post ep 4x15 reaction fic
With brotherly Furt and bonus Santana.
The knock on the door startles Kurt out of his stupor. He glances at the clock on the way to answering it, shocked at how long he’d been sitting and staring at nothing.
“Rachel isn’t home, Finn.”
“I, ah, I didn’t come to see Rachel. I came to talk to you.”
“You flew here to have a chat with me?” Kurt asks, moving out of the way to let Finn enter the loft and sliding the door shut behind him. “You could have saved yourself a lot of money and just called –”
“I didn’t fly. I drove actually. Needed to clear my head.”
“You drove your truck here? Where did you park?”
“I found a spot on the street.”
“So are you in for a million dollars worth of parking fines by the end of the day then?”
“Nah, it’s cool. No fire hydrants and it’s a Saturday.”
“This is New York, Finn. No one cares if it’s a Saturday.”
Finn shrugs and pulls his backpack up further on his shoulder. “I brought you some of Mom’s peanut butter cookies that you like. Thought maybe we could have some warm milk.”
Kurt leads the way into the kitchen and gets the milk out of the fridge. He sets about getting it ready while Finn pulls an enormous Tupperware container out of his bag and places it on the counter next to the mugs.
While Kurt is carefully pouring the frothy milk into their mugs, Finn shuffles around, seemingly nervous. “What’s going on, Finn?”
“Do you think maybe we could go into your room and close those curtain things? Because I really don’t feel up to seeing Rachel right now if she comes home.”
Kurt shrugs his shoulders and gathers up the mugs, nodding his head towards the container of cookies. “You know she’ll still be able to hear you, right?”
“Yeah. But I’m hoping she’ll take the hint and keep her distance.” Kurt snorts as Finn slides the cookies from the counter and follows him to his bedroom.
When they’ve settled in on the bed and eaten a handful of cookies each, Finn sets his mug down on the bedside table and sinks into the blankets, his head nearly disappearing into the soft pillows. “Have you ever done something so terrible that you don’t think there’s anything you can ever do to make it better?”
Kurt sighs, chewing and swallowing the last piece of his own cookie and dropping down on level with Finn. “Unless you’ve committed murder or – Well, I doubt you’ve done anything unforgivable.”
“I kissed Miss Pillsbury. Before the wedding stuff, before she ran off. And then I… when I couldn’t take it anymore, it was eating away at me, the secret…”
“The tell-tale heart,” Kurt says, nodding his head.
“Huh? Anyway, I told Mr. Schue yesterday and he just stormed away. I thought he was gonna punch me. It would’ve been better if he’d punched me. He was, like, my best friend, and I betrayed him. How can someone ever get over being betrayed by their best friend?”
“How indeed,” Kurt whispers to himself. He sits back up and grabs another cookie from the dwindling stash. “Okay, Finn. I have to admit, I’m not shocked about the kiss, because Rachel kinda already told me. Sorry. But, well… Finn – your best friend is Mr. Schue. Really? Isn’t that a little bit weird and creepy?”
“It’s not creepy. He’s a cool guy. We get along really well. We did anyway.”
“Last year he was our teacher, Finn. Isn’t Puck back in town? God, I never thought I would ever advise someone to seek out Puck for company.”
“Yeah. But he’s dating this sophomore high school cheerleader from Glee Club.”
Kurt looks down at Finn, eyes wide. “What? He’s dating a fifteen year old girl? Jesus. I’m gonna need a drink for this.” He reaches over and grabs his mug of warm milk. “Too bad it isn’t spiked.”
“Yeah. Puck’s cradle robbing and I’m kissing teachers. This is the weirdest year ever. And yet – teaching Glee Club, it’s something I really, really like, you know? I feel like I’m getting sorta good at it too. Like, even conflict resolution and stuff. It’s kinda cool.”
“It’s good to see you excited about something again, Finn. Really. I’ve been worried about you.”
“But what am I gonna do now? Mr. Schue’s not gonna let me come back to help out with the Glee Club. I’m back to the start. I don’t know what I’m meant for.” Finn heaves a despondent sigh and turns his face into the pillows and Kurt reaches down to fluff up his hair.
“Well maybe you’ve already found it. Glee Club is basically teaching, Finn.”
“I’m too dumb to be a teacher. You have to know stuff, and… stuff.”
“First of all, you’re not dumb. Everyone is smart in their own ways. You enjoy music. You can sing. Play instruments. Maybe you could be a music teacher.”
Finn turns abruptly, displacing Kurt’s hand from his head. “I never even thought about that!” he says. “Do you think I could? Like, pass college and stuff?”
“Of course you could. Your grades weren’t bad in high school. And I’ll help you however I can.”
Finn’s eyes are glassy and he gives Kurt a crooked smile. “You really are the best, you know? You always believe in me, even when I don’t.”
“Well that’s a brother’s job, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, man. It is.”
When Santana and Rachel get home from a day in Manhattan, Adam is waiting outside the door. “Nobody was answering,” he says by way of explanation. Santana gives him a dirty look as Rachel unlocks the door and slides it open.
What they find when they go on a search for Kurt is the two boys sleeping, cuddled up on his bed, a Tupperware container empty of everything but crumbs hanging precariously from the edge of the mattress. Finn is on his side with his head on Kurt’s chest, Kurt flat on his back with his fingers tangled in Finn’s hair. They are snoring away, not a care in the world.
Santana grins and pulls out her phone. “I’m totally making this my new Facebook profile pic,” she says.
The flash startles Kurt awake and he groans, covering his eyes.
“Oh boys,” Santana says. “After all this time.”
“Um… is that Blaine?” Adam asks Rachel, his voice quiet.
Santana snorts a laugh. “No. Blaine’s about half that size and looks like an adorable baby animal, not a musk ox.”
“He does not –” Rachel starts.
“Seriously, he’s got these big red lips and enormous eyes like a bush baby. Also an ass that won’t quit. If you’re into that sort of thing,” she continues as if she’d never been interrupted.
Adam just stares at her blankly while Rachel comes around to the side of the bed.
“Finn, you really shouldn’t have come all this way to see me,” she pipes up. “I told you –”
“Rachel, could you go be strident somewhere else?” Kurt grumbles. “Tryin’ to sleep. Too many cookies.” And then he turns and faceplants back into the pillows. Finn, still snoring, throws a leg over Kurt’s thighs and wraps his fingers around his bicep.
Santana holds up her phone again. “Even better,” she says to herself.
Finn leaves the next morning, giving Kurt a quick hug and sneaking out before anyone else in the apartment is awake.
Or at least Kurt thought they were the only ones awake.
Santana smiles up at him from the futon. “You know, Finn’s mom already asked me for a print of that picture I took of you two spooning.”
Kurt rolls his eyes. “We weren’t spooning. Wait a minute – How did Carole even see that picture?”
“Me and Mrs. Double H are Facebook besties.”
“You posted that picture on Facebook?”
“It’s my shiny new profile picture. And I captioned it: After all this time. Always. Poetry,” she adds with a tilt of her head.
“Who else are you friends with on Facebook?”
“Oh, everybody. Even your boyfriend, since that’s what you’re actually asking.”
“Blaine isn’t my boyfriend.”
“And yet that’s where your mind goes when I say the word, and not to the Duke of Dullards who you’ve been stringing along.”
Kurt furrows his brow and wraps his arms around himself before sliding into a chair. “I haven’t been. I’m not. I don’t mean to.” He shakes his head and Santana sits up straight and scoots down to the far end of the futon to get closer.
“Look, I tend not to like new people settling into my hive, but he seems like an all right guy. You might want to tell him that you’re still madly in love with the Itsy Bitsy Gayder and that there’s a better chance that head-to-toe polyester is going to make a glorious comeback than that ever going away. Because when he inevitably gets hurt, you’re gonna feel bad and I don’t do mop duty on regretful tears more than once in a six month period. And Berry’s already used that Community Chest card.”
Kurt sinks back into the chair and pulls his legs up, staring out the window with unseeing eyes. “I, um, thanks, Santana.”
She purses her lips and shrugs before turning away. “You want to make french toast?”