(Author's note: even in the midst of chaos, there is still passion, however desperate. Finn/Kurt sex and religious angst. -amy)

Kurt slept in long enough on Thursday morning that he was awakened by his phone ringing at 6:45, rather than his alarm going off at 6:15. He groped for the phone on the nightstand and put it to his ear. "H'lo?"

"Honey," said Adam. He sounded abashed. "I'm so sorry to wake you up. I'm sure you're not sleeping all that well."

"No, no." Kurt struggled to sit up, rubbing his eyes. He squinted at the clock. "It's — I should be awake anyway. You know you can call me any time."

"I wouldn't usually bother you in the morning, honey, but…" He heard Adam sigh. "I have some bad news. I don't think I can make it this weekend."

"Oh." He swallowed his disappointment. "It's okay. Is everything all right?"

"My tour schedule got changed suddenly. I thought I was going to have a weekend free, but then they scheduled me an extra two radio interviews, and there's a benefit, and —"

"It's okay," said Kurt. He touched the empty spot in his bed where Puck had been the night before. "I've been at the hospital every night anyway. I wouldn't be much fun to be around."

"That wasn't my goal," Adam protested. "I—well, I wanted a chance to take care of you, for a change."

He breathed until he could get control of his tears. "Another time. It'll be better later. Do you want me to tell Noah?"

"I'll tell him. That is, if I can reach him on the phone. He hasn't been calling, Kurt."

Kurt knew, but he wasn't about to tell Adam that. "I'm really sorry."

"I'm just worried about him. It's hard not being around enough to know how things are really going, you know?"

"I miss you," said Kurt honestly. "But we'll be okay. When your tour is over, we can try again."

"I hope your dad is okay."

Adam had said the same thing the day before, and the day before that. It didn't feel bad, but it was hard to know there wasn't anything more forthcoming. He kept his breathing even.

"Thanks," he said. "I love you."

"God, I love you so much. Both of you." He could hear Adam crying. "I hope your day is all right. Call me tonight?"

Kurt promised. After they'd said good-bye, he climbed out of bed and put on his robe, then crossed through the bedroom to Finn's room.

Puck was curled up in a tiny ball on the bottom half of Finn's bed, his forehead pressed against Finn's thigh. Finn was still deep in sleep, his mouth hanging slack as he breathed loudly, but his hand was resting on top of Puck's head, rising and falling with Puck's own inhalations and exhalations.

Kurt paused in the doorway to watch them sleeping for rather longer than he meant to. Then he made a very deliberate throat-clearing noise. As he'd expected, Puck roused almost immediately, opening his eyes and sitting up.

"Kurt?" he called.

"I'm here, sweetheart," he said. Then he bit his lip. He hadn't meant to use that term—but after talking with Adam, it was hard to keep it from slipping out. The memory of the three of them was loud in his mind.

Puck slid his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, rubbing his head. Then he came to Kurt and stood there, watching him. He didn't try to make contact, and Kurt didn't push him. For a brief moment, he felt a rushing wave of relief he wasn't going to have to explain this Puck to Adam.

"I have bad news," he said. "Adam called. He can't come to visit this weekend. We're going to have to postpone it until the end of the tour."

Perhaps it was the vulnerability of the early morning, but for a brief moment, Puck looked absolutely terrified. Then he dropped his eyes to the floor, and when he looked up at Kurt again, he was calm again.

"Okay," he said. "Probably better, with your dad in the hospital."

Kurt had thought much the same thing, but somehow when he heard Puck say it, it sounded completely unreasonable. To be fair, he nodded.

"He would like to talk with you," said Kurt. "Would you… if you have time, could you call him?"

Puck nodded back, but he was already turning away, facing the wall. It was almost worse than feeling his own persistent pain to see the way that Puck was dealing with his own.

He shouldn't have to do that, he thought. Then he stuffed the thought way down, into a place where it was easier to ignore. He couldn't take Puck into his arms, and he couldn't discipline him. All he could do was go on with his day, and do his best to keep breathing.

Late Friday night, Finn opened his eyes for what felt like the millionth time to the sound of Puck whimpering and crying in his sleep. This time, however, Kurt was awake, propped up on his elbow, one hand on Puck's chest. He knew better than to try to shush him or soothe him; Puck wasn't going to stop crying unless they woke him up and interrupted the dream.

"He said he wasn't dreaming anymore," Kurt said. "I didn't have the heart to tell him the nightmares have only gotten worse."

Finn closed his eyes again and sighed. "Louder, anyway."

"You can go back to your room. Nobody would be offended."

"I might." But he didn't move, other than to scoot a little closer to Puck and rest his head on his arm. He wasn't going to throw a leg over him, because even though that would probably calm him, the stimulation would definitely inspire some things Puck wasn't ready to do with them at the moment. Kurt rested his own head on Puck's other shoulder, staring into Finn's face.

"You won the football game. I heard on the radio on the way home from the hospital."

Finn nodded. "Sam dislocated his arm, though. I'm acting quarterback until he's healed up."

"Ouch." Kurt winced.

"Yeah. It was a good game. Puck did good."

They lay together in silence, listening to the steady hum of the baby monitor.

"I miss him," Kurt said softly. "Not just the sex. I miss disciplining him. I miss who he was when I did that. He's so quiet now, even when he's cooking. He doesn't want to serve. There's… no joy."

Finn nodded. "I know what you mean." He placed a hand on Puck's chest, and Kurt put his own hand on top of Finn's. "I miss you, too. All those things, with you. You deserve some joy, too."

Kurt's eyes flashed. "There's room for me to join you over on that side of the bed, right?"

"I don't think we should do that here, not with him feeling… the way he's feeling." Finn paused. "But we could go in my room for a little while?"

Kurt nodded. Finn sat up and crept off the end of the bed. Kurt carefully got down from the other side. He took Finn's hand and they took Beth's baby monitor with them through the bathroom into Finn's room.

"I don't know if he'll stay asleep," said Kurt. "But if he wakes up alone, I don't think he'll feel hurt."

"It's not like he's not capable of taking care of himself, Kurt." But Finn knew it wasn't the same as it had been before, when they could have paired off on any given night. Now Puck was deliberately putting himself on the outside.

He quietly helped Kurt out of his pajamas, pulling the blankets back, then invited him to stretch out on top of him. Kurt settled on top of him, naked, with a long sigh.

"Nobody feels like you, Finn," he said.

"You, too, baby." He kissed him, long and slow, until Kurt began to move more insistently against him. "What can I do for you?"

"Don't know yet. Too many things I miss."

"If you don't pick, I'm going to take over."

Kurt sighed again. "That might be what I want you to do for me, then."

Finn nodded, spreading his own legs wide to make room for Kurt between them. "I was thinking about our date night. The one with dinner, dancing and a movie."

"That one, hmm?" Even in the dark, he could hear the smile on Kurt's face. Kurt knelt down, dragging his cheek along the softest, most sensitive part of Finn's inner thigh. He could feel every bit of the prickly stubble. It was new, just as it was new that Kurt was suddenly an inch taller, his arms and legs and hands and cock all perceptibly longer. "You want me inside you like that?"

"Yeah," said Finn. "I'll save the dinner and dancing for another night."

Kurt could have found his way without Finn's hands on him, putting him where he wanted him, but it was hotter for both of them for Finn to have that small amount of control over him. He gasped as Kurt thrust his tongue inside, fucking him open with fingers and tongue and loving care.

"No lube," he said. "Just you, nice and slow. God… yeah. Like that."

He didn't need much encouragement to open up for Kurt, not after ten months of weekly plug training, but it felt so good, he didn't want him to stop. It was Kurt's own moans and thrusts against the bed that prompted him to draw Kurt up onto his knees again and say, "Okay, baby. Inside me, now."

Kurt let him set the pace, moving with gentle nudges, in and out, until there was just the right amount of tug on his skin. The moment Kurt bottomed out, Finn urged, "Again. Harder," and Kurt groaned as he thrust deeper.

"I'm not… gonna last," he gasped, doing it again.

"If you do that, I'm not gonna need it," Finn promised. He used his own hands to spread himself wider, feeling the pressure mount. "Fuck — again. C'mon, you're not hurting me. Harder."

"I can't do it any harder!"

Finn reached up and grasped Kurt's hips, pulling him in against him, making him exclaim. "Like that. Like you're — like you're paddling me. Hard."

Kurt let out a little sob, but he obliged as best as he could, snapping his hips up into Finn, over and over, until he came and collapsed on top of him, panting. Finn held him close while he recovered, feeling his own desire still waiting.

"God. That was —"

"Finish me with your fingers, baby," Finn begged.

Kurt withdrew and replaced his cock with two fingers, then three, and with urging from Finn, four.

"No more than that without lube," Kurt said, and when Finn let out a whine of frustration, he added, "I can stop and get some?"

"No, no, don't stop… just do me hard. Yeah, like that… come on, I need it."

Four fingers didn't let Kurt get quite deep enough to hit the really sweet spots, but with a lot of vigorous thrusting, Kurt was able to get Finn to come anyway. He kept his legs spread wide for a while after that, feeling the gentle burn of the width of Kurt's palm still inside him.

"I wonder if you could do that to me," Kurt mused. "Your hands are really big."

"Work up to it, baby. Trust me, that would have been really painful last year."

"Yeah, it just looks like so much fun when you do it."

They both yawned through their quick shower. Beth was still sleeping, and although Puck was in an entirely different place on the bed than he had been when they'd left him, he was asleep too. They crawled back in on either side of him, moving him back into the center with gentle nudges.

"He's driving out early tomorrow to pick up Beth," said Kurt. "I hope he got enough sleep."

"I'm thinking about going down to Columbus tomorrow morning," said Finn. "Not to see Blaine. To talk to Irene."

Kurt considered him with heavy-lidded eyes. "He might be there, though."

"He might. Ms. Pillsbury said he was there last time. If he was, I would stay out of sight."

He sighed unhappily. "I don't think it's a good idea. But… I'm not sure I can say no to you after sex like that."

"You can say no."

"I never want to say no to you." Kurt turned his head away. "If you do see him, would you please take a picture for me? I miss him so much."

Finn didn't question why Kurt was still dissatisfied, even after the awesome thing they'd just done. He knew the answer. It wasn't the what, it was the who.

"You're the brains," he said. Kurt's brow creased.

"What?"

"What we said, after our date. You're the brains of our family. I'm the heart, Puck's… the cock." He sighed. "Not anymore, I guess. We're missing parts."

"And Blaine," Kurt added. "Blaine is… Blaine is…"

"The thing that keeps us together," Finn said. "He makes us whole."

That was close enough to the exact truth that Kurt started to cry. Finn just held his hand while he did it, until he was done and the room was quiet again. He kissed Kurt's fingers. He heard one more whispered question before he slid back into sleep:

"Are we ever going to be whole again, Finn?"

Puck's dad's synagogue wasn't anything like any synagogue Puck had ever been to before. It wasn't even like the liberal reform synagogue he'd attended with Adam in Santa Fe. It was, Puck thought, more like the way church looked on television. Not the big flashy churches where people stood up and sang, but the small, sit-in-pews and bow-your-head kind of church. He felt like he might be part of something new when he sat with them, a real grassroots movement.

Ethan wasn't a particularly charismatic rabbi, but there was something about him that made Puck really want to listen. He wished half of his teachers were that compelling. He especially appreciated that Ethan didn't try to make him feel bad for not agreeing with him.

"Jews have a long history of thoughtful dissent," Ethan said. Puck liked that idea.

He picked up Beth from Shelby's after services. On his way out of town, they stopped at a little diner on I-76 heading west for breakfast. His dad chuckled over Beth and gave her some pieces of broccoli to investigate while they ate. Then he reached over the table and set a brochure down in front of Puck.

"Adventure Camp," he said. "The J4J community would pay part of your way, and I'd pay the rest, and drive you out there."

"To Oregon?" Puck eyed the photos of boys rock-climbing, boys playing sports, boys sitting around a fire, boys praying over their dinner. "Isn't that kind of a long way?"

"You could take a few days off school. Unless you think you'd miss something important."

Puck snorted. "Not hardly." He looked at Beth studiously gumming the broccoli. "I'd miss people. But they could deal with me being gone for a week. Would you be there?"

"No, it's just for kids around your age, I think starting around fifteen and going up to twenty. But I'd pick you up when you were done. I have friends out there I can stay with. Noah, these boys, they're having a lot of the same conversations we're having here. They're learning how to be all the things you're learning to be. Maybe you could teach them a few things." He tapped the brochure. "I bet they would have a few things to teach you."

It was hard to say no to his dad under the best of circumstances, but in this case, he didn't see much of a downside. "Could I bring my guitar?"

"I don't see why not."

He nodded. "Would you bring yours?"

"Yeah." His dad gave Beth a raspberry on the cheek, watching her giggle and smiling. "You bet." Then his expression became grave. "I know this, what we're doing, it doesn't make up for all the things I did wrong, but I hope it helps you see that I'm serious about giving you what you need. Being a real father to you."

Puck wasn't sure what to think about that. Yeah, his dad was being great, and he appreciated that, but he'd done that in the past, too. It was the times when he failed to come through for him that Puck remembered most.

"I think it's a good start," Puck told him. "I'm not looking for you to buy me back with this vacation, you know."

"I'm thinking of it more like an investment in your future," said his dad.

The regular Saturday crowd was just passing around the open mic sign-up list when the phone behind the counter rang. Irene reached for the receiver. "Java the Hut."

"Hey, Irene, it's F- Christopher. I'm, um. I'm out in the parking lot. I wanted to know if Blaine was here today."

"You mean Patrick? No, he's not here this week, but he was here the last two." She scanned the room for Derek, but he was absent as well. "As for Blaine… I haven't seen him in months."

He sighed. "Okay if I come in? I'm not supposed to be around him. The last thing I want to do is get him in trouble."

"This free country says you can be here, no matter who else is here, Christopher."

He appeared at the door a few minutes later. A couple of the regulars waved at him, looking excited, and he waved back.

"I'm really not up for performing today," he told Irene. She nodded, drawing him an Italian soda and adding lime without asking. He sipped it absently.

"You can drive an hour and a half to come hang out at my coffee house. I'm not complaining. How's your boyfriend's dad? I heard he was in the hospital."

"Not doing so good," he said. "No change, anyway. We keep hoping he'll wake up any time, but it's been over a week. They're keeping him in the ICU. K- my boyfriend, he's there today."

Irene looked at him steadily. It was hard to maintain appropriate distance, especially when she could see so many of Carole's mannerisms in him. "I'll be hoping for a good outcome for him."

"Thanks. My mom said you're buying the Lima Bean?" He smiled a little. "Blaine was hoping you might have an open mic up there too."

She nodded calmly. "We'll be taking over ownership after the new year. My cousin will come up from Atlanta to help me get started. I bet he'll agree we could use some performers."

"Yeah, well." Christopher shrugged, stirring his drink. "I don't think Blaine will be showing up there."

"No, but Patrick might."

He nodded. "I was hoping… I wanted to see for myself, how he was." He eyed her. "Can you tell me anything?"

"Well, you know Patrick. That's how he was. There wasn't any sign of Blaine."

Christopher nodded again. He let out a tired sigh.

"Did you hear about… Derek and Jane? They're getting married."

"I heard," she said, keeping her face as straight and stony as ever. He wasn't going to get an opinion from her one way or another about that, no matter how strongly she might feel about it.

"Can I tell you something?" He leaned in over the counter. "My mom, when she was coming down here, I thought maybe she was coming to see you. For… something other than coffee."

Irene chuckled. "I can't imagine what would have led you to believe that. Your mom and I haven't done anything like that in sixteen years."

"She was just being kind of secretive. But she told me about the Lima Bean, so. I guess you're not doing anything with her." He watched her face for confirmation.

"No," she said clearly. "We're not. Christopher, you know I think your mom's a special lady, but I'm not losing my religion over her."

He looked momentarily confused. "You're not… what?"

"Regional southern phrase," she said, with a shake of her head. "Sorry. Losing my religion means being out of control, losing my focus. Pining for her. I like my life the way it is. I'm glad to have her back in my life, but that's all."

Christopher nodded slowly, thinking that over.

"I think," he said carefully, "I might still be… losing my religion over Derek."

Irene scooped loose tea into the strainer compartment of her favorite teapot and added boiling water from the hot tap. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know," he said.

"You're looking for advice?"

He nodded. "If you have any."

"I always have advice," she said, and he grinned. "By the way I see it, you've got two options. You can give up and move on. There's strategies for that, but I don't think they're working very well for you." She looked at him pointedly, and he nodded. "Or you can fight for him."

"Yeah, but Mrs - Jane, she said, I don't have to fight. That I can have him. Some of him, anyway."

She regarded him. "How does that feel to you?"

"Like not enough," he admitted. "I don't just want to be his — toy. I want to be his boyfriend. But I can't be. She's going to be his wife, and I'm just going to be… you know, stuck in the corner when he's not playing with me."

"Well, then. I don't think your options have changed." She poured her tea and added a spoonful of honey. "You want to fight for him?"

"I don't know. Maybe?" He shrugged. "I don't really think I have a whole lot of say until I graduate from high school. I think whatever I do should wait until then."

"That's a wise plan. Even though you'll be eighteen in January."

Christopher gave her a surprised smile. "How did you remember that?"

She gave the tea a sip and nodded, satisfied. "I was there when you were born, kiddo. There are some things you never forget."

The whole of Glee club watched Finn sing "Losing My Religion" with a puzzled expression.

"I thought we couldn't sing songs about religion?" Tina asked.

"It's not about religion," Finn said. "It's a phrase that people use in the south. It means —"

"Losing your sh- uh, cool," Sam broke in. "Yeah, my mom says it."

Finn nodded. "Michael Stipe said when he wrote this song, he was talking about unrequired love."

"Unrequited," Kurt corrected, with a little smile.

"Yeah, that. About not getting what you want, and feeling… incomplete." He avoided Kurt's eyes. "It just felt appropriate."

Mr. Schue came up to him after Glee club and shook his hand. "That sounded good, Finn. Michael Stipe's a surprisingly good fit for your voice."

"Blaine and — and my band and I sing Kid Fears, by the Indigo Girls," he said, "and Michael Stipe has a part in that. I usually sing it." He glossed over Carl's name, because whatever relationship Mr. Schue already had with Carl, it was bound to end up more complicated if he and Ms. Pillsbury really did get married.

"I was thinking," Mr. Schue went on, "and Emma and I were talking about this… you and Kurt and Puck, you're going through a lot right now. Maybe you could use somebody to talk to."

"Well, Puck's been going to synagogue a lot," he said.

"I was thinking more like a therapist. Somebody to listen and to help you sort through how you're feeling." He took a card out of his pocket. "I know a good one who happens to be in town. It's somebody you know already."

Finn was almost afraid to look at the card, but when he did, he smiled in surprise. "Ms. Holliday! My summer school Spanish teacher. I already have this card. She gave it to me at the end of the summer."

Mr. Schue nodded, smiling. "She's learning to be a teacher, but this is what she did before that. She knows Toby, too. Anyway, give it some thought. I'd be happy to call your mom and talk to her directly, but I figured she had enough on her plate, with Kurt's dad in the hospital."

"Yeah, yeah," Finn said, "I can take it from here. Thanks."

The first card Ms. Holliday had given him over the summer was still pinned to the bulletin board at home. Finn had thought about calling her almost every day, but he wasn't sure how he was going to ask for what he needed.

When Finn brought it up with his mom that evening at the hospital, Sarah grabbed the card from his hand and waved it in front of his mom's nose.

"This is my brother's counselor!" she said.

"Timmy goes to therapy?" Puck wrinkled his nose. "Since when?"

"No, no — my half-brother. The one you haven't met. He said she's really good. She was your Spanish teacher?"

"Sí, y ella es una muy buena profesora," said Finn. "She's cool. I think she wouldn't… you know, judge us about all the stuff we do."

"I don't think we need to add one more thing to our plate, Finn," his mom said. But she took the card and put it in her purse. "It might look good for the adoption, though, if social services sees that Sarah and Puck are seeing a counselor."

Sarah tugged on the hem of his mom's shirt. "You're still thinking about that? Even if Tatenui's not around?"

"He'll be around," she said, with a determined smile. "I think we just have to have a little faith."