(Author's note: It's Finn and Blaine's date night. Knittycat99 and I wrote most of this scene back in 2012, when we were just starting to envision the Finn/Blaine relationship in the Donutverse. It's both painful and pleasing to see it finally come into play. Warning for m/m sex and major angst. -amy)

"You sure we have the house to ourselves?" Finn frowned as he followed Blaine up the familiar curve of the stairs and down the hall into Blaine's room.

"Yeah," Blaine said, nodding for Finn to drop his duffle just inside the door. "My dad and Thomas went away for the weekend. I think it's some last chance to try and fix the mess my dad made of things."

"Okay." Finn closed the door behind him, then reached out to grab Blaine's wrist. They both sucked in a breath, turning to face one another. Every time they touched was electric. Even after a month together like this, Finn still wasn't used to it.

Blaine let his eyes fall so that they were slightly downcast. "He won't be back until Sunday," he said.

Finn tilted Blaine's chin back up. He smiled, watching Blaine's cheeks flush.

"Good," Finn murmured. "That's good, because I have plans for us."

Blaine peeked around him at the bag on the floor, and his eyes lit up. "What did you bring?"

Finn chuckled lightly, ran a hand down Blaine's jaw. "My boy's getting greedy, huh?"

"N-no, sir," Blaine whispered. "Not greedy. Just. Um. Excited? Happy?"

"Happy is good," Finn said. "We'll play in a little while. First I want to do this." He settled a hand on each side of Blaine's head and brought their lips together.

Kissing Blaine was still new, and Finn felt like he was still learning what got Blaine to respond. So far, Finn knew that nipping at his bottom lip would make Blaine arch his body closer into Finn, and that a firm tongue was a good thing. He knew he'd learn the rest, over time, but summer was already over. It felt some days like their time was running out.

If only we hadn't wasted so much time being scared of this, he thought.

"Stop thinking," Blaine said with a light laugh, pressing his forehead into Finn's chest.

"How did you know I was thinking?"

"You stopped kissing me. Please, don't stop kissing me." Blaine moved closer, stood on his tiptoes. He tried to reach up high enough to kiss Finn, but Finn grabbed Blaine's wrists and held them tight.

"I got what I wanted. Are you ready to take what I give you?" He kept his voice steady, even as he felt his desire spike.

"Yes, sir." Blaine shifted as best he could into the rest position Finn had taught him that day in Carl's office, and Finn smiled in approval.

"Good boy. Would you like to see what I brought with me?"

"Yes, please, sir."

Finn opened his duffel and pulled out the handcuffs first. Blaine's eyes were round and sparkling, watching him put the cuffs aside. Finn knew there was very little about the things they did together that scared Blaine anymore. Blaine went down easy, now that he knew how Finn wanted him to do it. He knew Finn would take care of him, keep him safe while he was down. The scary things were the feelings that sometimes overwhelmed him in the aftermath, but Finn liked to think that he was getting better at taking care of Blaine then, too, when he was still fuzzy from the submission and the sex, when the rest of the world was just too much.

"We haven't used this yet," Finn said, running the tails of the suede flogger over his hands. "You know this one is Kurt's favorite. He told me he thought you'd like it. He told me to use it on you tonight."

Blaine moaned deep in his chest. He could feel his own response, powerful and immediate, but he could also hear Kurt's voice in his head. Don't rush. Let him anticipate it. Enjoy it, both of you.

He took a deep breath, set the flogger on Blaine's desk, and picked up the cuffs again. "These, first." Finn buckled one around each wrist, giving each one a sharp tug to make them tight, and Blaine gasped each time, smiling up at Finn with such trust and love.

Blaine began to move into position, with his hands behind his back, but Finn stopped him, pressing him down onto the bed on his back. "I want you like this," he said. "Just like this. I want to look into your eyes when I fuck you."

"Oh, god," Blaine half-sighed, half-moaned. Finn thought that maybe, if he hadn't already been on the bed, that Blaine's knees would have buckled. He could feel Blaine's wanting, could feel the energy from Blaine's body mirrored in his own.

Finn stretched Blaine's wrists to the corners of the bed before looping a length of chain around each bedpost, attaching the hooks on Blaine's cuffs to the chain. There was very little room to move, and Blaine lay flat, stretched out before him, so perfectly open.

"You're so beautiful, baby," Finn said tenderly, touching his shoulders, his arms, the smooth stretch of skin under his arm down to his hip, then along the ridge of his cock. Blaine knew well enough to hold still and as calm as possible under Finn's hand, but he couldn't resist one thrust into Finn's touch at the end. Finn smiled again, shaking his head. "Not yet. I have plans for you."

Blaine shook his head, curls flying around around him. "Need you, Finn. Please."

"Oh, don't worry, baby. You'll get me. I'm gonna make you feel so good." Finn kissed the tip of Blaine's nose, which made them both smile, and then Finn began moving down Blaine's body, kissing and licking and dragging his teeth over what felt like miles and miles of bare skin. Just like kissing, he was still learning the best places to touch to make Blaine shift and press underneath him, but he was already very very fond of the flat little area above Blaine's right hip, where the bone jutted out a little bit. Apparently a nicely timed application of tongue and teeth right there was enough to send Blaine writhing, and Finn sometimes got a little obsessed with things like that. It was fun, making Blaine respond that way.

"Finn," he gasped, his hands clenching, trapped in their cuffs, as Finn licked a long, wet swath from his navel to the base of his cock. "You... please, I want..."

"What you want doesn't matter right now," Finn said, gripping his hips. "I'm going to take what's mine."

"Yours," Blaine sighed, almost defeated. "I'm yours."

"Yes," Finn growled in the moment before he took Blaine in his mouth. "Mine."

Blaine tried to push into Finn's mouth, but Finn pressed his hands hard against Blaine's hips and worked his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking hard the way he knew Blaine liked until Blaine was trembling and incoherent. He tasted hints of salt, knew that Blaine was so close to coming, but he couldn't let that happen. He pulled off, and settled between Blaine's thighs, pushing his legs open.

"Finn," Blaine whined. 'Don't stop. So close."

"I'm in charge here, boy. I'll tell you when to come, understand?"

Blaine nodded, and Finn fumbled for the lube he'd tossed onto the bed. When he was slick and ready, he pressed the tip of his cock against Blaine, and got ready.

"I'm going to fuck you now, baby, and you're going to come when I tell you."

"Yes." Blaine opened his eyes and stared up at Finn. Finn held his gaze as he pushed inside.

"Now, Blaine. Come now. Come for me, baby, you know you want to. I want you to." He kept talking as he slid all the way inside of Blaine, and when he had bottomed out he felt Blaine clenching around him. He didn't move, just stayed where he was and let Blaine come all over his stomach.

"God, Finn." Blaine's body relaxed. "That was . . . wow."

Finn chuckled. "That was just the beginning, baby. I'm going to fuck you until you're hard again, and then we're going to come together."

"Oh." Finn moved his hips, sliding almost all the way out and then back into Blaine again, slow and hard and just the way Blaine liked it.

"Yes," he said, holding Blaine's gaze. "And then, I'm going to turn you over and use that flogger on you until you come again, just from the sensation of it."

Blaine shook his head. "I don't think I can do that. I think you might kill me with orgasms."

Finn stopped moving, suddenly serious. "Do you trust me, baby?"

"Of course."

"Then just . . . trust me. I won't hurt you. And I don't care if you don't get there. We'll just, I dunno. Have fun trying, I guess."

Blaine smiled, and it lit up his whole face. "I like trying."

"That's my good boy." Finn kissed Blaine then, and slammed into him again. And again and again until they were both writhing and mumbly and Finn could barely order Blaine to come a second time.

But he did, and they did, together, laughing and happy.

"Messy," Blaine said, a little hazy-eyed before Finn could collapse on top of him.

"I'll get a washcloth." Finn gazed down at Blaine, and ran a hand up one of his arms to the leather of the cuff. "You okay, baby?"

"Mmmm. Yes."

"Do you want me to uncuff you?" Finn would, if Blaine wanted, but he kind of liked seeing his boy all stretched out and languid that way.

"No," Blaine sighed as his eyes fluttered closed. "Thirsty."

"Here," Finn pulled the comforter up around Blaine. "Let me go get us some juice and a snack."

Finn slipped into his shorts and padded down to the kitchen. He knew there was always juice in the fridge, which was great because Blaine usually got really jittery after both discipline and sex, and the juice helped bring his blood sugar back up. He poured two glasses, and tucked a bag of ginger snaps under his arm. He would have preferred something chocolate, but whatever. The cookies would have to do.

Back in Blaine's room, he tucked pillows under Blaine's head and held his glass so that he could sip at his juice. "Cookie?" he asked, holding one out for Blaine and popping one into his own mouth.

"No," Blaine said, letting his head slide back onto the mountain of pillows. "Just you."

"Okay," Finn mumbled through a mouthful of cookie crumbs.

He set the bag on the floor and Blaine's glass on the nightstand before climbing over Blaine so that he could wrap around his boy's body. He held Blaine tightly, stroked his hair and pressed gentle kisses along his jaw.

"Do you know how beautiful you are, like this? God, baby. You just give and give to me, all the time."

"You take," Blaine whispered. "I had no idea I needed that. Puck... he taught me that, about myself."

"Yeah," Finn said, emotion sudden and thick in his throat. "Neither did I, that I needed to take it." He shook his head, amused. "He taught me that about myself, too. It's good, right?"

"Oh, god, Finn. It's everything. It's exactly right." Blaine burrowed his head into Finn's chest and sighed happily. "We didn't get to the flogger, though," he said with a little laugh.

"We have plenty of time, baby. Rest, now." Finn unclipped the chain from Blaine's cuffs, releasing him from the hard restraint but leaving the cuffs around Blaine's wrists. He rested a hand over Blaine's chest, felt his heart beating there, steady and strong, and his breaths slowing and evening out.

"That's right," he said. "Sleep now, my baby."

Finn didn't sleep so much as he moved in and out of dreams, checking on Blaine every time he woke to be sure he was okay. Blaine, however, slept hard, and Finn hated to wake him but it was getting toward dinner time and he knew that Blaine would be ravenous before too long.

He tried gentle whispers and nudges with his knee, then a shoulder, then his hand firm on Blaine's chest. "Blaine, baby. C'mon. Time to wake up."

"Mphf. Hungry." Blaine opened one eye and peered at Finn. "Hi."

God. Finn couldn't suppress his grin. Blaine was entirely too adorable when he was waking up. "Hi. You're hungry, huh?"

Blaine smiled and arched his hips a little, poking his half-hard cock into Finn's thigh. "Yeah. And not just for dinner."

"Really." Finn rolled his eyes. "Food first. Then more sex."

Blaine's eyes drifted over to his desk, where the flogger was still draped over his stack of summer reading books. "Food first. Then that."

"As you wish, baby." Finn leaned down anyway, and kissed Blaine full and hard. Blaine kissed back, and even though Finn knew that it was a bad idea, he climbed over Blaine's body and just rutted against him. Blaine met him thrust for thrust, a little sloppy and both of them still hazy, and Finn was this close to coming when —

There was suddenly someone else in the room with them.

"Blaine Darren Anderson. What the hell is this?"

Blaine went completely limp under Finn. The whimpering noise that came from his mouth was nothing short of terrified.

Finn closed his eyes and rolled off of Blaine. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled under his breath. When he felt Blaine jerk away, he added quickly, "No, no, baby, I'm not mad at you."

He pulled the blanket up and regretfully turned his gaze to the man who had to be Blaine's father, taking a deep breath.

"Mr. Anderson," Finn said. He could feel dread settling into the pit of his stomach. Superficially, the man did look like Blaine, but the outraged expression on his face, the contemptuous look in his eyes — he'd never seen anything like that from his boy.

"Who the hell are you?" Mr. Anderson demanded. "Because I've met Puck, and you're not him."

"No," Finn shook his head. "I'm Finn Hudson. I think this is a conversation we need to have on equal footing. Can you give us a minute to get dressed?" He was shaking, but he knew he needed to stay calm for Blaine.

Mr. Anderson rubbed a hand over his face and looked all over the room but at the two of them. When his gaze landed on the flogger, still on Blaine's desk, his face went white. "What- this- no, Blaine. This is unacceptable."

"Mr. Anderson." Finn pulled out his Voice. "Please. Blaine needs a minute to get dressed. We'll meet you downstairs."

Blaine's father blinked at him, and took a step back towards the door. "Yes. Downstairs."

"Thank you," Finn said, and he waited until Mr. Anderson was out into the hall and the door was closed again before he gathered Blaine into his arms.

"It's okay, baby," Finn said. "It's going to be okay."

"No," Blaine mumbled over and over. "It's not going to be okay. This is going to be so, so bad."

Finn wanted to hold Blaine's hand. He wanted to do more than that; he wanted to hug Blaine close, to keep him calm and safe. But Blaine was perched, awkward and tense, on the edge of one of the overstuffed, too-elegant armchairs in the living room. Finn sat just as awkwardly on the sofa, doing what Kurt always called practicing calm.

Mr. Anderson paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, shifting a glass of scotch from hand to hand and taking an occasional sip. He looked like he barely had a handle on his temper.

"I don't know if you understand what you're playing at, Blaine." Mr. Anderson set his glass on the mantle and swung his eyes from Blaine to Finn. "If either of you understand what you're playing at."

Finn watched Blaine startle, and he couldn't stand it any longer. He motioned for Blaine to join him, and they both sighed with relief when Blaine moved from the chair into the space next to Finn on the couch. Blaine started to speak, but Finn squeezed his hand. I've got this, baby, he tried to say without words.

"We're not playing at anything," Finn said.

Mr. Anderson laughed without humor. "Like hell you're not. You're sixteen year old boys, for Christ's sake. Your whole lives are playing."

"It's not-" he started, and then took a breath. He felt like shouting, but he was not going to do that. "We're not, Mr. Anderson. I'm not. There's nothing to play at. This is what Blaine needs."

Blaine's father stared at them both. "He doesn't need to cheat on his boyfriend, or be with someone who . . . who hurts him."

"Finn isn't hurting me," Blaine spoke for the first time. "And I'm not cheating on Puck." Even those words cost him something to say. Finn could feel him shaking. He tucked his arm around Blaine, holding him closer. It didn't help calm the shaking, but Finn felt better, being close to him.

"Puck and me," Finn began. "We're together. And Blaine is a part of things, too." He didn't want to drag Kurt into the middle of things.

"The- um. The . . . implement? On the desk? Blaine, please. Tell me you didn't let anyone do anything to you with it." Mr. Anderson sounded desperate; he was almost begging, and Finn had to bite his tongue to keep from telling him to stop that, right now.

Blaine blushed red to the tips of his ears, but still he didn't back down. "Not that one, no. But one like it."

Finn leaned over to whisper into Blaine's ear. "Filter, baby. I can't help you if you dig yourself into a hole here."

Blaine just shook his head regretfully. "I know," he whispered back, "but when he asks, I — I have to tell him the truth." He looked up at his father. "I'm sorry, Dad. I know you don't understand. But Puck and Finn, we- I-"

Finn heard the tears in Blaine's voice before they started falling from his eyes. He turned a little so that he could wrap both his arms around Blaine and tuck him into the curve of his body. Finn rested his chin on top of Blaine's head and tried not to glare at Mr. Anderson.

"Blaine's given this a lot of thought," he said. "He's not being talked into anything he doesn't want to do. School's tough for him. He works hard, but it's hard to stay focused, and -"

"Blaine does perfectly well at school," Mr. Anderson said stiffly, not looking directly at Finn, "when he's not being distracted from his studies. Blaine, you told us Dalton was going to help you. I didn't expect you to meet boys like this, there."

"I'm not from Dalton," Finn assured him, then paused. Maybe it would be better if he didn't know where he was from, exactly. And Mr. Anderson didn't need to know about Jeff, at all. "He needs someone to give him some direction. Something to focus on."

"And that's you, eh?" His distaste was evident as he looked Finn up and down. Finn could guess what he saw, from his cheap sneakers to his off-brand polo shirt. It was a little uncomfortable being sized up like that, but considering Blaine's father had just seen him naked on top of his son, he wasn't going to begrudge his own choice of clothing. "You're going to tell Blaine what he needs to focus on?"

Blaine's brow wrinkled in consternation. "It's not like that, Dad..."

"Blaine's right," Finn said, rubbing a slow circle on Blaine's back. "He doesn't need me to tell him what to do, because he already wants to do the right things. I just… kind of remind him, of what the best choices are."

"By hurting him?" Mr. Anderson's face was disbelieving.

"Finn doesn't hurt me. I mean, yeah, okay. It hurts. But afterwards?" He looked hard at his father, trying to find the words. "God. Afterwards, it's like my head is clear and I can think again."

"Clear? I don't understand. Clear from what?"

Blaine threw his hands in the air. "Clear from all the utter shit that makes me want to crawl into a hole and hide, okay? All the crap that I carry around, every day."

His father looked completely baffled. "What are you talking about? I know you. You're a happy, well-adjusted boy, Blaine. You're safe at Dalton. You're getting the best education. Do you know the strings I had to pull just to get you in there last year? For crying out loud, you're only sixteen. What could you possibly have to be worried about?"

Blaine looked up at his father desperately, close to the edge of panic, and bit his tongue. He could have said, oh, I don't know, maybe I'm worried about what happened when I was fourteen and I had the living shit beat out of me? Or about you and Thomas, how you seem to be close to breaking up? Or the fact that you've been secretly gay all my life and you didn't tell me this when I needed someone to help me understand myself? Or how about the way I've never been good enough for you, no matter how hard I try or how well I do in school? But he didn't say anything.

If Finn had wanted to wrap him up and protect Blaine before, the urge was doubly hard now. He let Blaine keep holding tight to his hand, like it was his only tether to the moment.

Mr. Anderson looked back and forth between the two of them, and his face hardened. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, boys," he said, and he actually did sound sorry. "But I know what's best for Blaine, and this definitely isn't it. You're going to need to leave, Finn."

He rounded on Blaine, pointing one finger. "And you, young man... this is going to end now. School is about your studies, not about irresponsible extracurricular activities. You're going to represent our family appropriately. So - no more boys. No more... anything. I don't care what you think this does for you, or what kind of focus you get out of it. If you need that kind of focus, you can talk to my psychiatrist."

"No!" Finn shouted, putting one hand on Blaine's chest. "He doesn't need drugs!" He needs me, he thought miserably, but he knew there was no way Mr. Anderson was going to hear him.

"Blaine is done with you," Mr. Anderson said, his mouth one thin, firm line. "You will leave. Now."

Blaine stared at Finn in horror, but when his father reached out to take his arm, he just let him lead him away, without one word of complaint. Finn grappled with his twin instincts to take care of Blaine and listen to the voice of authority, but in the end, he just sat there, watching Mr. Anderson take him up the stairs. He heard a door slam, and the enormous, sterile house was silent.

"Blaine," Finn said, but nobody was listening.

He stood. His hands were shaking, and he didn't know what to do with them, so he settled on shoving them into his pockets and came up with his car keys. He stared at them.

Mr. Anderson's footsteps were almost silent when he came back into the room, Finn's duffel bag hanging loosely in one hand. "Here are your things. You can be sure I'll be talking to the school tomorrow; Blaine will be monitored to ensure no further contact with you, or that boy, Puck. If you try to talk with him or see him, I will find out, and you can be sure I'll be calling your parents."

"There's just my mother," he said, his lips feeling numb and clumsy, "and she knows everything. You really don't understand him, or this, at all." Finn shook the confusion away, facing Mr. Anderson again. "I don't care about what you could do to me. All I care about is what you're doing to Blaine. And you're killing him, by taking away everything that makes him real."

Mr. Anderson shook his head. "Blaine will return to school and focus on his studies, as befits an Anderson. I'm not going to let some stupid notions about sexual exploration ruin his reputation. Trust me. I know what I'm talking about. You kids have no idea what you're doing here, how one mistake can ruin everything." He glared at Finn. "Someday he'll thank me."

"No, he won't." Finn wasn't sure if he should be saying all this to Mr. Anderson, but he wasn't sure he could stop, either. "If he manages to stay sane through whatever punishments you think are going to help, he's not going to thank you. He's just going to be more broken than he was when I met him. It's going to take me, or someone like me, a lot longer than a few months to put him back together."

"Cut the melodrama, kid," Mr. Anderson snapped. "Blaine doesn't need you or anybody else to tell him who he is. He's got five generations of strong, powerful men to back him up. He's -"

"Blaine is strong," Finn insisted, interrupting. "If you saw him the way I do, or- god, if you saw him at all, you'd know that. He just- he doesn't see it, about himself, yet. But he will. Someday, someone will love him enough and he'll start to know that." I already love him enough. We all do. We could show Blaine the best parts of himself, if only you would let us.

Mr. Anderson's face was scornful. "Love has nothing to do with it. I love my son, and you have no right to come into my home and try to tell me that I'm hurting him by being his father!"

Mr. Anderson tried to throw his weight forward, but Finn, who was a good two inches taller, stood his ground. "Somebody has to. I can't see him treated like this."

"You won't have to," said Mr. Anderson with a triumphant smile. "You're forbidden from ever seeing him again."

Finn felt like a part of him was breaking off and sliding away. "If you cared about him at all, you wouldn't do this. You're the one who's hurting him."

Mr. Anderson's hand was on his arm, and he was trying to steer Finn toward the door. Finn shook his hand off.

"Don't touch me. I'm going, okay? I'm… I'm going."

He picked up his bag and made his way to the door on shaky legs. When he stepped onto the front step, he had to grip the railing to hold himself up while his knees threatened to buckle. Mr. Anderson didn't say anything, just shut the door behind him.

It took Finn a few moments to manage the stone steps down to his car, waiting in the driveway. He slid the key into the ignition. Then he leaned his head back against the headrest, trying to get his breathing under control. None of Carl's tricks seemed to be working. He suspected he might be going into shock, but he didn't know what he could he do other than wait.

Finally he fished his phone out of his bag and scrolled through his contacts, observing the shaking of his own hands with a sense of disconnection. He pressed dial, and hoped that on this particular Friday night, Jeff didn't have a date.

"Finn?" he heard on the other end. "Haven't heard from you in a few weeks. How's your fall going? Everything okay, man?"

"Shit, Jeff. No. Nothing is okay. We have . . . fuck." Finn pounded his fist on the steering wheel. "Blaine's dad found out. About everything. He's not gonna let Blaine see us anymore. It's bad. I mean, it's bad for me, but you know how it's going to be for Blaine."

"Oh, man. Hang on, Finn." He listened while Jeff whispered to someone, and then there were footsteps and a door creaking closed. "Okay, I'm good to talk now. Where are you?"

"Sitting in my car in front of Blaine's house. Can't drive, dude." Finn let out a harsh laugh.

"Need me to come get you? I'm about 20 minutes away. We can go down to Java the Hut for coffee, until you're ready to go home." Jeff's voice was full of concern, and his kindness made Finn want to say yes, please, take me someplace where people understand us. But he had someone who understood, he just needed to be capable enough to get there.

"No, I just. Shit. I need you to- to-"

"You need me to take care of him until you can figure things out, yeah?"

"Yeah." He sighed, rubbing his head where the headache was just beginning. "I know it's asking a lot."

"No, Finn. I care about Blaine. He's a good friend, and he needs what you give him. Of course I'll help. Are you sure you're okay?"

"No." Finn shook his head, even though Jeff couldn't see him. "I'm not okay. But I have to get okay. I have to- I have to go home. I have to see C- um. My, uh."

"Your Dom?"

Finn had never told Jeff about Carl, but Jeff was a pretty knowledgeable guy. He understood the dynamics that could exist in the scene, and nothing much seemed to bother him.

"Yeah," Finn sighed. "Even if he doesn't have any ideas, he needs to know. He'll, um. He'll help me deal."

"That's good. Good that you have someone. You need to take care of yourself too, Finn, so that once we fix this mess you'll be able to take care of Blaine."

"Yeah. I know. It was just . . . it was so bad, Jeff. Blaine completely lost it. Started yelling at his dad. We tried to explain, we both did. It was like his dad didn't even hear us." Finn felt his eyes fill with tears, but he sniffed them back and swallowed hard. He couldn't lose it yet.

"You did just fine, Finn. Mr. Anderson is a particular kind of hard-ass. I don't know that you could have said anything to make him change his mind."

He wiped his eyes on the corner of his shirt. "I guess... my mom, she's so awesome - I mean, really, man, she's got her own history and everything - and Kurt's dad, he's practically got the award for Best Dad of the year wrapped up. I just forgot, somehow, that other people's parents could be..." He swallowed. "Like that."

"I'm pretty lucky, too. I mean, my dad's pretty conservative, but he's been dealing with my sister and her life for years. His mind is a lot more open than it used to be. I don't honestly think he'd care, now, if I came out to him about anything. But Blaine? He's already had such a hard go of it. I wish it didn't have to be like this for him. Did his dad say what was going to happen?"

Finn leaned forward against the steering wheel, resting his head on his arms. "Back to Dalton as soon as the dorms open. He's gonna call someone, to make sure that Blaine doesn't see me, or Puck. Or talk to us or anything."

"Okay." Jeff was silent for a minute, and Finn could almost hear his brain working. "Okay. So. Do you think his dad would let him talk to me, if I called?"

Finn snorted. "As long as your name isn't Finn or Puck, I think you'll be fine."

"Good. Are you okay to drive?" Jeff's voice was even, with next to no intensity behind his words, but he was still making Finn relax.

"Yeah. I think so. If I get on the road and I'm not, I'll pull over until I can go again."

"All right. I'll call Blaine, talk with him if I can, and I'll drop you an email with my plan. I'll have to make some calls of my own tomorrow, and I don't want to interrupt your time with your Dom. You need him tonight."

"Yeah." Finn sighed, thinking about the ways Carl would be able to help him. "I do need him. Thanks, Jeff. For everything."

"No worries, man. And I'm here, if you need anything. Any time of the night, really."

Finn took a breath and turned the key in the ignition. "I believe that," he said before telling Jeff goodnight and putting the car in gear.

He didn't look anywhere other than right in front of him. He didn't see Blaine, watching from his bedroom window.