A/N: Hey everyone! So this is just a little one-shot in the USOK world about what happened when Karofsky kissed Kurt. I've tried to make it so you don't have to have read United States of Kurt for it to make sense, but I certainly think it helps.

This is dedicated to the one and only Paperstylehearts. It was SUPPOSED to be a birthday gift, but she wouldn't stop going on and on about how she wants a sequel so I decided to publish it a little early. Soooo...Happy Early Birthday PSH! I hope you like it and hopefully you'll never question me again when I give my word on something :-P.

Alrighty, I hope you enjoy. Oh, one more thing: I don't own Glee or United States of Tara and it should be known that this one-shot borrows heavily from the episode "Never Been Kissed." And there is a bit of homophobic language and violence, but not much.

Thanks for reading!

It had been the worst week of Kurt Hummel's life. He'd never felt quite so isolated in his entire life, yet at the same time, he couldn't walk down the halls of McKinley High School without feeling like a siren was going off alerting his bullies to his presence.

Well, one bully, in particular. There used to be many, including the complete rosters of the hockey, football and basketball teams, but ever since sophomore year when New Directions started and Finn, Puck and Mike joined, the numbers of bullies had been cut at least in half. But it didn't really matter.

Only Dave Karofsky mattered.

When Kurt was in middle school, he was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder also known as DID or more commonly known, albeit a misnomer, as multiple personalities disorder. He'd spent a great deal of seventh grade transitioning in and out of his three major alters, Gina a middle-aged, 1950's housewife, Conrad, a somewhat homophobic Southern badass in his late teens and Jamie, a sweet, innocent five year old boy. There had been flashes of other alters, but none as present and as well developed as those three.

The transitioning in and out every day, at school and at home may have been a nightmare for Kurt and his single father, Burt, but it actually helped him with the bullies at school. They were so freaked out that Kurt became a pariah, which, despite the pain of loneliness, was preferable to the alternative.

In eighth grade however, Kurt's doctor finally landed on a medication that worked for him. It suppressed the transitions to the point where his alters appeared very sporadically, sometimes not making their presence known for months at a time. Sure, Kurt felt like he was in a constant fog, but at least he didn't have to deal with the embarrassment of becoming an older woman or a pre-schooler without notice.

The only problem with the medication was that Kurt became an easy target for the bullies again. Now that his responses were predictable, his bullies didn't have to worry if he was going to fight back. They knew he wouldn't.

"I take it we have a lot of sweater trades to look forward to this season," Tina said as they rounded the corner toward Kurt's bank of lockers.

The last heat of summer had finally fizzled out and Kurt woke up that morning with a rare smile on his face. He loved the cold weather for many reasons, but the first among those was that the frost in the air allowed him to engage in his favorite fashion hobby, layering. He told himself it was because it allowed him to display so many of his bargain fashion finds at once, but really, it offered him more protection. It offered more padding when he was slammed into the lockers and when he was slushied on a near-weekly basis, it was easier to just peel something off than to bring a whole new outfit like he had to do in the warmer months.

Kurt barely had time to chuckle and start mentally rummaging through Tina's wardrobe when a strong push sent him banging against the lockers. He barely had time to throw his hands out in front of him to protect his face.

"Are you okay?" Tina asked him, concerned.

"Yeah," he lied, tracking Karofsky down the hall with his eyes. "Fine."

Tina left it at that. Kurt appreciated her concern and even though she didn't pursue his obvious lie, he was grateful that anyone cared at all. He was really starting to wonder if anyone but Karofsky even noticed him.

Gina: Oh, dear.

Conrad: What is it now, old lady?

Gina: Can't you hear what's going on? It's happening again.

Conrad: Maybe if you put a sock in it I could.

Gina: He's just so far away these days. I know he needs us, but—

Conrad: But what? He hasn't needed us in months, it can't be that bad.

Gina: Just listen.

In addition to the fact that Kurt couldn't come home from school without a new bruise each day, Mr. Schuester had assigned one of his ridiculous assignments dividing the boys from the girls. He knew it wouldn't work, but Kurt still tried slinking over to the girls side when they broke into groups to discuss their song choice. He was quickly called out however, and reluctantly went to the other side.

Kurt was barely listening as the group of guys hashed out stupid song selections that only further emphasized, in Kurt's mind, how out of place he was in this situation. Looking longingly over at the girls group, he did what he did every day lately. He zoned out and daydreamed about what life could be like if he fit in somewhere. If people actually saw value in him and what he was capable of contributing.

Later that day, Kurt was headed to lunch when he felt the tale-tell shove that sent his shoulder banging into the locker. Twice in one day? This was getting completely ridiculous and before Kurt could process what he was doing, his mouth was open and words were coming out.

"What is your problem?" he shouted. Karofsky turned around as if waiting for the moment Kurt would try to stand up for himself.

"You talking back to me?" Karofsky growled as he stalked back toward Kurt. If Kurt wasn't so blinded by anger in that moment, he probably would have been afraid. "You want a piece of the Fury?"

"The Fury?" Kurt asked skeptically.

"That's what I named my fist."

"Well, with that level of creativity, you could easily become assistant manager at a rendering plant."

"I don't know what that is," Karofsky admitted through gritted teeth. "But if I find out it's bad, the Fury's gonna find you!"

With a final shove, Karofsky was gone again and Kurt let his back rest against the locker. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to process exactly what had just happened. For once in his life, he missed his alters and wished one of them would come and rescue him.

Mr. Schuester must have seen the whole thing, or at least seen Kurt standing there, collecting himself. Before he knew what was happening, he was being pulled into Mr. Schue's office and being handed a pathetic paper cup of water. As if that helped anything. He assured his teacher that there was nothing he could do to help, because he'd given up on asking for help. Teachers were always in the hallways, and on more than one occasion, Kurt had caught one out of the corner of his eye just watching as Karofsky abused him.

Kurt didn't matter. That was the message he took away from his relationships with his teachers, anyway. They were either too busy or too apathetic to really care about what was going on with the students. At least, the non-sports playing, non-cheerleading students.

Kurt was shocked when Mr. Schuester changed the assignment the next day in Glee club. It was still boys against girls, but now the boys had to choose a girl song and the girls a boy song. Kurt's mind exploded with possibilities as the guys surrounding him shot disappointed glances in his direction. They knew he'd be the one to take the lead with this one.

By their afternoon practice, Kurt already had a storyboard and props set up in the empty Spanish classroom. Between the art supply closet and the depths of his own locker, Kurt had managed to put together a fairly decent display of what could potentially be the most fabulous number ever performed at McKinley High School.

His ideas were quickly shot down, however, and Kurt tried not to let the disappointment show in his features, but it was just one more thing to toss upon the pile of crap that the week had given him. When Puck suggested he should go spy on the "Garglers" and that he could "wear all the feathers he wanted," it was the last straw.

"Fine," Kurt said, rolling his eyes to hide how much it hurt. He brushed past the group to the door at the back of the room, hoping that just one of them would call him back, apologize for not taking him seriously, or at least tell him that they liked his idea but they wanted to go in a different direction.

But no one did, and Kurt, disappointed beyond belief, decided to leave.

He hadn't really intended to go to Dalton, but as he left out of the school that day, tears burning in his eyes, he decided to go for it. When Mr. Schue mentioned the all-boys school in Westerville a few hours away, Kurt did some research. It was academically challenging, they had a ton of different musical and theater programs and, although Kurt was skeptical, a no-tolerance anti-bullying stance.

He decided it couldn't hurt just to check it out, so for the first time in his life, Kurt Hummel skipped school. He'd read that the school colors at Dalton were navy blue and red, so he put together an ensemble that he hoped would help him fit in and off he went.

The experience had been nothing short of magical. Dalton was everything Kurt had ever wanted in a school, and it came with an amazingly hot head Warbler by the name of Blaine Anderson. Kurt had been so embarrassed when, in conversation with Blaine after the Warbler's impromptu performance of "Teenage Dream," he discovered that Blaine had known all along that he was a spy, but he was more relieved to have finally found someone that not only seemed to understand what Kurt was going through at McKinley, but seemed to care.

Reluctantly, but with what he hoped was a new friend a couple of towns away, Kurt returned to McKinley the next day with a renewed sense of positivity. Of course, it didn't hurt that Blaine would send random text messages throughout the day, consisting of just one word, "courage." Kurt had explained the situation with Karofsky and how much it seemed to be spiraling out of control and Blaine gave him the literal and figurative courage to walk down those halls again.

It was as he was reading one of those encouraging messages from Blaine while walking down the hall that his phone was smacked out of his hand by none other than Karofsky himself. The phone went flying and so did Kurt once again. For a moment, Kurt reacted the way he always had, with sadness and fear, but then Blaine's words sunk in.

"You can refuse to be the victim," he heard Blaine's voice whisper to him.

"Hey!" Kurt called out, and began running down the hall after the hulking football player. He followed Karofsky into the locker room. "I am talking to you!"

The conversation went downhill from there. Karofsky accused Kurt of wanting to look at his junk and Kurt called him names that Karofsky couldn't begin to understand. When Karofsky raised his fist, Kurt didn't even flinch. He was standing his ground for the first time and it felt amazing. With every shout, Karofsky's face was getting closer to Kurt's, trying to intimate him into backing down, but for Kurt there was no going back until—

Conrad: Something ain't right.

Gina: What's wrong, Conrad?

Conrad: You don't feel that? Kurt's in trouble.

Jamie: It's the bad man, Miss Gina. He's back.

Conrad: He needs us.

Gina: Let's just think about this, he's been doing so well on his own.

Jamie: Miss Gina, he's doing bad things to Kurt!

Conrad: That's it! I've seen enough!

Karofsky moved back in for a second kiss, but Kurt pushed him away. Drawing his hand to his mouth in shock, Kurt's eyes fluttered closed for the briefest of moments. When they shot open again, there was a fury in them that even scared Karofsky.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Kurt said in a uncharacteristically low voice. His fists balled at his side, he stalked closer to where Karofsky stood.

"What do you mean?" Karofsky growled. "You kissed me, fag."

"Oh is that what happened?"

Karofsky was more than a little confused at what he was witnessing. It was Kurt's body, Kurt's face, but something within him had changed. There was pure anger in his gaze.

"Yeah, you fu—"

Karofsky was silenced by the strong punch that landed on his jaw, causing his head to swing violently to the side. Before he could recover from the first punch, a second one landed right in his gut, doubling him over. With a groan, Karofsky sank to his knees and tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he was getting his ass handed to him by Kurt Hummel. He tried to get up, but a kick in the stomach sent him sprawling to the ground.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stay right there," Kurt warned, a southern twang coloring his threat. "Let's have a little chat."

Karofsky watched him curiously as he squatted down next to his face.

"If you ever touch him again, I will find you and I will kill you," Kurt said, just above a whisper.

"Touch who? What are you talking about?" Karofsky was beyond confused.

"Don't play dumb with me, shit head," Kurt growled. "If you ever lay a single finger on Kurt again, I will beat the ever-living shit out of you. I'll make it so even your mama can't even look you in the face, do you understand me?"

Karofsky found himself nodding even though he had no idea why Kurt was talking about himself in the third person.

"Good," Kurt stated simply. "No get the fuck out of here before I change my mind."

Karofsky didn't waste any time getting to his feet and scrambling out the door. Touching his face gingerly, he stepped out of the locker room with his game face on, trying to hide the fact that he'd just been beaten up by the school's one out gay kid. Thankfully, none of the students or teachers walking past him in the halls paid him any attention. Without looking back, Karofsky exited the doors at the end of the hallway and made his way for his car, deciding to take the rest of the day off.

"Man, we still need to come up with a number for glee club."

"The girls killed it man."

"Yeah, but—"

"Kurt? What are you doing, dude?"

Kurt was startled awake by the sound of voices around him. He was inexplicably curled up on the bench in front of the bay of lockers in the center of the locker room. He looked up to see Finn, Puck and Mike standing over him. It took him a second to remember following Karofsky in here, the shouting match and then…

"Oh, I um," Kurt stuttered. "I uh, I didn't sleep well, so I thought I'd catch a nap."

"In the locker room?" Puck asked skeptically. "That's a little weird dude, even for you."

"Yeah," Kurt chuckled lamely. "I guess so."

"Anyway," Finn cut in. "We were just talking about our number for glee and we were thinking…"

Kurt zoned out while Finn was talking, relieved that no one seemed to question his stupid excuse. What happened? He remembered arguing with Karofsky and then Karofsky kissed him. Did that really happen? He knew it did and then he knew what must have happened afterwards. One of his alters took over, for the first time in months. But who was it?

Kurt knew he was supposed to report any incidents of transitioning to his doctor, but he decided to hold onto this one for a while. After all, it was just once, and considering the circumstances, it was understandable, right? With that decision out of the way, Kurt needed to focus on what happened before his alter took over.

This was a whole new ball game.

Conrad: Well that takes care of that.

Gina: Don't you think you were a little rough on him?

Conrad: What was I supposed to do, bake him cookies and rub his back? That's you Gina, not me.

Jamie: Is the bad man gone, Conrad?

Conrad: You better believe it, kid.

Gina: Well, I guess that's that then.

Conrad: Yeah, we'll see. I'm keeping my ears and eyes open, though, and if that son of a bitch comes near—

Gina: Conrad! Language!

Conrad: Sorry Jamie.

Gina: I suppose you're right though, it wouldn't hurt for us to keep a closer eye on him from now on. Who knows what trouble he may get into.

Conrad: He needs us. And I'll be damned if I let him down again.

Kurt drove home that day with mixed emotions. He'd been lucky to find his phone in one piece in the hallway after class that day and was doubly pleased to see another message from Blaine. As he pulled into his driveway, he pulled the phone out of his pocket and dialed the number he'd already found the time to memorize.

"Blaine? It's Kurt. I need to tell you about something."