Fic. The Least Difficult of Men
Title: The Least Difficult of Men
Author: alicebluegown16
Rating: NC-17 (So very, very, very NC-17)
Pairing/Characters: Will/Finn, cameos from Carole, Rachel, Puck, Santana, Kurt
Summary: There's Will and Finn's first time. And then there's the many, many, many memorable times after that.
AN: Sequel to Literary Criticism. Part of my series that includes Closer , Hollywood Ending, All in My Head , My Mind is Set on You , Tell the Truth Now, Subtext, This Side of Acceptance and Wisdom.
Poems quoted/referenced: Having a Coke With You, Steps, and Meditations in an Emergency all by Frank O'Hara. Song quoted The Joker by The Steve Miller Band. Info on FringeFest Summer Music Festival, Xavier University, University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music, and The New School. Finn's tattoo is partially inspired by this picture of Cory Monteith. Shoutout to hopenight for being an awesome sounding board/cheerleader.
Word Count:8,440 overall. 4,170 for Part One.
Warnings: Smut. Sooooooo much smut. I have actually far exceeded my own expectations when it comes to writing sappy shmoopy porn.
He and Finn have sex for the first time because Finn wears an orange shirt to school one day.
Except not really, but also sort of yes.
It’s a week before Regionals and their set list is perfect, every dance step is flawless and he is absolutely losing his damn mind, not sleeping (again), nerves frayed thin, angry at himself for all of it, the sharpness in his voice, the shortness of his temper, the tiny niggling doubts in the back of his mind, late at night when these sorts of thoughts always come to people, still, after all this time (if we lose, if we lose this second chance we weren’t even supposed to get, all those expectations dashed, then what? Will they hate me for getting their hopes up? Will he? If this is it, if there’s no more Glee, then what happens to us?)
And then there’s Finn in his orange shirt, looking like a better happier St. Sebastian.
(Unless you’re asking Kurt who loudly comments that it makes him resemble a demented crossing guard.)
Finn smiling that secret ‘I know what you’ve been thinking. Stop worrying because it isn’t going to happen.’ smile.
And he smiled back, clapped his hands, started rehearsal and actually enjoyed himself for the first time in ages.
Later that day the two of them in his bed, movie foregone entirely, Will yanking that ridiculous symbolic shirt off of Finn the second he stepped inside, breadcrumb trail of clothes left in their wake.
Finn, all dark eyes and flushed face, broad and solid between his legs and heavy against his chest, rocking against him in a yeah, you can stop that around the fifth of never it feels so good kind of way except…except for how he can’t help thinking that taking this a step further would feel even better.
So really, it makes perfect sense to just say it.
“Finn, I want you to fuck me.”
His now isn’t the right time/sex would only complicate things further excuses fall apart, are lost, gone forever, tangled up somewhere in the sweep of Finn’s lashes, the curve of Finn’s mouth when he asks him if he’s sure.
Yes.
He’s sure. Sure that this is the right time. Sure that he is suddenly a really big fan of complicated.
There’s no reason not to reach across Finn’s body into the end table next to his bed and take out the living in eternal hopes condoms and lube he’d put there weeks ago, no reason not to take Finn’s hand, wide palm and long callused fingers, and slowly guide them up and in onetwothreeyessss, oh, explosion of white behind his eyes, kissing the little line of concentration between Finn’s brows, the want and anxiety and ‘I did that’ wonder of it all in his eyes making Will’s chest squeeze as he gives a short jerky nod of his head and then Finn’s inside of him, puzzle pieces slotting together just right, he has the briefest half second thought of ‘Why didn’t we do this sooner?’ and then Finn starts to move and he’s not thinking anything at all.
**
The third time is Finn bent over the arm of the couch because God, how many times did he want to do that all those months and months and months?
**
The fifth time is quick and dirty right there up against his front door because they just won Regionals and he’d wanted to kiss Finn so much when the results were announced and he couldn’t, had to content himself with a long hug, Finn whispering in his ear as everyone cheered, “We’re going to New York and you’re going to take me to the Frick Museum and we’re going to find a park with statues in it and drink Cokes together at four o’ clock.”
Flushed and panting and Finn grins at him.
“So, is this the part where I tell you that my mom thinks I’m spending the night at Puck’s?”
Seventh time is slow morning sex because he just woke up with Finn wrapped around him after possibly the best nights sleep he’s had in years and for the first time he can let himself imagine a future where someday he’ll get this every day, eighth time in the shower because Finn climbed in with him and shoved him up against the tile claiming that he was just in here to make sure he washed behind his ears, ninth time on the kitchen table, the crepes Finn insisted on making forgotten because it’s like he’s storing it all up, these sense memories, have to make it last because on Monday they’ll have to wear clothes and be respectable and pretend this isn’t how they spent the last thirty-six hours.
After that weekend he stops counting.
**
They don’t even come anywhere close to placing at Nationals. But he definitely wouldn’t say the trip was a let down. Because in his luggage there’s a poster of The Polish Rider that Finn insisted on buying him at the museum gift shop and a picture on his phone of the two of them holding their Cokes in the park with the statues.
A student in his hotel room is stupid and dangerous, a student in his bed even moreso and if anyone found out he would likely lose his job but he risks it because from the bed, the big wide bed with roughly a dozen pillows, there’s a really nice view of the Manhattan skyline. Because Sue Sylvester is paying for that view.
**
Middle of July, twelfth day in a row of ninety plus degree temperatures that feels even worse with the oppressive humidity and they’re on the tile floor of his kitchen with the refrigerator door open because his air conditioner is out and the repairman isn’t due until next week.
Seemingly every time Finn moves he drips sweat on him, which is definitely in the top ten for least sexy exchanges of bodily fluids ever. He feels sluggish, sticky and boneless and seconds away from heatstroke, the cooler temperatures no match for the fact that Finn is like the Human Torch he’s so warm.
And even with all that it’s still amazing, this potent combination of spontaneous, stubborn, silly, romantic, practical, hormonal teenage boy. That Finn wants him this much, that when he’d said it was so hot he could barely stand Finn touching him let alone even consider the possibility of sex, Finn’s response had been, “Yeah, no. That’s really not gonna work for me. Just give me like, ten minutes to come up with something. Because I absolutely can’t not touch you.”
**
He bakes a cake for Finn’s birthday. It’s something absolutely stupidly almost too pretty to eat elaborate with multiple layers and he’s slightly embarrassed by how much time he spent on it because it’s not like Finn can take it home with him or anything, this isn’t like the cupcakes Rachel brought in to Glee, this is a cake that would raise all sorts of questions.
He attempts to justify it by telling himself that he’s been dying to attempt that espresso buttercream icing he saw in his last issue of Cook’s Illustrated and besides you only turn eighteen once.
After all that work he takes maybe two bites.
Because Finn’s eyes are rolling back in his head and he’s making these…these absolutely fucking obscene food orgasm noises and Will very calmly pushes his plate aside and declares, “If you do not put that cake down and fuck me in the next thirty seconds, I swear to fucking God I am going to start jerking off right here.” And when Finn actually looks torn by this ultimatum, he hastens to add, “And I won’t let you have anymore of the cake.”
Sprawled out in the bed, Finn making a great show of pretending to be horribly put out by the whole thing, “Dude, that cake is something special and we fuck all the time. And now it’s just gonna be totally boring legal in all fifty states fucking.”
Bitching about how he could be doing a host of other far more exciting things right now such as registering to vote or buying a pack of cigarettes.
“Or joining the Army.” He helpfully contributes, voice equally noncommittal, like he didn’t notice how Finn’s speech trailed off there for a few seconds when he sweeps his thumb along the head of Finn’s cock and then sucks it into his mouth, little Mmm noise of pleasure.
Hey, it’s not exactly espresso buttercream icing, but it’s not bad and the way Finn’s eyes darken and his breath catches is a nice ego boost.
“Not so much that what with the fact that I’m kind of crazy about you. If they asked, I’d totally tell.”
It’s such an oddly sweet sentiment that he can’t help but smile a little as he arranges Finn exactly how he wants him, biting at his collarbone lightly as Finn rolls his eyes and mutters, “So, I have no say in this whatsoever? Seriously, worst birthday sex ever, Will.”
He elects to take this as a personal insult. Or maybe as a challenge.
He has Finn just lie back and relax, works himself down slow and steady onto Finn’s cock, knees settled on either side of Finn’s waist, and he takes his time, nice easy smooth movements that he alternates with achingly slow shallow stutter-stops that are never quite enough to get Finn off.
Finn’s hands clenching tight on his hips, naughty winking bruises sure to form later, Finn moaning and babbling frantically “I hate you, I hate you, oh my God--- Will-you-Jesus-see yourself-God, fuck-so hot-please, please, need to-so much fucking hate right now-” until he just stops moving all together, hands on Finn’s shoulders so he can’t get any leverage at all and Finn whines, a desperate keening sound that elicits a slightly smug, ‘I could do this all day ya know’ laugh from him and he stays like that until Finn frantically backtracks “I love you, okay? I love you more than I love that fucking cake, you fucking evil fucking bastard, god fuck-you’re the king of birthday sex-just let me fucking come for the love of fucking god-”
And it’s been awhile since he tried this and he knows he’s definitely going to be feeling it later (and isn’t that some of the appeal?), but it is Finn’s special day and he really does say the sweetest things, so he bows his body backwards until his hands are planted behind him on Finn’s thighs and clenches his muscles and with one last jerk of his hips, Finn’s coming with a long hoarse shout.
And afterwards, there’s birthday cake.
**
It’s Christmas, their first Christmas as a them, and judging by how Finn frantically started reaching for his belt, he’s going to go out on a limb and say that he really loves his gift of a collection of Frank O’Hara poems.
Or maybe it’s because he had the guts to write on the fly leaf;
Oh God, it’s wonderful
To get out of bed
And drink too much coffee
And smoke too many cigarettes
And love you so much
And then slightly further down:
Except we’ll skip the cigarettes in favor of more of that loving you so much part.
Wrapped up together afterwards idly looking through the pages and Finn stops at Meditations in an Emergency since he recognizes it from that episode of Mad Men. They both smile at the line, “I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love.”
**
Laughing, giddy, joyful sex because Finn received his first college acceptance letter. And then there’s the second letter and the third letter and the fourth and there are offers of scholarships and grants and each time he reads those words ‘Dear Mr. Hudson, We are pleased to inform you…’ it’s just as exciting as the first, possibly moreso because Finn has options, schools are fighting over him and Will’s so proud and he knew Finn could do it and now Finn is starting to know it too.
**
It’s early Spring and in the midst of the wonderful chaos of college plans and gearing up for Regionals and the start of the baseball season, there’s Finn making the quietly earth shaking decision to come out. His logic being that when the time is finally right for them, the one-two punch of declaring his not quite heterosexuality and announcing that he’s dating his former teacher is a bit much to throw at people all at once and it makes sense to ease into these things. The not so logical reason that stops any objections Will might have is that they already keep enough secrets and he doesn’t want to keep this one if he doesn’t have to.
“Dude, if even Karofsky had the guts to do it, there’s no way I shouldn’t.”
It’s just to family and friends and is low key and blessedly drama free and he only gets to hear about it second hand, how Carole and Burt are more than a little stunned at his fumbling confession of being “gay-ish, but sort of bi in that I can still appreciate girls, so if we’re talking like, Kinsey scale---four, maybe four and a half on the Queer-o-meter, but then again I’ve never been really good with numbers.”
But they’re wonderfully supportive and there’s much manly hugging from Burt and repeated assurances from Carole that she loves him no matter what and when Finn tells him about it, he frantically scrubs at his eyes and his voice cracks slightly because not once do either of them ever ask him if he’s just confused or experimenting or going through a phase.
“And I didn’t even know that was the biggest thing I was scared of until it didn’t happen.”
He’s there for the other part though, watching as everyone in New Directions essentially reacts with a collective shrug (possibly aided by Kurt and Puck hovering behind Finn glaring at them all with expressions that say, respectively, ‘Bitch, I will cut you’ and ‘Ditto, with a rusty dull knife’) that Finn does an awful job of pretending doesn’t mean the world to him and Santana only makes a few mildly offensive comments and Rachel only mentions her two gay dads a dozen times.
That time, which is very much not fucking, is bittersweet and full of repeated promises of ‘soon’ because it hurt to just stand there like the supportive encouraging teacher when he couldn’t hold Finn’s hand or hug him and say how much he loves him for being so fucking brave and knowing who he is at eighteen when there are days Will still isn’t sure about who he is all these years later and it both kills them a little that this is supposed to be about being open and honest but Finn has to answer “No” any time the obvious follow up question from everyone is, “So, are you seeing anyone?”
**
It’s impossible for him to not to be extremely aware of the fact that Finn’s ‘I am serious and mature and have given this much thought’ face as he ticks his reasons off on his fingers for choosing to attend Xavier University, a Jesuit school with no football team, over Ohio State is wildly attractive.
“One, Jesuits are like, the total BAMFs of the Catholic Church. Who do they always call in when they need to do an exorcism? That’s right. The Jesuits. Two, if I went to OSU I’d just be a student ID number. A smaller school is going to make sure I don’t get lost in the crowd and I won’t be able to hide in the back or just halfass my way through everything, which we both know I’d be temped to do at a big state school. They’re going to make me work and think and ask questions and not take the easy way out and I like that and I like the fact that I like that. Plus, let’s be real here. I may love the Buckeyes beyond all reason, but even with all Coach Beiste has done for making us less of a joke, the best I could hope for is third string quarterback. Xavier has a club team that I can play on if I want to. I’m not going to the NFL anytime soon and I don’t want to. All I need is just a bunch of other guys who love the game.”
Finn pausing a moment, perhaps to allow him to raise any possible objections, and it takes all of his self control to let him finish speaking instead of ripping his clothes off. Apparently he has a previously unknown kink for self-awareness. And judging by Finn’s little half smile as he slowly and methodically closes the distance between them, he’s doing a terrible job of hiding it.
“Three, stereotypes are bad, mmkay? I’m not going to get burned at the stake or have Bibles thrown at me the second I step on campus, so stop stressing over that. I’ve been e-mailing back and forth with the head of Xavier’s Gay Straight Alliance--PS, yes, they have a Gay Straight Alliance, and she’s really cool and she says that the homophobic douchebag count is not any higher there than you’d find at any other school and in fact it’s slightly better because the Jesuits, being the previously mentioned BAMFs that they are, are all about the logic and reason and do not allow bullying or people being offensive or harmful to anyone. Fourth, Puck’s going to be in Cincinnati too and besides the awesome of not having to worry about playing the roommate roulette game it may sound really dumb, but he and I have always kind of had this plan that after we graduated and were out on our own we’d get a place together and like, be able to play our music at three a.m. or drink out of the milk carton whenever we want. And last…last but very much not least, Cincinnati has a ton of kick ass concerts and festivals and museums and stuff which means that there’s a lot things we can do when you come to visit which you totally, totally will, right?”
Finn’s hand splayed across his hip, thumb easing under the hem of his shirt to draw absent minded circles on his stomach, Finn nipping lightly at his earlobe before he leans in to whisper, “Cuz I’ve been waiting a long time to be able to show you off which I’m absolutely gonna do with all my awesome college friends, you know, once I have some.”
Honestly, Finn had him at “I want to go somewhere that makes me think” or to put it more fundamentally, Finn had him at this being what would make him happy because he is absolutely unable to argue the stunning logic of that. So, he doesn’t even bother trying. Instead he mumbles something against Finn’s mouth about him needing to join the debate team, laughing into the kiss when Finn drawls out, “Yeah, that’s me. The master debater.”
It’s the sort of ‘it shouldn’t work but it does’ perfect fit he never would have seen coming which just makes it impossibly even more ideal and after they’ve obsessively Google mapped it and managed to cut down the drive time between Lima and Cincinnati from three and a half hours to just under two and started their list of ‘Cool things to see and do together’ there is very enthusiastic, this is so exciting, slightly cracked out sex and there might be jokes about how Finn’s going to the Xavier School for Gifted Younger’s involved because holy shit, this is actually happening, this Finn going to college thing and not just any college, but a good one and they want him, there are scholarships and grants and work study hours that coupled with the bit of money Carole has saved up means Finn and Puck will easily be able to get their dream place off campus.
(Puck who shocked everyone by not only applying to but getting into the College-Conservatory of Music. Yes, even him a little bit and he’s the one who wrote him his four page long recommendation letter. So, just across the board unexpected happily ever afters for everyone and who isn’t a big fan of those?)
**
Rachel stages an intervention due to the fact that it’s a week before Regionals and he’s apparently not, in her opinion, sufficiently stressed out enough.
“Last week you let us out of rehearsal a whole twenty minutes early, you didn’t even attempt to check out Noah’s story that he’s missed the past three weekend practices I took the liberty of arranging because he’s been helping his sister get ready for her Bat Mitzvah, you haven’t expressed any interest in reading the dossiers I gathered on our competition, and yesterday you insisted we “take a break” and have a “free-for-all singing throw down” because you thought it would be “a fun way to unwind.””
It’s completely uncalled for at the moment, but he’s unable to hold back a snort of laughter at Rachel’s entirely unironic use of air quotes and she gives him a long suspicious look.
“Is it drugs, Mr. Schue? It’s drug, isn’t it? You can tell me if it is. I won’t judge you, I promise. There’s no shame in admitting you have a problem.”
He assures her that it’s not drugs. That’s it’s simply the fact that there’s no reason to freak out when they’re even better now than they were last year. That this might very well be their last performance together before everyone scatters all around the country and he wants to enjoy every second of it with a minimum amount of drama. When he reminds her that she’s already been accepted to Julliard and that she should just relax and remember that this is supposed to be about having fun and singing with her friends, Rachel let’s out a horrified sputter, “Oh my God! You’re high right now, aren’t you!”
Telling Finn all about it and when Finn asks him in a deadly serious voice, “So do some people call you Maurice? Or do you prefer the gangster of love?” he starts laughing hysterically and can’t stop. Laughs until he has to lean on Finn for support, until Finn insists that maybe Rachel is on to something and demands to check his pupils.
Finn gently cupping his jaw in both of his hands and he’s not laughing anymore because he has trouble breathing when Finn looks at him like this, with his heart on his sleeve and in his eyes as Finn half jokingly sings the words,
Well, don’t you worry, don’t you worry
Cause I’m right here right at home.
Yeah, you’re the cutest thing that I ever did see
Really love your peaches wanna shake your tree
He’s not laughing because it’s just now hitting him, that buried deep in Rachel’s ball of crazy was one tiny little kernel of truth:
It’s a week before Regionals and he’s nervous and excited and slightly stressed out but that whole dissolving into a big ugly tangled mess of insomnia and crippling anxiety thing he’s been expecting?
Hasn’t happened.
Isn’t going to happen.
Because he has nothing to worry about.
His knees actually buckle a little at this realization. The absolute bone deep certainty that even if he were losing his damn mind right now Finn would still be here loving him, that he never ever has to be anyone but exactly himself with Finn.
And God, when he shares this little epiphany with him, Finn isn’t even mad that it took him a year and half to work it through his thick skull that yes, he really, truly isn’t going anywhere, Finn doesn’t even give him a chance to be mad at himself that it took him so long to figure it out. No, instead Finn kisses him, a wonderfully filthy kiss, all wet tongue and teeth and pressure, the kind of kiss that makes his bedroom seem a million miles away.
Bite of the kitchen counter digging into the back of his thighs, twist of his hips to desperately push himself back on Finn’s fingers and then finally, finally Finn sliding in, Finn kissing him with lips and thighs and he curls his hands in the worn cotton of Finn’s shirt (black with the words Did Someone Call for A Kickass Drum Solo? printed across the front and bought on a whim because it was so perfectly Finn he hadn’t been able to resist it when he first saw it) and enjoys every second of it.
PART TWO