Rating and Warning: NC-17. Non-con elements but not dark!fic or PWP.
Characters: Kurt/Everyone
Summary: Written for this prompt. After a freak storm Kurt is left with a strange new power. Absolutely anyone who touches him must have him. Regardless of sexuality, gender or previous reservations. And he's not the only one with powers. Based on the TV show The Misfits. AU after 02.05.
Surfaces May be Hot to Handle.
Chapter 1
There was no God. And if Kurt Hummel had ever needed evidence- this was it.
A storm.
A storm on the day he was wearing his brand new Christian T'one blazer.
A storm when he was, much to his discomfort, going straight from school to a date with Blaine. Well, maybe not a datedate. Just a friendly meal at Breadstix, but it certainly wasn't going to end up a date date if he turned up looking like he had swamthere.
Kurt leaned against the wall, tapping at his thigh absently and sighing as he looked through the door's window. He'd give it about ten more minutes to lighten up and then just resign himself to his fate. Floppy bangs. It wasn't the end of the world after all. It could be worse.
"What's up, Lady Face?"
There wasn't a God but there was most definitely a hell.
"Just leave me alone, Karofsky," Kurt sighed, not bothering to turn to face his tormentor.
"Scared about getting your hair wet, Sweetie?" Well, yes, actually but hedidn't need to know that. "Forget your matching pink umbrella?" Also true. But whatever.
"Don't you have better things to do with your evening? Like, I don't know, spending some quality time with The Fury or something." Kurt pushed himself closer to the exit, trying to make himself smaller and watching Karofsky from the corner of his eye. Dimly he was aware that the school was pretty much empty. And what had happened last time they were alone. His mouth was suddenly very, very dry.
"You smarting off to me, Hummel?" Karofsky took a step closer. "You think you're so damn special, don't you? Looking down your nose at the rest of us like you're Queen Bee or something..."
Blaine. Blaine. Blaine, Kurt chanted in his head. Just ignore this loser and think about perfect, sweet, handsome Blaine. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and his eyes drifted shut, the ranting boy at his side almost forgotten.
"Damnit!" A meaty hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Don't you dare laugh at me, homo!" Another hand came between his shoulder blades and Karofsky shoved. Shoved hard.
Kurt flew through the doors, tripping over his own feet in the process, and hitting the top of the wet step with a clatter. Pain screamed across his palms but he barely registered it in his shock. My blazer!
Pushing himself up with his elbows, he spun on the ground and faced his attacker who stood over him, looking more confused than triumphant. "Are you mentally deficient?" he demanded. "What is the matter with you?"
"I uh..." Karofsky began, a look on his face that Kurt couldn't read. Didn't care to read. "Uh..."
"Succinct as ever, Foot Locker!" He felt like crying but he'd be damned if he would let this puck head see how humiliated he was. Groaning he inspected his jacket and the nice big tear that now wound round the elbow. Great. Fantastic! It had only cost, like, seven million months of his allowance. Plus he now looked like a drowned rat for his dinner with Blaine. Perfect.
An earth shattering crash from behind him broke his thoughts and he snapped his head round to see. "Oh, my God!"
"What the fu..." Karofsky said, his voice awed. "Look at the size of those hailstones!"
Kurt didn't answer, just stared in wonder, his current grievances forgotten. This was Science Fiction! This was Ripley's Believe it or Not. Never before had he seen hail as large or as devastating. They bounced off cars leaving write offs in their wake. Huge craters were forming as each stone hit the ground. He was transfixed.
"Hummel!" He felt a hand tugging at his collar and pulling him to his feet, faintly he heard another rip but he still couldn't look away from the scene before him. And it was getting heavier.
"Damnit! Run, Kurt! Come on!" Karofsky grabbed at his arm, dragging him back towards the doors he'd pushed him through only minutes earlier. "We have to..."
Everything went white.
Kurt's eyes flickered open and he found himself staring up at a blue sky. The storm had passed.
"Hummel?" Karofsky's face moved into view above him, almost unrecognizable in an emotion Kurt couldn't decipher. "You okay, man?"
He must be bad if Karofsky had actually just referred to him as a "man" of all things. "What happened?" He groaned, sitting up and wincing at a pain in the back of his head. It must have hit the ground when...when whatexactly?
"I uh...I think...I think we got hit by lightning."
"What? Are you insane?"
"No, we were running towards the door and then there was, like, huge light and we were flying through the..."
"People do not get hit by lightning, idiot. Cows get hit by lightning. Weather vanes get hit by lightning. I do not get hit by lightning!" Kurt ignored Karofsky's outstretched hand and rose shakily. "Don't even think about it!"
"I...Look, we should probably go to the hospital. I could take us in my truck. If it didn't get hit that is."
"I'm not getting in a truck with you!" Kurt screeched. "You'll probably tie me to the front!"
"Hey! I'm just trying to make sure you are alright, that's all."
"I'm still not going with you. You'll only drive us into a hurricane or something. I'm fine!" He dusted himself down, cringing at the state of his boots. Scuffed was not the word. "And stop hovering, will you! I wouldn't even be...You shoved me through the damn door. Look at this!" Kurt held out his ruined sleeve. "Beyond repair! I don't even want to see my hair."
"Will you stop being a pissy little bitch? We got hit by lightning, Precious! Your, like, liver could be all fried or something. Don't you get that?"
"We did not get hit by lightning! I told you! People..."
"Don't get by lightning. Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time." Karofsky shook his head angrily. "And it made as much sense then." He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck looking away. "Christ, those things sure did some damage."
Following his gaze Kurt turned, gaping at the ruined parking lot. "What wasthat?" Kurt said. "I've never seen weather like it." He touched at his crown on his head, grimacing as he touched on an open wound. He drew his fingers to the front of his face, giving a little gasp at the red staining them.
"Shit! You are hurt! Come on. We need to get you seen to." Karofsky looked as if he was going to reach for him again and Kurt darted back.
"Just leave me alone, okay!" he snapped. "Haven't you done enough for one day?"
"You're blaming me for the weather?"
"I wouldn't put it past you," Kurt muttered, picking his bag up from the floor. No doubt soaked through to the books. Fabulous. God, why the hell is this my life? Kurt thought looking down at his muddy trousers. Soaked to the bone, in tattered designer clothes, and talking to the school's mascot for ugly. How was he supposed to turn up for his date dressed like this?
"Fine, screw you! Bleed to death for all I care," Karofsky spat. Kurt looked up and raised his eyebrow in query. Karofsky's eyes were wide and an almost hurt expression was on his face. "Enjoy your date, Fancy!" He turned smartly on his heel and stalked off towards the ruined car park.
"What on earth...?" No, there was no point trying to dive into the mind of one Dave Karofsky. The dust from lack of use would probably choke him to death anyway.
He sighed and walked towards his car, hoping against hope that it had survived the icy massacre. Today had been too, too weird. And wet.
He needed to get into some dry clothes and into a booth opposite Blaine.
Stat.
"Mmm, as excuses go. That's quite a good one." Blaine smiled, taking a sip of his shake. "You okay, though?"
"Slight bump on my head but nothing terminal. My blazer, though...," he sighed. "It's too late for that."
"I got caught in it, too. That's why..." Blaine pointed at his hair, which was loose from the confines of gel for once. "I didn't have time to damage control."
Kurt felt a twinge of guilt at his own vanity. Blaine had come straight to the restaurant while Kurt had gone straight home to change. It was Blaine's fault, though. Kurt couldn't help that all he wanted to impress the boy on every meeting. "I'm sorry I was late. Really."
"Hey! Don't worry. I wasn't making a dig."
"And I like your hair like that! It really suits you! You look so cute!" Kurt blushed as he heard his words out loud. Damnit! He could feel his face on fire as Blaine shot him a wry, amused look. Why couldn't he be more like...like Puck or someone? Puck wouldn't go bright red every time he indicated an interest in someone else. Puck would probably have Blaine under the table by now. Bad thought! Bad thought! Kurt went even pinker and took a large drink of his shake.
"...I guess that's why I like Dalton." Oh, no. Had Blaine been talking? For how long? He nodded and tried to look deeply invested. "There's no pressure to stand out. To make a scene. We all have these uniforms and the same moral code, I guess you could say. It's like we are one big unit, you know. I wish other people could..." Blaine chewed at his lip, looking worried for a moment. "Sorry. Got up on my soapbox there." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, Kurt, there's something I wanted to say. I know I haven't known you long but from what I do know of you? I like. I like a lot."
Kurt's breath hitched and his hand tapped restlessly against the tablecloth. Yes! Yes! Go on!
"I guess I just want to say that I like you as a friend. But maybe..." Blaine gave a self deprecating laugh. "Boy, am I smooth or what?" He leaned across and grasped Kurt's twitching hand "I want...I want...CHRIST, I WANT TO FUCK YOU!"
"Er? Come again?"
"I WANT TO PUSH MY FAT, HARD COCK INTO YOUR HOT WET..."
Kurt pulled his hand back and pressed himself back against the booth. Not scared, too stunned to be scared. "Blaine!"
Blaine sat, mouth agape, staring down at his palm in confusion. "What? Kurt, what's wrong?"
"What's wrong with me?" Kurt hissed. He looked around grimacing at the shocked patron across from them, spoon frozen mid way to his mouth. "Er, double dog dare," he explained with a shrug.
"Double dog what? Have I said something to upset you? I...I can't remember what I didsay actually." Blaine looked at the table, eyebrows knitted together.
"Is there a problem here?" The waitress appeared, her mouth in a downward turn. "That was some pretty course language, young man. There's kidshere!"
"Language? We didn't say anything! Did we, Kurt?" Blaine's eyes narrowed at the woman and then flicked over to him. "Unless you have a problem with..." He made a vague hand gesture between him and Kurt, the implication clear.
She ignored him, looking at Kurt in concern. "You okay, hon? You look a bit peaky? Is this boy bothering you?"
"What? Seriously?" Blaine sighed in frustration and placed his hand over Kurt's at the same time the waitress put hers to Kurt's shoulder, her little finger nudging at his bare neck. "This happens to be my...OH MY GOD!"
"FUCK ME ON THE FLOOR! DOGGY STYLE!" The woman screamed, her nails digging through the shirt into Kurt's skin
"I WANT TO BEND YOU OVER THIS GODDAMN TABLE AND FUCK YOU THROUGH IT!"
"ME FIRST! I NEED YOUR TEENAGE COCK! NOW!"
"PISS IN MY HAIR! PISS IN MY HAIR!"
Kurt whimpered, grabbing back his hand, exiting the booth and shoving past the woman. Spinning on his heels, he backed away from them slowly as they stared back. Their expressions melting from lust into confusion.
"Kurt," Blaine asked. "Are you okay?"
"You want me to do what to your hair?" Kurt squeaked.
"My hair? What's going on here, Kurt?"
Kurt opened his mouth but closed it again with an audible snap, taking a shaky step backward.
Why were they looking at him as if he was crazy?
"I have to go!" Kurt spat out. Then he turned and ran from the restaurant without a backward glance.
A joke? A prank that Blaine and the waitress had cooked up before hand? Possible but somehow Blaine didn't strike him as the crude pranking type. Which left concussion as the only option. He shifted on the bed and touched gingerly at the cut. Maybe he should have just let Karofsky take him to the damn hospital.
"Hey, dude!" Finn called out wandering into basement. "You want some of this hoagie?"
"Absolutely not," he muttered.
"Did you see that storm, man? It was awesome! Hailstones the size of, like, the moon." He sat down the end of Kurt's bed, not noticing the crumbs spraying onto the duvet. "You okay? You look a little green."
"Just...a weird day is all." Kurt sat up and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Could you watch where you're waving that thing?"
"Seriously, you look ill!" Finn shot out a hand and pressed a palm to Kurt"s forehead. "And you're a bit clammy. Hot, you know?" He sucked in a breath. "YOU'RE SO, SO HOT! GOT TO TASTE THAT DAMN TONGUE!" Pressing forward, he pushed Kurt down into the bed, mouth clamping down onto the smaller boy's.
"Finn!" Kurt shouted, the sound muffled by Finn's lips. He struggled against him as Finn ground his hips into him and gave out a long, drawn out groan of pleasure. In panic Kurt kicked out causing Finn to fly backward off the bed.
He sat up, blinked and tilted his head. "What the hell, Kurt? Did you just shove me off? My sandwich is on the floor! Look! It's all dirty." Finn grumbled as he picked it back up, shoving the escaped meat back into the bread and pushing it all into his mouth, swallowing in three gulps.
It was happening again! What was going on? Biting his lip he pushed out a hand experimentally. "I'm...sorry. Let me help you up."
Palm touched palm.
"I don't know why you've got to take...I NEED YOU TO SUCK ME NOW!"
Kurt dropped the hand.
"Did you say something, dude?"
Kurt grabbed the hand.
"DO ME! DO ME ON YOUR DAD'S BED!"
He let go.
"Man, my head feels fuzzy! I must be coming down with whatever you've got. You helping me up or not?"
Kurt was saved answering by his dad yelling down the stairs. "Kurt, phone! Someone from school."
Jumping up and being careful not to touch Finn in anyway, he ran up the steps two at a time. "Yes?" he gasped, grabbing the phone from his father. "Kurt speaking!"
"Hey...," A voice said.
"Er, hey? Who is this, please?"
"It"s Dave. Erm, Karofsky." Great, just what he needed. A mental breakdown and his school bully checking in by phone in the same hour. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong? I never said anything was wrong? You called me, remember?"
"Oh, right. Right." Kurt heard a deep breath being taken down the line and winced as Karofsky exhaled loudly in his ear. "I got your number from the book? Listen. Has anything, you know, weird happened since the storm?"
The storm? Could that have caused it? What, no! This wasn't Marvel or whatever.
"Caused what?" Karofsky asked, his voice alert. "Hummel, has something happened?"
"Nothing's happened! Nothing's wrong except one ruined Christian T'one. Look my Dad's yelling for me. I have to go." He stopped before placing the phone back in the cradle. "Oh! And Karofsky? Lose this number."
He hung up quickly and leaned his head against the cool kitchen wall and tried to calm his thoughts.
What the hell was going on?
He jumped as the phone sprang into life and began to ring again. "Will you just go out and get a life?" he snapped as he answered.
"Whoa!" Blaine laughed. "Are you okay?"
"Oh! Blaine sorry. I thought you were someone else. Am I okay? Yes, no. No, I'm really not," Kurt sighed, shamed at the tears beginning to form in his eyes.
"You ran out so quickly, I would have followed but didn't want to risk making it worse." Blaine's voice softened. "Was it me? Was I moving too fast?"
"No! No! Not at all, Blaine! I'm just...I have no idea what's going on with me at all. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry! Look, why don't you come over. Help me study for the Industrial Revolution. We can talk about whatever is bothering you. I mean, if you want?"
"Er," Kurt faltered. Did he want to push Blaine even further away by saying no? Or push him completely away by acting like a crazy person? Maybe if he just stayed out of Blaine's way for the evening until this, whatever this was, passed. "Sure! I'll be right over!"
tbc