much more until after Bilal had taken their order and they were partway through their chicken shawarma.

"I have this men's group," he said. "It's kind of an interfaith thing, organized through the synagogue in Cleveland. It meets tonight, after this. I'd like you to come with me."

"To shul?" Puck blinked. "You've been going to services?"

"This isn't shul, but yes, I've been going a lot this past year. I know you went some, after your Ma passed."

Puck could only think about the service he and Adam had attended in Santa Fe, where he'd said the mourner's kaddish. He'd said it a bunch more times in the past year, mostly when Kurt couldn't hear him, because he knew how Kurt felt about religion. He nodded.

"You think you might want to come talk with some other Jewish men about their experiences? They're good guys, really. I think you'd like it."

Puck couldn't think of any reason to say no, so he agreed. They finished off the meal in a surprisingly companionable way. Then Puck got in his Impala and followed his dad's truck across town.

They pulled into a church parking lot, but he didn't think much of that. His dad had said it was an interfaith thing, after all. His dad beckoned him to follow him under the street light through a side door and down a half-set of steps into the basement.

"Here you go," said his dad, indicating the room ahead of them where a group of about a half-dozen men were sitting together talking. They were of all ages, but most of them were younger than his dad and older than him. He paused at the doorway, looking at the brochure his dad handed him.

"Jews for Jesus?" he said dubiously.

"Give it a fair shot," said his dad. "Just like you did with me, okay? They're good guys."

Not like your guys at home, Puck guessed his dad was really saying, but he tried to turn off the commentary in his head and just listen, the way he could do when Finn and Kurt and Adam were taking care of him. He came into the room and sat down in the circle, shaking hands.

"This is my son, Noah," said his dad, and he sounded so proud that Puck could only smile.

It was after midnight by the time Puck rolled into the driveway, parking in the back garage. The frogs and insects were much louder at their new house than they had been in Kurt's neighborhood. Puck climbed the stairs to his bedroom and immediately opened the window so he could hear them.

He took his phone out and sent a text to Blaine. Home now.

Thanks for letting me know, Blaine replied immediately. I know you're a safe driver, it just makes me feel better to know you're OK.

Puck felt the warmth in his stomach that seemed to be reserved especially for Blaine. It didn't matter at all what he said.

Yeah, he typed back. OK if I call you?

This was a strange enough desire that Puck had to wonder if he was under some kind of mind control. He hated talking on the phone almost as much as he hated writing. Not to mention he'd just left Blaine's dorm a couple of hours ago — and he still wanted to talk to him.

Yes please, came Blaine's reply.

Puck shucked his jeans on the floor of his room, turned off the lights and crawled in under the blanket. It was the one he'd brought back from Santa Fe for Kurt, but Kurt had asked him to keep it in his room. He listened to the frogs through the open window while the phone rang for Blaine.

"You really don't have to call," said Blaine when he picked up. "Not that I don't love it."

"I know." Puck couldn't keep the stupid smile off his face. "It's not for you, it's for me. I want to. Which is pretty weird for me."

"I know. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted some time away from me."

"Uh, no. Not actually wanting that. That's kind of the opposite of what I want." He thought about some of the things the guys at his dad's group had said tonight, about what kind of person a man should be. Honest. Selfless. Able and willing to provide and protect his family. "I want… to take care of you."

He could hear Blaine's smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about it. I mean, I do, but — it just comes naturally with you." He rolled over onto his side, looking out the window into the night. With the lights off, he could just see the field and the trees on the horizon beyond. "That's kind of weird, too."

"Not a bad weird, though?" Blaine didn't actually sound too worried.

"Not bad. I think I dreamed about all the things I wanted to do with you for long enough that actually doing them feels kind of normal."

"Those dreams." His voice grew even more hushed. "I still don't understand how that happened. Are you still having them?"

Puck didn't really want to tell Blaine that he'd been having bad dreams of late, not the kind that reminded him of the past, but the kind that told about a confusing future. Most of them involved a beach. In one of them he was flying an airplane. There was still another one with a large yellow truck.

"Not those dreams," he said. "Maybe now that we know each other, they're not important anymore."

"I still have them sometimes. Mostly when Finn's not here. In the last one Bethie was running around in this park in a big city, climbing up to the top of the play structure and jumping off."

"She's gonna be able to do that someday. Jump and run and talk and everything."

"I know." Blaine sounded amazed. "I wonder if she'll sound anything in real life like she does in my dreams."

"I wonder what her first word will be."

Blaine laughed. "If it's not Papa, I'll be shocked."

Puck licked his lips. "I went with my dad to this thing tonight, before I came over."

It hadn't been the kind of thing he wanted to bring up when he'd only had a short time to see Blaine, but now he felt like he should. Blaine just made interested noises.

"He wants me to talk to his men's group about being a man." He let out a little embarrassed laugh. "Like my dad was ever the kind of man he wants me to be now."

"Do you… want to give him another chance?" Blaine sounded both skeptical and hopeful, which sounded about right for how he felt about his own father.

"I don't know. Part of me thinks I should, that it's something he might be able to get right. Like, he's not perfect, but I can tell he's trying? Maybe that should count for something. And part of me is still expecting him to screw up tomorrow. But you know what? Fuck that, because maybe he's expecting the same from me, and he's still showing up. He wants to show up, and he is. That's better than he did for fifteen years."

Blaine's answer was slow in coming. "I wonder if trusting him is a better risk than how it would feel to get hurt again?"

"It would suck," he said. He reached one hand out from under the covers and slid the window shut, muting the frogs. "No lie. But I can take it, whatever he can dish out. It's different now."

"Because you have Finn, and Kurt, and Adam."

"And you," Puck added.

"You really do. I don't know how much help that is, though."

"Are you shitting me?" he whispered. "Babe, you changed me from the day you met me. My whole life is different now."

Blaine made some very satisfying breathless noises. It wasn't so different from the way Kurt reacted when he was feeling strongly about something, but in Blaine's velvety voice it was like the thickest custard.

Eggs, Puck thought dreamily. He's the eggs, and I'm the sugar. We're creme fucking brûlée.

"I thought, when my dad came to the hospital, after I got attacked freshman year, and I found out about Thomas, that he was gay too… I thought that might be a turning point for us. I thought it was going to be different, that somehow he'd understand me because we had this thing in common. But so far, nothing's changed." He sighed sadly. "I just want to be good enough."

"You are good enough," said Puck, as firmly as he dared over the phone. "Whatever he can't see, that's his own shit."

It wasn't enough, Puck knew, but it was as far as they were going to get tonight. Blaine seemed to understand.

"Thank you," he said. "For calling me. And for, uh. For earlier."

"Anytime, babe. I'll see you Friday."

In the dark, in the strange silence of the new house, Puck missed the frogs, but he didn't open the window again. Between school and his dad and everything, Blaine was dealing with plenty of shit, but Puck felt comforted because so much of it was the same shit he was dealing with himself. That had been another thing the men at his dad's group had mentioned, he remembered. You should be evenly matched, spiritually. Believers should marry other believers. He appreciated that Blaine talked about their dreams with wonder, not skepticism. He'd never said I believe in God to Blaine, but he thought Blaine would take that better than Kurt would. Not that there was any kind of a contest, but it made him feel comforted to think that other people might agree that he and Blaine might actually be good together.

He sighed. If he were a girl. And if I wasn't spanking the crap out of him. Actually, that might qualify as an appropriate biblical relationship.

Just for good measure, Puck recited the mourner's Kaddish for his mother before he set his phone aside. It didn't make him feel any closer to her, but maybe it was one way he could prove to her he was still a good boy, even if he wasn't following her rules.

"Night, Ma," he added, and closed his eyes.

Finn paused at the door to the choir room when he heard Rachel inside talking to Mr. Schue, Tina and Mike. It didn't sound like a very positive conversation.

"I just love you guys so much," she was saying. "I was wrong before. I don't want any new members. I didn't want anyone coming in and-and messing up our group dynamic. Tina, Mike, I mean, what if Sunshine can dance? Then your contributions to Glee will be even more insignificant than they already are now. I did this for you guys."

Mr. Schue was deadly serious. "Whatever your motivations, you need to make this right, Rachel."

Finn held in his sigh and waited for Rachel to appear in the hallway. Then he joined her, walking beside her. She saw him, and immediately her shoulders relaxed. She smiled.

"What was that all about?" he asked, trying to keep his tone mild.

"It's nothing," she said. When he gripped her arm, she didn't try to pull away, but instead stopped in the middle of the hallway. She didn't look righteous. She looked… guilty.

"Don't think about it," he said swiftly. "Just tell me. Right now."

"I —" Her eyes were enormous, staring up at him. She gulped. "I sent a new student who wanted to audition for Glee to the wrong place."

"Because you wanted her to go away?"

"I didn't want things to change! I like it… the way it is."

He could see her reassembling her bravado, but Finn already understood. He fixed her with his eyes, just the way he would have with any of his boys.

"Rachel, you're not going to do this to people who want to join Glee. We need them. You totally need to hear Sam, the new sophomore. He's got a great voice, and he can play guitar, and he has a sense of humor." Sam's deadpan joke about balls in his mouth had been awesome. "And he's a threat to me, in football and in Glee. But I can't think about that. It's not about me, or you, or any of us. It's about the team. We have to trust one another."

Rachel did the deer-in-headlights look almost as well as Kurt did. "I —"

"Are you going to fix it?" he asked. She nodded. "All right." He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then patted her shoulder. He wasn't about to give her a pat on the butt; Finn was pretty sure she would have punched him in the face if he'd done something like that. Then he walked away without waiting for her to join him.

Both Burt and his mom laughed at Finn's relating of Sam's balls-in-the-mouth joke, too. Kurt looked completely delighted by the idea of inviting Sam to join Glee.

"I saw him," Kurt said to Carole, "and he is definitely playing for our team. Nobody who bleaches their hair is on Team Straight."

She stacked the dinner dishes and passed them down to Puck, smiling. "I don't know if you can make a judgment like that based on what somebody looks like, Kurt."

"Anyway," Finn went on, as his mother and Sarah cleared the table, "he's got a killer voice. You're way better than he is at impersonations, though, Kurt. I think he'd be great. But we have this situation with Rachel. Did you hear how she sent some girl to the wrong place to audition?"

"She's threatened," said Kurt.

"No, she's threatened because of Blaine," he said.

Kurt put a hand to his mouth with a sigh. "Oh. You told her."

"Yeah. And I don't know what I can do about that other than let her decide if she can handle it."

Kurt mused on this as he finished his last bites of pasta. "Well, maybe you can at least give her something to boost her self-esteem. She wants to know you think her ideas are worth listening to, even when other people dismiss her."

"I don't know if that matters," Finn said. "I'm not exactly popular anymore. I'm not quarterback. I might not even be on the team. Coach Beiste is doing her best to make sure everybody knows I'm not her favorite."

"Even if you are."

"Whatever. Maybe… can you cut me down when I make a suggestion in Glee?"

Kurt tapped his chin. "How about, 'You're not the Pied Piper anymore. Nobody's going to follow you around thinking everything you do is cool.'"

Finn made a face. "Harsh."

"But effective," said Kurt. He took Finn's hand. "If you're on Rachel's side, you're going to have to assume nobody else is going to be on your side."

He sighed. "Okay. I'll take one for the team. I really didn't anticipate cleaning up Rachel's messes."

Kurt's grin was wicked. "She could use a good spanking."

"Kurt!" Finn yelped, over Kurt's laughter. "She did not ask me for that."

"Well, if you recall, neither did I." He leaned over and rested his cheek on Finn's shoulder. "But you took the initiative, and after I got over myself, I was so grateful for it."

"Yeah, I don't think she would think of it that way. She'd say I was pressing her."

"Oppressing?" Kurt guessed. Finn nodded. "Well, if you made it clear it was her choice to consent, or not, it wouldn't be. It's not like you're making it a condition of your friendship. Relationship. Whatever." Kurt flapped his hands. "Forget it. This is sounding like a worse and worse idea the more I think about it."

Finn found Puck and Sarah standing at the sink. Puck was quizzing Sarah on her Spanish vocabulary, reading from a list taped to the window, while he rinsed the dishes.

"You really don't have to rinse them," his mom said. "The dishwasher is supposed to be good enough on its own."

"I know," said Puck. "It just feels better to do it first."

She looked like she might object further, but Finn tugged on her arm, drawing her back into the dining room.

"It's his routine, mom," he said quietly.

She frowned. "But it's silly. The dishwasher does it better and faster. He doesn't have to wash them by hand anymore."

"No, I know. It's not about what's better or faster. He's got to have time to figure out what works, for himself."

"You ready, Finn?" Kurt called from the family room.

"We're going to plan date night," he told his mom.

"Finn, I just wanted to tell you…" She did a gentler, mom-version of that make-sure-you're-looking-at-me thing. "What you said earlier this week about me, going down to Irene's. It's not what you think."

He squirmed a little. "It's your business, mom."

"I've been helping her with her business. She needed my assistance because she's expanding the coffee shop, and she wanted somebody up here to be her liaison with the bank. She's taking over an existing location in Lima."

That made him pause. "Oh. Another Java the Hut?"

"Irene's considering keeping the old name, the Lima Bean. Finn, I'm not judging how you live your life, but that's not how I work. I'm not looking for anything from Irene other than friendship. All right?"

He nodded, feeling a little abashed. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

"I appreciate that. I didn't want you to draw the wrong conclusions." She smiled. "Have a good time planning date night. Don't forget your homework."