Author's Notes: To all my pirate readers: "Acts Like Summer, Walks Like Rain" has definitely not been forgotten. The eight chapter is already half-way done, but I needed to get rid of all my latent Kinn urges, so.

This is slightly AU: David Karofsky doesn't exist here (I couldn't write him in and still let Finn have Kurt, call me sentimental) but Kurt still went to Dalton. Actually, it's pretty much canon accurate until the end of season 2.

"Hey, Kurt, check this – wow, crap, sorry, shit!"

Kurt waited patiently for Finn to stop fisting his eye sockets. His stepbrother peeked at him from behind his hands, one eye twitching comically.

"Hi, Finn. How nice of you to drop by. Come in? Why, of course you may," he deadpanned, turning towards the mirror again and holding up a shirt against his naked chest.

"Shit, dude, sorry. Didn't think you'd be all…" Finn trailed off, waving his hand in Kurt's general direction. "You're going out with Blaine again?"

Kurt frowned at the emphasis.

"He is my boyfriend. A minimum of dates is required," he paused, arching his eyebrows at the mirror. "Hey, since you're, well, here, you might as well make yourself useful. Hand me those bowties, one by one, in that order, Finn!"

Finn promptly dropped the colorful bowties he'd been hoarding in his arms and looked at Kurt remorsefully. Kurt sucked in a soothing breath and clenched his jaw.

"Finn Hudson, you are hopeless."

"Sorry, Kurt."

Out came those puppy brown eyes that Finn could pull off like nobody's business. Kurt's scowl melted.

"Oh, give me that," he said, grabbing the two bowties still in Finn's hand. "Sit down and don't touch anything."

Finn sat on the bed, crossing his arms least they would knock down anything else. He watched as Kurt went through his shirt selection, his legs twitching every time he caught a flash of Kurt's very naked skin.

"That one looks nice," he blurted out.

"This one?" said Kurt, biting his lip and holding the shirt closer to his chest.

"Yeah. Matches your eyes." Finn shrugged and looked down at the scarf he'd been playing with. He glanced back at Kurt in panic, but his stepbrother was still focused on the mirror, so Finn put the scarf away discreetly, smoothing down the fabric.

"Mm-hmm. So," started Kurt, slipping his arms through the shirt sleeves, "what was it that you needed me to see so badly you wouldn't knock on a closed door?"

Finn blanked, suddenly embarrassed. It didn't seem like such a big deal, now. Kurt was getting ready for his date – with Blaine, his brain supplied snidely –, he didn't need his idiot stepbrother stomping all over his bowties and pawing at his scarves like a big stupid… Finn. The scarf was really soft, though. Maybe that's why it looked so good on Kurt, 'cause his skin looked just as soft.

"Well?" insisted Kurt, doing up his buttons. Somehow he looked even more naked, kind of indecent, with his shirt half done and that little "Finn, you big lummox" smirk playing on his lips. Finn swallowed.

"My – my hand. Look," he said, suddenly more excited when Kurt climbed onto the bed to get a closer look, "awesome, right?"

"Finn," whispered Kurt, sounding pained. "Finn, were you cooking again?"

Finn deflated a little. Kurt just wasn't getting the point.

"No, look! See, if I turn it this way, and you squint a little and I twist like – a lion!"

Kurt glared at the singe mark on Finn's hands, his lips pressed together tightly.

"Finn."

"But, look!"

"Yes. And if you turn it this way," Finn's stomach did a weird-good jump when Kurt grabbed his hand, "it looks like a molding potato. Awesome, indeed."

Finn pouted, scrunching up his brow.

"Fine. You know, you used to be fun."

Kurt shook his head and smiled one of those eye-crinkling smiles that he seemed to save just for Finn; those smiles that did funny stuff to his throat and lungs, and made him want to do stupid clown stuff so that Kurt would do it again.

"I thought Carole had banned you from the kitchen. I've got my plate full with my dad thinking I'm trying to repress his hidden talent for pasta boiling."

"Dude, I was starving."

"There's leftovers in the fridge," said Kurt dismissively, still examining the burn. Finn gulped and tried to ignore the little shivers that ran up his arm whenever Kurt's thumb brushed over his palm.

"Huh. I guess I missed those."

"You should really rub something on this," murmured Kurt, petting the scorched skin. "Don't move," he instructed, jumping off the bed.

Finn nodded as he watched Kurt saunter over to the bathroom. He clenched his fingers reflexively, hearing his stepbrother hum while he rummaged through bottles and jars. Looking around the immaculate room, Finn felt shamelessly smug as he noticed that, out of the only three pictures in Kurt's room, one was of the two of them and none had Blaine in it. Yeah, so maybe Finn's also featured his mom and Burt, and maybe Kurt had been kind of manhandled into it, but still. Finn Hudson one, Blaine Whatever zero.

"Okay, I've got this soothing cream and this lotion I use on my knees and elbows because they get dry like you wouldn't believe, and it works wonders," Kurt chattered away as he kneeled doe beside Finn. "Any chance of me talking you into using a moisturizer every once in a while, Finn? Your skin would worship you for it, believe me."

Finn could only nod vaguely, not really paying attention. Kurt had cradled his injured hand in his own and was massaging his palm in slow, deep circles, spreading the lotion. Maybe it was some kind of gay magic – even if Blaine wasn't magic at all, just really, really boring, as far as Finn was concerned – but it felt like Kurt's fingers were all over him, not just on his hand, but on his neck, on his shoulders, on his lower back and around his bellybutton, behind is knees and feather-soft over his inner thighs –

His mom was so happy with him, he'd made her so proud, and then the sickening crash of window shield glass –

And yeah, maybe it wasn't gay magic and just Kurt magic because those fingers pressing into his skin were making his lips tingle the same as the other day when they were watching TV together and Kurt wanted to watch some model thing and Finn would normally let him, 'cause some girls were really hot, but he felt like riling his stepbrother up a bit, so suddenly Kurt was climbing onto his back like a fricking monkey to get the remote, and he kept saying "gimme, gimme" low in Finn's ear, his hot breath all over Finn's neck, one of his hands firmly planted on Finn's thigh, so he'd just thrown the remote to the side and ran for the bathroom real fast. At dinner he was still a little dazed – coming three times in a row could really do a number on a guy – but he couldn't help but notice how Kurt would move back in his chair every time Finn's long arm reached for the mashed potatoes.

Finn had definitely felt the tingle then – and a hundred other times before –, not only on his lips but in other parts as well, the same tingle that could outsmart the mailman in ten seconds flat, and it wasn't fair that Kurt could throw off all of Finn's carefully mapped out strategies with just a flutter of those pretty eyes.

"Are you even listening to me?," said Kurt, sounding cross.

Finn looked up and nodded frantically. He didn't want to make Kurt upset. And it wasn't just that Burt would totally kick his ass if he did, even.

It's just… pissing off Kurt or making him cry was like kicking puppies or dropping kittens on their heads. It was a really, really sick thing to do, hurting Kurt's feelings like that. Even if his eyes looked even prettier when he cried.

"Sure you are. This looks awful, Finn. You could have seriously hurt yourself," Kurt's eyes were huge and sincere, and very, very blue. "Promise me you won't do it again."

Finn didn't answer right away – Kurt's thumb was doing something on the heel of his palm and it felt all kinds of amazing – and Kurt apparently took it for stubbornness. He clucked his tongue and grabbed Finn's chin, tilting his head up.

"Finn Hudson. I'll be grounded for a month if you happen to kill yourself under my supervision, and that would honestly suck. Think of all the summer shopping I would miss."

Hearing only "Finn Hudson" and "suck", Finn opened his mouth to comply immediately – and could he interest Kurt in a budget-friendly cuddle package after? – when Kurt smiled again. Not that smile; a sad little smile that made Finn want to punch a wall or something. Except he'd done that once and it hurt. Hum. It would be better than the kind of hurt that twisted his gut and made his eyes sting whenever Sad Kurt came out to play, though.

"I'm sorry, Finn. The lion is fabulous, really. But you have to take care of yourself, okay? I mean, what if you'd started a fire like you almost did Thursday night, or if you'd burned off a finger, or – mmph!"

Yeah, so Finn kissed him.

Kurt was just too fricking sweet saying things like he didn't want Finn to get hurt, and smelling so good, and petting his hand, and sitting so close that Finn could see those beautiful gray circles around his eyes, and that tiny freckle on his eyelid, and that spot where his lips were a little chapped no matter how much chap stick Kurt would use. And that led to him staring at Kurt's lips, and they were really pink, and looked softer than that other scarf, softer than all of Kurt's really soft skin, and so, yeah, Finn kissed him.

At first it was just him, nibbling on Kurt's tasty bottom lip and finally getting to touch Kurt's super silky hair. Then there was a sound – a little like begging and a little like dying, and it must have come from him, but he was glad it had because, suddenly, Kurt had parted his lips letting out all sorts of incredible desperate noises, and Kurt was licking into Finn's mouth with sweet laps of his tongue, and Kurt's hands were buried in Finn's hair, and he was straddling Finn's lap like he wanted to climb inside him and never ever leave.

Finn would let him; he would so let him, if only it meant he got to keep Kurt and never have to give him up to Sam or Blaine, or any other guy. Kurt was his to watch over, his to care for; he made sure to tell him that with his lips and his tongue and his teeth, till Kurt was mewling into his mouth, one of his hands coming down to fist Finn's shirt, his body all but melting in Finn's hands. Finn drew his arm around him, pulling him tight against his chest and let himself fall back on the bed, dragging Kurt on top of him.

The sudden world tilt, however, must have jolted something in Kurt's mind. He broke the kiss with a breathless gasp and scurried off the taller boy's chest, his lips swollen and shiny, his eyes glazed over and painfully wide.

Finn followed him with his eyes, puzzled – and more than a little turned on. He squirmed, trying to adjust himself without being too obvious.

"Kurt?"

The boy had turned around, sitting on the edge of the bed. His shoulders were shaking.

"Kurt?," whispered Finn, reaching for Kurt's arm. "Hey, are you –"

He was cut off abruptly when Kurt jerked away from him and stood up, his eyes flashing.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Finn?," he spat out, his mouth twisting sourly.

"I –"

"Is this amusing to you? Is this fun? Do you get a kick out of this sort of thing, is that it?"

"Wha –"

"What exactly is your game plan here, huh? You're going by order, I see. First Rachel, then Quinn, then Rachel again, and now me? What, did Quinn tell you to go fuck yourself?"

Finn winced. He didn't get how he'd managed to make Kurt so mad. He didn't think he sucked that much at kissing, but maybe it was different with guys? He'd thought Kurt had liked it, but he was obviously wrong. Like always. And he felt really dumb, but he just couldn't see where Quinn and Rachel came in.

"That's what I should have done, hum? When you apologized last year, I should have just – but I'll tell you now, so fuck you, Finn!"

Kurt was hugging himself and his eyes were really bright. He looked so much younger than Finn, and even smaller than when he'd tried out for kicker. It was like they were standing in Kurt's old room again, the air heavy with Kurt's tears and Burt's disappointment. Finn had thought he could never feel worse than how he'd felt then: as if he was being told all over again that he wasn't a dad, not really; hearing Rachel say they wouldn't work out; hearing his mom cry at night long before Burt came along.

"Kurt, don't – don't cry."

"I'm not crying, you idiot!," yelled Kurt, wiping at his eyes furiously. "You think I'd cry over you? Well, sorry to let you down!"

"No, I just – look, I'm sorry, okay? I thought – I thought you wanted to, but I guess you didn't, and I'm really sorry I made you mad. I didn't know I sucked that bad at kissing," Finn said miserably, looking down at his hands.

"What?" Kurt's voice was very sharp. Finn flinched.

"You just – I just really wanted to kiss you. I won't do it again, promise. I know you're with Blaine now."

Kurt's arms dropped to his sides. He arched one eyebrow.

"You do? It sure didn't seem like it."

"I'm so–"

"It seemed like you were doing what you always do, Finn. Rachel is over you and dating someone else? You literally go all Jessie's Girl on her."

Kurt pulled down on finger, counting.

"Quinn has a new boyfriend and won't kiss you in your stupid kissing booth? Can't have that can we?"

Two fingers down.

"Jesse shows up again and Rachel isn't stalking you anymore? Well, it's intervention time!"

Three fingers down.

Kurt paused and sighed, letting his hand drop. "Remember, I heard about what happened this year from you first."

Finn nodded slowly. Maybe this wasn't just about his kissing skills, then.

"I thought – with you going through all that trouble to make sure I knew you were very much straight, I thought you'd never stoop down to me. What were you thinking, Finn?"

"I like you, Kurt," he said simply.

Kurt's eyes fell shut and he sighed.

"Yes, I thought that as well. I figured, hey, unrequited love sucks, but at least I got a great brother out of it, didn't I?" Kurt blinked and closed his fists. "You were supposed to have my back, Finn. I figured if there was anyone in my life I could depend on it would be my dad and you. I should have known better."

Finn looked on numbly as Kurt picked up the rest of his clothes and went to the bathroom. As he was closing the door, he turned to Finn again.

"When I come out, you had better not still be there, Finn. I mean it."

Finn made sure he wasn't.

Kurt's steps were heavy on the stairs when he came back that night.

Finn turned in his bed and buried his face in his pillow.

Finn didn't say anything when Kurt told their parents that he and Blaine had broken up.

He wasn't saying much of anything these days, anyway.

His mother came to his room the third night Finn woke up crying. He had tried to be quiet, but he had wanted Kurt to have the best room, so he slept in the one closest to their parents'. His mom didn't say a thing – maybe she was a sleepwalker, you never knew – and just hugged him until he went to sleep again.

He started sleeping face down, from then on.

When he spent the day in bed after eating too much of his mom's beef lasagna and pushing it down with a pint of chocolate ice cream, he kept dozing off, so he must have dreamed up Kurt coming into his room with more water bottles and two Alker-Seltzer tablets. Because Kurt was a really good person, but there's no way he would have kissed Finn's forehead and draped his comforter over him. Not after that fight.

It was a nice dream, though.

"Did I hurt you?," Finn asked Rachel, one afternoon, over their – Rachel said – weekly friendship coffee.

"Finn?"

"Did it hurt a lot? When we first broke up, then when you found out about Santana, then you and Puck –"

"I know what you mean."

Finn looked at her expectantly. She tilted her head, taking a small bite of her mini bagel.

"It did. Very much. Every time." Rachel paused and looked at him sadly. It didn't sting as bad as Kurt's did, but it was still a great sad smile. "You were my first love, Finn. But I think – I think you're not my last."

Finn nodded. He'd gotten that from when she'd broken things off between them definitely, five days into summer vacation.

"But I hurt too. More than once – and on purpose."

"So we hurt each other?"

"Yes. That's why we can't be more than friends, I think. It's not just about my blossoming future career as a Broadway star. We would just keep hurting each other." She stirred her coffee, lost in thought.

"So, if one person hurts the other, they can never be together?"

Her nose wrinkled.

"I don't know. Maybe? If the other person is willing to forgive, that is."

"Hum."

She looked at him strangely.

"Who are we talking about, Finn? Is it Quinn again? Please tell me it isn't Quinn. I've already got my share of repeat performances every time Jesse calls." Her eyes narrowed. "It better not be Quinn."

Finn shook his head, playing with his straw.

"Then who –"

"You said we never forget our first love, remember? Is that really true?"

She stared at him, surprise giving away to astonishment.

"Finn, you know how I'm part psychic – where are you going?" she asked when he suddenly got up.

Finn bent down to kiss her cheek, his face a mask of resolve.

"Do you have to pee?"

He shook his head, frowning.

"Is it true? About your first love? About everybody's first love?"

"Yes, of course it is, but Finn –" she trailed off, seeing as he was already out the shop.

"Good luck, Kurt," she whispered to herself and sipped her coffee, rolling her eyes when she noticed yet another missed call from Jesse St. James on her phone.

"Did I hurt you?" he whispered.

"Sshh, Finn, they're asleep," Quinn whispered back heatedly.

Finn looked down at the two tiny blond heads laying side by side on one of the standard motel pillows.

"But did I hurt you?" he insisted.

Quinn glared at him, pushing her hair behind her ear and sighing in frustration when it didn't stay put.

"What do you mean, hurt me?"

"Huh. With Rachel when you were pregnant. And I know I wasn't the dad and all," he knew better than say Beth's name, "but I shouldn't have. Breaking you and Sam up – "

"Okay, first of all? You had nothing to do with me and Sam breaking up. The world doesn't revolve around you, Finn."

Finn opened his mouth but she cut him off with a sharp wave.

"I did all that on my own. I couldn't see a good thing when I had one, so I went for the safe bet. In the end, it made sense with Puck – but not with Sam."

Finn furrowed his brow, looking puzzled. She sighed and pursed her lips.

"You're the safe bet for me, Finn. Don't take me the wrong way: I love you – I always will. But it's the same with you and Rachel. We all keep making the same mistakes, doing the same thing over and over again, and we're still surprised it all goes wrong in the end."

"So Rachel's my Finn?"

Quinn arched her eyebrows and shrugged.

"Yeah, why not. The point is we keep going back to what we know. Except, if it didn't work out the first time around, why should it work now?"

Finn nodded again and looked down when Sam's little brother stirred. He smiled. Kurt kind of looked like that when he slept, innocent and sweet. He cringed, remembering Angry Kurt and Upset Kurt.

"You hurt me, Finn. But I've hurt you so much already that it feels kinda petty to go pointing fingers."

Finn blinked. This was new, Forgiving Quinn and Non-Petty Quinn. Maybe she had talked to Easy-Going Rachel.

"Did you talk to Rachel?"

Quinn blushed prettily; Finn was reminded of Kurt again.

"Why? What did she tell you?"

"Just that she's going to be a big star in New York."

She looked down, fiddling with the blanket.

"I'm going to New York, too."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

Quinn smiled at him openly. Happy Quinn. He liked that, made him want to see Happy Kurt again.

Between one Friday night dinner after that and the next one, he and Kurt started talking again. Kurt didn't say anything about the kiss, so neither did Finn.

Even if he really wanted to do it again.

"Way to have my back, dude."

Finn shrugged and muttered "sorry". It so wasn't his fault that Kurt had decided bermuda shorts were in this summer. After he'd plunked down on the armchair with his long, long legs – those legs that had wrapped around Finn so tight when he was squirming in Finn's lap with his tongue down Finn's throat – hanging over the armrest, to watch Finn and Puck play, Finn couldn't much remember his own full name, let alone his position in the game.

"So, the ones with the ugly red unitards and questionable hair are the bad guys?"

Puck facepalmed and got up to kneel beside Kurt, showing him his controller and starting to dissect their battle plans. Kurt watched him attentively, smiling around the cherry popsicle he'd spent the last ten minutes molesting. Finn scowled and pushed the buttons on his own controller, going for solo fighting. Of course it had to be a popsicle. Of course it had to be red. Of course it had to be cherry.

He gave up after his third death, hearing Kurt giggle over whatever Puck was whispering to him. The popsicle was finished, thankfully, but it had left Kurt's lips really red and puffy, kind of like how they'd been after Finn kissed him. He swallowed and shifted on the sofa, one of his legs twitching.

"Dude, you suck," Puck paused, looking Kurt up and down. "Wanna play?"

Kurt lifted one eyebrow and rested his chin on his hand, glancing between Puck's expectant face and Finn' slightly constipated expression.

"Sure, why not. If two…" he paused, weighting his words "fashion challenged, although still –" he paused again, smiling sweetly at Puck who smirked back and waggled his eyebrows, making Finn gag a little"–exceptionally upstanding boys can do it, so can I."

Puck mock bowed and handed him the controller he'd snatched from Finn. Kurt sat upright, grasping the controller with eager hands, and winked at Finn – who was still sulking – making him flush and scratch the back of his head.

Finn would later swear the following hour and a half had been altered in his mind by some alien super power. There was just no way Kurt had managed to beat Puck to a pulp in every story-mode, and four times in a row in free-style, just before Puck groaned in defeat and slumped back on the sofa cushions, eyeing Kurt with new found respect and a little fear. As for Kurt, he had stood up and was still staring at the screen intently, his forehead wrinkling in concentration. As the score bars zoomed in, he turned to stare at Puck.

"What, that's it?"

"Fuck, you wanted more? Give a guy a break, will you princess? Shit, my hands are fucking sore."

Kurt looked back at the screen.

"I'm the green bar?"

"Yeah, the fucking over-compensating green bar, that's you alright."

Finn jumped on his seat when Kurt squealed and started making a little victory dance from his spot in front of the TV screen. A victory dance that involved a lot of jiggling of certain parts of Kurt's anatomy. Finn swallowed the sudden flood of saliva and grabbed the nearest pillow, pulling it over his lap. He waited for Puck to start laughing at him but Puck seemed a little occupied, watching as Kurt's ass wiggled. And, sure, maybe Kurt was doing it right in Puck's face, and maybe Kurt's pants shouldn't be so fricking tight – Finn had read about tight stuff around a guy's junk, and it wasn't good – but Puck really had no business looking at Kurt like he was a really meaty bone and Puck was some wild coyote.

"Dude, I thought you had that thing with Lauren today."

Puck looked at him, one eyebrow raised – then he looked down at Finn's lap and smirked knowingly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," said Finn firmly, clenching his jaw.

Puck looked ready to retort but something flashed across his face, something that looked a bit like Quinn and a bit like Beth, and even a little like Rachel. He snuck a glance at Kurt who was punching the air while trying to do a tight spin at the same time and chuckled, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I guess I do. See ya, dude. Hey, Kurt?"

Kurt stopped mid spin and looked at him, cocking his head to the side.

"Mm-hmm?"

"Great game, dude."

Kurt started grinning but stopped himself, adopting a nonchalant expression instead, and nodded coolly, making Finn laugh in spite of himself. Puck glanced between the two of them and waved goodbye, shaking his head again as he left the house.

Kurt let himself fall down on the sofa beside Finn, making him grab on to his pillow tighter. The smaller boy smiled dreamily and let his head drop on Finn's shoulder. The jock stopped breathing.

"I was good, wasn't I?"

He started breathing again and smiled down at his stepbrother, nodding. Kurt smiled back and gave a happy little sigh, snuggling closer to Finn.

"Hey, Kurt."

"Yes?"

"Don't kiss Puck."

Kurt started pulling away, but Finn grabbed his arm, stopping him. Kurt blinked, looking down at Finn's hand on his arm.

"Why – why would I do that?"

"Don't."

"Okay." Kurt wet his lips.

"Really?" Finn brought his fingers to that smooth forehead, wiping off a drop of sweat that had collected there from the exhilaration of the game.

"Sure. Since you asked so nicely."

Finn gulped, his hand hovering over Kurt's face. Kurt just kept looking at him.

"Don't kiss Sam."

Kurt let out a surprised laugh, but nodded.

"Don't kiss Mi –"

"I'm just gonna stop you before you include in that list you seem to have going on in there," said Kurt, grinning up at Finn.

"Don't kiss Blaine," said Finn, hating that it sounded so much like begging.

"I won't. If you remember, I took care of that a while ago."

"Why?" asked Finn, biting his tongue nervously.

"Because I didn't want to kiss him."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to kiss someone else more," whispered Kurt, his eyes fluttering a little when Finn cupped his cheek.

"Who?," whispered Finn back, shivering. He was suddenly very aware of how they'd shifted around on the couch; Kurt's body was half under him, pressed against the sofa by Finn's weight.

Kurt chose that time to look down, blushing. Finn frowned and cupped his chin gently, wanting his eyes on him again. Kurt complied, looking up again, starry-eyed, his cheeks a lovely bright pink.

"Who, Kurt?" asked Finn again, brushing his thumb over Kurt's bottom lip. His mouth parted when Kurt's did, and suddenly they were already breathing the same air.

"You, Finn." Kurt sighed. "I always want to kiss you." His arms came up to tangle around Finn's neck.

"Because I'm your first love?" Finn asked. He needed to be sure, he needed to know, he needed – he really needed to kiss Kurt right now.

"W-what?," stammered Kurt, looking confused.

"Like Rachel said. You know, 'cause – "

"Finn, you lovable idiot, if you don't kiss me right now, I swear to – mmph!"

Yeah, so Finn kissed him.