There were not very many arguments that Rory could have made that would be convincing to Finn, but the 'my son' argument was a damn good one. His expression softened some when she said it, restless fingers gripping lightly at her lower back where they touched.
"He does," Finn agreed, shrugging his shoulders a bit, frowning because she had a point. "I..." He'd given up, was what it was. He hadn't realized it until just this moment, not even remotely, but tucked away in that junk yard with his ancient grandfather Finn had let go of the idea of futures and families and things beyond holing up and living comfortably today, beyond taking care of who was there now. His family was gone, the future he wanted was gone, and it was easiest to turn inward, turn selfish. His expression was raw as these realizations tumbled down on him, surprising him enough that he didn't even think to school his features or not let her see.
Shutting his eyes, he let her kiss wash over him, and he took back whatever closeness had been lost when he'd wanted to see her face. "Somewhere in between what you just said and what I just said is what's right," he decided.