Fic: Help
Title: Help
Author: def_of_joy
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Up to Mattress
Notes: This follows the story Looking for Better Moments. I seem to have created a little Winn universe in my mind . . .
--
Finn stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection. Did he look different now? Would anyone be able to tell? Had things really changed since he’d walked into Mr Schue’s office?
He could hear Quinn and his mother talking in the hall, something about going shopping once sectionals were over. He was glad that Quinn had his mother to turn to, someone with real answers and experience. Someone who was helping her keep everything together.
Who was helping Mr Schue?
Surely there was someone he could turn to, some friend or a family member who would be able to help him. But for some reason, Finn doubted that Mr Schue had turned to anyone. He would be too proud for that.
Except, well he turned to Finn.
Finn raised his finger to his lips, tracing over the spot when Mr Schue’s fingers had been, just a few hours earlier. He wondered if Mr Schue would have . . . kissed him if he had said nothing. He wondered if that would have been such a bad thing.
“Finn! Are you going to be in there all night?” His mother knocked sharply on the door. “Quinn and I are waiting out here.”
“Just rinsing,” he called back. He paused for a moment in front of the mirror before opening the door. Just trying to look normal. Because everything was normal, wasn’t it.”
He couldn’t sleep though. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the stricken, crumpled form of his teacher slumped on the floor. Or the longing for . . . something in his eyes as he turned towards Finn.
He sighed. There was no way he was going to get any sleep. Not after leaving things up in the air like that. He had to get out.
He waited until his mother and Quinn had fallen asleep and snaffled his mother’s keys from the lopsided tray in the kitchen. He pulled the car out easily, just intending to drive around, maybe drop in for a slushie somewhere. But, despite his better intentions, he found himself driving towards the school.
He was being silly, he told himself. It wasn’t like Mr Schue would still be at the school, not after everything that had gone down. And yet, there was his car in the the parking lot, and Finn was sure he could see a light on the second floor.
He let himself in through the gym, moving quietly through the dimly lit halls. He told himself that he was just checking up on Mr Schue, just making sure that he was okay. Yet there was a twist in his stomach, and a tingle running across his skin which he just couldn’t shake.
He didn’t find his teaching in the glee room or in his office. He was about to turn around and head home, dismiss the whole thing as nonsense, when he remembered the Spanish room. There he was, hunched over a pile of papers, his shoulders slumped forward like he was carrying the world on them.
“Mr Schue?” Finn spoke quietly, but Mr Schue still jumped, obviously expecting to find himself alone in the school. He looked up at Finn and it was obvious that he’d been crying, that things were not okay.
“What are you doing here, Finn?” Mr Schue picked up his watch, rubbing his eyes. “It’s after midnight.”
Finn shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. I was worried about you.”
Mr Schue nodded slowly, “I’m sorry about earlier,” he whispered. Finn had to step closer to hear him. “I shouldn’t . . . things are bad enough as it is.”
Finn shook his head. “Don’t be stupid.” He took another step forward. “Just, well I’ve been thinking about some things for some time now. And it made me wonder something.”
He moved around to be on the same side of the desk as Mr Schue. His teacher had his hands out, like he was trying to push Finn away, but Finn grabbed them in his own hands, breathing a little faster as Mr Schue’s fingers tightened around his. He leaned forward and kissed Mr Schue carefully, tentatively, like he had the first time he kissed Quinn.
Mr Schue was tense at first, dropping Finn’s hands, making Finn worry that he was about the pull away. But then Mr Schue’s fingers were wrapped around the back of his neck and the kiss deepened. Finn felt Mr Schue’s stubble brush harshly against his skin, and he realised that he was going to have to use some of Kurt’s skin products in the morning. But then Mr Schue’s tongue was pressing between his lips and his knees were weakening and he forgot about skin products and Kurt and anything else he’d ever had in his head.
But then Mr Schue was stepping away, one hand on his hips, the other over his mouth. “We shouldn’t,” he whispered.
Finn shook his head. “I wanted to. I want to. I came to you.”
“That doesn’t matter. It’s not the right thing to do.”
Finn looked down at his shoes. “I know I’ve never done that, you know, with a guy. But I thought it was okay.”
“No!” Mr Schue looked away. “”It was okay. I mean, it was great. We just can’t . . .”
Finn shifted from one side to another. “I’m sorry if I messed things up Mr Schue. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He paused for a moment, expecting . . . he wasn’t sure what. But there was nothing. When he looked up again, Mr Schue was looking through his papers again.
He left without saying a word.
Author: def_of_joy
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Up to Mattress
Notes: This follows the story Looking for Better Moments. I seem to have created a little Winn universe in my mind . . .
--
Finn stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection. Did he look different now? Would anyone be able to tell? Had things really changed since he’d walked into Mr Schue’s office?
He could hear Quinn and his mother talking in the hall, something about going shopping once sectionals were over. He was glad that Quinn had his mother to turn to, someone with real answers and experience. Someone who was helping her keep everything together.
Who was helping Mr Schue?
Surely there was someone he could turn to, some friend or a family member who would be able to help him. But for some reason, Finn doubted that Mr Schue had turned to anyone. He would be too proud for that.
Except, well he turned to Finn.
Finn raised his finger to his lips, tracing over the spot when Mr Schue’s fingers had been, just a few hours earlier. He wondered if Mr Schue would have . . . kissed him if he had said nothing. He wondered if that would have been such a bad thing.
“Finn! Are you going to be in there all night?” His mother knocked sharply on the door. “Quinn and I are waiting out here.”
“Just rinsing,” he called back. He paused for a moment in front of the mirror before opening the door. Just trying to look normal. Because everything was normal, wasn’t it.”
He couldn’t sleep though. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the stricken, crumpled form of his teacher slumped on the floor. Or the longing for . . . something in his eyes as he turned towards Finn.
He sighed. There was no way he was going to get any sleep. Not after leaving things up in the air like that. He had to get out.
He waited until his mother and Quinn had fallen asleep and snaffled his mother’s keys from the lopsided tray in the kitchen. He pulled the car out easily, just intending to drive around, maybe drop in for a slushie somewhere. But, despite his better intentions, he found himself driving towards the school.
He was being silly, he told himself. It wasn’t like Mr Schue would still be at the school, not after everything that had gone down. And yet, there was his car in the the parking lot, and Finn was sure he could see a light on the second floor.
He let himself in through the gym, moving quietly through the dimly lit halls. He told himself that he was just checking up on Mr Schue, just making sure that he was okay. Yet there was a twist in his stomach, and a tingle running across his skin which he just couldn’t shake.
He didn’t find his teaching in the glee room or in his office. He was about to turn around and head home, dismiss the whole thing as nonsense, when he remembered the Spanish room. There he was, hunched over a pile of papers, his shoulders slumped forward like he was carrying the world on them.
“Mr Schue?” Finn spoke quietly, but Mr Schue still jumped, obviously expecting to find himself alone in the school. He looked up at Finn and it was obvious that he’d been crying, that things were not okay.
“What are you doing here, Finn?” Mr Schue picked up his watch, rubbing his eyes. “It’s after midnight.”
Finn shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. I was worried about you.”
Mr Schue nodded slowly, “I’m sorry about earlier,” he whispered. Finn had to step closer to hear him. “I shouldn’t . . . things are bad enough as it is.”
Finn shook his head. “Don’t be stupid.” He took another step forward. “Just, well I’ve been thinking about some things for some time now. And it made me wonder something.”
He moved around to be on the same side of the desk as Mr Schue. His teacher had his hands out, like he was trying to push Finn away, but Finn grabbed them in his own hands, breathing a little faster as Mr Schue’s fingers tightened around his. He leaned forward and kissed Mr Schue carefully, tentatively, like he had the first time he kissed Quinn.
Mr Schue was tense at first, dropping Finn’s hands, making Finn worry that he was about the pull away. But then Mr Schue’s fingers were wrapped around the back of his neck and the kiss deepened. Finn felt Mr Schue’s stubble brush harshly against his skin, and he realised that he was going to have to use some of Kurt’s skin products in the morning. But then Mr Schue’s tongue was pressing between his lips and his knees were weakening and he forgot about skin products and Kurt and anything else he’d ever had in his head.
But then Mr Schue was stepping away, one hand on his hips, the other over his mouth. “We shouldn’t,” he whispered.
Finn shook his head. “I wanted to. I want to. I came to you.”
“That doesn’t matter. It’s not the right thing to do.”
Finn looked down at his shoes. “I know I’ve never done that, you know, with a guy. But I thought it was okay.”
“No!” Mr Schue looked away. “”It was okay. I mean, it was great. We just can’t . . .”
Finn shifted from one side to another. “I’m sorry if I messed things up Mr Schue. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He paused for a moment, expecting . . . he wasn’t sure what. But there was nothing. When he looked up again, Mr Schue was looking through his papers again.
He left without saying a word.