Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Do not own the characters. All fiction.

Summary: Kurt Hummel is having a hard time at home, and his favourite teacher is on hand to help him. But is he what he seems? Luckily, Blaine Anderson is keeping a close watch.

Author Note: There is no Burt in this, and as Papa Hummel is so mean I had to make him an OC. I couldn't make my beloved Burt horrible! Hope you like, please review!

Chapter 1

Not me, not me, not me please! Kurt thought, his eyes squeezed shut. His English teacher had just announced to the class that he would be asking them to read aloud their essays this after-noon. Usually, he would be fine with this, except he'd forgotten to do one. Mr. Cannavale glanced around the class and grinned as he fixed his eyes on Kurt.

"Mr. Hummel! Why don't you share with us your opinion on Gatsby's greatness?" Kurt blushed, heat warming his cheeks.

"I haven't written it, Sir." He kept his eyes downcast and tone apologetic. He was aware of the automatic hush that filled the room. Kurt Hummel hadn't done his homework? The Kurt Hummel? He raised his eyes to the teacher to take in the man's reaction. Instead of anger he saw a saddened look on the man's face and a resigned nod.

"Very well, Kurt, if…" Mr. Cannavale began.

"Probably too busy going six rounds with his old man." Karofsky shouted from the back, he paused waiting for laughter that never came then continued. "That guy's such a drunk he'd explode standing next to a radiator." Again, no laughs.

"Please,Karofsky, I think that's enough. Don't assume malice for what stupidity can explain." The teacher spoke, this raised a few titters and the class continued.

Everyone at the McKinley High School knew about Kurt's father. Harold Hummel was a legend in the town. Not a Friday night went by where Kurt didn't have to bail him out of jail, or apologise to the neighbours because he'd tried to shoot their dog again. To everyone else he was a funny, harmless drunk. To Kurt he was the living embodiment of hell. Everybody also knew that scrapes and bruises that Kurt often turned up to school with were the result of getting on his father's bad side, but this wasn't so funny, so harmless. So this was ignored, preferring their original assessment of the man.

Lost in his own thoughts he realised that the other students were packing up, he hurried to join them trying to think of someone he could copy the rest of the work off.

"Kurt, could you stay back please?" Mr. Cannavale asked.

"Uh yeah sure." He sat back down again and waited for the last of the students to clear out. Mr. Cannavale glanced behind him and he heard hurried footsteps leave the room.

"Kurt…Kurt are you okay?" He pulled out a chair and sat opposite him with a concerned look on his face.

"Yes, sir, I'm fine honest." He blanched at the last word, if anything could've made him sound less truthful that word was it. Mr. Cannavale smiled one of his classics that melted the heart of every one of his female students. He was a greatly handsome man. Hispanic, dark skinned with an athletic build and brown puppy dog eyes. But as well as his looks he was intelligent, funny and moral. The kind of man Kurt wanted to be.

"Kurt, of all my students you're one of my favourites." Kurt could feel himself blushing. "I hate to see you upset I…" He paused as if thinking of the words. "We have the school play coming up soon, I've been lumped with organising it and well I could do with a spare set of hands. I could use your help, Kurt."

"I…Mr. Cannavale…"

"Please call me George when we aren't in class." He smiled again. "At least think about it, it'll get you out of the house for a few weeks." The words hung unspoken in the air. Away from your father

"I don't really know anything about organising a play Mr.…I mean George. What if I mess up?"

"Kurt, it'll be fine, I wouldn't have asked if I didn't trust you."

"Well then okay, it should be fun." He felt himself smile back, it felt strange on his face. "Is that all?"

"Yeah that's it." He leant forward and placed a hand on his knee. "Kurt, if you ever need to talk you know where I am right?" Kurt felt a tingle of excitement glow under George's hand. He nodded and the teacher let go of his knee.

Almost running out of the classroom, shouting a hurried "Bye" at Sir, he felt a peculiar sensation in his stomach.

Why had Mr. Can...George touched him like that? Maybe it was just friendly, but he had asked him to help with the play. That meant hours of time alone together so maybe it was something more? or maybe it was pity. His joy plummeted. Yeah that was it-pity. Why expect anything else?

His talk with George left him late for next class so quickening his pace he hurried to Science. Running straight into Karofsky.

"Watch it, trailer trash." He snorted.

"But he doesn't live in a trailer?" Karofsky's friend interjected quieting as Karofsky elbowed him. Kurt ignored this and went to get past.

"Hold it, fag. There's a poll to pay." Karofsky gripped Kurt's arms to stop him moving.

"I don't have any money." Kurt answered in a bored voice. If Karofsky thought this was intimidating then he really didn't understand Kurt's home life.

"Okay the, you have to erm…kiss my feet." Karofsky grinned delighted at this punishment.

"Let's not and say that I did, huh?" How do people find this simpleton attractive? Kurt thought.

"You back chatting me, boy?"

"No, Sir!" He answered in a military voice fighting the urge to laugh. Karofsky, realising he was been mocked swung Kurt round and up against the wall.

"You little shit, your Dad can't be punishing you hard enough." Suddenly a pair of hands roughly threw Karofsky to the floor.

"You okay, Kurt?" George Cannavale asked looking into Kurt's wide surprised eyes.

"Uh yeah sure." He gasped. A teacher had just hit a student for him! He couldn't believe it.

"Assault! I can have you done for this!" Karofsky cried jumping to his feet.

"I'd like to see people believe you over me, that'll be a sight to behold." He glanced the boy full in the face and Karofsky wavered easily. "If I see you near Kurt again, it'll be much worse. Understood?" Karofsky nodded, hatred flaring in his eyes. He nodded at the other boy and they started down the hall.

In silence, the student and teacher watched them. Finally once gone they turned to each other. Kurt fought back the urge to sigh-'My hero'and collapse in his arms 'Mills and Boon' style and instead settling for a demure "Thank you." George smiled and rubbed Kurt's arm once again creating those delicious tingles.

"Anytime, Kurt. I'll walk you to your next class."

Unseen, hidden behind the lockers a pair of hazel eyes surveyed them, lost in the shadows.