Title: Will I Always Be Pretending?
Rating: T for language and themes.
Summary: The roles are reversed for Kurt and Dave. Kurt's afraid and threatening, Dave's out and a victim of Kurt's taunts. Eventually the equivalent of "Never Been Kissed" happens, with Kurt as the aggressor but his heart buried in there somewhere.
Notes: "Trés chic" is roughly pronounced 'tray. sheek.' I would be annoyed if I didn't know that and read it in a fanfic without explanation. :) The title of this story comes from a line in the Glee original song "Pretending" from the last episode of season two. However, the line in the song is "we" instead of "I." The title refers to Kurt. I might explore his point of view too, if you like.

.O.O.

"Davey!"

The word was like fire rolling off the tongue. The swaggering, cat-like boy trounced down the hallway toward the half-huddled figure of his victim.

My hand shakes just the slightest when I jam my science book into the back of my locker, and the noise is loud. My jaw clenches and my head turns just slightly to the side in anticipation of the attack. I can hear it coming from two hallways down, but it's unavoidable.

"Keeping up with the latest short and wide fashion trends, I see. Trés chic." I can feel the smirk from here, and my stance gets defensive without my permission.

I let the breath in my lungs out slowly while forcing my knuckles to move and my hand to let go of the book and shut my locker door semi-quietly. I calmly turn in the other direction and sling my backpack over my shoulder, intending to let that be that.

"Where are you going?" A note of danger plays through his tone but I keep walking. "Gay boy?" he shouts from behind me, a call, not a taunt exactly. I look into the faces of the people I'm passing and see them looking at me because Kurt "the asshole" Hummel is trying to get my attention as obnoxiously as he possibly can. I need to get to math; I don't need to punch his face in.

"I need a tutor, Davey," he called from behind me, following me it seems to my next class. I roll my eyes at the statement; the day I helped him would be the day I wore a dress to school. "Say you'll help me out, Davey. I could really use a buddy right now, won't you help me?"

I picked up my pace because I knew that once I was around the corner, I'd be within hearing distance of the main office, and I knew he wouldn't try anything there. I rounded the corner.

"Won't you help me?" He repeated from right behind me, over my shoulder, quieter this time, only for me to hear. "Buddy? Butt-y? Butt-y boy," he taunted.

Ahead of me I saw a kid slurping from a plastic, covered cup. I grabbed for it, tore the lid off and rounded on Kurt Hummel. He was right behind me so I knew that I'd hit my mark. He saw what I was doing and turned to run away, lest he ruin his outfit, but I got him before he got very far. Purple juice and ice hit him in the back, up to his hair, and down his pants. People on either side of him yelled and jumped away, and he gave a yelp half-way between a gasp and a scream. It was nothing but satisfying.

Kurt Hummel wheeled around, threw his books on the floor, and rushed at me, slushie flinging off of his clothes.

"I'm gonna rip every single hair out of your disgusting, lice-infested head, Karofsky!"

I blocked him across the chest but he gripped my hair and tugged. I didn't want to hurt him since the office was right there, and I didn't stand a chance if a teacher or the principal saw me.

"Knock it off, Hummel!" I yelled at him, trying to keep us from falling. Hummel's face was wild as he was trying to knock me over or into a wall. "Stop, you idiot!" He was going to get us suspended for fighting if the principle saw us.

"Break it up – that's enough! Enough! Kurt!"

Mr. Schuester, the Spanish teacher, pulled Hummel off of me, and I didn't stick around to hear what he had to say. Hummel was an asshole who deserved the stern talking-to, not me. I slammed an unattended locker door closed as I stormed away. I was pretty sure that got my message across well. Hummel had attacked me, obviously; he was always starting shit with me.

"Hey," Finn said as we passed in the hallway. I said the same and tried to smile a little. "Dude, you okay?" he asked from behind me. I gave a thumbs-up without looking back because yeah, no, I wasn't really okay at the moment.

I kept my eyes down walking through the hall. People passed me and I stared at their feet, paying attention to where I was going with half of my brain. Locker doors slammed and books fell in messy heaps and binders fell with noisy slaps that pounded on my eardrums. I passed my old friend from eighth grade, Azimio, but he didn't see me. We hadn't talked in at least two years, so I was used to that. He was a good friend, and I missed hangin' out with him. I hadn't really had a best friend since then. People steered clear of the outcast, anyway. Whatever.

Someone shoved by me, hitting my shoulder roughly.

"Gay-boy."

The words were loud and unmistakably Hummel. He was half-way down the hall before the words even sunk in. I let it go. I was tired of dealing with him. Next time I'd go to the principle's office and report him.

.O.O.

I ate lunch in the library today. The librarian and I had a sort of understanding. She let me eat lunch in there some days, and I manned the desk on Wednesday afternoons so that she could watch her favorite court show in the staff room. I did my math homework while I ate so that I'd have it done and could save the time for something more interesting.

I glanced up from the worksheet to see an Asian girl and a kid in a wheelchair go by, whispering and smiling. I was watching them when Finn walked up.

"Dude, you got the history notes from yesterday? I kinda fell asleep that class." Finn smiled apologetically and I grinned.

"Yeah, man."

I found them and handed them over. "I need them back by Friday, though."

"No problem, thanks Dave."

I nodded and put my stuff back as he walked away. I threw my lunch in the trash and headed for my locker to get the book we were reading in English and drop off my biology binder. I put in my combo when I got there and swung it open.

Little pieces of something spilled out when I opened it and covered the floor around my locker in a little pile. I heard somebody snicker behind me and turned to see Santana Lopez and her friend giggling and watching me expectantly. I turned back and knelt down on the floor to see what it was that had been stuffed in my locker. My face fell when I got close enough to see it.

I picked up a handful of erasers and crushed them in a vice grip. I looked around the halls for Hummel—I knew it was him— and saw his perfectly sculpted hairdo from behind as he turned the corner. I clenched my jaw and tried to slam my locker shut, but it caught on the little rainbow erasers and bounced back open.

I left it open and dropped my books on the floor to follow him before he could get himself hidden in the between-class crowds. I let the erasers fall from my grasp. I was done; he was finished. If he thought he could taunt me and get away with it, he was braver than I'd given him credit for, but still just as moronic. What a complete douche.

I rounded the corner and saw him swaggering down the hall in the middle of the hallway, not even trying to hide. I pushed past people.

"Hummel!"

He turned with a smirk, spinning gracefully on his heel, his hands gripping the strap of his bag.

"Yes, Davey?" he trilled, as guilty-looking as a kid with his hands behind his back, but far too proud of it.

"What is your problem? What?" I ground out, balling my hands into fists.

"You are, you sorry excuse for a football player," he shot at me, glaring now, as if he actually had something to be angry about.

"What are you talking about? You don't even like football, Glee boy," I jabbed.

He sneered at me and adjusted his posture and tone to something more snobby. His brow quirked and he leaned slightly forward. "Karofsky, you don't possess anything resembling culture or sophistication. You're nothing but a Neanderthal who wouldn't know what real emotion was if it bit you on the backside. And your best quality is to look like a shaved bear just about to go into hibernation: plump enough to survive four months off your own fat."

People had stopped in the middle of the hallway to watch us, hoping for a fight, I guessed.

"What does that even have to do with football skills, you stuck-up Princess?" I advanced on him and leaned over him as best I could, doing intimidating pretty well, I thought.

His gaze flashed to scared for just the tiniest second, and I felt victorious. I narrowed my eyes, waiting for his reply.

His expression became contorted in anger and his tone was sharp as a knife. He wasn't even pretending to be friendly anymore. "If I'm a Princess, you're a goon, Karofsky. And I'd rather be that than a homosexual moron with a talent for carrying a ball across some grass. Oo-oo, big achievement! Grab some man-ass out on the field, Karofsky – gay boy!"

He turned away from me with a fed-up, disgusted sigh and started walking away. For a second I just stood there trying to set his hair on fire just by glaring at it, but when nothing came of that, I took two steps to catch up with him, grabbed the strap of his precious bag and yanked with half of my strength. He gave a yelp and fell backwards, barely having enough time to put his arms out behind himself to keep his head from hitting the hard floor. I took it one step farther and jerked the strap of the bag and it came loose from him. I gathered up the strap, wrapped it around the bag, drew my arm back and threw it with all my strength out the open door down the hallway that led to the bus pick-up.

"Asshole," I spat at him, turning and walking calmly away. He didn't follow me.

.O.O.

Notes: I've also got a couple more Glee fics if you'd like to take a look, two about Dave, one a one-shot, the other one chaptered. :)

Give me an example of a great diss that Kurt could give to Dave or Dave could give to Kurt. If it fits, I'll put it in the story and make a special note of your contribution. Thank you. :)