Fic. Do Over
Title: Do Over
Author: alicebluegown16
Pairing: Will/Finn
Summary: Finn's got a solution for that whole 'O Noes! You're my former student!' angst.
Rating: R
AN: This was going to be much longer, but the boys were totally not cooperating and then I realized less was more and finished it in about an hour. There's not as much porn, but (hopefully) it's higher quality than my earler draft.
Warning: Unbeta'd. Uh...underage drinking of a hypothetical nature?
It starts out really promising.
Pressing Will against the kitchen counter, kissing him, teeth and tongue, Will’s hands are in the back pockets of Finn’s jeans and for his part Finn doesn’t know where his hands are, doesn’t even know if he has hands anymore and oh look, there they are, they’ve somehow migrated underneath Will’s shirt, tracing the span of Will’s shoulders and each dip of his spine.
Will’s rocking against him, making these needy little moans that are going straight to Finn’s dick, licking at Finn’s throat.
“Finn-God-please, Finn-I want-I want-“
“Yes.”
Please yes, whatever it is.
Anything.
Finn thinks he might be actually saying this out loud, he can’t really be too sure, he’s kind of loopy and out of it, randomly pressing his mouth to Will’s eyebrow, the shell of his ear, and then diving down for his mouth again, kiss devolving into a wonderful frantic obscene mess.
“You don’t even---Fuck!”----Will’s hips snap and he clutches at Finn’s shoulders when Finn arches against him, grinding their erections together. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.” He finally manages to choke out.
“Doesn’t matter. Fuck, Will. I’ve wanted you for two years. So as long as it’s nothing involving barnyard animals or a threesome with Coach Sylvester, I’m pretty cool with whatever you come up with.”
Finn thinks this is a pretty romantic sentiment, but apparently he missed something judging by the complete and utter fucking soul deep panic on Will’s face as he shoves him away and practically sprints out of reach.
“Finn, I think this is a mistake.”
To say that Finn’s a bit disappointed is an understatement since this is everything he’s wanted---since he saw Will again two days ago in the hardware store (and had gotten a welcome back hug instead of a handshake), since graduation, since back and back and back to that day Finn noticed the way the other man’s shirt rose up, tiny little sliver of hipbone showing, and there’d been this sharp stab of jesusfucktouchyesplease in the pit of his stomach.
So, he does his best to divert this potential freak-out of the non-orgasm having variety.
“Will, come on. Jeez, you know this isn’t like an experiment kind of thing, right? I’m not gonna suddenly be holding hands with Rachel tomorrow all ‘JK, Mr. Schue!’”
He tries to reach for Will again, but he’s having none of it.
“Finn, Finn-I--we can’t-Finn, you’re only eighteen! I used to be your teacher, for God’s sake! Back when you were sixteen! Which was only two years ago! I wrote your college recommendation letter!”
“Yeah, well, so did Coach Tanaka and I have zero desire to fuck him!”
Okay, not only is yelling and stomping his foot probably likely not doing much for making him look a mature adult, but that image is now burned into his retinas for ever more.
But, fuck. Finn has graduated. He is a former student. There are dorky pictures of him in his robe and mortarboard to prove it. Just because he started crushing on Will at sixteen doesn’t mean he’s still sixteen.
He has Puck as a best friend, Kurt for a step-brother, and a high speed internet connection. He’s not a total innocent. Finn has been out to the big (bigger than Lima) city. He’s met people and even had sex with a few of them (some of them even other guys.) He’s even done the Walk of Shame a couple of times. He knows what he wants and no matter how old-young-whatever-he is, it always comes back to this.
This isn’t about having some sort of daddy complex. He’s already fully covered on that front. Finn had a father, thank you very much and as far as the somewhat hazy memories go, he was great. And he’s got a pretty kickass step-father.
This isn’t gratitude or boredom or hormones. Finn’s pretty sure he’s in love with Will, or at the very least probably more than halfway there and seeing Will looking so miserable and still insisting on throwing away a shot at happiness, without even giving it a chance, makes him want to either cry, punch a wall, or get shitfaced.
And that gives Finn an idea. It’s kind of lame and cheesy, but never let it be said that Will Schuester did not respond well to cheese.
“What if none of it ever happened?” He offers up hopefully. “Glee and you being my teacher and the stupid recommendation letter…Like, Shazam! Clean slate, we’re just two guys who meet in like, a bar or something.”
Will’s giving him the sad teacher head shake.
“Finn, you know it’s not that simple.”
“Bullshit. I am making it that simple. We’re both at this bar---this hypothetical bar that doesn’t check IDs” he clarifies the moment he notices Will opening his mouth.
“We’re at this bar and I buy you a beer and we’re doing the small talk thing. ‘My names Will, I teach high school Spanish and choir.’ ‘Hi, Will, I’m Finn. I’m a freshman at Ohio State. I’m a double major in Sports Medicine and Music.’ And hey, isn’t this my lucky night because you don’t have a stick up your ass over the whole age difference thing and lookey there, it turns out we’ve got something in common. We end up talking until last call and I realize fuck it, you’re never gonna make the first move because you’re like allergic to the possibility of anyone realizing what a good catch you are or how fucking sexy as fuck you are. So I say ‘Hey, Will-who-I just-met-in-this-bar. I have a serious thing for Spanish/choir teachers with curly hair and green eyes. Especially when they’re amazing dancers. And fan’s of early nineties white rappers. That’s always really, really hot. So, since by some incredible what are the odds coincidence, you fit all of those specifications, I’m going to kiss you right now, if you don’t mind.’”
His words are coming faster now, running together slightly, and sometime during his monologue he’s moved closer to Will, their chests almost touching.
“I kiss you and you kiss me back-nobody saying anything about anything being a mistake…or treating me like a dumb kid who couldn’t possibly know what I want…”
Fuck if his voice didn’t pick a fine time to crack.
“…and it’s better…it’s better than I thought it would be, can you fucking believe it? Better than all the imagining for two years-or you know, however many hours it’s been…sorry. And since this is my fantasy and you’re a total cheap date in it, or maybe like, we both are, we go back to your place and I blow you right there in the doorway of your apartment. And we fuck. Possibly more than once. And the next morning, I’m still there, Will. And we go to Denny’s.”
With that he’s done and he has to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from doing a highly inappropriate ta-da jazz hands. He stares at Will, not even daring to breathe, the moment stretching out forever, rubber band tense.
Without a word, Will brushes past him and walks across the kitchen. Finn squeezes his eyes shut, grabbing the edge of the counter as his knees buckle because that’s all the answer he needs.
This, admittedly artificial, clean slate is all he’s got left in him. If Will still insists on hiding behind bullshit excuses, there’s nothing more he can do. If not now, it’ll never happen. They’re going to be in the old folks home with Will batting his hand away every time he tries to cop a feel.
At the sound of the fridge opening and closing, Finn dares to crack one eye open. Will has two bottles in his hands and handing one of them to Finn he smiles and finally, finally says something.
“Hi. My name’s Will. Mind if I buy you a beer?”
As to what happens next, Finn’s not saying anything beyond this.
Will doesn’t actually let him drink the beer.
But that doesn’t really matter because it’s definitely more than once and it is awesome.
The next morning they wake up wrapped around each other.
There are pancakes.
Will makes them.