A/N: Written for this prompt on the glee_kink_meme: "Five times Finn made Will feel like a dirty old man and Five times Finn made Will feel like a kid again." Although it became more than five, obviously. And more fluffy/romantic than sexy. And kind of... plotty. And I did this whole 'all dialogue' experiment.

Words of the Age

"You... want me to join the Glee club?"


"Do you hate me?"

"No. Didn't we just have this conversation?"

"Dude, I can't sing."

"Finn, I've heard you sing. You have an amazing natural talent. And I'm the one blackmailing you, so I get to decide whether or not you can sing."



"How have you heard me sing? I only sing in the shower... and watching me there would be kind of creepy..."

"Uh... I'm sure I must have heard you at some point. Maybe you were singing under your breath or something."

"Oh. Okay. If you say so."

"So how was that, Mr. Schue?"

"Finn, that was... amazing."

"Actually, Mr. Schuester, I think Finn could improve his vocal ability for that song by–"

"We'll focus on the details later, Rachel; the important part of the performance was communicating the mood and emotion of the piece. And you handled that perfectly."

"...How rude."

"Uh, thanks, Mr. Schue..."

"...This was awkward, wasn't it?"

"Kinda, yeah."


"You okay, Mr. Schuester? You look... slightly flushed..."

"What, Rachel? Oh, no, it's just hot in here."

"Dude, you grabbed my leg."


"During your dance thing. I mean, I get it – I move like a freight train most of the time. Just... are you allowed to do that? 'Cause I remember this English teacher I had in middle school who wouldn't let us hand our papers in directly to her; she had this special tray because she couldn't like, risk touching us by holding the same bit of paper, so..."

"Oh, uh... There are all sorts of restrictions and 'suggestions'... I'm not exactly forbidden to touch students, but it's not encouraged. Still, it's dancing, and things like that... happen."

"Okay. Cool."

"You just don't understand our love!"

"Shush it Finn; they'll get me fired."

"Hey, you were the one who started waltzing me."

"Hear comes the bride, who isn't actually a bride, how do I make this fit to the tempo of the so-ong..."

"Do you know the real words to that song, Wheels?"

"No. Do you, Puck? Does anyone?"

"We really should stop this before I get fired. Or before you break my foot."

"...This is my pouting face."

"Say cheese, guys!"

"Ack! Quinn!"

"Now I have blackmail material over you for like, ever Mr. Schue."

"...There are no words for how inappropriate this is..."

"Yeah, but we love you anyway. Now hands off my boyfriend."

"Mr. Schue, I screwed up."

"It's okay. Stop crying and we'll talk."

"Sorry, I shouldn't be like, blubbering on you..."

"It's okay. I'm here, whatever you need."

"Look, it's girly and pathetic, but... Can you hug me again?"

"I... maybe I shouldn't..."

"Okay, this is dumb..."

"Look, Finn, come here..."

"You know, the food here is terrible."

"Terrible food is distracting. Distraction is good."

"What, am I that bad a conversationalist?"

"Haha. Fuck, I think I'm missing fifth period."

"I'll write you a note."

"William Schuester, you rebel. You didn't even go off at me for swearing."

"I encourage freedom of speech. Is your food less terrible than mine?"

"Dude you just stole my food!"

"I stole a square inch, Finn, you'll survive."

"...Mr. Schue, everyone's staring at us now."

"...Crap. Thank god no-one we know goes here."

"Wait, what is it?"

"They think... this is a date."

"You mean it's not? You just broke my heart."

"Haha. I'll try to keep my job, thank you very much."

"It's okay, I understand. Money is more important than me."

"...It's good you're smiling."

"What? Oh. You know, I hadn't thought about that for like, two seconds."

"Er. Sorry. Do you think if I'm being a silly dating teenager, I'm allowed to not pay the bill?"

"Again – rebel."

"Finn. It's two AM."

"I know."

"You're standing at the door of my apartment."

"I know."

"...How did you even find out where this place is?"

"Rachel told me. After she screamed my head off for half an hour about waking her up at one AM. Then she spent the next fifteen minutes cooing how sorry she felt for me, which, nice idea but really didn't make me feel any better."

"...Must stop getting students to stalk me. Finn, what are you doing here? Do you have any idea how inappropriate this must look? You're fifteen, for god's sakes; you just broke up with your girlfriend, and then you show up at your recently separated 32-year-old male teacher's house at two AM? What the hell do you think people will think?"

"...I dunno. I just... wanted to see you. Talk to you. This... it's hard. I thought you might understand; you know, with your wife and the baby and all."


"...I'm sorry, this was stupid, I'll go."

"No, wait. I mean... You can stay if you want to."

"It's like, it all fucking sucks, you know? And I know I wasn't always perfect – like, anything to do with Rachel, for example – but this is just a sucking suckfest of sucktacularity. And I try to do the right thing and be like, fair in the mind, and think about how I fucked it up too and what she was feeling, but then I'm like, who cares what she was feeling, because she screwed my best friend and lied to me for like, ever, and that's just not cool."

"Uh huh."

"And what about him, huh? I mean, Puck can be kind of a dick sometimes, but he was all about bros before hoes, you know? And then, oh no, I'll knock up your girlfriend now – and did you see him at Glee? Did he seem even a little bit guilty? Fuck no. Son of a bitch. Uh... sorry to vent at you, Mr. Schue."

"It's okay. I think venting is down there with food and shelter when it comes to human needs."

"Oh. Okay. It's cool. It's just like... you'd usually vent this kind of crap to your best friend, but I don't really have a best friend for the first time in like, years, so can I use you?"

"Of course. Sure."

"Thanks. And sorry about waking you up at two in the morning. Speaking of the whole best friend thing, and waking people up, mind if I crash? My mom will freak if I come back home at this time of night."

"I'm going to regret this, but sure."

"Mr. Schue, you're staring."

"What? Am not!"

"You kind of were. Now... Dude, eyes up here. It's not even like your looking at my boobs... because I don't have them... anyway, the floor is not that interesting. Eye contact is good; at least that's what my English teacher always says. Remind me, which one of you bastards invented oral presentations?"

"...I wasn't staring."

"Um... okay... Mr. Schue, are you okay? You're all... red..."

"I'm fine, Finn."

"Should I like, get the nurse or something?"

"I'm not one of you kids, Finn. Besides, we still don't have a nurse."

"Mr. Schue–"

"Could you just go please?"



"This is the bit where you freak and send me off like yesterday, isn't it?"

"Given this is a little more serious than yesterday – you just kissed me – it really is. I'm just waiting for my freakout to arrive. Should show up any second now."

"Oh. Um. Is it there yet?"

"Nah. Now I'm just... giddy. Funny, it's never usually this late."

"Well, uh, while we're waiting..."

"Wha– mmph!"

"Finn. You're not serious."

"Come on, Will. It's been three months. I'm not a virgin. We've done pretty much everything but. This... is what I want."

"You're not even eighteen yet, Finn; I'm not a criminal."

"Well, no – I googled it; the age of consent here is actually sixteen. You watch too much TV, and that must be the first time I've ever had to say that to you."

"Look, Finn–"

"Dude, if you don't want to do it, we don't have to. I think there are like, rules against that sort of thing. And if not, my mom would kick my ass. It's trying to be the good guy here – I want to, and I think you want to too, but if you're not ready to, for whatever reason – well, I'm cool with it. I did date the head of the celibacy club, after all."

"Thanks. This is just... scary. Not just to because I'm always looking over my shoulder to see if anyone knows and is going to destroy my life. The thing is – you are seventeen. I'm thirty-three. You're in my Spanish class, for god's sakes. I'm never going to stop thinking of you as kid fully; I'm trying, but it won't sink in. I'm really not sure it ought to. So no, the rest of the world aren't the only ones terrified this is me taking advantage of you – I'm always scared I'm hurting you some how, and doing whatever I can to avoid it. And the further we go, the harder it is. I'm trying to be really, really cautious about all this. You understand that?"

"Yeah. It's actually really romantic and shit. I said I'm cool."

"Thanks. And stop being all mature and crap; you know it turns me on."


"I'm taking that as a compliment."

"You do that."

"So it was okay? Santana totally bitched me out when we..."

"Wait, you and Santana? When?"

"Didn't I tell you about that? I was sure I told Rachel. Anyway, she was like, my first – last year, bit after the whole debacle with Quinn and Puck, then Jesse and Rachel. Seemed like a good idea at the time."


"Dude, you okay? You've gone all pouty."

"It's just... nothing."

"...Are you jealous? Because, dude, you were married for like, five years. I think that's a little hypnetical."

"That's not a word, Finn."

"Well, there was something Rachel once said that meant 'you lying judgey bastard, you did the exact same thing'."


"That's it."


"Seriously, though."

"...I guess. I don't mean to be. I mean, I kind of guessed you wouldn't be... Still. I don't know."

"It's okay. Rachel was kinda the same; she screamed my head off for it, though. Although that was kind of because I lied about it."

"Rachel was a fifteen year old girl, I think her expectations would be a little different to mine. Which leaves us with the question of why I'm acting like a pouty brooding teenager right now."

"Clearly, my mad sex skills have warped your mind."


"If it's any consolation, I have totally had elaborate fantasies of torturing your ex-wife in a fit of jealousy... Which is really mean, because she's awesome and really nice and like, didn't fire me for that time I set the shop on fire."

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that one."

"Er. Yeah. Awkward."

"I'll live."

"You're cuddling. You big girl."

"Shut up. Who are you, Puck?"

"Wow. We are like, the worst at the morning after ever. We just keep going on about other people."

"Eh. As long as you don't lose your soul and run away murder everyone and start smoking, we could do worse."


"Wait, you got that reference?"

"Dude, you would not believe how often Mercedes shows up at our house with her DVDs. Kurt gets annoyed with it too."

"I can't do this anymore."

"Wait, what?"

"This. Us."

"Wait, what did I do–"

"Nothing, Finn. Look, yesterday, there was a conference about inappropriate teacher-student relationships, and Sue brought up that she was watching everyone closely – I just about pissed myself in fear! We were stupid to think this could ever work. If we don't stop, someone will find out it will ruin everything for everyone. I was being selfish and stupid by..."

"You were being stupid and selfish? What was I? Like, a sockpuppet?"

"You... were an unfortunate victim. A vulnerable teenager I should never have done anything with. I'm sorry, Finn."

"What? No! You and I both know the kind of bullshit that is. I love you. I love you and you love me, and we've already made sure of that, so what's the big deal? Who cares what anyone else thinks?"

"I care. I need my job. I need my reputation. I need my self-respect. And this... it goes against all of them."

"So, what you're saying is – you care about what people think more than you love me? Because, wow, way to fuck up those 'be yourself' messages elementary school drills into your head."

"For christ's sakes, Finn! Stop acting like this is me worrying that I might get made fun of! That would be a little hypocritical, given why you dumped Rachel that time–"

"Wow, personal attack much?"

"–but the point is, this is about obeying the laws and systems. This is about not having to worry and feel guilty until forever. This is about letting you have some kind of normal life. Isn't any of this sinking in?"

"No. Sorry. I look at it and all I can see is you breaking my heart because you're a fucking coward."

"For christ's sakes–"

"Sorry, I know. I'm overreacting. I'm being irrational. But hey, I'm a teenager, right? We're all weepy and angry and selfish and – hormones. How could we ever be asked to make a mature decision on things?"


"It's okay, Mr. Schuester. Sir. I'm sure I'll get in trouble for being disrespectful to a teacher, but that happens. I'll see you in class. Or Glee. Something."


"Gotta run. I have an assignment to finish."

"Hey, Emma."


"Sorry to just barge in, it's just... I don't have anyone else to talk to. I can't really say the vast majority of it to you, but..."

"It's okay. Uh, what did you want to...?"

"It... It's stupid. And likely more than a little awkward, given our... history."

"I'll live."

"It's just... I was seeing someone. And we broke up. The relationship was a secret anyway, so I can't tell anyone that's why I'm upset – people keep asking; Brittany thought my puppy had died or something – and... I knew it was the right thing to do, that it would give... this person... a better chance, but I didn't do it because I wanted to. I'm still in love with him, and vice versa, and I know I just broke his heart. And... I just completely accidentally outed my less-than-heterosexuality. Oops."

"Oh god."

"What? Is that... Sorry, this was–

"No, I don't have any opinion on your sexuality. It's just... This was because of that conference we all held, it little to no provocation, on inappropriate student-teacher relationships? Aka the one which was a massive prank on you because we had all figured out you were having an affair with Finn Hudson, and wanted to make you scream like a little girl in fear? That one?"


"And you just dumped him because getting found out was too big a risk, so you're both heartbroken and still madly in love?"

"That pretty much sums it up, yeah."


"It's not your fault. Wait, why are you all okay with this anyway?"

"Will, everyone can see – just from the way you two look at each other – this is not some pervert taking advantage of student."

"Could you have told me that sooner? Because I've spent the last six months worrying that was exactly what I was being."

"Well, nobody thinks you are. And it's kind of an open secret that half the faculty here have slept with one student or another – Noah Puckerman's name frequently gets circled – so if you went down, I doubt it would do anyone much good."

"Oh. Well, thanks, I guess. Part of me is still determined to be outraged at that, but yeah, the words 'big fucking hypocrite' do mean something to me."

"Okay. So, you think you have much of a chance of getting him back?"

"Back? Maybe. Probably not. He was... pretty mad about what I said. He said I broke his heart."

"Of course you did, it was a break-up. Namely a break-up where you acted rashly due to the pressure of peers, regretted it, ran away to your best friend to complain and made the whole 'I want him back' decision. The collective immaturity probably makes the whole thing a lot less icky."

"...Are we best friends?"

"You got a better label?"

"Thanks, Emma. And I am not immature."


"I hate you."

"Finn, could I speak to you–"

"Sorry, Mr. Schue, Mom and Burt ordered us to be back home right after Glee."

"No they didn–"

"They asked me to tell Kurt. Guess I forgot to."


"Yeah. Anyway, it's nothing that important? I mean, if it's a school thing, you can pass it on. And if it's not a school thing – well, why would you need to say it to me anyway?"


"See you, Mr. Schue."

("No, Kurt, there's nothing going on.")


"Yeah. I know singing a song to win you back was cliched, but it seemed like it would work. Given us and music and everything."

"Um, unless you forgot this bit – you dumped me."

"Yes. I did that because I was terrified of anyone finding out about us; namely, by fellow staff members getting me fired. Except it turned out my fellow staff members all already knew, and were pulling my leg with that conference thing – they actually thing we're good together. I mean, everyone's still refusing to acknowledge it publicly, and we're trying like hell to make sure the students never find out, but... That's not the point. I miss you."

"So, you only want me back because people don't think the way you thought they thought and whoa, that's a confusing sentence. Anyway, you're still not picking me over what they think."

"Look, I was being stupid, okay? I panicked. I told you how scared I get about the possibility I might be hurting you – I've always believed those rules were in place for a reason, so it's hard to reconcile that with our flagrant disregard for them."

"Dude, words."

"How we break them."

"Don't roll your eyes at me. I just – I don't want to have our thing go on forever with me being a kid to you. It won't work that way, and I know it. You stopped being 'Mr. Schuester' months ago."

"I know. You know it broke my heart when you called me that?"

"Yeah, that was kind of the point."

"So... Are we back together?"


"Cool. This whole thing has taught me I'm immature enough that it really shouldn't be a problem anyway."

"Dude, I think Kurt suspects you."

"Please don't make me feel even more like a criminal, Finn. Avoid the word 'suspect'. And what?"

"Well, I keep denying it, but he kind of figured out I was seeing someone ages ago. He didn't really care, because he's been over me for a while. That, or his acting's gotten a lot better. Still, the way he looks at us in Glee – he knows something's up, man."

"Only took him, what, seven months? Fuck. What do you think he'll do?"

"I dunno. He might be a stickler for the rules. He might reckon you're taking advantage–"

"He's go after me to protect you. You know, the big brother complex isn't usually that depressing."

"Christ. Sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"I know. It's just still kind of a sore spot."

"Mr. Schuester, we need to talk.

My very recent stepbrother has acquired several hickeys and suspicious markings on his person between last night and today, when he snuck out, and by an extraordinary coincidence so do you. He has shown rather unique insight into your personal life several times, and each time indicated he should not have had it immediately after saying it. Of course, any romantic or sexual relationship between the two of you would be banned by the school, if not by law. Finn has emotions; he can be hurt. I have seen it happen many times, and admittedly, have been responsible for a little of it. So, if some circumstances were to cause you to break his heart, I would be very displeased. I happen to be Head Cheerio, and hence the protege of a woman whose hatred for your personality and all you stand for is matched only by her hatred of your hair. I'm sure, if I pushed enough – that is, at all – we could get you fired and/or arrested very easily. However, if this relationship continues the way it seems to be – where you two are good together, and you make him happy – I can only approve, and blackmail Coach Sylvester with my cheerleading skills when she tries to use it against you. If he does get hurt, though, you will learn that I can pull the overprotective big brother act just as well as anyone who isn't younger, only a step-relative and at least a foot short than the relevant parties. And I can do it a lot more effectively. Do I make myself understood?"

"Yes. Sir."

"Good. And everyone, stop gaping. Like we didn't figure out about them months ago."

"Did you really have to give me that speech in front of the entire club?"

"Do you wish to test me, Will?"

"No sir."




"Will, I have to study for finals. Your fault – it's this school bitch which is making me graduate. I have to take a language for some reason; mind explaining that to me?"

"Oh, sorry. I should hang up and let you study. Bye–"



"Dude, you're my boyfriend! It's your job to distract me at the worst possible time from studying! Otherwise I–"

"Finn? Finn?"

"What? I'm back!"

"You were flailing wildly and dropped the phone again, didn't you?"

"Shut up."

"Anyway, I really should go. If only because it's still creeping me out that my boyfriend is studying for the exam for the subject I taught him."

"Hey, soon that won't be a problem anymore."

"Graduation. Wow. I was pretty sure the world would end before this."

"Well, it didn't, because I'm awesome. And can you please distract me? Or at least help me study?"

"I'm not sure if I should – it could count as using this relationship for academic gain, which we have strictly ruled against."

"Fine. Then you owe me phone sex!"


"What? I've given you blue balls enough due to academic failure that Kurt has an acronym for it; don't you think academic success is correlated with getting off too?"


"I have to take English too, dude."

"Oh. And no, I am not having phone sex with you when you should be studying. Goodbye."


"Here's looking at you, kid."

"Everyone's gone."

"They're waiting outside. They want us to have our first we-don't-have-to-pretend-we're-not-together-yay moment alone."

"Wow. We really kept this up for, like, a year and a half?"

"Holy shit, when did it become a year and a half?"

"Um, on our one year, six month anniversary?"


"You know you love me."

"I doubt we'd have a one year, six month anniversary if I didn't."

"Does it count as a one year, six month anniversary if we broke up after six months then got back together?"

"...You know, I've never actually checked."

"Anyway, we are officially any high school romance now. And we totally need to have a crazy graduation make-out session."

"You and your hormones. You are such a teenager."

"Okay, when did you become okay with joking about our age difference?"

"I don't know, does it matter? We really should be making out by this point."

"Yeah, but you've always talked too much."

"And you don't? Hypocrite."

"I can't remember what that means again. Something to do with our first time?"

"...If I was a teenage girl, I would genuinely be swooning right now."

"Swoon! The power of my awesome commands you!"

"Again: talking too much."