(Author's note: If anybody is confused why Will might choose to do Rocky Horror with the Glee club, you might consider (re)reading chapter 5 of Just That Side of True.

Also, if you didn't get a chance to watch Adam playing Eddie in the new RHPS reboot, you really must see it. It's made even funnier if you notice that Brad is played by a guy who looks a hell of a lot like Darren Criss.

I have a lot of affection for Rocky Horror, having seen it about seventy times in the theater over the past twenty-eight years, and playing both Magenta and Janet in shadow casts. I typed one of the very first online audience participation scripts and put it on Usenet in 1993.

Quoting in this chapter from 2x05 RHGS. Some of the speakers of lines have been switched, but most of 2x05 is as written, with plenty of additional scenes. Warnings in this part for m/m sex and handballing, D/s dynamics and a long talk between Finn and Carl. Oh, and a character from season 6 appears briefly (and not for the first time)!

-amy)

Emma was still laughing as she and Carl ran out of the revival theater's double door exit onto the street. She brushed rice out of her hair and beamed at Carl, gripping tight to his hand.

"That," she said, shaking it firmly, "was amazing."

"Dayton has a really good shadow cast," Carl agreed. His eyes danced as he leaned over to kiss her. "Do you need to change your shoes?"

Emma considered the question, stepping experimentally in her heels to see how they felt on the pavement. "A little sticky, but I think I can handle it. Oh, my god, that theater was packed. I haven't been to a movie like that in — well, maybe ever!"

"Rocky Horror is in a category all its own." He offered his arm, and she linked her hand through it, smiling out into the night.

"And you weren't kidding when you said you knew all the lines. And then some! I'm reasonably certain most of those weren't in the script."

"It seems to be a regional thing. The audience in Cleveland had their own set of audience participation lines, and Columbus has different ones." He glanced over at her. "What did you think about the costumes?"

"Very adventurous." She made sure it came out sounding like a good thing, because it was. Everything's a good thing around Carl, she thought, feeling giddy.

"Do you think you might want to dress up like that some time?"

She stumbled a little on the pavement, but he caught her before she could fall. "I — I don't know. I'm sure I couldn't pull off most of those costumes."

"You'd be an adorable Janet," he offered. "Although I bet you'd have more fun as Trixie or Columbia."

Emma tried to keep breathing, just as she had been doing all night, and ended up laughing. "I don't know," she said again. "But I wouldn't rule it out. What about you?"

"I play a very convincing Frank, as a matter of fact."

Now she did stop, staring at him. The heels raised her up far enough to put her face even with his. "You do not!"

"I do," he said calmly. "I can show you the whole ensemble when we get home. I have a wig and heels and stockings and false eyelashes and everything." He leaned in closer, smiling, and whispered, "A mental mind-fuck can be nice."

She let out a little squeak, but managed to maintain her footing. "I'm… not sure how I feel about that. But of course it's up to you."

"Indeed it is." He didn't seem upset. "Would you like to stop for an ice cream before we head home? Or would you prefer to see what I have waiting for you there?"

"The — the second one, sir."

"That's my good girl."

Once she was securely buckled into the passenger seat of the Corvette, he turned to her again, taking both her hands and looking solemnly into her eyes.

"You could wear your collar to the show, the next time," he said. "No one would think twice about it. Most people would assume it was part of your costume, and the rest would understand the truth, and approve."

She bowed her head, feeling the thrill of possibility. "I did notice a few in the audience, and I — I wondered. If they were real, or —"

"A few were," he said, nodding. "No one I knew personally. We could go to the Columbus special showing at Halloween in a few weeks. I doubt anyone from McKinley would be there."

"That would make me feel more comfortable, sir." She paused before adding, as respectfully as she could, "Did you ever take Finn to see it?"

She watched him grow still, the way he usually did when she brought up that relationship. It was often hard to know how Carl felt about most things, because he was so good at managing his own reactions, but he had so many tells about Finn, there was usually no question about how he felt. It was a wonder he'd been able to get through his visit to Glee club without someone calling him on it.

"No," he said.

There was an awkward pause, and just as he opened his mouth and drew a breath to fill it, she raced to speak first. "I think you should. Take him, I mean."

He was clearly startled, but recovered quickly, shaking his head. "Emms, I told you, he's not —"

"I know. He would do this, though. Because this would be like it was at Adam's concert, right? A little escape from reality. I saw how it was tonight in that theater. All those kids, I'm sure they're dealing with school and grades and peer pressure and… and dirty fruit, but tonight, none of that mattered." She smiled, and squeezed his hand. "Just ask him. I'm not saying I don't want to go with you again. I'm saying… he might need it more than I do."

Carl broke into a sweet little smile. He almost looked embarrassed. "You're taking good care of me, Emms."

"Well, isn't that what a — a wife is supposed to do?" She looked down at her lap and laughed. "I mean, if I were that."

"Many of them do that," Carl agreed. He let her hands go and started the car. "But I think supposed to applies better to slaves. I would be pleased to accept it as a required behavior from my slave. Or a gift, from my wife. If you were that."

"I'm thinking about it."

"Apparently." He sounded amused, but his face was solemn.

Because they prided themselves on honesty, she added, "Will told me to wait. Not to say yes just yet."

Carl nodded. "We talked about you the other day, when he came in to have his teeth checked. I think he has your best interests at heart, Emms, but I'm not convinced he really understands what you need, or how to give it to you." He watched her face. "It's possible he never will."

"I know." She took a deep breath in, then out. "Can we go home and… do the things you were planning, before I lose my good mood entirely?"

He chuckled, patting her leg. "Oh, don't worry, baby. I'm sure I can resurrect that mood."

Sarah and Carole came through the garage door together, carrying a bag of groceries. Kurt made eye contact with Carole over Sarah's head as she went straight for the kitchen without saying anything to him. Carole gave him one short head shake. No news, it said.

"Sarah had a bad day at school?" Kurt asked in a low voice.

Carole sat down across from Kurt at the table, sighing as she nudged her shoes off with her toes. "I have to say, most days have been bad days lately. I don't even know if she's getting her homework done."

"Knowing Sarah, she's got it covered, no matter how crummy she's feeling." Kurt slid two papers across the table at her. "Here. Permission slips. The top one is Finn's."

"Permission slip? For what?" She scanned the paper, laughing in surprise. "Mr. Schuester is directing The Rocky Horror Show? Isn't that a little risqué for high school?"

"That's what I said. He assured us he will cut the most questionable parts, but I have serious doubts. To be honest, I'm disgusted by the whole process. I've been asking to do a school musical for ever, and he pulls this out, no auditions or anything? We have less than two weeks to rehearse and perform the whole thing." He sighed. "That's not a real musical. And the performance is on Saturday the 30th, so I can't go to Columbus that weekend."

If Carole made the connection between Columbus and Blaine, she didn't say anything about it. "Well, I think it's great," she said, pulling a pen out of her purse. "Finn will be a perfect Brad, and you'll have a ball doing Riff Raff. That's an excellent part for a voice actor like you." She scrawled her name at the bottom of both pages. Then she paused, aghast, and stared at them. "Oh — Kurt, I'm sorry, I just — I didn't even think."

"What?"

"I signed your permission slip!"

He gave her a faint smile. "You think anybody's going to question your authority?"

"It's not that, Kurt," she said, with a little shake of her head. "It's that I should have asked. I'm not your parent."

"You should have asked before you and my dad fell in love? Really? Didn't Finn and I kind of throw you into this mess together?"

She laughed, shrugging. "Well, I know you weren't exactly crazy about the idea of me at the beginning."

"That was at the beginning." He stood up and walked over to stand beside her, taking her hand. She just looked up at him helplessly. "Carole, it's been almost a whole year. You and my dad are clearly happy. I mean, we bought a house together, all of us. Nobody will replace my mom, but you've never tried to do that."

"I don't want to try," she said emphatically. "Not for you, or your dad, even if we do get married."

He raised an eyebrow. "If? I thought that was practically a done deal."

She shrugged, looking lost. "Well… things have been so chaotic this year. Your dad's heart attack, and this thing with Puck…"

"Carole," he said quietly. "None of those things change the way you feel about each other. Or what you want. No matter what happens next, I think you should have what you want right now."

Carole bit her lip. A tear spilled over and made its way down her cheek, and she brushed it away impatiently. "That's really sweet, Kurt. I wish it were that simple." She put the permission slip in his hand and smiled. "If Mr. Schuester questions my signature—"

Kurt leaned over and kissed her wet cheek. "He won't."

Finn leaned forward in the choir room chair and flipped to the next page of the script. "So, then after the Time Warp, Riff Raff, aka Kurt, takes me and Rachel to Frankenfurter's lab."

"I have no idea what's going on in this script," said Sam, wrinkling his nose, "and it's not in a cool Inception kind of way."

Finn had to agree, but he gave Sam an encouraging smile. "Just try, okay? Okay, so then they take off our wet clothes and we do the rest of the scene in our underwear."

Mike blinked. "Wait, so you're in your tighty-whities?"

"Yeah." Finn shrugged. "So?"

"You don't care about being on stage in front of the whole school in your tighty-whities?" Mike's face was turning a dark rose color. "They're gonna see your whole…" He gestured to his own crotch. "Your whole business."

Finn glanced uneasily at Sam. "Uh… Mike, you do realize you're gonna have to dress up in a lot more revealing stuff than that?"

"Yeah, but that's not the same. I'll be in makeup and a costume. It'll be pretend. You're going to have to just… be yourself, in front of everybody. Naked." Mike shivered. "I don't think I could do that."

"Isn't all of this pretend?" Finn asked, but Mike wasn't really listening. Finn watched him fold into himself, holding his own arms like he was trying to keep himself together, and felt a pang of sympathy.

"C'mon, it'll be just like going to the pool," Sam said.

"I wear a swim-shirt at the pool," hissed Mike. "Look, I know I'm an athlete and it's not manly or anything, but I'm… kind of insecure about how I look."

Finn stared at Mike. "You have got to be kidding me."

Mike squirmed. "What?"

"C'mon, think about Tina," said Sam. "She doesn't look like Brittany or Santana, but you still think she's hot, right?"

"Well, yeah, of course."

"So it's like that. You don't have to have a typical body to be awesome."

"Dude." Finn couldn't help but laugh, because when it came to amazing bodies, Sam was pretty cut, but Mike… He turned in his seat to face him directly, making sure Mike was looking at him. "Mike, you're just going to have to trust me that you're the hottest guy in school. Okay?"

"O-okay," Mike said softly, eyes wide. He looked a little shellshocked, but he didn't look away from Finn.

"All right." Finn nodded and returned to the script. "So, then after that, you're — I mean Frankenfurter is going to come down the elevator and when he comes down, we are scared…"

They walked through the rest of the first act, laughing at the dialogue and the lyrics in the songs, but Mike seemed to be a little less worried than he had been. He even hammed up some of the parts where he and "Rocky" were flirting, making Sam crack up.

"Okay, then… it looks like Frank comes into Janet's room disguised as Brad?" Finn paused to reread the scene, but Mike was already skimming ahead.

"Oh, jeez." Mike coughed. "I have to seduce Janet? I thought Mr. Schue cut out the risqué parts."

"Well, I guess maybe this is important to the plot, or something? I mean, he didn't take out the part where he and Rocky get married, either, so…"

"Finn," he whispered, sounding strangled. His face was so red, Finn had to wonder if he was going to pass out, like Janet in the party scene. "I — I have to seduce you, too."

"Oh." Finn read through the scene. "Uh, yeah, it looks like it's the same scene again, only now you're disguised as Janet."

"This is totally fucked up," said Sam, but he was grinning.

Mike hid behind his script, moaning, "I really don't think I can do this, guys."

"Hey, hey, no. Mike. Come on." Finn reached up and pulled Mike's hand down from his face, trying to capture his gaze again. "It's theater, man. Don't think of it like it's real. You're acting. This isn't about you and me, or any of us. We just get to be as convincing as we can, and make everybody think it's real. What's that quote? All the world's a stage, and we're just players?"

"That —" Mike swallowed, his Adam's apple traveling up and down his neck. "That implies we're all acting all the time."

"Well…" Finn wasn't sure what to say to that. An image of Blaine appeared in his head, smiling his perfect-Blaine smile, and he felt a jolt of pain. He glanced away, trying to maintain his composure.

"We kind of are, though," said Sam. "Right? I don't mean pretending to be somebody else, but kind of… the opposite of acting. We're keeping some stuff hidden. Some of it we let everybody see, and some of it is just for ourselves, and some… we pick the people who see the rest."

Now Mike was nodding. "Yeah, I guess that's true. I'm just… what happens if I let the wrong people see that stuff? What if they see it, and suddenly they think I'm a bad person?"

"Their loss, man," said Finn. "I think the people who matter wouldn't think that."

"They might," he said quietly. "If they saw it, they might."

Mike wasn't the only one looking worried after their read-through. Sam walked a step behind Finn all the way to his locker while he put away his script. He looked like he was wrestling with something, but Finn wasn't sure he knew Sam well enough to ask him what it was. Eventually, though, he decided it was worth the risk.

"Do you have somebody who sees you for who you are?" asked Finn.

Sam looked up at him in surprise. "Well, yeah. I talked to Kurt about it?"

"Kurt keeps people's secrets," he said. "And so do I."

Sam paused, sizing him up. Then he nodded. "He, uh. He told me you're a — that you manage people. Somebody. Like, you're a Coach."

"A coach. I guess you could say that." Finn grinned. Then he flicked his eyes up to Sam, feeling the shock of realization. "Oh. The Coach is your — well, we would say Top?"

"A Top? Isn't that a kind of gay sex thing? Like, one person's on the bottom and the other one is —" Sam made a subtle finger gesture, and Finn suppressed a grin.

"That's different from this kind of Top."

"But Kurt said it's kind of sexy for him, right? Him and Puck, they're boyfriends, too."

Finn almost dropped his backpack. "Kurt told you he was Puck's Top?"

"Yeah. I kind of ran into him while he was freaking out in the courtyard, and we talked about him and Puck. It was cool." Sam shrugged, looking uncertain. "And he said that sometimes he's got a Coach — I mean, a Top, too."

Sam was watching him so closely, Finn had to be careful not to let his face betray what he was feeling. Kurt wouldn't have told Sam about him. He was sure of it. "That's right. Sometimes he's in charge and sometimes somebody else is. And it's part of their relationships."

"Wow." Sam let out a big sigh, and Finn could see the desire, so plain in his eyes.

"They don't always work out," he said mildly. "Relationships like that."

But Sam was shaking his head. "Nothing ever works out all the time. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't go for it when you know you want it."

Finn tilted his head. "You know that, huh? That you want that?"

"Yeah. I always did. Even before I knew I could have it. I daydreamed about it. Not sexy dreams, just… I really wanted somebody keeping me in check, like that. My dad says I'm a natural follower."

He smiled. "How was it being quarterback, then?"

"Well, it was cool the Coach trusted me, but…" Sam shrugged. "I'd rather just run her plays."

"I guess I can understand that," said Finn. "It's good to let somebody else drive, sometimes."

"So, you do that too?" Sam wasn't teasing. Finn could tell he was asking in earnest.

"I used to," he said slowly. "It's been a while. I kind of stopped asking for it."

"Dude." Sam dropped his voice to nothing, his eyes round and incredulous. "Why?"

Finn tried to answer, but the more he attempted to formulate a sentence, the harder it was to talk. Finally he just gave up, shaking his head.

"I don't even know anymore," he admitted.

Sam reached over and clapped him on the shoulder, his face suffused with sympathy. "If I showed my Coach that kind of uncertainty right there, it would earn me a serious hiding."

It sounded so appealing that Finn just closed his eyes and let himself imagine it for a long moment. He let out a shaky breath. "I get that."

He still had those images fresh in his mind as he drove home after football practice. When his phone rang, and it was Carl, of all people, Finn had to pull his car over to the curb and idle while he answered.

"Hi," he said, feeling stupidly awkward. He took a couple of calming breaths, refocusing his attention away from memories and possibilities and plug #22, which was currently inside him.

"Hi, Finn," Carl said. "Is this a bad time? I had a question for you."

He didn't sound like Dr. Howell, the dentist, but he also didn't sound like Finn's Top, either. He was just talking to him like… like Carl. Which all by itself was weird. Finn maintained his breathing.

"No, it's a good time. I'm on my way home. What was your question?"

"I was thinking. Well, this coming weekend in Columbus, there's a special showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. They don't show it in the theater very often anymore, but it's almost Halloween, so they're doing it on Friday night."

"Oh." Finn licked his lips. "Did — you somehow hear we were doing Rocky Horror in Glee? The play. I'm playing Brad, and Rachel's Janet."

Carl gave a little cough that could have been a laugh. "No… no, I didn't hear about that. Is Will — Mr. Schuester okay with that?"

"Yeah, he's directing. I guess he thinks it'll be okay. He said he took out the worst parts. I don't know, though, I read the script and it was still pretty wild."

"Yes. Wild is a good word for it." Carl had regained some of his composure. Finn could hear him smiling, and he smiled back automatically. "Well, that's all the more reason for you to see the film. It's an experience. I'd like it if we saw it together."

"Yeah," Finn said, his voice coming out throaty. He cleared it, trying again. "Yeah, definitely. Sounds fun and stuff. Does, uh… does that mean you're going to drive back down for the open mic on Saturday, too?"

"Java the Hut is closed this weekend. Irene is getting ready for her grand opening at the Lima Bean."

Finn was more relieved than disappointed to hear that. He wasn't supposed to be anywhere Blaine was, anyway. "Kurt said he wanted to go down there with you soon. Maybe after Halloween is over?"

"I'm sure we can arrange that. So should I plan to pick you up after the football game on Friday?"

"Yeah, that's good. I know people, like, dress up, but we don't have our costumes yet. You think I could just wear my regular clothes?"

"That's perfectly fine. I'll come to your house after the game."

Finn put the car into gear. "You want me to call you and let you know when the game's over?"

There was a pause.

"Finn," Carl said gently. "I come to every football game."

Finn pressed down on the brake and sat there for a minute in the middle of the empty neighborhood street. Eventually he reminded himself to close his mouth.

"You… don't really have to do that," he whispered.

"Humor me. There's not a lot to do in Lima, after all. And I'm dating the school counselor."

Of course he was. Of course. It wasn't about — he wasn't there because —

Finn closed his eyes tight, but he couldn't escape the sudden vivid images inside his head, the ones in which Carl was kneeling in front of him in the shower, or the ones in which Carl was cradling him in his arms in his bed, or especially not the ones in which Carl was barking orders at him from across the room while his whip made crack after crack against his skin —

He gasped, swallowing the noise that threatened to escape. Would you spank me before the game was not a question he felt like he could ask anymore, even if it had been on the tip of his tongue for their whole conversation.

"Finn?"

"Yeah," Finn said. "Okay. It's fine. I'll see you Friday."

He navigated home, making an extra effort to stop at every sign and look both ways. His brain felt swathed in cotton, numbing his judgment, to the point that he couldn't tell what was really happening and what was in his imagination. All he could hear was Carl's voice in his ears, telling him what to do. He could feel Carl's hand on his knee when he shifted, the smell of Carl's cologne each time he inhaled.

By the time he pulled into the garage, Finn had given up trying not to be turned on. He came in through the front door and went right up to Kurt, who was studying in the library. Kurt barely had time to look up from his homework and set down his pen before Finn had leaned over and was kissing him, hard and fervent.

"Come upstairs with me," he begged.

Kurt pushed his chair back, stumbling out from behind his dad's desk. He took Finn's offered hand and followed him up the staircase into his bedroom.

"Finn, what —?" Kurt asked. He was already unbuttoning his shirt, watching him with questioning eyes.

"I just need you. Need so much." Finn groped hungrily for his skin, running his hands over Kurt's ribs and into the sleeves of his shirt, tugging them off his wrists.

"You have me," Kurt promised. "Would you just slow down a second? You can have anything you want from me. Believe me, I'm not trying to keep you from touching me or kissing me whenever you want." He stood there, his hands on Finn's arms, until Finn sighed and sat back on the bed. Kurt moved to stand between his legs, resting a gentle hand on his chest. "Tell me what's going on?"

"Can't it just be about sex?" Finn could hear the edge of a whine in his voice, but Kurt just smiled.

"If it was just about sex, I'd wonder who I was having sex with." He kissed Finn again, letting the tension build, but this time it was Finn who stopped him.

"Carl," he said. "He invited me to go to the Rocky Horror movie with him this weekend."

Kurt's eyes immediately softened. "Finn."

"Yeah. Totally didn't even know about Glee doing it. I guess it is almost Halloween."

"You don't have to go," said Kurt, but then he stopped, watching Finn's expression, and laughed. "Okay. I know that's not the issue."

"The issue is I don't like feeling so — so out of control around him. But what really sucks is, I can tell how out of control I already am? And the thing I need most to be in control is — something he can give me."

"He's not the only one who can," Kurt said.

Finn shook his head, kissing Kurt's cheek. "I know, baby. You're awesome at that. You and Puck, you proved it." He smiled sadly as Kurt's eyes became shadowed at the mention of Puck's name. "It's just not how I want it to be with us."

"Is it how you want it to be with Carl?" Kurt didn't sound upset. The question was a reasonable one. Finn tried to think it through completely before answering.

"You know how when you're in a canoe, you should sit down to keep it from tipping?" Finn asked. "When I'm on my own, without… him, I'm, like, standing up all the time. Every little challenge, every hard thing that happens, it affects me a million times more than when he's got me sitting down. So that's really hard, not to have him around to make me stable." He closed his eyes. "But, then, he's also like a—an anchor. One that's keeping us in those tall water grasses, the ones with the fluffy things on the ends of them? And that's a pretty lonely place to be."

"You wish you could be out," Kurt said.

"More than that." He sighed with frustration. "I wish we could be equals. Like you and me. I don't want things back the way they were before with Carl. But it's not like I don't want to do all those things we used to do."

Kurt rested his head on Finn's chest. "You're not equals, Finn. He's older and more experienced. And, I hate to say it, but you're kind of dating his daughter."

"I know. And I know it can't really be the way I want, not for a long time. Maybe not ever. But, Kurt, he's trying. This, what he did, the way he asked me…" Finn shrugged helplessly. "I could tell. He's trying to make it more what I need. And, god, Kurt, I need…"

This time when Finn kissed him, Kurt didn't ask him to stop. They barely paused to take their own clothes off, keeping their hands on one another constantly as they shed pants and socks. When Kurt's hands cupped Finn's ass and squeezed, he moaned.

"Did you want me inside you again?" Kurt asked, squeezing again. "My whole hand? Like we did before?"

Finn shuddered. "My mom's going to be home soon. And that whole thing, it's kind of a — a long process. I don't think I want to do it if I know we might get interrupted."

Kurt leaned his head in closer to Finn's ear, digging in a little harder with his fingers, until Finn gasped. "You didn't answer my question."

"Yes," he hissed. "Yes, I want that. Yes, I want you doing it to me."

He stiffened a little, however, as Kurt's hands slid beneath the waistband of his boxers and his fingers brushed against the plug inside him.

"That's almost like having my hand inside you," Kurt whispered. He gave the plug a little push. "Isn't it?"

"Oh… god." He swallowed uneasily. "Kurt, I — I can't do that."

"Why not? Doesn't it feel good?"

Finn moved a step back, grasping Kurt's wrists and holding them. Even that small space between their bodies felt like too far away.

"It feels amazing. And it's not supposed to. That, those plugs, that's not… they weren't meant for that."

Kurt frowned at him. "But he's not telling you to do that anymore. They can be anything you want them to be."

"No," Finn said, a little too loudly. Kurt's eyes widened, and Finn sighed. "No. They can't. I'm not going to let him down, just because I can't deal with not getting everything I want."

He watched Kurt search his face, trying to understand. "Is it because he told you not to let them feel sexual?"

Finn shook his head. "It's because I see why he told me to do that. It's discipline. Being in charge of myself. He's helping me learn how to become someone who can do that."

"Mastering your own impulses," Kurt murmured.

He didn't try to pull away from Finn's grip on his wrists. Instead, he leaned in, across the space between them, and kissed him gently, slowly. It felt a little like torture, kissing like that, with only their lips touching. He could hear the noises they were each making as they were both getting worked up, felt Kurt's body quivering, and his own hips bucking against the air. Each little flutter of sensation inside of him was magnified by the presence of the plug, but he refused to let it overtake him. Kurt smiled.

"That's hot," he said. "You, being in charge of anything. Including yourself."

"Sometimes it's really annoying," Finn admitted. Kurt laughed.

"You expect a lot of yourself, Finn. That's wonderful to witness, even when you're being hard on yourself." Kurt turned him around and faced him toward their shared bathroom, giving his ass a swat as he went. "I'll be waiting for you in my bed. Don't take too long, or you might miss the good part."

Finn showered quickly, washing himself and, for good measure, inserted a quantity of thick lube, the kind Carl had recommended for activities like these. It still felt unpleasant, but he knew Carl was right, that it would protect his body against actual damage.

He was damp and much cleaner when he climbed into bed with Kurt. They wrapped up in each other, both of them letting out sighs of delicious relief.

"This is almost enough right here," said Finn. "I already feel so much better."

Kurt was taking his time, planting little kisses along Finn's collarbone. "You know, I was thinking about what you said, about Carl helping steady your canoe." He brushed a hand through Finn's hair. "I remember watching you with Blaine this summer, and thinking what you were doing for him was doing that for you."

Kurt's closeness was making it a little hard to concentrate on his words. "Mmm. Doing what?"

"Taking care of Blaine." Kurt cupped his face in both hands and kissed him, then looked into his eyes, unsmiling. "You need that, as much as you need what Carl can give you. It made you stronger, more solid."

Finn took a long breath. "Yeah. Maybe it did. I'm not sure if I should spend time wishing for things I can't have, though."

"I'm not convinced it's over." Kurt set his face in a determined scowl. "This is not Blaine's choice. His father can't take him away from us, any more than Puck's father can take him away."

Finn didn't want to argue with Kurt, especially not when they were naked in bed together. "It's up to you, baby. I totally wouldn't stand in your way of doing anything you can to change Mr. Anderson's mind. Maybe you can convince him you're a good boyfriend for Blaine."

Kurt sighed. "Well, right now Blaine scarcely remembers who I am, so…"

"Hey." Finn kissed him, making him look at him. "You're awesome, okay? If anybody could catch Blaine's eye and distract him from focusing on what his dad wants him to do, it'd be you."

"Okay." Kurt's eyes were wide, the pupils dilating. Finn smiled, running an idle finger up and down his cock, relishing the moan Kurt gave him in return. "So — so what do you want, if I'm not going to…?"

"I want to suck you off." His smile widened as Kurt moaned again, thrusting up into his hand. "And then, we'll see."

He already knew what we'll see meant, but he wanted to focus on Kurt first. Leaning over Kurt, watching him dissolve into bliss, Finn could feel himself growing stronger. Kurt's satisfaction was primary — and it fed him.

He's right, he thought, even as Kurt cried out as he came. I was better, stronger, when I was handling Blaine. So… until Puck comes back, what am I going to do?

He gathered Kurt up in his arms, holding him tightly while Kurt shuddered and let his tension go.

"You're so beautiful, baby," he whispered. "I'm so lucky to have you."

Kurt tucked himself close into Finn's neck, and began to cry silently.

"I'm just so scared," Kurt whispered back, "that I'm never going to see either of them again. Not like they were. Blaine or Noah."

"I know," Finn said. He sighed, gathering him closer. "I'm scared of that too. All we can do is keep going."

He felt Kurt's hand squeeze in between them and make its way down Finn's stomach to his cock, even as he blinked away tears. "So what happens now?"

"Maybe we should just get dressed…"

"Ohhh, no. No, you don't get away that easily." Kurt threw a leg on top of him and knelt on his legs, holding Finn down with both hands. "If you don't figure out what you want quickly, I'm going to have to pick."

"Yeah, well… I know I said no before, but…" Finn's eyes strayed to the drawer next to the bed, where he knew Kurt had a stash of rubber gloves. "I think I changed my mind."

Kurt was already leaning over and gathering the things he needed, nodding emphatically. "You're going to have to talk me through it. I'm still feeling a little unsure about how to tell if I'm doing it right."

"Honestly, it's hard to make mistakes when it's your whole hand." He spread his legs wide, making room for Kurt to kneel between them. "You don't have to aim. Everything you do feels good."

He didn't bother to hold back his own climax. Kurt had three fingers inside him and Finn was straining to lean in to kiss him when he gasped, "Oh, god —" He barely had time to reach down and wrap a hand around himself before he was coming all over his own stomach and chest. Kurt paused, but Finn shook his head grabbing Kurt's wrist and hauling him in closer. "No — keep going."

"It's not too much?" Kurt asked uncertainly.

"Maybe a little, but it's worth it." He spread himself wider as Kurt worked his thumb inside, breathing through it. "You feel amazing."

"You keep telling me that." Kurt watched his hand disappear into Finn, and Finn's reactions, with incredulous delight. "It just looks like it would hurt."

"Baby," Finn said, laughing, "so what if it hurts? It — feels — amazing." He reached for Kurt's forearm, giving it a firm tug with each word, and they both cried out.

"That hard? You really want it —" Kurt gave it a halfhearted attempt, then steeled himself and thrust in harder. "Like that? My fist?"

Finn nodded, wrapping two light fingers around his cock, which was already swelling again. He tensed and set up a rapid pace, stroking fast. Kurt gave him another dozen sharp, focused thrusts, this time putting force behind it, and just like that, Finn was coming a second time.

"You think you could do it again?" Kurt said eagerly.

Finn flailed one hand out and placed it, trembling, on top of Kurt's wrist where it entered his body, keeping him still.

"Maybe," he croaked. "But not today." He winced as Kurt slid out with a twisting motion. "I think I'm… just going to lie here for a few minutes."

It was a uniquely intense sensation, the aftermath of that kind of stimulation. Finn watched Kurt through bleary eyes as he went into the bathroom to clean up. He breathed, touching and prodding himself gently to make sure there wasn't any damage. Carl would have taken care of you, he thought, and found himself crying about that, even though he hadn't cried earlier about Blaine or Puck.

By the time Kurt returned, his tears had stopped, but he let Kurt crawl into bed beside him and hold him for a little while anyway.

"Mom really is going to be home any minute."

"I know. The door's closed. She won't bother us, even if she does come home." Kurt kissed his neck, then his cheek. "I'm so impressed by you."

Finn had to laugh, shaking his head. "Because why, exactly? You think I'm cool because I like taking your whole hand up my butt? Which, seriously, is a sentence I never thought I would say."

Kurt was giggling as he swatted Finn's hip. "Not for that. You get to like whatever you like, and you know I want to give it to you. Because you're willing to do all these things you never thought you would want to do. You're opening yourself up to new experiences. That's not easy." He hummed a few bars of "Whataya Want From Me," then sang quietly, "Thanks for loving me / Cause you're doing it perfectly."

Finn grabbed Kurt's arms and hugged them tighter around himself, like Kurt was his blanket. Kurt sighed happily and rested his head on top of Finn's.

"I hope you the two of you have fun at Rocky Horror."

"After reading that script, I'm still not any closer to knowing what to expect. But Carl seemed sure it was going to be fun."

Finn was reasonably certain that spending an evening with Carl would be stressful, no matter what they were doing, but he could see the way Kurt was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"What?" he asked at last.

"Well," said Kurt, "I was just wondering if you have any expectations of what might happen with you and Carl on Friday. And if I should expect you to come home desperately wanting me to fuck you again, or if maybe… Carl would be taking care of that?"

"No," Finn assured him. "There will be no spending the night. Or — or sex in the movie bathrooms, or anything like that."

"Hand job in the Corvette?" Kurt teased.

"Okay, maybe we've done that once or twice. But no. This isn't about that." He paused, then added, "I might ask him for other things, though."

"Oh, thank god." Kurt patted his shoulder. "Finn, I love you dearly, and what we just did was amazing, but I think we both know what you could really use is a good session with Carl and his whip, cuffed to the St. Andrew's cross."

Finn felt the shudder run through him, and he balled his fists in Kurt's duvet as his eyes closed. That's for sure.

After the football game, Finn managed to make it over to Carl's house without being spotted. He followed behind the Corvette and paused down the street, watching as it disappeared into the garage. There was no reason to expect anyone would care what Dr. Carl Howell was doing on a Friday night after the football game, but Finn absolutely did not want to give anybody a reason to care.

He went around to the kitchen door as usual, where he wasn't surprised to be greeted by Ms. Pillsbury.

"He's still upstairs," she said, letting him in. She gave him an awkward smile as he settled onto a bar stool at the kitchen counter. "He's… deciding what to wear."

"Oh, uh…" He went through a five-second panic before deciding it was useless to attempt to ask her to elaborate. Luckily she seemed to recognize his dilemma.

"His costume. When he attends a performance of Rocky Horror, he usually wears a specific one. Not Eddie."

Finn glanced down at his own jeans and t-shirt, then back up at her. "He said we weren't going to wear costumes."

She nodded as though she understood. "Would you like something to drink while you wait? There's lemonade."

The weirdness was not lost on him, even as she poured him a glass over ice. He sipped the lemonade, watching out of the corner of his eye the way she stood, her hands behind her back, not quite at attention, but definitely in a submissive pose.

"You don't have to do that with me," he said at last.

She nodded again, just as before, this time with a self-deprecating smile. "You might understand, Finn, when I say I don't answer to you."

Finn swallowed the lump in his throat and sat there unhappily, drinking a little bit at a time until the lemonade was gone. He thought about his costume, which he was wearing under his jeans. He wondered what would happen if he asked if he could go upstairs and suggest Carl might wear his costume after all.

When Carl arrived in the doorway, wearing regular jeans and a t-shirt, Finn felt almost disappointed. Carl's face was carefully neutral, but he wasn't sure if he could trust his own face to appear the same. Ms. Pillsbury stayed where she was.

"Hi, Finn," he said. "Good game tonight."

He cleared his throat. "Thanks. More wins than losses this year. The coach knows what she's doing."

"Yeah, well, I think she's not the only one." Carl's smile landed on his face and glanced off like a blow, knocking his gaze to the side. He waited, hoping Carl wouldn't call him out for not accepting the compliment, but Carl didn't do anything except take the glass of lemonade Ms. Pillsbury handed him.

"You ready to get on the road? It's already after 10:30. We're going to need to hurry if we want to be there before the credits. It's kind of important to be there at the beginning."

Carl didn't kiss Ms. Pillsbury goodbye or anything, but he did speak quietly with her for a few moments. She inclined her head once, murmuring a response. Finn was pretty sure he caught at least one yes, sir. It made his stomach do a slow roll. Finally he slipped out the kitchen door and waited on the side porch until Carl came out to join him. They stood side by side for a long minute.

"Tough week?" Carl said softly.

The lump in his throat was back, three times as bad as before. He shrugged rather than try to explain. Carl waited until it was clear he wasn't going to say anything, then continued past him, down the porch steps and across the driveway to stand beside the passenger door of the Corvette. When Finn stared at him, he smiled.

"I suspect it'll be too late for you to drive on the way back, but maybe you'd like to drive there."

Finn hurried over to the driver's side door and climbed in, his heart hammering against his ribs. He sat there, his hands on the ten and the two, until Carl had his seat belt on.

"I'm, uh, gonna need the keys."

"Not until you tell me what's the matter."

It took him a few seconds before he could respond. "You… today. In Glee."

"You have something to say about that?"

Finn confined his glare to the steering wheel. "What, you think I'm not going to freak out when you show up in the middle of class and start singing and dancing?"

Carl settled into his seat. "You already knew I loved Rocky Horror."

"So you decided to join our high school cast? Just… because?"

"I'm supporting the arts."

Finn managed not to snort. "By doing 'Hot Patootie' and messing with Mr. Schue? What was that you said: you guys have a hole to fill, and I'm just trying to help fill it? I can't believe you even said that."

Carl didn't laugh. "We all wear masks, every day. That's mine."

"What do you mean, your mask?"

"I'm far more believable as a flirtatious womanizer than anything else."

Finn felt his indignation slip. He stole a glance at Carl. "Oh. That's a mask. You mean you're pretending to be like that?"

"Sure. Just as you become the dumb jock, whenever it's needed."

"I don't know if that's really a mask."

Now Carl did laugh. "That was just about as transparent a plea for a spanking as I've ever heard." He held out the keys, and after a startled second, Finn took them.

"I wasn't!"

"Come on, that's even worse. Don't tell me it's been so long you've forgotten. We really need to get going."

He let the thoughts tumble around in his head for a little while as he backed out of the driveway and eased his way down the road toward highway 117. Carl simply sat beside him in silence, waiting.

"I really don't think I am," said Finn.

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

He blew out a breath. "I didn't think I had to prove anything to you anymore."

"No. You don't have to do that." Carl's tone was back to neutral. Finn signaled right and eased the Corvette into the slower lane.

"I guess things have been… kind of hard. Since Puck left."

"And Blaine."

Blaine didn't leave, he was imprisoned, he wanted to snap at Carl, but he managed to restrain himself and just nodded. "Kurt's not doing so good. Neither is Sarah. Now my mom's starting to freak out. Everybody's barely getting by."

"Seems like it might be exactly the time for some singing and dancing."

He started to say, no, that doesn't make sense, you were the one singing and dancing, not me. Then he realized what Carl meant. "Why? Are you freaking out too?"

"You don't need to be concerned about that."

That hurt a little, but it was fair, considering he'd said pretty much the same thing to Carl. He looked at Carl's hand resting on the seat. "Whatever. I know I don't hold the corner on being stressed out."

"No."

He knew just the way Carl's hand would feel if he reached out and took it. "So… singing and dancing helps? Even if you have to deal with Mr. Schue?"

"It's better than yelling. Or drinking."

"Or going to the movies in your underwear?"

Carl laughed. "Well, that usually works too. Although I'm not doing that tonight."

"I'm wearing mine. Under my jeans. Uh, on top of my — actual underwear."

Out of the corner of his eye, Finn could see Carl's eyes travel down his legs, then back to his face. He swallowed and went on.

"I'm going to have to wear them in front of the whole school anyway. I mean without the jeans. I thought tonight might be, you know, a chance to practice in front of people."

"You'd be welcome to wear your costume at the theater, Finn, even if I'm not."

He hesitated a moment before asking, "Do — you really dress up like Frank-N-Furter, like you said?"

"I really do. But, as I said, I don't think it would be appropriate for me to do that for your performance. Mercedes will do an admirable job. For me, being Frank isn't about putting on masks. It's about taking them off."

"Not because you want to be a — to be transexual?"

"No. I think it's because, in the life I've chosen, I don't often have a chance to abandon pretense. Not in my career, not in the community. Not in my home."

Finn tried to puzzle that out before he asked any more questions. Carl was hurting. He and Ms. Pillsbury were still together, and she knew everything about him. What was missing?

"Why can't you be yourself in your home?" he asked finally.

Carl stayed silent. Finn let out a big sigh.

"Look, I know we're not exactly friends, but… I don't really know what we are. What you're trying to be, with me. I don't even know what to call you anymore."

"You can call me Carl. Or Derek, if that's easier."

"No," he muttered. "It's not."

Carl nodded. "Whatever you want, then. Although I think it would be better if you didn't call me sir unless we establish some more specific boundaries about what that entails."

Finn nodded miserably, trying to keep his attention on the road. No matter how crappy he felt, he was not going to wreck Carl's Corvette.

"I know what we are isn't clear, Finn. It's complicated. It always has been between us, even from that very first day you came to my office. I remember being… intrigued by you. Not just your situation."

"Yeah. I remember the day we met." He shook his head. "You were totally hitting on me, weren't you."

"Maybe not hitting. Nudging. Regardless, it wasn't my proudest moment."

"No, you were awesome," Finn protested. "I was — I mean, I didn't know what I was doing, didn't know anything. You were the first person to tell me, the things I was doing with Kurt and Puck, and the things I wanted to do, were okay."

"That may be, but it's clear in retrospect I should not have been so… so careless with you." Carl stared across the dashboard at the road. "I'm not saying this to assuage my own guilt, Finn, though I have plenty of that."

"Yeah, me too."

"You don't need to feel guilty about us."

"I don't feel guilty about us. About other stuff." Finn rearranged his hands on the steering wheel. "Like this. I feel guilty about doing fun things when everybody else feels like crap."

"So are you telling me no one else should be happy when you're unhappy?"

"No, that's—" He paused, then laughed. "Okay. I guess that sounds pretty stupid."

Even in the dark of the highway, he could feel Carl's eyes on him. "Going out with me tonight, this still counts as doing fun things?"

"Well, yeah. I wanted to come."

"That's really good to hear."

Carl sounded perfectly calm and convincing, but Finn was pretty sure he knew better. "I don't feel bad about anything we did."

"Mmm," Carl said skeptically, and Finn shot him an exasperated look.

"What, you really need me to tell you how much I fucking miss you?"

His next breath caught in his throat. Carl waited as he recovered.

"When I came over a couple weeks ago, and Ms—Emma made me breakfast, and you guys talked to me about Blaine, and…" He couldn't say the rest, but Carl did it softly for him.

"When I told you Emma and I were getting married."

"Yeah. I'm sorry I took off like that. I just couldn't deal with it in front of you. I didn't know why I was so pissed, but… I think I've figured it out now."

"All right." In the dark, without having to look at him, it was easier for Finn to take his eternal patience. "Would you like to tell me?"

"I think… back when we started doing the things we did. When I became your boy." He pushed the words out, not dwelling on the weight of them. "There were things we had, things that were just about us. And I'm not talking about the sex."

"That was just about us, Finn," he said. "I haven't had sex with anybody else in a long time."

Finn made himself keep his eyes open. "You said that, last winter. And I know you were disciplining other people, at your office, and… there's what you have with Emma. None of that bothered me, or if it did, I'm over it now."

"So it's not about those things." Carl paused, then added, "After Adam's concert, last summer. You said you wished we could have the kind of relationship Emma and I have."

"But that wasn't really it either. I don't want to be your slave. And…" Finn licked his lips. "I definitely want to have sex with you."

"You're running out of things this could be about, Finn."

He held back a laugh. "Do you remember how it was for us at Valentine's Day? At Tessera?"

"How could I forget that? It's literally etched into my flesh."

Without meaning to, Finn brushed a hand over his chest, briefly touching the tattoo. "What I mean is, when we were there, we were able to be part of everything. Eating with us, in the same house, planning things, celebrating. All the ordinary stuff. The kind of things you do together when you're… you know. Family."

"I see." The words came out slowly, like maybe Carl didn't actually see. Finn felt the tension rising in his neck and back.

"If you marry Emma, you'd have a family to do those things with. And it wouldn't be mine. I know you and me, we can't get married. Even if I wasn't thirty years younger than you, because I already kind of not-proposed to Puck and Kurt."

"So what you're trying to tell me," said Carl, "is that you want me to hold off on creating a family for myself, so you can pretend I'm in yours."

Finn huffed. "Did that feel pretend to you?"

"Finn, listen to me." Carl's voice was back to being very patient and calm. Somehow, that made Finn even more angry. "I have a family. There's a reason I was so relaxed and happy at Tessera, because they're it. That's my family. I wasn't visiting your family for Valentine's Day. You were visiting mine."

He sat with that idea for a while, trying to find fault with it, but eventually he sighed, sagging in his seat.

"I like your family."

"I do, too. Even if we get on each other's nerves at times."

"And I like Emma, too," he added grudgingly.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"I'm just…" Finn let himself make one petulant complaint, knowing Carl would hear it for what it was. "Of all the things I wish we could have, the way it was at Tessera… that was the best. Even better than being out with you at the concert."

"Because we could be just the way we were," said Carl quietly, "and everyone accepted it. Accepted us, together."

"Yeah," Finn agreed, equally quietly.

"I think you will find, if you choose to continue in the lifestyle as you get older—"

"If?"

"—that we all work to carve out safe havens like that in our lives. For some of us, it's our homes; others go to places like my office for an hour or two, or places like Tessera on the weekends. The ordinary world will probably never quite accept you for who you are, Finn. Living on the boundaries of the world can be lonely." He brushed Finn's shoulder with one hand. "Your mother gave it up in favor of something more ordinary. I wouldn't fault her for that choice."

"But you would never do that."

Carl laughed. "I gave up that option a long time ago. Although both Davis and I have gotten a lot better at our camouflage. Did I ever tell you about the radio call-in show I used to do?"

"A radio show? About — this stuff?" Finn made a feeble gesture above the gear shift.

"About sexuality in general, but with an emphasis on BDSM. Mark ran the sound. He came up with a way to disguise my voice so I didn't have to worry about being recognized. Or I thought I didn't have to worry."

Finn managed not to let the mention of Mark's name get to him. It wasn't Carl's fault Mark rubbed him the wrong way. "And people asked questions about sex? On the radio?"

"Sure, it was anonymous, so they could ask anything they wanted. I suppose it would be all online now, but this was actual broadcast radio." He smiled. "One caller in particular turned out to be someone of significance to me."

He made a face. "Maybe I shouldn't ask…"

"Relax. It was Angela. We were friends in college, long before I did the show, but even with the voice modification, she recognized me. It scared me into dropping the show, but once we were in contact again, I was able to help her out of an abusive relationship. It taught me something else important, too."

"What's that?"

"That people sometimes do things they know are stupid or harmful because they're more afraid of the alternative."

The silence went on for a while after that, but it felt thoughtful rather than oppressive. When Finn reached out for Carl's hand, Carl took it right away, and it didn't seem strange or scary.

"You mean Puck, right?" asked Finn.

Carl squeezed his hand. "Well, in that situation, it was Angela, but you could make that leap."

"Puck's never really been much of a planner," said Finn. "But after Beth was born, and especially with Blaine, things were different. In a lot of ways, that's more scary? The idea that he did this on purpose."

"It's hard when your boy goes off to do things on his own," said Carl quietly, "and doesn't ask you for help."

"Now you mean you and me."

"It applies to you and Puck, too."

"Yeah, well." Finn shrugged, glancing over at him with a little smile. "Seems like every time I've asked you for help in the last couple months, it ended up getting super complicated afterward."

Carl nodded. "I can understand why you might want to avoid additional complications to your life. And yet…"

Finn waited, but Carl didn't say anything else. He finally prompted, "What?"

"Well, I can't help but be concerned that you're trying to handle your existing complications without the aid of tools."

"I know," said Finn, aware of how glum he sounded. Carl chuckled.

"BDSM is not the only toolkit available to you to help you hone your precision and focus. There are other things you might try."

"Yeah? Like what?"

Carl sat back and propped his hands behind his head. "Oh, I don't know. What about range practice?"

"Range with what?"

"Firearms, Finn. Target shooting."

The suggestion seemed to come completely out of the blue, but such was his trust in Carl that Finn didn't hesitate to accept it as a possibility. "Uh, I don't know how my mom would feel about me learning how to shoot a gun."

"You'd certainly need to get her permission, but I have the feeling she'd be okay with it. I find practicing at the range helps me in much the same way that meditation does. When I'm too caught up with things in my head, it helps me direct my focus elsewhere."

Finn thought about this in silence for the rest of the drive. As he handed the keys back to Carl, he admitted, "It's been hard to focus on school, even with Kurt and my folks and Holly helping."

"That's understandable. Shall we head inside?"

"I mean," he said, a little desperately, "my grades are slipping, even though I'm doing my homework—"

"Finn," Carl said, with the barest hint of command in his voice. "Are you looking for me to forgive you for your grades?"

He pressed his lips together, willing himself not to cry. "Maybe?"

The parking lot was crowded, but no one hurrying past them toward the theater was paying attention to them. Carl reached across the gear shift and took both of Finn's hands, making sure Finn was looking at him.

"Are you doing the best you can?"

"I think so," said Finn.

"Is that true, or are you just telling me what I want to hear?"

"I'm — no. I'm not doing all that good." He looked helplessly at Carl, wondering if behind that patient exterior Carl was struggling as much as he was.

"All that well," Carl prompted.

"All that well. And I know you can help. And I want you to help. I just don't know if I can ask for help with this without wanting… other things."

"Well, I can arrange a tutor for you. You did very well this summer when you had a small class."

"Maybe." That actually sounded like a good plan. He wondered what would have happened if he'd asked his mom for the same thing.

"And as for maintaining your focus, perhaps you'd let me try taking you to the range, where remaining completely clothed and pretending to be straight is somewhat mandatory."

"At school, too," said Finn. "Sort of clothed, if we're going to be doing Rocky Horror together."

Carl grinned playfully. "Well, it's not mandatory here." He clasped Finn's hand in his own. "Let me show you."

Carl wasn't kidding. The theater was packed, and half the attendees were happily wandering around in what looked like fancy underwear. It was much more creative and garish than it had been at Tessera, and everyone was smiling and laughing. Even with thoughts about Puck and Blaine in the back of his mind, there was no way Finn wasn't going to get caught up in the collective mood of the audience.

They managed to find two seats together near the rear of the theater, away from the anxious row of people at the front who were being good-naturedly heckled by cast members in costume.

"They're virgins," Carl said to him. Finn looked down at him, startled.

"How can you tell?"

"No, it just means they haven't seen Rocky Horror at the theater before."

"Oh." Finn watched one cast member hand an enormous penis-shaped balloon to one of the nervous guys. "I, uh, guess I count for that. Honestly, I didn't know I had any ways left to be a virgin."

Carl's smile widened. "Oh, yes," he said softly. "You really do."

Finn shivered as the guy obediently pretended to do obscene things to the balloon. The assembled costumed crowd cheered and applauded.

"You can go participate," Carl offered. "I can wait here."

"No, I —" He glanced at Carl, waiting for his nod. "Is it okay if I just stay with you?"

"Yes, Finn. You can stay right here."

He took Carl's hand as soon as the lights went down, and didn't let it go until the opening credits were over. The audience participation lines made him laugh, but it was impossible not to be distracted by Carl's jeans-clad leg beside him. When Carl sang along to "Sweet Transvestite" in a breathy, seductive voice, he could barely keep his eyes on the screen.

Carl leaned over to him, not quite whispering, but Finn could feel the warmth of his closeness. "Do you see how Brad's confidence is fading into confusion as Janet's becoming excited and aroused? You can play that up on the stage."

"Yeah." Finn squirmed in his seat. "Is it okay if I — I mean, I'll be right back."

"No problem." Carl watched him go, but he didn't move to stop him.

The single-stall handicap bathroom was open. Finn closed and locked the door behind him and stared at himself accusingly in the mirror, at his own flushed cheeks and dilated eyes.

"Give it up," he whispered. "This isn't working."

Then he unzipped his jeans and propped one foot up on the edge of the toilet, carefully removing plug #23 with practiced fingers and washing and rinsing it. As he stroked himself, he thought about Kurt's fist inside him, those sharp focused thrusts, and about Blaine kneeling in front of Carl's couch, coming from nothing more than the impact of his hand, but mostly about Carl curled behind him in his bed. That one time last summer was forever seared into his memory.

Now his reflection was more calm as he replaced the plug and washed his hands. He gave himself a firm nod. Focus. Maybe now he could do that.

On the way back into the theater, he stopped at the concession stand for popcorn, telling himself it wasn't a cover for what he'd done, he really did want some. Then the figure in front of him turned around and saw him, and all thoughts of subterfuge flew out of his head.

"Oh! Uh—hi."

"Hi, Christopher," they said. It was one of the young twins who attended Blaine's open mic every week. Finn was pretty sure he'd never heard them speak before. He wondered if he should admit he didn't know their name. He'd always assumed they were a boy, but now, looking at them, he wasn't sure.

Finn gestured vaguely at the door to the theater. "Do you come to Rocky Horror a lot?"

"Whenever we can," they said, nodding. "Our dad is in the shadow cast, so we're allowed, even though we're technically too young to be here. Mason dresses up, but I don't." They cocked their head. "Did something happen between you and Patrick?"

Finn swallowed and shrugged. "It's complicated."

"He seems sad when he sings. It's not as good without you and Derek."

"I can't right now," Finn said carefully, "but maybe someday I can come back."

He made his way back to his seat. Carl accepted the popcorn with a smile, pointing at the screen. "That's Frank's lover Eddie. Frank took half of Eddie's brain and gave it to Rocky. He's going to kill Eddie because he's jealous of Eddie and Columbia's relationship."

"Jeez." Finn stared at Eddie, driving around the room on his motorcycle.

"Yes, well, people do stupid things when they think their only two choices are loneliness or monogamy." He rested a hand on Finn's back. "Not that other choices don't have their own drawbacks." He leaned in a little closer. "Everything okay?"

"I — yeah. I'm okay." He let the arc of Carl's arm hold him for a moment, and watched Carl's face soften. He's happier when he can take care of somebody, too, he realized. "Thanks for bringing me here."

Carl nodded, glancing at his lap. "It was Emma's idea. She thought it would be good for us."

"Oh." He didn't know what to say to that. He cleared his throat. "You're, uh, a lot hotter than that guy playing Eddie."

That made Carl laugh. "He was a football-playing singer in high school, too, just like you, and he became a big rock star. Remind me to play some of his records some time."

Finn had a hard time choosing between smiling and crying for the rest of the night, but it seemed he wasn't the only one, especially during the floor show. Carl just dug into his pocket and handed him a tissue.

"It was a lot sadder than I expected," Finn told him as they walked back to the car. "I mean, Frank gets murdered and everybody leaves and Brad and Janet sing about bleeding inside and how the human race are like insects."

Carl nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose. I don't think people think of it as a tragedy, though. Maybe we're small and insignificant compared to the powers that prey on us, but that doesn't mean our lives are meaningless." He unlocked the passenger door and held it open for him. When Carl walked around to the other side and took his place in the driver's seat, Finn grabbed his hand.

"I'm sorry I keep giving you all these mixed messages."

"Love is complicated, Finn," Carl said. He squeezed Finn's hand, then let it go and patted his knee. "But we don't have to give up on this relationship just because it's hard. Keep talking to me. I'll keep listening. I'm grateful you're in Rachel's life."

Rachel. He hadn't even thought of her once that night. That made him feel guiltier than anything else he'd done. "Yeah. I—I want to take care of her."

Carl gave him a sharp, startled look. "I don't think she—" he began, but Finn cut him off.

"Not like that. I mean, she really doesn't want that, but she does want somebody who loves her for who she is. Maybe that'll end up being me and maybe it won't. I think I might be the only one who does, sometimes."

He frowned. "Don't do it out of obligation, Finn."

"But I like doing it out of obligation." He laughed at Carl's doubtful look. "Obliged. Isn't that kind of what it means to be committed to somebody? To actually be faithful? I want her to know she can count on me."

His smile was thin. "Not if what she's counting on isn't honest."

"I thought I was being honest."

"Yes. You are. Just… keep doing that, okay? Don't tell her what she wants to hear. Nobody needs that. Tell her the truth in the kindest possible way."

Finn sat with that idea for a while in the silence as they drove. He drummed his fingers on the leather until he realized he was doing it and made himself stop.

"Okay," Finn said. "So here's my truth, in the kindest possible way. I'm feeling like a failure in just about every part of my life except with Rachel. When I spend time with you, I just feel like even more of a failure because I can't stop wanting things I told myself would be bad for me. But Kurt and the Coach and you and even Ms. Pillsbury are all telling me I'm wrong, that I need you, need the stuff you can give me. And I don't know if I should trust myself, or all of you guys."

Carl nodded. "Do you think if you had more control over our relationship, you'd be happier?"

"Maybe I'd feel less like a failure, but…" He shuffled his feet on the floor mat. "No. I don't really like being in control with you. I just don't like feeling so out of control the rest of the time."

"You want some more tools to stay in control, while your subs are absent."

Absent. Finn closed his eyes and nodded. "We can try the target practice, if you really think that would help."

"I do. My biggest concern is that you said being around me makes you want other things. I don't want to put you in a position that feels bad."

"Do you think," Finn said, choosing his words carefully, "we could find a way to do the other things in a way that wouldn't be so dangerous?"

"I'm making some broad assumptions about what we mean by other things," Carl replied, just as carefully.

"Yeah." The words felt thick in his mouth. "I think it's fair to say I, uh. I want to do all of them."

"Did you enjoy being out with me, here, where no one knew us?"

He grimaced. "Um. I actually ran into somebody tonight who did know us. One of Blaine's fans, from Irene's. Not that they would have told anybody about us. But—"

"Yeah." Carl sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Perhaps Columbus isn't quite far enough for the kind of things you're talking about. Chicago, maybe. And there's always Tessera, on a weekend, but that would take some planning." He raised an eyebrow at Finn. "And it would be best to wait three months, until you turn eighteen."

"Okay," Finn whispered.

"Does that sound like it might work?"

"Honestly?" He tried to smile. "I'm just trying not to beg you for it."

Carl let out another sigh, a longer one this time. Finn recognized it as a measured breath, one of the tools Carl had given him before to help maintain control.

"Okay if I put on some music?" he asked at last.

"Yeah. Do that."

104.9 was the first preset on the Corvette's radio. Finn let his eyes close again as the power chords of Boston washed over him.

More than a feeling
When I hear that old song they used to play (more than a feeling)
And I begin dreaming
'Til I see Marianne walk away

"I used to think Marianne must have been pretty stupid to walk away from a guy like Tom Scholz," said Carl. He was tapping out the drum part on the steering wheel.

Without thinking, Finn reached out with his hand and rested it on Carl's leg. Just as automatically, Carl brought one hand down to rest on top of Finn's.

"Yeah," said Finn. "She must have been."

"Maybe." Carl shrugged. "But I was thirteen when that album came out. It's not like I really understood all the complexities of relationships. I was just lonely and horny and I didn't think anybody was ever going to like me."

Finn wet his lips. "Well, somebody does. I mean… I do. A lot."

He grinned that grin that always made Finn think, no matter how old Carl was, part of him must still be thirteen inside. "Have I told you recently how monumentally amazing that is?"

"No." He turned his hand over underneath Carl's, and felt something inside him settle as their fingers interlaced. "You can tell me now, though. Or, you know. Do whatever."

"Whatever. That is very tempting." Carl gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Perhaps you would be willing to come to my office tomorrow and I could arrange a safe venue in which to negotiate and execute the whatever?"

Finn squeezed Carl's hand back, and he let out a relieved laugh. "Yeah. You know, for some of your whatever, I'll even deal with Mark."