Of Tea and Milkshakes.
Title: Of Tea And Milkshakes
Author: eightoctave
Characters, Pairing: Finn/Will mainly with sides of Kurt/Blaine mentioned
Summary: It starts with a mug of tea and ends with a milkshake. Or in people terms, how Will and Finn somehow end up together and how they somehow end up apart again. I'm warning you, this isn't fluffy, well, it is initially, but I am rather fond of angst.
Rating: Errr, Pg-13 ish
Note: I haven't written in ages, this is also a fic that was discovered in my vast word document folder last night and with the addition of a few thousand words I finished it. This is mainly just being published so I can get back into teh habit of publishing things. I'm going to shut up now. Also I apologise for my Englishness regarding some spellings, the idea of dropping my beloved u from colour just doesn't compute with my brain.
It had started in College. Joshua Day was English, gay
and Will’s roommate. Will was a naive, just fallen out of the closet American, whose
attempts to embrace homosexuality had landed a tattoo of a rainbow on his left
ass cheek. Joshua was a classy, private schoolboy who had too many stories
regarding escapades in the boy’s locker room for his own good, Will worshipped
him.
It had been Will’s first day and upon his arrival in room
205, Josh wearing a tatty black t-shirt emblazoned with the slogan ‘Sorry girls
I’m gay!’ he’d found himself awestruck.
“Hello, I’m Josh, English major, I’m going to be a poet,
if you have a problem with me being gay leave now and Tea is on the table.”
Josh smiled and Will continued to gawp.
“W-Will, gay, I mean I’m
gay too, Spanish major.”
“Oh, estupendo senor!” So Will had sat at the table
carefully sipping his ‘tea’. For a Lima boy who’d never experienced anything
other than the bitter, black coffee available in polystyrene cups from Ally’s
café on 5th, tea was incredible. Fragrant and sweet and fresh and oh
so English; Will had fallen in love with both Joshua and tea that day, only the
latter of those loves continuing past his first semester of college.
Anyhow, Mikey’s.
Mikey’s pancake house was a place Finn frequented. He’d
visited almost every weekend with Puck since they were 9, ploughing through
stacks of blueberry pancakes with sides of ice cream and maple syrup until the
start of high school. Then of course, with hectic schedules and corresponding
girlfriend’s to please, visits had to be moved from their usual Saturday
morning ritual. Mikey’s stayed open until 10pm and so, every Tuesday, the one
night Puck didn’t have to babysit Sarah, the two boys ambled lazily down oak
street, cutting onto Evergreen through the McKenzie’s back garden and then
towards the neon signed Pancake house.
Puck drank strawberry milkshakes with cream and a cherry;
Finn drank tea, earl gray, no sugar, no milk, just tea. Nobody could mock them.
They’d both sit with their respective drinks, laugh with each other about what
would happen if somebody found out they were secret ‘girly’ drink drinkers and
talk until they had to be kicked out.
Puck had told Finn his Dad had left through a mouthful of
blueberry.
Finn had come out as Bi-sexual whilst gulping down his
tea.
It had become sort of the
place for important occasions, so obviously Finn took Will there.
Broke and sporting a stubbly beard Finn had returned home
for his Mom’s birthday one weekend from NYU. Once tainted by the big apple his
hunger for ‘city’ could never be satisfied. Lima was nothing compared to his
shared apartment with Kurt in the darkest pits of NYU’s surrounding boroughs.
His appetite was insatiable, after only a day he was bored. So, whilst
traipsing the aisles of Wal-Mart, dressed in shorts, tank top and faded red
vans he stumbled upon Mr.Schuester.
“Finn!” A call had caught Finn’s attention as he dropped
several varieties of Ben and Jerry’s into the cart.
“Mr.Schue!” Finn had replied at a volume viewed as ‘inappropriate’
by the fellow shoppers, well, judging by the scowls emblazoned on their faces
anyway that seemed to be the case.
“You look so different.” The older man beamed, and looked
Finn up and down. “And you’re wearing shorts in January...”
“Mom hasn’t caught up on my washing yet, Kurt tried to lock me in the house so
I couldn’t leave looking like this...he also threatened to shave me in my
sleep.” Finn trailed off into the realisation that his brother was actually a
bit of a dick.
“How’s NYU?” Mr.Schue asked leaning on his own cart.
Finn was once told you could tell a lot by what a person bought. It became
apparent the latter was a load of bull when all that he had found from staring at
said teacher’s shopping was that he, like many other Americans, used bread,
milk and kitchen towels. Although...Finn pondered before realising the lengthy
duration he had placed between the asking of the question and the answering,
Mr.Schue could probably tell a lot from his. Finn’s cart, along with 4 tubs of
ice cream housed 1 pack of condoms, 2 copies of instinct (one for Kurt and one
for himself, that boy would not share!), 2 tubs of crunchy peanut butter, 1 tub
of grape jelly and a copy of the new Call of Duty, not that he was taking
advantage of having access to his Mom’s money, no, not at all.
“It’s good.” Finn replied nodding vaguely whilst mentally
filtering through reams of one night stands, drunken parties and Broadway shows
to figure out what he had actually been learning. It hit Finn then, that he
really, really needed to study more. “I have an art major going on...”
To say Mr.Schue was stunned would probably be an
understatement. “I know, it’s weird. I take one sketching class in the summer
and boom, I know what I want to do with my life.” Upon the dawning revelation
that Mr.Schue had appeared to stop breathing Finn tapped him softly on the
shoulder. “You okay there Mr.S?”
“What, yeah, call me Will, yeah....you draw?” Mr-Will
gawped to say it in the most flattering way.
“I want to go into architecture.” Finn watched as Will
opened his mouth repeatedly only to close it seconds later. “Awkward turtle...”
Finn mumbled under his breath.
“Pardon?”
“What? Oh, nothing.” Finn shook his head, a small smirk playing on his lips.
“How’s Holly?” The elder man’s features dropped, his eyes falling downward
before a fake smile illuminated his dimple.
“We, umm, yeah we’re not together anymore.”
“That sucks dude.” Finn let his fingers feather over
Will’s shoulder, their gazes locking momentarily. “Do you maybe want to go out
tonight? I know a cool little café, Puck and I used to go there all the time.”
“Yeah.” Will grinned and Finn, without a doubt saw the
man happier than he had in a long time.
“Awesome.” Finn’s fingers fell away and he gripped the
cart. “Are you still in the same place?”
“Yeah, 27 King’s Court. Come around about 7.” Will’s eyes
fell downward, the breath of a laugh drifting from his lips. “By the way, there
is a smoking picture of Chace Crawford in this month’s issue.” With a soft wink
and a chuckle he was gone, leaving Finn with frantic fingers pawing through the
magazine and a sudden questioning of Will’s sexuality.
And there, Page 32, was in fact an extremely smoking
picture of Chace Crawford.
Will hadn’t considered that anything would ever come to
fruition regarding his rather inappropriate crush. Nevertheless here he was,
foot caught in the McKenzie’s bush and a hiss of laughter escaping Finn’s lips.
“For God’s sake Finn help me!” And they’d both doubled
over, tears tracing tracks down cheeks as they scrambled over the opposite
fence at the call of ‘Who’s there?’ and the flick of a back room light.
The faint splash of red from the glowing open sign had
painted Finn’s face in the softest of hues, emphasising the subtle boy verging
on man charms of his looks. Finn, on the threat of pain from Kurt, had
reluctantly shaved and changed. Now, Will thought as he looked meagrely down at
his own jeans and T-Shirt ensemble, he looked considerably more handsome. The
taller boy had donned black skinny jeans that hung just low enough for Will to
catch a glimpse of the sky blue boxers that lay beneath; a T-shirt covered in
lyrics that Will, much to Finn’s disbelief recognised from Radiohead’s song
nude.
“You like Radiohead?” Finn had stared with a slack jaw as
Will nodded.
“I do like normal music as well as Broadway you know.”
His shoes, yet another variant on the Vans make were
sketched upon in black marker, buildings towering from his toe.
“Did you draw that?” Will had asked as the quiet ding of
a bell chimed upon Finn’s entry.
“Yup, it’s the view from my bedroom window in New York, I
love it, it just reminds me of how far I’ve come.” And Will looked up at the
boy in a whole new light, a light that made him 19, a college boy, a boy who
wasn’t 16 and lost anymore.
Mikey’s was empty apart from the ageing woman at the
counter. Her smile grew as Finn walked forward, a matching smile gracing his
own lips.
“My, oh my.” She said, her southern drawl filling Finn
with an overwhelmingly comforting sense of familiarity. “If that ain’t Finn
Hudson, haven’t seen you in far too long.”
“How’s it been Mrs. Simpson?” Finn took a seat at the counter,
Will gingerly following with a forced smile.
“It’s just Lucy now Finn, Mikey passed last month.”
“Aw man, I’m sorry I didn’t know.” Lucy replied with a
watery smile and patted his hand.
“He died how he lived, asleep in the armchair with the
football on.” She shook her head and scrubbed her eyes. “Can I get you any
sugar or are you still on the plain earl.”
“The latter.” Finn mumbled and smirked. Lucy tutted
swiftly before tracing Will with her eyes.
“And what can I get you sweet cheeks?”
“Tea please.” A sudden wariness fell upon Will’s face as
Lucy laughed out loud patting a blushing Finn on the shoulder.
“You found yourself a tea drinker Finny boy, never let
this one go.” She disappeared in a waft of too strong perfume and Finn smiled
weakly towards Will.
“I’ve known her since I was 8.” He laughed softly, his
fingers absently tracing a coffee stain on the counter.
“So, you drink tea?” The corner of Will’s mouth raised, a
slither of a laugh slipping through his teeth.
“Yeah, I didn’t know anyone else who did.”
“Me neither.” Both stared at the counter, blushes worthy
of two 10 year olds painting their cheeks. “I have, umm, some really good stuff
from England, if you know you maybe wanted to come over after.”Will’s voice
trailed away as he realised the absurdity of his offer. In all honesty he
presumed he’d sleep with Finn this weekend and they’d be slightly closer
friends come Monday. He would’ve been perfectly happy with that. Then again,
Finn had always given him more than he had bargained for...
“Can I kiss you?” The mumbled offer came as a surprise to
Will. He chuckled softly, his breath catching the air in cloud formation.
“Do you usually ask?” The elder man’s fingers rested on
Finn’s forearm.
“No, but, I don’t want to screw this up.”
It was a tangled mess of limbs before either could reach
the stairs. Frantic kisses and whispered declarations of how they’d both wanted
to do this for years.
His bedroom was barren, freakishly devoid of pictures, of
memories, of the impression that love had ever been shared in this house. His
bed a double, a maroon throw pulled carelessly over the edge in a lacklustre
attempt to colour co-ordinate.
Finn’s shirt was shed, his jeans unbuttoned revealing the
sky blue boxers in full clarity. Will’s clothes following suit until both
stood, breath meeting, the daze of their encounter lessening to simple
adoration. The room smelt of sweat and testosterone and the burning desire that
seemed to fragrance the air with a wicked spice. Finn laughed, a bellowing
chuckle deep from his belly as he tackled Will to the soft down covers, kisses
peppering streaks down the older man’s chest.
And so, with an icy January breeze whipping the curtains
the two fell into one another leaving the sickly sweet perfume of sex to dust
the late evening air.
Will woke up to an empty bed, the twist of covers where
Finn had obviously fled upon realising he’d just slept with a 34 year old
man. He was left with a heavy ache in
his stomach and a throb between his legs that all solidified he hadn’t just
been wishfully dreaming.
He cried because he’d failed himself, failed Finn
obviously. Fists collided with pillows and a muffled grunt of anger slipped
from his lips.
“Hey, you okay?”
Will paused, turning his naked form towards the door, the clothed figure of Finn
hovering cautiously, a mug of tea in his palm.
“You stayed?”
“Wait.” Finn’s face fell and he placed the mug on the
bedside table. “You thought I’d left?” Finn shook his head and climbed onto the
bed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Finn took Will into a hug,
kissing his hair softly. “I’m here for the long run.” And for once in his life Will actually
believed it.
So, it wasn’t that Will fell in love with Finn at that
moment, no, he had walls that had to be broken before he’d open himself up
again; but it was that years of nursing
an unrequited crush, years of telling himself he couldn’t love Finn fell away.
Will was suddenly left with the overwhelmingly pleasant possibility of a future
with this boy man and it was the best he’d felt in years.
7 years later
“Sarah at work is having a baby.” Will mumbled before
lowering his head into his book.
“That’s nice.” Finn flicked through the newspaper in his
palm.
“Is that it, ‘that’s nice’.” Will scowled, a scoff
slipping past his lips.
“Yeah, it is isn’t it?” Finn shook his head, fumbling for
a biro on the bedside table.
“Well obviously, that’s my point.”
“I’m not following.” Finn let the tip of his tongue slip
through his lips as he scribbled down notes on the crossword.
“We should have a kid.” Finn paused, laying the paper
down slowly and pressing two fingers to his temples.
“We’ve talked about this Wi...”
“I don’t care Finn, you don’t even think about it!” Will
cut Finn off climbing out of bed and pacing along the floor.
“We live in a sixth floor apartment in New York. We have
no garden, barely enough money to feed ourselves and no room.” Finn let his
head fall back against the headboard. “Tell me how we could have a baby.”
“Couples do it all the time, Finn, we can’t just wait until everything’s
perfect.”
“We’re not like a normal couple Will; I can’t just knock
you up can I!”
“Fuck off Finn, you don’t even listen.” Will ran a hand
through his curls, spilling them into a wash of disarray.
“No, listen to me for a change. We’re a gay couple, we have
to adopt or use surrogacy. Surrogacy costs money we don’t have and no adoption
agency in their right minds would give us a kid okay, simple, want me to spell
it out for you.” Finn grunted, spinning his wedding ring with his fingers, the
same way he always did when he was angry.
“The reason we have no fucking money, hey, because you
mister art degree won’t get off your lazy ass and find a fucking job.”
“I’ve had plenty of jobs.”
“Yeah, that’s it, you’ve worked in offices that just weren’t right, you refuse
to send in your portfolio because it just isn’t quite right. Why does
everything have to be so perfect Finn?” Will raised his voice and stopped
pacing. “Why don’t you go and find some money, why don’t you go and get numbers
for adoption agencies, why don’t you stop acting like a fucking 20 year old?”
“Because I’m 26 Will, because I want this to be perfect
because if I fuck this up I have nobody. You see I want to be perfect so I can
please your sorry ass.” Finn stood, pulling his jacket over his shoulders.
“Guess what Will, I don’t give my portfolio in because I’m scared. Is that what
you want to hear?”
“Where are you going?”
“Out, to a bar, I don’t fucking know.” Finn slammed the
door behind him. Will’s foot planted itself into the wall. A raucous scream
leaving his lips.
They lasted 5 minutes.
“I’m sorry.” Finn mumbled and stuck his head around the
door.
“Me too.” Will stared at his feet. “I love you whatever
you know.”
“I know, I love you too.”
“We’re such pushovers it’s ridiculous.” His words fell
away in parted breaths dissipating in moans and laughs. Hands snaking slowly
around smalls of backs, kisses punctuating apologies.
Finn’s eyes flew open, his hand gripping the arm rest,
tears tracing his cheeks.
“Please fasten your seatbelts, we are now landing in
Columbus.”
“You okay buddy?” A hand landed on Finn’s arm, the
stranger’s smile fading.
“Yeah, bad dream, I’m fine.” Finn’s head fell back, his
hand holding the tremble of his fingers under control.
He wet his lips before closing his eyes and mouthing the
three words that seemed to haunt his every move.
‘I miss you.’
He watched, with a sullen weight on his shoulders. His
bag slung carelessly over his shoulders. His eyes scanning the sea of faces.
The faintest of smiles, the faintest flash of laughter
caught his lips as the word played over in his mouth.
It was scrawled on the back of a McDonald’s flyer, Puck’s
cursive as chaotic as the mind that wrote it. But the word was clear, a
flashback into a childhood of times past.
Finnotaur.
A scruffy drawing of a dinosaur and a bull stood
underneath the label ‘Puckosaurus loves you’
So Finn, letting the pressure of tears that was always
present flow freely ran over to Puck and fell into his arms, a sobbing mess of
hurt and pain and loss.
“Shhh, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” Puck cupped the back of
Finn’s head pulling him tighter to his chest, rocking him slightly, pretending
the wetness in his own eyes wasn’t real.
Puck finally gave into the tears as he felt the circle of
Will’s wedding ring around Finn’s neck dig into his chest.
The car journey, to say the least, was awkward. Finn sat
staring out of the window as Puck made idle conversation.
“I dumped Michael.” Puck mumbled and crossed a lane.
“Which one was he?”
“The Spanish waiter.” Finn nodded softly.
“He was a dickhead anyway.”
“Yeah, dating guys is hard work.” Puck pulled into the
service station.
“I married the first one I dated, I’m not an expert on the whole being bisexual
thing.” Puck scoffed. A silence hung over them both as Puck pulled into the car
park of McDonalds.
“What can I get you, on me?” He smiled lightly.
“Will hated McDonalds.” Finn laughed softly. “God I hate
talking about him in the past tense.” Pause.
“I’ll surprise you.”
Finn didn’t even reply.
The last half of the journey was similar to the first,
awkwardly silent just now with a heavy odour of grease and ketchup flavouring
the air.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Puck held Finn’s shoulders
and waited for Finn to nod weakly before pulling him into a hug. “Text me if
you need to talk.” He clambered back into his car, lighting a cigarette and
driving away.
Finn licked his lips hesitantly, observing with an
unwanted nostalgia the house he’d spent half of high school in. But he had to
do this. However badly he wanted to lock himself away, however badly he wanted
to hide in their room and clutch Will’s stupid sweater vests until they didn’t
smell like him anymore…he just had to do this.
“Where is he?” The man stood at the door, his hair askew,
his Marc Jacobs bag falling to the floor. Burt scratched his head.
“Kurt what are you doing here? It’s late.”
“I’m here to see my brother.”
Burt stood aside letting Kurt storm into the hall in his usual fashion.
“Look Kurt he…” Burt leant back against the door
“Where is he?”
“Couldn’t you have just waited until tomorrow, he really
doesn’t want to talk to anyone now.” Burt closed his eyes and let a sigh slip
through his lips as the sound of Kurt’s footsteps disappeared up the stairs
towards Finn’s room.
Kurt barged into Finn’s room and froze.
He was sat there on his bed hunched over his phone playing
Will’s voicemail message.
‘Sorry I can’t get
to the phone right now, Finn’s probably kidnapped me, leave a message after the
beep and I’ll call you back’
“I can’t make myself cancel his contract.” Finn hung up
the phone and looked up to Kurt.
“Yeah?” Kurt’s voice cracked.
“I’m scared I’ll forget what he sounds like.” And Kurt
took his brother into his arms.
“Shhh.” The height difference was awkward, their position
laughable but the intentions heartfelt.
“I miss him so fucking much.”
“I know.” Kurt ran his fingers through Finn’s hair. “I
know.”
The memorial was sweet, held in a hotel just outside of
Lima. Will’s funeral had been in New York, but for purposes of relatives who
couldn’t make the journey Finn now stood in a function suite with his back
against a wall, a scotch in his palm. Bitterness swept over him and he hated
himself for it but he couldn’t help but stare at Kurt and Blaine, Kurt, Blaine
and the 2 year old boy with an airplane in his grasp. His nephew for god’s sake, he was bitter towards his brother of all
people. But he regretted not listening to Will sometimes, regretted the fact he
didn’t have a little boy of his own, of their
own to tuck in at night or sing to sleep.
He threw the glass down on to the table and walked home,
abandoning a party at which he was supposed to be the guest of honour.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault, sometimes that comforted Finn,
sometimes that annoyed him, but Will had just been unlucky, fallen down a
flight of stairs at work and banged his head, he’d been stable in hospital for
a few days until he died of a haemorrhage no one had seen coming. Nothing to be
done, no one to be sued, just the simple fact that one second Will was leaving
the Thursday evening Teacher meeting and the next he was dying.
Finn turned around,
staring at the baron emptiness of his apartment. He picked up the baseball bat
next to the door and swung it against the wall, the table, the crappy oven that
barely boiled an egg.
He slung a shot of
whisky down his throat, then another, resorting to pouring the bottle’s
contents into his mouth, burning the pain of loss away. With the half empty
bottle in his palm he destroyed other things, ripping up his numerous drawings,
tossing his portfolio across the empty room. He smashed photos and
memories until he was a ball on the
floor, even surrounded by such chaos he was the most broken thing in the
apartment.
~
The letter appeared in his room the next day as relatives drifted home and the party
debris was left for someone else to clear away, a pale blue envelope addressed
to Finn Hudson. He started crying the second he saw the handwriting.
Finn,
I have this feeling
that this isn’t going to end well. I know I’m conscious now and you’ve
disappeared to the canteen so I figured this would be the time to write this.
Have you ever seen that film ‘P.S I love you’, where Gerard Butler leaves his
widow all sorts of letters and commands to get her through living without him,
well this is kinda like that I guess.
I love you.
Love you, Love you,
Love you more than anything.
I don’t care that
we never had a kid because I got you, I got seven amazing years of you. You are
and always will be, regardless of what shit comes after this life, be the
centre of my world and I just want you to know that even though I hope this
letter never has to be given to you, if it does, I want you to keep on living.
You’re young and amazing and beautiful and so talented. I want you to find a guy or a girl who will love you how I
did and I want you to be able to love somebody back. I’m not everything. You
have to live on.
Never ever stop
drinking tea or I will personally come and haunt you, I’m not talking Casper Finny boy, full on paranormal
activity shit.
Also, buy a new
oven that one’s crap and without my amazing culinary skills I don’t know how you’ll
manage. I don’t need you joining me from malnutrition.
I love you so, so,
so ridiculously much. I want to thank you for the best years of my life.
Please, let your heart be loved again.
Will
X
Kurt held him again, his own tears punctuating the silence
of the room. It was heavy and sticky and unmentioned, but the weight of grief
was piling high on both men.
~
He stayed true to Will’s wish. Even if the whole process of getting there
took a while.
He returned to New York with an attitude of change. Will
still ever present, holding his every thought but he didn’t cling to him so
much.
He cleared out their wardrobe after a few months,
donating pointless clothes to charity and saving certain items that had
meaning, that held a memory.
He sold the apartment and, with the aid of his wonderful
Brother in law/only banker in any form of family he’d ever had, found himself
with a mortgage and a down payment on a two bedroom house on the outskirts of
the city, no more apartments, he was too old for apartments.
He even dated, girls and boys. Lucy was nice but she
lasted all of 3 months, then came Anthony and Josh and Ella and suddenly he was
single again, with far too much of a confused brain to take any more.
He got a job.
Not just a job.
He got the job.
He found himself thrown into an architectural firm,
interning and then progressing upwards quickly enough that he could quit the
shop job he’d had to pay the bills and let his drawing fill the void he’d been
craving for a long time.
He was in a way, as happy as he was going to be without
him. It was 4 years, four years and he was still broken, still damaged goods
but he was healing.
For the first time he decided to stick to the pavement on
his way to Mikey’s. No hedges regardless of how much of a fond memory that was.
The bell above the door chimed, the floor tacky from
Lucy’s lacking ability to clean it herself. Finn was home.
“Hey sweet pea.” Her grin lit up Finn’s face immediately,
the place empty aside from a group of teens in the corner and a lone man hunched
at the counter. The soft hiss of the kettle rang in the background as Finn took
his stool next to the other man.
“I thought you weren’t coming for a minute.” The man’s
voice sounded relieved as he sipped his drink. Finn nodded thanks as Lucy
placed his tea in front of him.
“As if I’d leave you.”
“I never know.” He winked at the taller man and sipped
his own drink.
“You should trust me more you idiot, we live together,
what did you think I’d just flown back to New York without you.” Finn grumbled
into his tea.
“Pfft.” The man replied and smirked. “I do trust you, but
I’m still convinced you’re gonna run away and find someone smarter.”
“Seriously, I’m not the brightest button either, we’re
perfect for one another.” Finn pressed a chaste kiss to the other man’s cheek
and let him rest his head on his own shoulder.
“I love you dude.”
“I love you too.”
“Can I get you boys anything else?”
And it was far from perfect, Finn was far from healed, but he’d fallen head
over heels for a boy who’d been there all along.
“Yeah, I guess Finnotaur and me will split a stack and
I’m certainly game for another strawberry milkshake, cherr…”
“I know, I know, cherries and extra whipped cream, I’ve
been making it since you were 9.”
We’ll carry on
We’ll carry on
And though you’re dead and gone believe me
Your memory will carry on
We’ll carry on
We’ll carry on
And though you’re broken and defeated
Your weary widow marches on.
Author: eightoctave
Characters, Pairing: Finn/Will mainly with sides of Kurt/Blaine mentioned
Summary: It starts with a mug of tea and ends with a milkshake. Or in people terms, how Will and Finn somehow end up together and how they somehow end up apart again. I'm warning you, this isn't fluffy, well, it is initially, but I am rather fond of angst.
Rating: Errr, Pg-13 ish
Note: I haven't written in ages, this is also a fic that was discovered in my vast word document folder last night and with the addition of a few thousand words I finished it. This is mainly just being published so I can get back into teh habit of publishing things. I'm going to shut up now. Also I apologise for my Englishness regarding some spellings, the idea of dropping my beloved u from colour just doesn't compute with my brain.
It had started in College. Joshua Day was English, gay
and Will’s roommate. Will was a naive, just fallen out of the closet American, whose
attempts to embrace homosexuality had landed a tattoo of a rainbow on his left
ass cheek. Joshua was a classy, private schoolboy who had too many stories
regarding escapades in the boy’s locker room for his own good, Will worshipped
him.
It had been Will’s first day and upon his arrival in room
205, Josh wearing a tatty black t-shirt emblazoned with the slogan ‘Sorry girls
I’m gay!’ he’d found himself awestruck.
“Hello, I’m Josh, English major, I’m going to be a poet,
if you have a problem with me being gay leave now and Tea is on the table.”
Josh smiled and Will continued to gawp.
“W-Will, gay, I mean I’m
gay too, Spanish major.”
“Oh, estupendo senor!” So Will had sat at the table
carefully sipping his ‘tea’. For a Lima boy who’d never experienced anything
other than the bitter, black coffee available in polystyrene cups from Ally’s
café on 5th, tea was incredible. Fragrant and sweet and fresh and oh
so English; Will had fallen in love with both Joshua and tea that day, only the
latter of those loves continuing past his first semester of college.
Anyhow, Mikey’s.
Mikey’s pancake house was a place Finn frequented. He’d
visited almost every weekend with Puck since they were 9, ploughing through
stacks of blueberry pancakes with sides of ice cream and maple syrup until the
start of high school. Then of course, with hectic schedules and corresponding
girlfriend’s to please, visits had to be moved from their usual Saturday
morning ritual. Mikey’s stayed open until 10pm and so, every Tuesday, the one
night Puck didn’t have to babysit Sarah, the two boys ambled lazily down oak
street, cutting onto Evergreen through the McKenzie’s back garden and then
towards the neon signed Pancake house.
Puck drank strawberry milkshakes with cream and a cherry;
Finn drank tea, earl gray, no sugar, no milk, just tea. Nobody could mock them.
They’d both sit with their respective drinks, laugh with each other about what
would happen if somebody found out they were secret ‘girly’ drink drinkers and
talk until they had to be kicked out.
Puck had told Finn his Dad had left through a mouthful of
blueberry.
Finn had come out as Bi-sexual whilst gulping down his
tea.
It had become sort of the
place for important occasions, so obviously Finn took Will there.
Broke and sporting a stubbly beard Finn had returned home
for his Mom’s birthday one weekend from NYU. Once tainted by the big apple his
hunger for ‘city’ could never be satisfied. Lima was nothing compared to his
shared apartment with Kurt in the darkest pits of NYU’s surrounding boroughs.
His appetite was insatiable, after only a day he was bored. So, whilst
traipsing the aisles of Wal-Mart, dressed in shorts, tank top and faded red
vans he stumbled upon Mr.Schuester.
“Finn!” A call had caught Finn’s attention as he dropped
several varieties of Ben and Jerry’s into the cart.
“Mr.Schue!” Finn had replied at a volume viewed as ‘inappropriate’
by the fellow shoppers, well, judging by the scowls emblazoned on their faces
anyway that seemed to be the case.
“You look so different.” The older man beamed, and looked
Finn up and down. “And you’re wearing shorts in January...”
“Mom hasn’t caught up on my washing yet, Kurt tried to lock me in the house so
I couldn’t leave looking like this...he also threatened to shave me in my
sleep.” Finn trailed off into the realisation that his brother was actually a
bit of a dick.
“How’s NYU?” Mr.Schue asked leaning on his own cart.
Finn was once told you could tell a lot by what a person bought. It became
apparent the latter was a load of bull when all that he had found from staring at
said teacher’s shopping was that he, like many other Americans, used bread,
milk and kitchen towels. Although...Finn pondered before realising the lengthy
duration he had placed between the asking of the question and the answering,
Mr.Schue could probably tell a lot from his. Finn’s cart, along with 4 tubs of
ice cream housed 1 pack of condoms, 2 copies of instinct (one for Kurt and one
for himself, that boy would not share!), 2 tubs of crunchy peanut butter, 1 tub
of grape jelly and a copy of the new Call of Duty, not that he was taking
advantage of having access to his Mom’s money, no, not at all.
“It’s good.” Finn replied nodding vaguely whilst mentally
filtering through reams of one night stands, drunken parties and Broadway shows
to figure out what he had actually been learning. It hit Finn then, that he
really, really needed to study more. “I have an art major going on...”
To say Mr.Schue was stunned would probably be an
understatement. “I know, it’s weird. I take one sketching class in the summer
and boom, I know what I want to do with my life.” Upon the dawning revelation
that Mr.Schue had appeared to stop breathing Finn tapped him softly on the
shoulder. “You okay there Mr.S?”
“What, yeah, call me Will, yeah....you draw?” Mr-Will
gawped to say it in the most flattering way.
“I want to go into architecture.” Finn watched as Will
opened his mouth repeatedly only to close it seconds later. “Awkward turtle...”
Finn mumbled under his breath.
“Pardon?”
“What? Oh, nothing.” Finn shook his head, a small smirk playing on his lips.
“How’s Holly?” The elder man’s features dropped, his eyes falling downward
before a fake smile illuminated his dimple.
“We, umm, yeah we’re not together anymore.”
“That sucks dude.” Finn let his fingers feather over
Will’s shoulder, their gazes locking momentarily. “Do you maybe want to go out
tonight? I know a cool little café, Puck and I used to go there all the time.”
“Yeah.” Will grinned and Finn, without a doubt saw the
man happier than he had in a long time.
“Awesome.” Finn’s fingers fell away and he gripped the
cart. “Are you still in the same place?”
“Yeah, 27 King’s Court. Come around about 7.” Will’s eyes
fell downward, the breath of a laugh drifting from his lips. “By the way, there
is a smoking picture of Chace Crawford in this month’s issue.” With a soft wink
and a chuckle he was gone, leaving Finn with frantic fingers pawing through the
magazine and a sudden questioning of Will’s sexuality.
And there, Page 32, was in fact an extremely smoking
picture of Chace Crawford.
Will hadn’t considered that anything would ever come to
fruition regarding his rather inappropriate crush. Nevertheless here he was,
foot caught in the McKenzie’s bush and a hiss of laughter escaping Finn’s lips.
“For God’s sake Finn help me!” And they’d both doubled
over, tears tracing tracks down cheeks as they scrambled over the opposite
fence at the call of ‘Who’s there?’ and the flick of a back room light.
The faint splash of red from the glowing open sign had
painted Finn’s face in the softest of hues, emphasising the subtle boy verging
on man charms of his looks. Finn, on the threat of pain from Kurt, had
reluctantly shaved and changed. Now, Will thought as he looked meagrely down at
his own jeans and T-Shirt ensemble, he looked considerably more handsome. The
taller boy had donned black skinny jeans that hung just low enough for Will to
catch a glimpse of the sky blue boxers that lay beneath; a T-shirt covered in
lyrics that Will, much to Finn’s disbelief recognised from Radiohead’s song
nude.
“You like Radiohead?” Finn had stared with a slack jaw as
Will nodded.
“I do like normal music as well as Broadway you know.”
His shoes, yet another variant on the Vans make were
sketched upon in black marker, buildings towering from his toe.
“Did you draw that?” Will had asked as the quiet ding of
a bell chimed upon Finn’s entry.
“Yup, it’s the view from my bedroom window in New York, I
love it, it just reminds me of how far I’ve come.” And Will looked up at the
boy in a whole new light, a light that made him 19, a college boy, a boy who
wasn’t 16 and lost anymore.
Mikey’s was empty apart from the ageing woman at the
counter. Her smile grew as Finn walked forward, a matching smile gracing his
own lips.
“My, oh my.” She said, her southern drawl filling Finn
with an overwhelmingly comforting sense of familiarity. “If that ain’t Finn
Hudson, haven’t seen you in far too long.”
“How’s it been Mrs. Simpson?” Finn took a seat at the counter,
Will gingerly following with a forced smile.
“It’s just Lucy now Finn, Mikey passed last month.”
“Aw man, I’m sorry I didn’t know.” Lucy replied with a
watery smile and patted his hand.
“He died how he lived, asleep in the armchair with the
football on.” She shook her head and scrubbed her eyes. “Can I get you any
sugar or are you still on the plain earl.”
“The latter.” Finn mumbled and smirked. Lucy tutted
swiftly before tracing Will with her eyes.
“And what can I get you sweet cheeks?”
“Tea please.” A sudden wariness fell upon Will’s face as
Lucy laughed out loud patting a blushing Finn on the shoulder.
“You found yourself a tea drinker Finny boy, never let
this one go.” She disappeared in a waft of too strong perfume and Finn smiled
weakly towards Will.
“I’ve known her since I was 8.” He laughed softly, his
fingers absently tracing a coffee stain on the counter.
“So, you drink tea?” The corner of Will’s mouth raised, a
slither of a laugh slipping through his teeth.
“Yeah, I didn’t know anyone else who did.”
“Me neither.” Both stared at the counter, blushes worthy
of two 10 year olds painting their cheeks. “I have, umm, some really good stuff
from England, if you know you maybe wanted to come over after.”Will’s voice
trailed away as he realised the absurdity of his offer. In all honesty he
presumed he’d sleep with Finn this weekend and they’d be slightly closer
friends come Monday. He would’ve been perfectly happy with that. Then again,
Finn had always given him more than he had bargained for...
“Can I kiss you?” The mumbled offer came as a surprise to
Will. He chuckled softly, his breath catching the air in cloud formation.
“Do you usually ask?” The elder man’s fingers rested on
Finn’s forearm.
“No, but, I don’t want to screw this up.”
It was a tangled mess of limbs before either could reach
the stairs. Frantic kisses and whispered declarations of how they’d both wanted
to do this for years.
His bedroom was barren, freakishly devoid of pictures, of
memories, of the impression that love had ever been shared in this house. His
bed a double, a maroon throw pulled carelessly over the edge in a lacklustre
attempt to colour co-ordinate.
Finn’s shirt was shed, his jeans unbuttoned revealing the
sky blue boxers in full clarity. Will’s clothes following suit until both
stood, breath meeting, the daze of their encounter lessening to simple
adoration. The room smelt of sweat and testosterone and the burning desire that
seemed to fragrance the air with a wicked spice. Finn laughed, a bellowing
chuckle deep from his belly as he tackled Will to the soft down covers, kisses
peppering streaks down the older man’s chest.
And so, with an icy January breeze whipping the curtains
the two fell into one another leaving the sickly sweet perfume of sex to dust
the late evening air.
Will woke up to an empty bed, the twist of covers where
Finn had obviously fled upon realising he’d just slept with a 34 year old
man. He was left with a heavy ache in
his stomach and a throb between his legs that all solidified he hadn’t just
been wishfully dreaming.
He cried because he’d failed himself, failed Finn
obviously. Fists collided with pillows and a muffled grunt of anger slipped
from his lips.
“Hey, you okay?”
Will paused, turning his naked form towards the door, the clothed figure of Finn
hovering cautiously, a mug of tea in his palm.
“You stayed?”
“Wait.” Finn’s face fell and he placed the mug on the
bedside table. “You thought I’d left?” Finn shook his head and climbed onto the
bed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Finn took Will into a hug,
kissing his hair softly. “I’m here for the long run.” And for once in his life Will actually
believed it.
So, it wasn’t that Will fell in love with Finn at that
moment, no, he had walls that had to be broken before he’d open himself up
again; but it was that years of nursing
an unrequited crush, years of telling himself he couldn’t love Finn fell away.
Will was suddenly left with the overwhelmingly pleasant possibility of a future
with this boy man and it was the best he’d felt in years.
7 years later
“Sarah at work is having a baby.” Will mumbled before
lowering his head into his book.
“That’s nice.” Finn flicked through the newspaper in his
palm.
“Is that it, ‘that’s nice’.” Will scowled, a scoff
slipping past his lips.
“Yeah, it is isn’t it?” Finn shook his head, fumbling for
a biro on the bedside table.
“Well obviously, that’s my point.”
“I’m not following.” Finn let the tip of his tongue slip
through his lips as he scribbled down notes on the crossword.
“We should have a kid.” Finn paused, laying the paper
down slowly and pressing two fingers to his temples.
“We’ve talked about this Wi...”
“I don’t care Finn, you don’t even think about it!” Will
cut Finn off climbing out of bed and pacing along the floor.
“We live in a sixth floor apartment in New York. We have
no garden, barely enough money to feed ourselves and no room.” Finn let his
head fall back against the headboard. “Tell me how we could have a baby.”
“Couples do it all the time, Finn, we can’t just wait until everything’s
perfect.”
“We’re not like a normal couple Will; I can’t just knock
you up can I!”
“Fuck off Finn, you don’t even listen.” Will ran a hand
through his curls, spilling them into a wash of disarray.
“No, listen to me for a change. We’re a gay couple, we have
to adopt or use surrogacy. Surrogacy costs money we don’t have and no adoption
agency in their right minds would give us a kid okay, simple, want me to spell
it out for you.” Finn grunted, spinning his wedding ring with his fingers, the
same way he always did when he was angry.
“The reason we have no fucking money, hey, because you
mister art degree won’t get off your lazy ass and find a fucking job.”
“I’ve had plenty of jobs.”
“Yeah, that’s it, you’ve worked in offices that just weren’t right, you refuse
to send in your portfolio because it just isn’t quite right. Why does
everything have to be so perfect Finn?” Will raised his voice and stopped
pacing. “Why don’t you go and find some money, why don’t you go and get numbers
for adoption agencies, why don’t you stop acting like a fucking 20 year old?”
“Because I’m 26 Will, because I want this to be perfect
because if I fuck this up I have nobody. You see I want to be perfect so I can
please your sorry ass.” Finn stood, pulling his jacket over his shoulders.
“Guess what Will, I don’t give my portfolio in because I’m scared. Is that what
you want to hear?”
“Where are you going?”
“Out, to a bar, I don’t fucking know.” Finn slammed the
door behind him. Will’s foot planted itself into the wall. A raucous scream
leaving his lips.
They lasted 5 minutes.
“I’m sorry.” Finn mumbled and stuck his head around the
door.
“Me too.” Will stared at his feet. “I love you whatever
you know.”
“I know, I love you too.”
“We’re such pushovers it’s ridiculous.” His words fell
away in parted breaths dissipating in moans and laughs. Hands snaking slowly
around smalls of backs, kisses punctuating apologies.
Finn’s eyes flew open, his hand gripping the arm rest,
tears tracing his cheeks.
“Please fasten your seatbelts, we are now landing in
Columbus.”
“You okay buddy?” A hand landed on Finn’s arm, the
stranger’s smile fading.
“Yeah, bad dream, I’m fine.” Finn’s head fell back, his
hand holding the tremble of his fingers under control.
He wet his lips before closing his eyes and mouthing the
three words that seemed to haunt his every move.
‘I miss you.’
He watched, with a sullen weight on his shoulders. His
bag slung carelessly over his shoulders. His eyes scanning the sea of faces.
The faintest of smiles, the faintest flash of laughter
caught his lips as the word played over in his mouth.
It was scrawled on the back of a McDonald’s flyer, Puck’s
cursive as chaotic as the mind that wrote it. But the word was clear, a
flashback into a childhood of times past.
Finnotaur.
A scruffy drawing of a dinosaur and a bull stood
underneath the label ‘Puckosaurus loves you’
So Finn, letting the pressure of tears that was always
present flow freely ran over to Puck and fell into his arms, a sobbing mess of
hurt and pain and loss.
“Shhh, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” Puck cupped the back of
Finn’s head pulling him tighter to his chest, rocking him slightly, pretending
the wetness in his own eyes wasn’t real.
Puck finally gave into the tears as he felt the circle of
Will’s wedding ring around Finn’s neck dig into his chest.
The car journey, to say the least, was awkward. Finn sat
staring out of the window as Puck made idle conversation.
“I dumped Michael.” Puck mumbled and crossed a lane.
“Which one was he?”
“The Spanish waiter.” Finn nodded softly.
“He was a dickhead anyway.”
“Yeah, dating guys is hard work.” Puck pulled into the
service station.
“I married the first one I dated, I’m not an expert on the whole being bisexual
thing.” Puck scoffed. A silence hung over them both as Puck pulled into the car
park of McDonalds.
“What can I get you, on me?” He smiled lightly.
“Will hated McDonalds.” Finn laughed softly. “God I hate
talking about him in the past tense.” Pause.
“I’ll surprise you.”
Finn didn’t even reply.
The last half of the journey was similar to the first,
awkwardly silent just now with a heavy odour of grease and ketchup flavouring
the air.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Puck held Finn’s shoulders
and waited for Finn to nod weakly before pulling him into a hug. “Text me if
you need to talk.” He clambered back into his car, lighting a cigarette and
driving away.
Finn licked his lips hesitantly, observing with an
unwanted nostalgia the house he’d spent half of high school in. But he had to
do this. However badly he wanted to lock himself away, however badly he wanted
to hide in their room and clutch Will’s stupid sweater vests until they didn’t
smell like him anymore…he just had to do this.
“Where is he?” The man stood at the door, his hair askew,
his Marc Jacobs bag falling to the floor. Burt scratched his head.
“Kurt what are you doing here? It’s late.”
“I’m here to see my brother.”
Burt stood aside letting Kurt storm into the hall in his usual fashion.
“Look Kurt he…” Burt leant back against the door
“Where is he?”
“Couldn’t you have just waited until tomorrow, he really
doesn’t want to talk to anyone now.” Burt closed his eyes and let a sigh slip
through his lips as the sound of Kurt’s footsteps disappeared up the stairs
towards Finn’s room.
Kurt barged into Finn’s room and froze.
He was sat there on his bed hunched over his phone playing
Will’s voicemail message.
‘Sorry I can’t get
to the phone right now, Finn’s probably kidnapped me, leave a message after the
beep and I’ll call you back’
“I can’t make myself cancel his contract.” Finn hung up
the phone and looked up to Kurt.
“Yeah?” Kurt’s voice cracked.
“I’m scared I’ll forget what he sounds like.” And Kurt
took his brother into his arms.
“Shhh.” The height difference was awkward, their position
laughable but the intentions heartfelt.
“I miss him so fucking much.”
“I know.” Kurt ran his fingers through Finn’s hair. “I
know.”
The memorial was sweet, held in a hotel just outside of
Lima. Will’s funeral had been in New York, but for purposes of relatives who
couldn’t make the journey Finn now stood in a function suite with his back
against a wall, a scotch in his palm. Bitterness swept over him and he hated
himself for it but he couldn’t help but stare at Kurt and Blaine, Kurt, Blaine
and the 2 year old boy with an airplane in his grasp. His nephew for god’s sake, he was bitter towards his brother of all
people. But he regretted not listening to Will sometimes, regretted the fact he
didn’t have a little boy of his own, of their
own to tuck in at night or sing to sleep.
He threw the glass down on to the table and walked home,
abandoning a party at which he was supposed to be the guest of honour.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault, sometimes that comforted Finn,
sometimes that annoyed him, but Will had just been unlucky, fallen down a
flight of stairs at work and banged his head, he’d been stable in hospital for
a few days until he died of a haemorrhage no one had seen coming. Nothing to be
done, no one to be sued, just the simple fact that one second Will was leaving
the Thursday evening Teacher meeting and the next he was dying.
Finn turned around,
staring at the baron emptiness of his apartment. He picked up the baseball bat
next to the door and swung it against the wall, the table, the crappy oven that
barely boiled an egg.
He slung a shot of
whisky down his throat, then another, resorting to pouring the bottle’s
contents into his mouth, burning the pain of loss away. With the half empty
bottle in his palm he destroyed other things, ripping up his numerous drawings,
tossing his portfolio across the empty room. He smashed photos and
memories until he was a ball on the
floor, even surrounded by such chaos he was the most broken thing in the
apartment.
~
The letter appeared in his room the next day as relatives drifted home and the party
debris was left for someone else to clear away, a pale blue envelope addressed
to Finn Hudson. He started crying the second he saw the handwriting.
Finn,
I have this feeling
that this isn’t going to end well. I know I’m conscious now and you’ve
disappeared to the canteen so I figured this would be the time to write this.
Have you ever seen that film ‘P.S I love you’, where Gerard Butler leaves his
widow all sorts of letters and commands to get her through living without him,
well this is kinda like that I guess.
I love you.
Love you, Love you,
Love you more than anything.
I don’t care that
we never had a kid because I got you, I got seven amazing years of you. You are
and always will be, regardless of what shit comes after this life, be the
centre of my world and I just want you to know that even though I hope this
letter never has to be given to you, if it does, I want you to keep on living.
You’re young and amazing and beautiful and so talented. I want you to find a guy or a girl who will love you how I
did and I want you to be able to love somebody back. I’m not everything. You
have to live on.
Never ever stop
drinking tea or I will personally come and haunt you, I’m not talking Casper Finny boy, full on paranormal
activity shit.
Also, buy a new
oven that one’s crap and without my amazing culinary skills I don’t know how you’ll
manage. I don’t need you joining me from malnutrition.
I love you so, so,
so ridiculously much. I want to thank you for the best years of my life.
Please, let your heart be loved again.
Will
X
Kurt held him again, his own tears punctuating the silence
of the room. It was heavy and sticky and unmentioned, but the weight of grief
was piling high on both men.
~
He stayed true to Will’s wish. Even if the whole process of getting there
took a while.
He returned to New York with an attitude of change. Will
still ever present, holding his every thought but he didn’t cling to him so
much.
He cleared out their wardrobe after a few months,
donating pointless clothes to charity and saving certain items that had
meaning, that held a memory.
He sold the apartment and, with the aid of his wonderful
Brother in law/only banker in any form of family he’d ever had, found himself
with a mortgage and a down payment on a two bedroom house on the outskirts of
the city, no more apartments, he was too old for apartments.
He even dated, girls and boys. Lucy was nice but she
lasted all of 3 months, then came Anthony and Josh and Ella and suddenly he was
single again, with far too much of a confused brain to take any more.
He got a job.
Not just a job.
He got the job.
He found himself thrown into an architectural firm,
interning and then progressing upwards quickly enough that he could quit the
shop job he’d had to pay the bills and let his drawing fill the void he’d been
craving for a long time.
He was in a way, as happy as he was going to be without
him. It was 4 years, four years and he was still broken, still damaged goods
but he was healing.
For the first time he decided to stick to the pavement on
his way to Mikey’s. No hedges regardless of how much of a fond memory that was.
The bell above the door chimed, the floor tacky from
Lucy’s lacking ability to clean it herself. Finn was home.
“Hey sweet pea.” Her grin lit up Finn’s face immediately,
the place empty aside from a group of teens in the corner and a lone man hunched
at the counter. The soft hiss of the kettle rang in the background as Finn took
his stool next to the other man.
“I thought you weren’t coming for a minute.” The man’s
voice sounded relieved as he sipped his drink. Finn nodded thanks as Lucy
placed his tea in front of him.
“As if I’d leave you.”
“I never know.” He winked at the taller man and sipped
his own drink.
“You should trust me more you idiot, we live together,
what did you think I’d just flown back to New York without you.” Finn grumbled
into his tea.
“Pfft.” The man replied and smirked. “I do trust you, but
I’m still convinced you’re gonna run away and find someone smarter.”
“Seriously, I’m not the brightest button either, we’re
perfect for one another.” Finn pressed a chaste kiss to the other man’s cheek
and let him rest his head on his own shoulder.
“I love you dude.”
“I love you too.”
“Can I get you boys anything else?”
And it was far from perfect, Finn was far from healed, but he’d fallen head
over heels for a boy who’d been there all along.
“Yeah, I guess Finnotaur and me will split a stack and
I’m certainly game for another strawberry milkshake, cherr…”
“I know, I know, cherries and extra whipped cream, I’ve
been making it since you were 9.”
We’ll carry on
We’ll carry on
And though you’re dead and gone believe me
Your memory will carry on
We’ll carry on
We’ll carry on
And though you’re broken and defeated
Your weary widow marches on.