Chapter Text
Finney was angry. His body burned with thinly veiled resentment. Now, normally when Finney was angry, he would walk away and take a breather. Calm down a bit so as to not do anything irrational that could get him or Gwen hurt. But this time, there was no calming down. The only thing running through his head was protect her, protect her, protect her . And really, who was he, if not a slave to his own thoughts?
And so he did the only thing he could think of, he walked right up to Moose and sucker-punched him right in the windpipe.
“Touch her again, and I can promise you that I will make your death look like an accident.” Finney hissed out as he pressed the heel of his shoe against Moose’s chest, harder and harder until he choked out pleas for him to stop.
Finney glared harshly but eventually let up, watching as Moose ran off. Probably to whine off to his group of losers. He swiftly turned around, his eyes softening almost comically, worry etched onto his face.
“Gwen! Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Does anything hurt? I’ll beat his ass if there’s even a single mark on your body.” He growled darkly. He wasn’t afraid of a few bruises and broken bones if it meant Gwen was safe.
“I’m fine, Finn. But forget about me! That was fucking awesome! Where’d you learn to do that? You have to teach me!” Gwen stood up, dusting herself off even as she bounced excitedly on the heels of her feet.
“Do you want me to be honest?” Finney stood up, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well duh.” Gwen shot him an unimpressed look as they grabbed their book bags and made their way home.
“I have no fucking clue how I did that. I just saw him touching you and I was just so angry. So I did the only thing I could think of at the moment.” Finney shrugged his shoulders, an air of mock nonchalance surrounding him and his sister, he didn’t want to bring too much attention to it, after all, he was just protecting his sister.
“Well, even then, that was still super cool. Thanks Finney.” She smiled brightly before parting ways with him and heading off to Suzie’s.
Finney smiled softly as he stood and made sure she got inside safely. As her brother he had to make sure she stayed safe and that she was protected, which was why as her older brother he protected her whenever he could.
“If I’m gonna be honest, I learned that move from watching Vance fight.” He muttered, finally turning away and beginning to walk towards his house again.
“What’d you say my name for, bitch?” A voice growled out. It sent shivers up Finney’s spine as he stood shell shocked in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Uh, I just said that I learned how to throw a punch from watching you fight..” He trailed off, blushing brightly and fidgeting with his hands. He couldn’t bear looking Vance in the eye, he was just so unfairly hot he was so sure he would fold the second he looked into those beautiful blue eyes.
“Oh? You can throw a punch?” Vance’s voice was like tires on gravel, with a hint of breathlessness just right- and oh. Wow. His eyes were just so pretty.
“Not, uhm, not really but like.. If it were to protect my sister I could? I dunno.” Finney’s voice was just edging on squeaky, which was really pathetic considering who he was talking to. His ears burned as Vance’s lips quirked up into a small smirk. Of course he would enjoy watching Finney squirm,
“Hm.” Vance looked Finney up and down slowly and deliberately. His gaze was heavy. “Yeah.” He licked his lips, it was a quick little thing but Finney found himself following the motion like a cat would a red dot. Unconsciously, Finney bit his bottom lip.
“Walk with me, pretty boy.” Finney’s eyes widened but still, he nodded. Vance’s voice was raspy and boy had it made Finney’s body tingle.
He wondered if they looked comical, like a puppy following its owner.
“Not that I mind, uh, this. But what are you playing at?” He couldn’t help but be a little suspicious, no matter how enchanting he found Vance, if there was any chance that he would get hurt and not be able to be there for Gwen, he wasn’t going to walk right into the heart of the fire.
Vance snorted. “What makes you think I’m playing at anything?”
At that, Finney raised a single eyebrow, all judgmental-like.
Vance snorted. It even sounded pretty. Wow.
“Ok, ok. You got me there. However, I’m not gonna tell you why. That’s for you to figure out, sweetheart.” Finney swallowed roughly, were they flirting? Maybe they were but he wasn’t sure, I mean Vance literally just called him sweetheart, that basically means they’re flirting right? But maybe Vance was just teasing him, so maybe they’re not actually flirting and it’s just him making a fool of himself while Vance taunts him.
Ugh! Emotions are so hard.
“Loosen up, Blake. We’re not doing anything dangerous. Yet .” Vance smirked in satisfaction as he watched Finney freak out.
It was kinda cute.
They walked, and walked, and walked-- right past Finney’s house. And they continued walking, past Robin's house- they had had a falling out a while ago, past Billy’s house- the accidental reason for the falling out, past the Grab N Go, and into the park.
That definitely was not normal. But, who was he to say Vance didn’t like long, quiet strolls in the park? Well… it’s a bit out of character for someone like Vance, not to be rude or anything, but he just thinks that maybe Vance would prefer other things such as, oh he doesn’t know, breaking rooms? You know, those rooms where you go in and break things to take out your anger in like, a healthy and controlled environment.
Finney was lost in his thoughts, which is why he was so shocked when he looked up and noticed they had disappeared into the forest surrounding the sides of the park. He gulped when he noticed they were far from where anyone could see (and possibly hear ) them.
Was he about to be murdered?
“You’re not like, gonna brutally mar my body and then hide me in some ditch for me to become the next buzz-feed unsolved case, right?” Well, he didn’t mean to be that descriptive. He says things when he gets nervous! It’s really not his fault! Stop looking at him like that, Vance! It’s not weird either.
“No, pipsqueak, I’m not gonna murder you, brutally or otherwise.” Vance gave Finney a weird look before rolling his eyes and pulling him underneath one of the bigger trees with lots of leaves that obscured the sunlight.
“I’d say thanks but bringing me here isn’t exactly the vote of confidence you think it is.” Finney snickered silently as he watched the vein on Vance’s neck bulge slightly. Had this been Robin-- No. Stop that thought process, don’t compare ex -best friend and new found friend? Crush? Doesn’t matter, just don’t.
“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve already.” Vance picked up a rock from the ground and threw it up into the leaves, a small clanking sound was heard before a wooden ladder fell and landed in front of them. “But, since you’re one of the cute one’s, I’ll let you live.”
Finney flushed red in embarrassment-- if it was because he was called cute is still out on the jury.
“Whatever, the point is, just what are we doing out here?” Finney stares-- not at Vance’s ass, he swears-- as Vance climbs up the ladder and disappears into the leaves.
“Just climb up pipsqueak, I promise you’ll like it.” Finney could practically hear the wink that followed. Rolling his eyes, he made sure his footing was right before he began climbing the ladder.
Soon enough he found himself up in the leaves, but looking up, he could make out a tree-house! Vance, Pinball Vance Hopper hangs around a tree-house! How ironic.
“What is this place?” He asked in awe, standing up inside the tree-house and spinning around, admiring the handy work and the interior decorations. The place was covered in art-- mainly scenery and abstract, there were a few portraits, of Vance or of both people he recognized and didn’t.
There were two separate easels set up in two different corners of the room, one looked to have an unfinished painting of an ocean, the other was just a blank canvas. He assumed that one was for abstract art considering the half painted ocean.
“This, well, it’s my place. Where I paint or just get my emotions out,” he nodded over to the blank easel, “or just relax.” He jutted his chin in the direction of the couch near the tv with the piles of video games and comics surrounding it.
“It’s so cool! You painted all of these?” Vance nodded, looking away in embarrassment. He had forgotten he put up his paintings, even the bad ones were up, to show his progress and all that.
"Make yourself at home." Vance watched as Finney walked around, touching and prodding and admiring his work. He felt a touch of pride rising in his chest, it felt warm. He liked this feeling. A lot. Maybe he'd keep the runt around, just for the feeling, he reasoned.
"Are you gonna continue to paint that?" Finney pointed to the easel on the left side of the room, where the ocean lay unfinished.
"I would but I've got an art block. It's been like that for a while if I'm being honest." Finney nodded slowly-- not that he really understood, but he could pretend for Vance. “You have no clue what an art block is, do you?”
“Absolutely no clue!” Finney smiled brightly. It was rather cute.
“Of course you wouldn’t.” Vance muttered, looking away from Finn. Finney giggled, admiring the slight flush on Vance’s ears and neck.
“You could teach me!” Finney chirped, pressing into Vance’s space causing him to take a step back nervously.
“I mean, I could but I don’t know if I should. Wouldn’t your boy-toy get mad?” Vance’s eyebrow quirked up, watching as Finney blinked multiple times slowly before tilting his head.
“What boy-toy? I’m not like, exclusive if that’s what you mean.” Finney’s face scrunched up a bit at the idea of dating someone who he doesn’t know.
“I’m talking about Arellano.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? What does oh mean?” This time, Vance backed Finn up against the wall, being mindful of the paintings that hang.
“I just mean we haven’t really-. Well what I mean to say is that we’re not talking, some stuff was said, now we’re not on speaking terms I guess. Shit happens, you know?” Finney tried to ignore the way his face burned red at the closeness in which he found himself with Vance. He could feel the other boy's breath fanning against his skin.
“So were you two just friends or..?” He trailed off in a sultry tone, gripping Finney’s waist in a tight grasp as if to further insinuate his point. Finney flushed red, his face burned at both the implication and the feeling of Vance’s hands on him.
“No, we weren’t anything. Just friends, that's it. I think. It was complicated.” Finney looked away, staring at a spot just above Vance's shoulder instead of at his eyes. He was nervous.
“Oh? So the two of you did things?” A shit eating grin rose on Vance’s face, though the look didn’t reflect in his eyes. His eyes were stormy, as if he were slightly angry at the implication that Finney had done things with Robin.
“W-what!? No!” Finney stared wide-eyed up at Vance. He would never! Was Vance slut-shaming him!?
“So you’re innocent.” Vance purred, his eyes lightening and his grip tightening.
Finney blinked in confusion. “If by innocent you mean I’ve never done anything, then yeah.”
“Cute.”
Finney’s already burning skin seemed to burn more. Vance seemed to know just what to say to make him blush. Fortunately, before Finn could explode, Vance released him and stepped away, walking over to the unfinished easel.
“You’ve inspired me, pretty boy. Now do me a favor, either be quiet, or leave.” With that, Vance tied his hair up, grabbing his paints and settling down to finish the ocean.
Finney stood for a while, just watching as Vance painted, stroke after stroke, he seemed so relaxed and calm. Finally, he silently made his way over to the couch, making himself comfortable and eventually falling asleep to the sound of Vance humming and the strokes of a brush against canvas.
When Vance looked up, he noticed Finn asleep on his couch, a small soft barely noticeable smile appeared on his face. He got up quietly and reached for one of his softer blankets, covering the other boy's body and tucking him in. He stroked his cheek, accidentally leaving some paint marks but not minding all too much. He looked like he belonged here, in Vance’s covers, on his couch, in his abode.
Quietly, he walked back to the easel, taking the canvas that had the ocean off before replacing it with a new one. He studied the position Finney was in for a few seconds before he turned back to the canvas, pencil in hand, he began sketching. And under the flickering light of the tree-house, a painting of Finney Blake on Vance’s couch, wrapped in his blankets began to develop.