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Finn wakes up in the middle of the night during a big, Midwest thunderstorm and he really needed to pee. He’s sure that the twinge of his bladder is the only thing that brought him to consciousness because he has never had an issue with thunderstorms before—in fact, he actually enjoys listening to them a little. The loud cracks of thunder and how the lightning flashes and it’s like it’s daytime for only a second or two. He thinks that thunderstorms are fascinating, to say the least.
After he contemplates just going back to bed, he turns over and the sharp pain of his bladder makes the decision for him. He’s up and out of bed instantly.
Unlike his brother’s, his room did not have a bathroom of its own, so he had to walk out into the hallway to the bathroom at the end of the hallway that everyone used. It was next to the spare bedroom that he guesses is technically Sam’s bedroom for the time being.
This bathroom is just as stocked as the one downstairs because Finn’s sure his mom got sick of bringing up toilet paper every time he or Sam would sit down to do their business without checking until it was too late.
After he’s done, he shuffles out of the bathroom and rubs his eyes with first his knuckles, but then switches the meat of his palm when the callouses on his knuckles are too dry. He sighs and opens his bedroom door but hesitates before going inside.
There was a loud, booming sound of thunder and before the lightning could spark, Finn heard the noise that made him pause again—a whimper followed by a sniffling sound.
He stops and listens for it again, getting confused by the foreign noise. After a second or two, he realizes that it’s coming from Kurt’s room and then he takes a step in his little brother’s direction. The bright flash of lightning comes in through the window at the end of the hallway and Finn is able to see and side-step a small decorative table that he always forgets is there before he crashes into it and actually wakes the whole house up.
He pauses outside the door and realizes that not only is the sound of someone crying definitely coming from Kurt’s room, but that it’s coming from Kurt. He doesn’t knock because he doesn’t want to make any more noise than he has to and just opens the door slowly.
Kurt is sitting, knees to his chest and arms wrapped around his shins, on his bed and his forehead had been resting on the tops of his knees but it shoots up at the sound of the creaky door. His face is red and blotchy—something Finn has never seen before because of how well Kurt usually takes care of his skin, so that alone scares him—and his eyes and cheeks are wet with tears. Is Kurt afraid of thunderstorms?
“Woah, dude,” Finn whispers, frozen for a second while he just stares. Kurt is usually so composed and uptight, seeing him like this hurts Finn. Physically hurts him, he realizes as his chest tightens and he struggles to take in his next breath.
“Finn—” Kurt’s voice cracks, starting off as a squeak and ending with no sound at all, just breath. He closes his mouth, swallows, and looks like he’s going to try again before another crack of thunder rolls and he visibly jumps and curls tightly in on himself again, breathing in pants that sound like whimpers.
“Kurt, what- I don’t—” seeing the kid so scared pulls him out of his stupor.
He steps more into the room, the door left open, and stops at the side of the bed. He’s not sure what to do, but he knows that he wants Kurt to stop crying and to stop looking so panicked with fright.
“How can I help?” he finally is able to string together a full sentence.
Kurt just shakes his head and starts rocking back and forth on the bed. He gasps a couple of times, his smaller chest heaving with his breaths, and Finn wonders if this is what hyperventilating is. He’s only ever seen it in movies and on TV, and he’s sure that Kurt doesn’t have a brown paper bag handy, so he has to do something else to help him.
Last year, when they had moved to their new house, Kurt had insisted on spending extra money on a higher-quality mattress than what Finn settled for and Finn definitely understood why because not only could he not hear the squeak and screams of the springs, but he also felt like he was resting on a pillow when he kneed onto the bed.
He was awkward for a moment, still so unsure as to what was happening, but he settled on sitting on the bed next to his brother and trying to get him to tell him what’s wrong.
“Talk to me Kurt, if- uh.. if you can, that is,” he fumbles over his words and makes sure to not sit too close so that Kurt feels trapped, but close enough that if his little brother needs him, he can reach out and grab him.
Which is what Kurt does, actually. Instead of trying to talk again, Kurt unwraps his left hand—the one closes to Finn—and grabs for the larger boy’s hand. Finn is still just as confused but he surrenders his limb and Kurt pulls it towards himself and wraps both of his much smaller, softer hands in Finn’s large one.
Finn can feel something wet like tears or snot on Kurt’s hands, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t even think about it past a general realization and his heart thumps quickly as the adrenaline from his shock starts to wear off. Kurt reaching for him, not pushing him away, is a good sign, right?
Neither of them says anything for a while, seconds, minutes, an hour? Finn’s not sure. But they sit and they don’t talk, and Finn still tries to figure out what is happening.
Their family has been living in this house since the middle of their junior year, almost a whole year ago, and Finn is sure that there has been plenty of thunderstorms before and he hasn’t heard Kurt this upset. Had he always slept through Kurt’s crying or had something else happened to make this one so much worse?
After a while, Kurt’s breathing slowed back down to normal level and he tugs Finn’s arm a little closer but straightens out his legs—both knees popping from the tension of being clenched up so tightly—and he still doesn’t say anything. But at every crack of thunder, every flash of lightning, and every time the wind and rain pick up harshly outside of the window, Kurt either jumps or whimpers. After each reaction, he snuggles closer to Finn’s arm and side.
“Kurt...” Finn whispers eventually, catching himself dosing off a little. His adrenaline is all gone now, and he realizes that it’s 4AM and he’s tired, but still so concerned for his little brother.
“I—" his voice cracks when he tries to speak, so he drops to a whisper, “...I can’t sleep sometimes…” his face scrunches up as the thunder rattles the windowpanes.
Finn gently pulls his arm away, for one panicked moment Kurt looks up at his face and before he can say anything, Finn hums and twists more towards the smaller boy. He lays the arm that Kurt had been holding onto his shoulders and offers his other hand for Kurt to hold in his smaller ones.
Kurt sighs into the embrace and allows himself to be pulled closer. It helps, it helps so much, and Finn can tell as the tension and stiffness starts to leave his body. “Sometimes it’s so bad...” Kurt continues to whisper into Finn’s shirt.
Finn waits to see if there is more and when there isn’t, he says, “what can I do to help?”
“Hold me.”
Finn doesn’t question it, he doesn’t hesitate, he just pulls Kurt closer so that their thighs and hips and sides touch and he tucks Kurt’s head up against his neck and before long his little (although older) brother’s breathing evens out a little bit more and Finn’s eyes start to droop when he realizes that Kurt’s fallen asleep once more.
Finn has held Rachel like this before, but their positions are the start and end of the comparisons, there is nothing romantic about this—Finn is here out of love and care for Kurt. And maybe the great mattress.
They sleep through the rest of the night peacefully.