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Finn isn’t too sure he likes the idea of Kurt singing him a song. Especially not one that’s supposed to make him rise above a tailspin of despair. He’s not even despairing, he just likes his life the way it is. He likes his furniture, and he likes the memories of his dad his mom had told him like bedtime stories, and he likes his mom still in love with his dad. His mom doesn’t need to be in love with the dad of one of his friends.
He’s not the only one that finds the situation questionable. As Kurt begins to sing Puck twists to look at him and mouths ‘are you gay?’.
Finn knows Puck’s just being an asshole. The thing is, no one’s ever actually asked him. The guys on the football team have said stupid shit for kicks. Quinn and Santana have said equally stupid shit trying to taunt him into being a better partner. Kurt believes he isn’t, but flirts like he is. Everyone just assumes they know what he is. They’re wrong.
Finn mouths back ‘yes’, because he doesn’t lie. Not when people ask him things directly. Lies of omission are different.
“What?” Puck shouts.
Kurt’s singing comes to a halt. Brad goes on a few more notes before stopping. Kurt looks like he could kill Puck with his eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Me and Finn need some alone time.”
Mr Schuester frowns and adjusts his already crossed arms. “Puck, you’re being very-”
“Rude? Yeah, I know. I suck. But me and Finn need some alone time. And the last time we needed alone time and didn’t get it we ended up brawling in the hallway in front of the whole school. So, like, sentiment appreciated dude, Finn should stop freaking out about his dad, but we need to go now.”
Finn watches Puck stand and tries not to vomit as he follows him out of the room. Puck didn’t sound mad, and usually it’s pretty obvious. Still, he’s not the most gay-friendly guy either.
Puck stops once they’re in the nearest washroom, and after checking all the stalls for feet, leans against the door so no one can come in. Only once he’s sure of their privacy does he ask “so you’re bi?”
“Gay.”
“You made out with Rachel and Quinn and Brittany.”
“It’s just kissing. Some people kiss their pets. Doesn’t mean they jerk off over Muffy.” He shrugs.
“You had sex with Santana.”
Finn snorts. “You, I, and half the school knows she’s destined for a fifty year relationship with Brittany, after she stops using guys to make her feel straight.”
“You use her for that?”
Finn takes a half step back. Sometimes he forgets Puck’s got a protective streak about Santana and Brittany. Well, and Quinn, kinda. But Finn’s pretty sure that’s just because Puck wants Drizzle, and it’s currently inside Quinn. But he’s gotta be honest. “Maybe. Kinda. I would have done it with Brittany because I think she likes guys more, but Santana offered first.”
“But now you know.”
“It didn’t feel like anything. I mean, I came. But it was like my junk was sneezing. Just build up and release.”
“You wanna fuck Kurt?”
Puck could have said it in so many ways. Disgusted, accusatory, angry. The only mood Finn can hear is curiosity. It makes him less nervous about answering. “No. I really don’t think he’s my type. It’s part of why I haven’t said anything. Once I do he’ll think I’m a shoe-in.”
“Fuck yeah he will. And forget type. He’s the only other gay in Lima. Well, maybe Sandy Ryerson, if he’s not just a pedo. They’re different things, obviously.”
Finn shakes his head. He’s thought about it. He’d like to get laid again before college, and if girls aren’t an option Kurt is what’s left. But not only is it not very arousing to imagine, it also makes him feel guilty. He doesn’t like him, he’d only be doing it to have an orgasm. How is that any different than sleeping with Santana?
“No offense to the guy, and Puck if you tell him I‘ll kick your ass, but the whole reason I like guys is because I like guys. I want someone that smells like socks and pizza, not handcream. Someone that sometimes has a black eye.”
“So you’re into bears.”
“What? Jesus. No! There are more gays than those stereotypes. It’s not just campy skinny guy or fat hairy bear. I dunno. Like if Matt was gay. Or Barton from the jazz band that backs us up sometimes.”
“I’ll make out with you.”
“I thought you weren’t going to be an asshole.” Fuck, he’s so stupid. Of course Puck would-
“I’m not. I wear socks. I get black eyes.”
“You’re straight.”
“No. I’m orgasm-sexual.”
“Then why are you homophobic? Were, I guess. You used to dumpster Kurt a lot, man.”
“I’m not.” He repeats. “I never was. I was a bully, same as you. Just as soon dumpster a chess club guy or someone that watches Doctor Who. And if I called him a fag, well, you use the language of the people. Whatever they don’t wanna hear. Look, you don’t gotta say yeah. Just know that I will if you ever wanna.”
“We should go back to Glee.”
Puck shrugs and slaps the door open button meant for handicapped people. It’s slower than opening it manually, but it’s not like Finn was going to do anything with those two extra seconds of his life.
As they walk back Puck’s last words circle frantically in his head. If this is all a bluff, one last prank to play on him before dissolving their friendship, Finn wants to know now, not once he’s been betrayed. A few steps away from the Glee room Finn stops in his tracks, tugs on Puck’s arm to lightly hold him in place, and kisses him.
It’s chaste for a second. Just Finn’s lips against the lips of the guy that used to be his best friend but is now best-friend-enemy-teammate-betrayer-truthteller-freedomgiver...undefinable. Then Puck slips his tongue against Finn’s teeth. It’s not the kind of offer Finn can say no to. He lets Puck tongue him. He does more than let. One of his hands goes to Puck’s jawline and he holds him there as he tangles his tongue with Puck’s.
In a classic Puck move, one that Finn’s literally seen a hundred times as his wingman, Puck nudges a knee against his, then past his, until all of his left leg is firmly planted between Finn’s. The next move is supposed to be a girl grinding until she’s good and wet. The move after that is them both searching for a bedroom or a bathroom or a random counter. But Finn’s not a girl. He’s himself, and he’s always had a hair trigger, even when he’s with girls that he’s not even attracted to. It’s a body thing, not a brain thing. So when Puck puts his thigh against Finn’s junk and then adjusts to increase the pressure Finn whimpers into Puck’ mouth. No amount of picturing the mailman can help him now.
Puck must feel the rush of warmth because he pulls back and smirks. “If you did that with Santana, no wonder she told me it sucked.”
Finn crosses his arms defensively. “I wasn’t exactly planning on all of this.”
“What, you thought I was bluffing?”
“Kinda. And even if you weren’t, people don’t just have sex in a hallway!”
Puck shrugs. “I do. More than one hand’s worth of times.”
It’s weird. Finn should feel used with that comment, feel shitty because he’s just another person Puck’s done. Instead it makes him feel better. If Puck’s not freaking out and he’s mostly straight, why should Finn? This can just be something that happened, once, because Noah Puckerman does a lot of things once, just to see, just because he can. Finn doesn’t have to add lover or boyfriend onto the list of things Puck is to him. The list is long enough already.