Kurt/Blaine, Finn: Brotherly Chats II (aka. The Penguin Incident) (R)

Jun 24, 2011 19:09

Title: Brotherly Chats II (aka. The Penguin Incident)
Pairings: Kurt/Finn brotherliness, Kurt/Blaine, Finn/Rachel
Rating: R
Word Count: 5,354
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Discussion about sex. Mentions of underage drinking. Lots of naughty language.
Summary: Kurt and Finn woke up after their drunken night of brotherly bonding shirtless in bed together with no knowledge of how they'd wound up in such a compromising position. What in the hell happened?
A/N: This is the sequel to Brotherly Chats. You need to read that part in order for this one to make ANY sense. This fic was inspired by "The Pineapple Incident," a season one episode of the amazing sitcom "How I Met Your Mother." Part of the (Mis)Adventures of Teenage Boys 'verse. oddmeants is the Snoopy to my Woodstock, the Ron to my Harry, and she's amazing for putting up with all of my whining. (You can find me on Tumblr here!)

Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

"Okay, Finn. What happened last night? I came up here to," Kurt swallowed, "To have phone sex with Blaine and that's all I remember." Finn sat up and pulled one of Kurt's pillows over his bare chest, looking concernedly around the room.

"Have you always had a stuffed penguin?" Finn asked, his gaze fixing in on Kurt's desk. Kurt huffed exasperatedly but followed his gaze anyway, finding himself surprised when he did see a two foot tall stuffed penguin sitting proudly next to his computer monitor.

"No, but focus! We can worry about the damned penguin later. Blaine is mad at me and we woke up in bed shirtless together and clearly there are more important things going on than there being a stuffed animal in my room!" Kurt exclaimed, close to shrieking by the end.

"Dudes! Shut up!" a voice yelled from across the hall. Both of them froze and looked at the open doorway.

"Was that...?" Kurt asked.

"Puck," Finn answered, "I don't remember Puck coming over. I remember drinking a few more beers and that's it."

"Let's go see what he's doing here. Maybe he can fill in some of the blanks for us," Kurt said, looking around the room, "Where are our shirts?"

"We didn't..." Finn said as he stood but didn't drop the pillow from his grasp, "Did we?"

"What? No, Finn!"

"If you don't remember anything, then how do you know for sure?"

"Because I'm in love with Blaine and you're my stepbrother and we just didn't, okay?" Kurt said, watching on as Finn started wriggling around and making a face of deep concentration. "What are you doing? Finn, what are you doing? Oh my god, stop poking at your ass!"

"I'm making sure that nothing feels weird down there, okay?" Finn said.

"If I'd had sex with you last night, you would already know," Kurt sassed as he yanked a plain white t-shirt from his dresser and pulled it on, "Now can we please go talk to Puck?"

"Can I have a shirt, too?" Finn whined.

"It'll be too tight, but here," Kurt rolled his eyes, tossing a black one to Finn. He stalked toward the hallway, ignoring Finn as he complained about how the shirt didn't fit right and barging straight into Finn's room.

Puck was sprawled out on the bed shirtless with a pillow over his face.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt asked.

"You two wouldn't stop calling me so I finally came over here around midnight and found you two playing Guitar Hero with your shirts off. I thought it was pretty weird until I saw the bottle of Jose you two had already chugged half of," Puck said, launching the pillow in Kurt's direction.

"And why were our shirts off?"

"I don't know. Hudson started yelling at me that if I didn't take mine off, too, I couldn't play. I'm not too proud to show off a little skin for the sake of some Guitar Hero, so I took it off and started owning your sorry asses. Seriously, Hummel, you're fucking terrible at video games."

"Maybe that's because I never play video games because I have better things to do with my time."

"Like hump your boyfriend at parties?" Puck smirked as he stood from the bed.

"Among other things," Kurt said, quirking an eyebrow and turning as Finn entered the room. He was tugging at the much too tight t-shirt and immediately heading for his own dresser.

"What's with the shirt? You look shrink-wrapped," Puck told Finn as he pulled a more comfortably sized shirt over Kurt's.

"We don't know where our shirts are," Finn explained, "Do, uh, you know why Kurt and I were in bed together?"

"You two were in bed together? I passed out around three and you two were still up watching TV," Puck said before cracking up, "I knew you guys were wasted, but I didn't think you'd actually fool around or something."

"We didn't," Kurt said hurriedly.

"Probably," Finn grumbled.

"Finn, we didn't. There's no way!"

"We were so drunk that we don't remember anything, so how can you say that?"

"It's too bad you didn't. Finn might loosen up and start dancing better if he got good and fucked," Puck said, shrugging as they all headed for the door.

"If Kurt and I had sex, why do you assume that he would be on top?" Finn demanded. Puck froze and he and Kurt shared a look before they both started laughing. "Hey! Answer me, guys!"

"Okay," Kurt said to Puck, ignoring Finn as he walked down the stairs, "The last thing I remember is coming up to my room around nine. That means we still have to figure out what happened between nine and midnight and between three and whenever we went to bed."

"Well, when I was here all we did was drink tequila and play Guitar Hero. Oh, and you kept texting Mercedes," Puck said. Kurt winced at the mention of his phone. He really needed to call Blaine, but he wanted to get some things figured out first. The inevitable conversation wasn't one that he wanted to go into blind, especially if Blaine really was mad at him about something.

"Oh my god," Kurt said, slowing to a stop when they reached the foot of the stairs.

The living room was a mess. No, calling it a mess would signify that it could be cleaned with relative ease.

The living room was a disaster. There was a toppled beer can pyramid spilling onto the floor, the discarded bottles of Peppermint Schnapps and tequila on the coffee table, the latter of which hadn't been completely empty when it'd fallen over. A stain lay on the carpet directly below where the mouth of the bottle was hanging over the edge. Three haphazardly discarded Guitar Hero guitars were tossed onto the couch. Open bags of chips and  DVD cases were all over the floor, and there was something that looked like confetti all over the carpet.

"What the hell?" Finn said, "I don't remember doing any of this."

"How much porn did you two watch last night?" Puck asked.

"How much what did we watch?" Kurt asked, his eyes bugging open as he looked at the DVD case Puck was holding.

"Porn. And it's all Finn's. I'm surprised some of your porn isn't down here."

"I don't have any porn," Kurt said, not bothering to hide the disgust from his voice. He had such a bad headache. Kurt rubbed at his forehead and closed his eyes against the too bright rays of sun coming in through the messily drawn curtains.

"Kurt doesn't like porn," Finn said, rolling his eyes.

"What's wrong with you?" Puck asked Kurt, giving his shoulder a little shove.

"Can we discuss this later?" Kurt huffed, "Is this how the room looked when you went to bed?"

"Pretty much. Well, except for the confetti and the porn. You had just put on Comedy Central when I went upstairs," Puck said.

"Okay, so we need to figure out where the confetti came from and how in god's name we started watching porn," Kurt said, bending down to pick up one of the DVD cases, "'Going Down on Porndora'. Is this an Avatar porno?"

"Sam loaned it to me," Finn said, snatching the case from Kurt's hands. Kurt held up a hand to let Finn know that he wanted no more information on the matter.

He looked around the room, about to give up entirely when a flash of something pink caught his eye on the couch. When he pulled it from between the cushions, he gasped and immediately dropped the item.

"Why is there a pair of panties stuck in the couch?" Kurt asked in horror. Puck and Finn both rushed over. Puck snagged them and lifted them to his face before inhaling loudly. Finn punched him in the arm and yanked them away.

"I don't know who's they are," Puck shrugged.

"I'd call you a pig, but you're so far beyond that I don't even know what to call you," Kurt said.

"They're Rachel's," Finn said, punching Puck again for good measure.

"Why was a pair of Rachel's panties stuck in the couch?" Kurt asked, sitting down and slumping into the arm of the couch. God he felt like hell.

"Let's call her and find out," Puck said, pulling out his phone.

"I'll call her," Finn glared at him, taking his cell from his back pocket, "Hey Rachel, did you come over last night?... No, I don't remember anything... We just found a pair of your panties on the couch and... Stop yelling at me. Please stop yelling at me. Rachel!... Hello?"

"That went well," Puck rolled his eyes, "You should've let me call her."

"I'll call her back. Give me your phone," Kurt said to Finn, holding out his hand expectantly. After a few moments of Finn appearing to seriously decide whether or not to hand his phone over, he slapped it into Kurt's waiting palm. Rachel picked up quickly, which didn't surprise Kurt. With her love of all things dramatic, it was no surprise that she'd be ready for an opportunity to give Finn yet another piece of her mind.

"Leave me alone, Finn!" she barked as soon as she answered the call.

"It's Kurt," he said, "Look, I know you're mad at Finn, but we honestly don't know what happened last night. Neither of us remember you being here. Can you please just tell me what time you came over and what happened while you were here?"

"Fine, but for the record, I'm doing this for you and not for Finn," Rachel said, "Finn started calling me around nine-thirty. You were very upset about a phone call you'd been having with Blaine and Finn couldn't get you to calm down or to stop calling Blaine back even though he wasn't answering his phone. He didn't know what to do, so he asked if I could come over. Being the understanding girlfriend and compassionate friend that I am, I came as quickly as I could.

"By the time I got to your house, Finn was downstairs watching TV. He said that you'd finally calmed down and wanted some time to yourself. I went upstairs to check on you and you were just lying there, Kurt. You looked so sad. When I asked you what was wrong, you just said that Blaine had hung up on you after yelling something and that he wasn't responding your calls or texts. You weren't sure what you had done to make him upset. You were incredibly drunk, and asked me to leave you alone, so I did. I went downstairs to spend some time with Finn, which he apparently remembers nothing of, and I left around eleven," Rachel finished with a huff.

"Had I come back downstairs yet?" Kurt asked.

"No, you were still in your room when I left."

"Oh! Ask her if she knows anything about the stuffed penguin in your room!" Finn exclaimed. Kurt shot him a dirty look and waved him away, but Rachel had heard him.

"I don't know anything about a stuffed penguin. There wasn't one there when I came up to talk to you. And tell Finn that I hate him!"

"No you don't," Kurt said.

"Something finally happened last night that I've been waiting a long time for and he doesn't even remember it. I need to go. I'll talk to you later, Kurt," Rachel told him sadly before hanging up. Kurt's mouth dropped open and he handed the phone back to Finn.

"What is it?"Finn asked. Kurt relayed what Rachel had told him minus a few details.

"So you and Rachel fooled around and you don't remember it? No wonder she's pissed at you," Puck shook his head.

"I don't think that's all of it," Kurt said.

"What else did she say?" Finn asked. Kurt tried to think of a way he could put it that Finn would understand, but that would leave Puck clueless.

"Remember what we talked about last night? How you were afraid that Rachel was going to break up with you because of something?" Kurt asked. When Finn nodded, he continued. "I don't think that's going to be a problem anymore."

Finn's eyes opened wide and he threw both arms into the air. He would do a double fist pump because he'd finally given his girlfriend an orgasm. But then, the look of jubilation on his face melted away and his hands dropped back to his sides.

"No wonder she's so mad at me," Finn said.

"Do I even want to know?" Puck asked.

"No," Finn and Kurt said in unison. Kurt leaned back and tried to sort everything out despite the pounding in his head. So, now they knew what had happened between nine and eleven. Apparently Kurt had come back downstairs after Rachel had left and they'd eventually wound up playing Guitar Hero and calling Puck. But that didn't explain how they'd lost their shirts.

"So, why did you ask about a stuffed penguin?" Puck asked, pulling the DVD case from Finn's hand and looking it over approvingly.

"When we woke up this morning, there was a giant stuffed penguin on Kurt's desk," Finn explained, "You don't know how it got there?"
"This is just like that episode of 'How I Met Your Mother'!" Puck blurted excitedly.

"You watch 'How I Met Your Mother'?" Finn asked.

"Yeah, it's funny as hell and that Robin chick is smokin' hot," Puck said, "But anyways, there was an episode where Ted wakes up and he can't remember anything, but there's a pineapple in his room and a naked chick in his bed. This is just like that!"

"Or, you know, 'The Hangover,'" Finn said.

"Except no one roofied you two."

"That we know of," Kurt mumbled, rubbing a hand over his eyes, "Let's go check out the rest of the house."

"Yeah! We can look for more clues!" Finn said, "You know, even though this is pretty messed up, it's kind of fun."

"Yes, Finn. Fun is exactly the word I would use to describe this. We have no idea what we did last night, I have a raging hangover, and both of our significant others are mad at us. This isn't fun, it's like investigating a tragic crime scene."

"What the fuck happened in here?" Puck asked when they all crossed the threshold into the kitchen.

"Oh my god," Kurt said, clapping a hand over his mouth.

Something had exploded all over the stove. It was yellow and chunky and the entire kitchen reeked of burning. The items typically resting on the island had been shoved to one side to make room for the mixing bowls and ingredients that had long since spoiled outside of the refrigerator.

"Ground beef, picante sauce, and Velveeta cheese?" Kurt asked, listing off the first things he saw and crinkling up his nose.

"Mmmm chili con queso," Finn said with a little smile, "That sounds good right now."

"How are you not hung over?" Kurt shook his head in amazement and looked at the mess. "I can't be in here right now. The smell's getting to me."

"Oh! There are our shirts!" Finn said exuberantly, pointing to the kitchen table. Sure enough, their shirts were draped over the back of chairs, both of them covered in the same yellow gunk that was coating the stovetop.

Kurt breathed in, the scents of burning and the rancid meat that was left at the bottom of the ground beef packaging filling his nostrils. His stomach lurched. Without saying anything, he sped from the room, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood floors as he ran down the hall and up the stairs. As soon as he was hunched over the toilet bowl, however, the urge to vomit thankfully left him. He collapsed onto his bathroom floor, clutching his stomach with one hand and his head with the other.

Kurt needed to take a shower. Yes, that would probably make him feel better. He peeled himself from the tile and was halfway to his dresser when he caught sight of his phone resting on top. Swallowing down the lump that had formed in his throat, he picked it up, ignored all the text message notifications, and called Blaine.

"It's one in the afternoon," was Blaine's greeting.

"I know," Kurt said softly, "I just woke up a little while ago. I'm so hungover."

"I assumed you would be." Kurt thought that Blaine might say something else, but he didn't.

"Why are you mad at me?" he asked. Blaine gave an irritated sigh.

"Look, I really don't want to get into this over the phone. My dad got called into work, so we had to leave my grandparents early. I'm already on my way to your house. We need to talk."

"I don't know what I did! I don't-" Kurt started.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," Blaine said before hanging up. Kurt stood there with the phone pressed against his ear for close to a minute, just staring at the wall before him.

He and Blaine had never fought since becoming a couple. Never. Not even a tame argument. This was new. It was another first, all right. One that he could have gone a lot longer before experiencing.

Finally, he forced himself out of his haze. He brushed his teeth to rid his mouth of the terrible taste that he now knew was likely a combination of liquor, chips, and chili con queso. How he'd actually managed to keep that down, he had no idea.

After he'd finished, he went back downstairs to find Puck and Finn cleaning the kitchen. Well, they were trying to clean. In reality, they were probably just making everything worse, but at the moment Kurt didn't care.

"Blaine will be here soon. We need to figure out what happened after Puck went to bed," Kurt said, pulling out a chair from the table and sitting down as he started to go through his texts.

"And find out about the penguin," Finn added.

"I don't care about the damned penguin! I want to know why Blaine is mad at me!" Kurt spat.

The other two fell completely silent and abandoned their task to come join Kurt at the table. He found that he had a long string of texts between himself and Mercedes and he started there. Most of it was ridiculous displays of autocorrect that he normally would have found amusing, but there was one bit of the conversation that caught his attention.

Mercedes:
I'm sure that Blaine isn't really mad at you.

Kurt:
He yelled at me. He haters me.

Mercedes:
He doesn't hate you, baby. He loves you and you know it.

Kurt:
I'm gong to die along

Mercedes:
You are so drunk lol. You'll forget all about this in the morning. Now get some sleep, it's almost 4:30.

Kurt:
I don't want to sleep along. I miss Blaine.

Mercedes:
I can't come over now. My parents would kill me.

Kurt:
Fine will do.

Mercedes:
Yeah, good luck with that. lol

And that was the end of the string of texts. Well, at least that explained how he and Finn had wound up in bed together.

He hadn't sent another one to anyone after that. At two in the morning, he'd texted every single member of New Directions sans Finn telling them that he loved them and had received in return eight variations on "I love you, too", one "Please have sex with us" from Santana, and one "Huh?" from Sam. Rachel, Blaine, and Quinn were the only ones not to respond.

The others he'd sent that night had all been to Blaine, increasingly desperate and undecipherable. Eventually, he just tossed down his phone, not even caring if it broke.

"Find anything useful?" Finn asked.

"I texted Mercedes until four-thirty and then I told her that I didn't want to sleep alone because I was sad and that you would do. So, I guess I just begged you to sleep in bed with me," Kurt said.

"So nothing happened between us," Finn said.

"Of course nothing happened, Finn. Oh my god," Kurt groaned, leaning forward until his head fell into his hands. He gripped hard at his hair. Blaine would be there any minute. He wasn't ready for this.

"Are you okay, dude?" Puck asked.

"No, I'm not," Kurt replied honestly, "I'm really not. I feel like hell and Blaine would hardly even talk to me on the phone."

"And we still don't know where the penguin came from," Finn chimed in.

"If you bring up the penguin one more time, I'm going to kill you," Kurt said, glaring at Finn as best he could and somewhat enjoying the shocked look on his stepbrother's big stupid not-at-all-hungover face. The enjoyment didn't last long, though, because the doorbell rang and his stomach leapt up into the vicinity of his throat.

They all looked at each other for a moment before Kurt stood. He hadn't made it more than three feet with the doorbell chimed again. Kurt breathed deeply and flexed and curled his hands into and out of fists as he walked, trying to prepare himself for whatever was about to happen. No matter what Blaine was mad about, whatever Kurt had done or said in his black-out drunk stupor, they could get through it.

He reached the door and opened it quickly, catching Blaine just as he was about to ring the bell again. Blaine looked Kurt up and down, and not in the appreciative kind of way he usually did.

"I know I look terrible," Kurt said, self-consciously smoothing a hand over his hair. Blaine didn't say anything, but it looked like he was fighting hard against the reflex to disagree. In fact, it looked like he was having a really hard time just doing nothing. It wasn't in his nature to hold things in, and this had to be killing him.

When Kurt moved to close the door, he saw that Finn and Puck had followed him in. Why had they done that? Didn't they know that this needed to be a private conversation? Was Puck really that stupid? Kurt knew that Finn was entirely capable of being that dense, but Puck, too?

"Let's go upstairs to talk," Kurt said, already a little breathless from the stern look on Blaine's face and the empty feeling in his arms since Blaine hadn't hugged him the second he'd walked in the door like he always did.

"No," Blaine replied, looking quickly at Finn and Puck before returning his gaze to Kurt. Only it wasn't really fixed on Kurt. It was directed somewhere a few inches to the side of Kurt's cheek, like he couldn't stand to actually look at him at the moment. Kurt's throat tightened as he realized this and he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I want Finn here for this."

"What's going on, Blaine? I don't remember anything from last night after I went upstairs to call you," Kurt admitted. Blaine closed his eyes for a second and took in a deep breath, clearly trying to calm himself down.

"So, you used to have feelings for Finn?" he blurted out.

Oh no.

"What... I..." Kurt sputtered. Blaine let out a bitter little laugh and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Let me fill you in on what happened since you don't remember," Blaine said, "You called me begging for phone sex, which I couldn't reciprocate because I was at my grandparent's house sharing a room with my cousin for the night, which you knew but you called me anyway since you were too drunk to know that it wasn't a good idea. So, I just let you do your thing on the other end of the line and listened. Everything was fine until Finn barged in your room.

"Apparently, he just flopped right down on the bed next to you even though you were in the middle of jerking off. You yelled at him to get out and he said 'Oh whatever. It's not a big deal. And besides, a year ago you wouldn't have minded me seeing your dick.' To which you said 'I wouldn't have minded you doing more than just look at it.' So what I want to know is, how has this never come up before? How have we been dating for six months and friends longer than that and I didn't know that you used to have feelings for Finn?"

"It's not a big deal, Blaine. I've been over him for ages, long before I even met you. It was sophomore year. It was a lifetime ago!"

"Really? You didn't think it might be necessary to let your boyfriend know that the guy you used to like lives across the hall from you now? It never crossed your mind that it might be something you should tell me about?"

"No, it didn't, because I'm so far past that part of my life I forget it even happened most of the time!"

"I think you didn't tell me because you were hiding it. You didn't want me to know," Blaine said.

"You are so wrong. I don't hide anything from you!" Kurt defended.

"But you did! You did hide this from me, which leads me to believe that you still have feelings for him." Kurt's mouth dropped open and the breath he'd been holding in came out in a grunting noise of disbelief. "Is that why you wanted me to dress up like a football player?"

"Okay, this has to stop. You are being ridiculous! You've had way too much time to think this into the ground and get angry. I don't like Finn. I haven't for a really long time."

"Were there others besides Finn?"

"Other what?"

"Other football players," Blaine said.

He was standing there trying to look so calm and composed, but Kurt could see the anger and frustration shifting around in his beautiful eyes. Even though Kurt knew that he was about to make things even worse, he needed to be honest. He'd always been honest with Blaine, even though Blaine didn't seem to believe that.

"One," Kurt replied stiffly.

"Do I know him?"

"It was Sam."

"Sam. You had feelings for Sam."

"They were fleeting, but yes," Kurt said.

"What other guys have you liked in high school?"

"Besides them? Just you."

"Me and two football players."

"It had nothing to do with the fact that they were football players!" Kurt shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. Did Blaine seriously not know him at all?

"Then what was it? I mean, you have to look at this from my side, Kurt. I'm pretty much the polar opposite of those guys, so I'm just trying to figure out how it is that you went from liking someone like them to liking someone like me."

"You want to know why I liked them? Because they were nice to me. You know what it's like at McKinley and you know what it was like for me specifically before I met you. Every single day I was getting taunted and called a girl and thrown into dumpsters by idiots and homophobes. Every day of my life was hell, but I tried really hard not to let them know how much everything hurt. I was myself every day even though doing that got me picked on and pushed around. And then I met Finn and he was just nice to me, Blaine. Once he got to know me, he was nice.

"Back then, that was as good as I could hope for. Forgive me for being lonely and tired of being alone. Forgive me for hoping beyond hope that maybe if this boy was being nice to me that maybe he could like me back. Just fucking forgive me, Blaine!

"It was just a coincidence that both of them were football players. Yes, I do think that football players are sexy, but that is a completely separate thing. I asked you to dress up like a football player because the thought of you dressed up like that turned me on. I don't have a 'thing' for football players, as you seem to be insinuating I do, so just stop it with this!" Kurt yelled, his voice not lowering once.

"I just..." Blaine started, heaving a few deep breaths and blinking rapidly. He was trying not to cry. If Kurt hadn't been so mad at him in that moment, he would have just flung his arms around Blaine's neck so they could both cry out their frustration. "You are so my type, Kurt. Every time I thought about my dream guy, my ultimate fantasy, the perfect guy, he was like you. You are the physical embodiment of everything I'd ever hoped for. And now all I've been able to think about since you called me last night is that I'm not even remotely your type. I don't want you settling for me, Kurt."

"I have a type and it's you," Kurt said. Blaine rolled his eyes and turned his head away, so Kurt grabbed his chin and pulled it until he was facing forward again, "You're going to listen to me. I'm not saying this for your benefit. I'm saying it because it's true. My type isn't guys with hazel eyes or guys with curly hair or guys who can make me weak in the knees when they sing. My type is you, Blaine Anderson. You are my type. I liked other guys before you, but when I first saw you, I thought I was going to die you were so gorgeous. And nice. And when I found out you were actually gay, too, I was beside myself.

"You were better than anything I had ever allowed myself to imagine. I didn't know what my type was until I met you, but you are it. I might have liked other guys, but I never fantasized about them the way I do about you. I want to move to New York with you. I want to be there in the front row when you make your debut on Broadway. I want to buy a house with you and get married to you and have babies with you because you are my type. I might have liked them, but I love you and I always will. So can we just stop this now? Because-" Kurt didn't get to finish because Blaine was on him in an instant, his mouth open, his tongue insistent.

"I'm sorry," Blaine breathed against Kurt's lips before diving back in.

"Don't ever do this to me again," Kurt got out in between kisses, "I love you so much."

"I love you, too. I love you so much it makes me crazy," Blaine murmured, one hand sliding through Kurt's hair. He walked Kurt backward until he was pressed against the wall. Kurt rolled his hips in hard against Blaine's and moaned just as Blaine shoved his hands up the back of Kurt's t-shirt.

"Um..." Finn said, staring wide-eyed at them, "Does it make me gay if I think this is kind of hot?"

"No," Puck laughed.

"Does it make me gay if I had a sex dream about Blaine?"Finn asked softly.

"Dude, who hasn't?" Finn gave Puck a look. "What?"

"Nothing," Finn said quickly.

"Do you want to go to Waffle House to get some late breakfast? I think Hummel's about five seconds away from getting his freak on in front of us," Puck suggested.

"Hashbrowns sound awesome," Finn moaned.

"Have fun, boys," Puck said loudly, flicking the condom from his wallet at them as he and Finn left out the front door.

"What a weird night," Finn said, shaking his head as he pulled the door shut just as Blaine's shirt went flying across the room, "I just wish we knew where the penguin came from."

(mis)adventures of teenage boys 'verse, fic!klaine, fic!gen, rating: r, fic!finn

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