Warnings: Mentions of rape, MPREG, and swearing.
AU from Blame it on the Alcohol
xoxoxo
Fucking Blaine. He had dragged Kurt to this damn "Gays-Only" party and then completely ditched him. When sober, Blaine may have decided he was completely gay, but get a little alcohol in him and he went after anything on two legs…possibly four as well, but the opportunity hadn't presented itself…yet.
Earlier that night, when Kurt had been "privileged" enough to watch the love of his life giving a lap dance to the most tragic fashion victim, he couldn't help but ruefully remember Blaine telling him how he "wasn't good" with romance. Of course not! Who needed romance when you had the libido of a rabbit? No one had to worry about "wooing" Blaine, and he, in turn, went after the easiest target humanly possible. Well, what about Kurt? Kurt was slowly coming to the realization that no one would ever want him. No one save for a disgusting troglodyte. Kurt was just lucky Dave didn't carry around a club or he probably would have bopped him over the head and dragged him back to his cave.
At the moment, Kurt was trying to relocate Blaine: his ride. He was so through with this damn party. He had thought a party of gays and lesbians would have been an uplifting tribute to sexuality. Well…in all honesty, with the alcohol thrown in, it was a full-on celebration of everything even remotely sexual. It just wasn't as uplifting as Kurt had hoped. Well it was, just more in a "physical" sense. He couldn't much tell with the girls, but a good deal of the guys were certainly "uplifted."
Kurt poked his head out the front door and scanned the front driveway of Blaine's "advantaged" friend's house.(Kurt still failed to understand how anyone other than an athlete or musician could have a house this large). A brief survey of the cars out front revealed to Kurt that that ratfink bastard had left him here. Kurt thudded back into the house and sat himself down on the arm of a couch. Whipping out his phone, he shot Blaine off a quick text, so angry he temporarily forgot his loathing of text speak:
where the fuck r u?
Kurt sat back and waited for Blaine's reply. When one still hadn't come a half hour later, Kurt gave up any hope that he would be able to sleep in his own bed tonight. Instead, he found himself a couch that didn't have a black-out drunk or lust-filled couple occupying it and allowed himself, with much trepidation, to drift off to sleep.
Kurt awoke early the next morning. Being possibly the only sober person in the house, he was the first one to wake up. Kurt couldn't believe how badly a house this gorgeous could smell. Everything was just booze and piss. Kurt was very disappointed with everything he had seen in the past day. He had expected a party filled with gays and lesbians to be so… fabulous. Apparently, no matter their sexual orientation, teens were teens. Teens plus alcohol, minus adult supervision seemed to automatically equal orgy.
Kurt made his way through the house, trying to find a bathroom to freshen up in before he could reassess his situation and find a way to get home. Checking his phone, he could see that the pompous playboy bunny still hadn't responded to his text. At the top of the stairs, the first door Kurt opened revealed itself to be a closet, the second a bedroom. Kurt was about to shut the door and try the next room when he paused. He stuck his head back in the door and reexamined what had originally caught his attention. On the other side of the bed, Kurt could see a pair of feet, covered in an old, worn-out pair of Nikes, sticking out past the end of the bed. Oh god, it's like the opening minutes of Law and Order. I just found a dead body.
Slowly, Kurt made his way into the bedroom. Inching around the bed, Kurt looked over the body on the floor. It was a young man, lying on his side, a thick blanket draped over him, his head tilted towards a pile of vomit only inches from his mouth. None of that, in and of itself, was fairly interesting. What was interesting, was that Kurt recognized the man. Kurt nudged one of the sneakers with his own foot. "Karofsky?" The lifeless body didn't respond. Kurt kicked the sole of Dave's foot a bit more aggressively. "Dave?" When he still failed to get a response, he bent over to get a closer look. Oh great, Karofsky died of alcohol poisoning at a gays-only party. Can't wait until his so-called friends find out. Kurt gingerly picked up Dave's hand, feeling around his wrist for a pulse. It took a minute, but he was finally able to locate the telltale sign of life. It was strong and steady; Dave must have simply been well and truly out cold.
Suddenly the hand tensed and jerked out of Kurt's loose grip. Dave let out a whimper and turned his face even further from Kurt, burying his nose in the shag of the carpeting. "You okay, Karofsky? I thought you were dead."
Dave sniffled into the floor and let out a mumbled "I wish I were."
Kurt shook his head, taking pity on the dumb jock. Surely Dave, of all people, should have been used to dealing with a hangover. A closet-case bully with poor grades and no real friends was probably a prime candidate for teen alcoholism. Even still, Kurt knew what it was like to be hung-over. Looking around the room briefly, he realized there was an en-suite bathroom. He left Dave for a moment to examine the medicine cabinet, found aspirin and paper cups, and then wetted a face cloth with warm water. He returned to Dave, placed the cloth over his forehead and offered him the water and aspirin.
Dave's hand darted at Kurt's, knocking over the water, and causing Kurt to drop the pills before the same hand ripped the cloth off his head and hurled it across the room. "You truly are an asshole, Karofsky. I don't know why anyone ever tries to help you."
"Fuck off." He said it weakly and without any malice, only tired resignation.
"Think about it! Blaine and I try to help you, offer you support; you shove Blaine into a fence and threaten to kill me. I offer you some potential relief to your hangover; you smack it out of my hand. Finn offers to help you apologize to me so you can join glee and you spit in his face." Kurt could feel the righteous indignation boiling up through his chest like acid reflux. "Fine. Be that way. See who cares. No one. Absolutely no one. And do you know why? Because nobody likes you. You are cruel, vindictive, and possibly even evil. You don't deserve anyone's help, or pity. You deserve to just lie here, in pain, in your own vomit. And absolutely no one gives a shit!"
Dave, his face still nestled into the carpet mumbled something between pathetic little sobs.
Kurt crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at Dave. "I didn't hear you."
Dave turned his face back towards Kurt. "I said, 'I was raped', you self-righteous little fucking prick." He didn't yell it; his voice was dead and emotionless.
Kurt immediately loosened his stance and leaned back in towards Dave. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry. Last night? Here?" Dave just nodded and sniffed again. "We need to get you to the hospital." Dave grunted and shook his head vigorously back and forth. Kurt felt the bile in his stomach churning as he realized Dave apparently had no idea how close to the pile of puke his face was getting. "David, either you allow me to take you to the hospital, or I call 911 and get the hospital to come to you."
Dave shifted under the comforter, rolling onto his back; he let out a moan and a whimper. Everything Kurt knew about anal sex told him that the first time was, at best, mildly uncomfortable, at worst, downright painful. Kurt was pretty certain he'd be justified in assuming that Dave's rapist was anything but gentle with him. Dave must be in horrible pain.
Dave made a half-hearted attempt at getting up. When he was inclined up on his elbows, he stopped, and lifted the blanket before setting it back down. "Could you…maybe…" Dave made a weak twirling motion with his finger. Kurt turned his back to Dave and sat down on the edge of the bed. Behind him, he could hear Dave getting up, slowly, whimpering in pain and fumbling with his pants. After a lot longer than it normally should have taken for someone to get their pants on, Kurt felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he looked Dave up and down; Dave looked like a wreck. His shirt was skewed to the side, his belt was undone, his hair on one side of his head was all sticking up, and from the way one of his hips jutted to the left, Kurt could tell he was resting all of his weight on one leg. "Do you want my help to get to your car?" Dave shook his head and began limping to the door of the bedroom. Kurt gave Dave's floor nest a once-over, forcing himself not to vomit when he saw the blood stains on the blankets. Whoever's house this was, was going to be in for some nasty surprises when it came time to clean, although on second thought, they probably had a staff to take care of cleaning.
The more Dave walked, the less he limped, though every now and then he stopped, leaned on something for support and just stayed there a moment. To anyone on-looking, it would appear as though he were drunk and just trying to get his "land-legs" back. Kurt assumed that was the case as well, but Dave was really just waiting for the pain to alleviate enough that he could walk without groaning or whimpering. When they got outside, Dave headed towards a black Escort and started fishing a set of keys off of his belt loop. Kurt held out his hand for the keys, expectantly. Dave looked between Kurt and his car, before handing him the keys. Opening the back door of the car he crawled across the seats and lay down on his side, his back towards the front of the car. Kurt climbed into the driver's seat and, adjusting the mirrors and seat, looked once more at the pathetic wreck of a man behind him. It was hard to believe that that pitiful creature had once terrified the life out of him.
Kurt stayed with David throughout the entire trip to the hospital. Dave responded to the doctors to the best of his abilities, but shut down when he was asked to speak to the police. Kurt could understand his reasoning though; filing a report with the police would likely lead to Dave's parents, or worse, friends, discovering that not only had David been raped, but had willingly been at a party for gays. Even still, the police took Dave's soiled clothes and DNA samples as evidence in case David ever decided to pursue an investigation. The hospital gave Dave a pair of non-descript gray sweatpants and a t-shirt to wear in lieu of his other clothes.
It was nearly dusk when Kurt pulled Dave's Ford Escort into his driveway. By now, Dave was feeling well enough to sit in the passenger seat and had seemingly zoned into his own little world. His elbow rested on the window frame of the door, his head supported by his fist, his index finger nestled between his teeth. They sat in silence for a minute before Dave sighed and reached down to grab the door handle. "Thanks, Hu…Kurt."
"You're…welcome." Kurt paused for a moment to think about his feelings regarding the whole situation. "I'm serious Dave. I'm just… happy that someone you knew was there for you. No one should have to go through anything like that alone." Dave was climbing out of the car as Kurt spoke. An old crumpled receipt on the floor caught Kurt's eye. He scooped it up and frantically searched around for a pen, or pencil. Finding one he began jotting his cell phone number down on the slip of paper. "And you're still not alone. If you ever need to talk, about…what happened, about your sexuality, anything." Dave looked warily at Kurt. Kurt had every reason in the world to hate Dave, to want revenge on him.
Kurt could see from the nervous lack of trust in Dave's eyes that he was strongly debating with himself whether to accept the slip of paper or not. "You can trust me Dave. I promise. I won't ever tell anyone. This is your secret, your cross to bare…but you don't need to bare it alone." Dave licked his lips and took the number from Kurt, nodding as he did so. Kurt handed him his keys as well, before climbing out of the truck and walking the fifteen minutes back to his own home.
xoxoxo
Burt wasn't home when Kurt arrived, so he simply went up to his room and relaxed for a while, sprawled out on his bed, not wanting to do anything after the ordeal of the day. He had been home for two hours, listening to Pandora when his phone vibrated. Picking it up, he glanced over the message from the unknown caller:
thank u
A moment later is buzzed again
I mean it
Kurt smiled and responded:
Anytime you need to talk I'm here
A final buzz from Dave cemented the beginnings of a timid friendship:
K
xoxoxo
It was early Sunday afternoon and Kurt was in the kitchen with his father, showing him how to make pizza from scratch. Burt hadn't questioned Kurt's absence too much; Kurt just said "Mercedes" and Burt instantly believed anything he said. If Kurt had said anything about Blaine, he instantly would have gotten an awkward lecture on appropriate behavior. Burt's double standards were getting on Kurt's nerves, but he was just so grateful Burt didn't investigate the lie at all that he didn't push his luck.
Kurt was kneading the dough while Burt put some organic heirloom tomatoes through the food processor; Burt kept asking Kurt about the cooking, but Kurt was thinking so much about yesterday that he kept having to ask his father to repeat his questions. "Okay, Kurt. What's up?"
"Hmmm?" Kurt added a sprinkling of flour to the dough to keep it from sticking as he set it on the counter.
"You're off in your own little world. Where are you?"
Kurt had no intention of betraying David's trust, but at the same time, there was something he wanted to talk to Burt about involving his former aggressor. "I want to go back to McKinley."
Burt switched off the food processor and turned to face Kurt. Kurt kept his back to him, his palms resting on the counter for support. "Excuse me?"
Kurt took a deep breath and focused himself. Returning to kneading the pizza dough and avoiding looking at his father, Kurt quickly summoned up the speech he had been practicing for two weeks, a while before he and Dave had seemingly called a tentative cease-fire. "I feel like a coward…like I let the bullies win. Blaine did that and he never stopped regretting it. I don't think I could stand myself if I went my whole life knowing I allowed one person to chase me away from the people and things that I love. It's something I will never get back. I don't want that. I don't want to give him the satisfaction."
Burt put his hand on Kurt's shoulder and tugged it towards himself, forcing Kurt to turn and face him. "Are you absolutely sure, Kurt?"
Kurt nodded, not meeting his father's eyes. "Yes. Completely."
Burt thought about it, keeping his hand rested on Kurt's shoulder. He weighed his son's safety against his happiness. It was doubtful that punk was any threat to his baby boy any longer; the entire school knew that Dave had harassed and threatened Kurt; all of the staff would be put on high alert and New Directions certainly wouldn't stand by and let anything happen. In fact, Karofsky would probably even get his own friends to back down, if he had half a brain; if anyone hurt or bothered Kurt, the school would try and pin it on Dave. Burt let out a puff of breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Okay. Then, I guess we'll switch you back. I'll call Dalton and McKinley Monday. You're positively sure that this is what you want?"
Kurt smiled, "Yes, Dad. Thank you."
Burt patted Kurt's shoulder and lowered his head slightly to look Kurt in the eyes. Kurt raised his own head up slightly to meet his father's gaze. "So long as you think you'll be safe. You're the most important thing in this world to me, Kurt. That kid gives you any guff, you kick him in the balls and get help."
Kurt choked back a short laugh and thanked his father, again.
xoxoxo
Kurt met with Blaine at the Lima Bean later that afternoon. Blaine desperately wanted to apologize for leaving Kurt high and dry at the party. At this point, Kurt wasn't really all that interested in what Blaine had to say. He just wanted to tell him he was returning to McKinley and that was that. Blaine sipped delicately from his coffee while Kurt went over his speech in his head. Oh hell, just get it over with. "I'm going back to McKinley." Blaine looked stuck between spewing his coffee all over the table and gulping it down; instead, his mouth dropped open slightly and let the coffee dribble back into his cup. Kurt made a face and looked away. "I've thought about it a lot, and my dad agrees with me."
Blaine's mouth still hung open, in a dumbstruck look. "Kurt, but…what about Karofsky?"
Kurt shrugged, like it was no big deal. "Karofsky's just afraid. He has no one he can talk to, no one he can reach out to. I feel like I should have been the one to do that, but I turned tail and ran. I betrayed him."
"Kurt are you insane? He threatened to kill you." Blaine plunked his coffee down on the table, his expression one of disgust.
"I've heard you threaten to kill Wes-"
"Yeah, for taking my cell phone during a Warbler's meeting. I was joking!"
Kurt shook his head, more to himself than Blaine. "No, Karofsky wouldn't kill me. He's all bark and no bite."
Blaine leaned back and scoffed. "No bite? How many lockers has he shoved you into, how many-"
"How many dumpsters have Puck and Finn tossed me into? How many times has Coach Sylvester tripped me in the hallways?"
"My point exactly, Kurt" Blaine leaned forward and reached a hand across the table towards Kurt. Kurt, let him for a moment before pulling his hand back away from Blaine's soft grip. "McKinley is a dangerous place. Not just Karofsky. You need someplace that can keep you safe. Someplace like Dalton."
Kurt hugged himself across the chest and refused to meet Blaine's eyes. "Dalton is unrealistic." Blaine cocked his head to the side, his ample eyebrows knit together in confusion. "You're all teacup children." Kurt could see Blaine mouth the word "teacup?" but didn't voice his question. "You all look so nice and pretty, safe and tidy under glass. But the second you get into the real world, you're all going to break. Dalton is a fantasy world. In the real world, people are cruel and violent. I need to learn how to cope with that, how to deal, especially because I'm gay and not very strong. I need to learn how to fend for myself in a world that is not very nice."
"Kurt…please don't leave me." Blaine looked off to the side, trying to think of a good argument. "You're my best friend, please don't leave me." It was Kurt's turn to scoff. Scooping up his messenger bag he pushed in his chair and speed-walked out the front door of the Lima Bean. Behind him, he could hear Blaine knock over his chair in his haste to chase after Kurt. "Kurt…wait!...I love you."
Kurt stopped dead in his tracks. He froze for a moment, feeling wet heat seep into his eyes. Kurt composed his expression and turned around to face the Warbler. Blaine looked so hopeful, like an unwanted dog at a shelter; his expression just screaming "Pick me! Pick ME!" Kurt took a deep breath,
There's a fine, fine line between a lover and a friend;
There's a fine, fine line between reality and pretend;
And you never know till you reach the top
If it was worth the uphill climb.
There's a fine, fine line between love
And a waste of time.
There's a fine, fine line between a fairy tale and a lie;
And there's a fine, fine line between "You're wonderful" and "Goodbye."
I guess if someone doesn't love you back it isn't such a crime,
But there's a fine, fine line between love
And a waste of your time.
And I don't have the time to waste on you anymore.
I don't think that you even know what you're looking for.
For my own sanity, I've got to close the door
And walk away...
Oh...
There's a fine, fine line between together and not
And there's a fine, fine line between what you wanted and what you got.
You gotta go after the things you want
While you're still in your prime...
There's a fine, fine line between love
And a waste of time.
Blaine smiled and closed the distance between himself and Kurt. Taking Kurt's hand with one of his, and cupping Kurt's cheek with his free hand, Blaine whispered softly, "We are not a waste of time."
Kurt returned his smile, just as warmly. "No Blaine, we aren't. You are. You flirt incessantly with me from the moment we meet: I mean, how many guys just casually hold hands with an obviously gay guy they're never met before to go frolicking through school only so he can serenade him with a song about sex? And then you embarrass the hell out of yourself over a twenty-four year old who damn well looked like he wanted to take out a restraining order on some deluded stalker? And then, even after telling me I have zero sex appeal, you talk my dad into giving me a sex talk. How creepy is that?"
Blaine shook his head. "I was concerned about you. You fawn over guys so desperately you probably would have fallen into bed with the first guy to show any interest."
"So, I'm a slut now?" Blaine tried to defend himself, but Kurt cut him off. "And if you were so concerned about my wellbeing, why the hell did you get shit-faced…again, I might add…and ditch me at an orgy?"
"I can't win, can I?"
Kurt shook his head. "You lost when you started thinking about my affections as a game to be won or lost."
xoxoxo
That night Kurt was up in his room, seated at his vanity. It was the only place in the house he was guaranteed privacy. Pulling out his cell phone, he shot off a quick text to Dave:
I'm coming back to McKinley
Kurt was surprised when he got a near instant response.
Im not ready to come out yet
Kurt let out a short sigh. What would it take to get Dave to trust him?
I don't expect you to come out until YOU are ready. Not before
It took a few minutes for Dave to reply to that; he wasn't entirely certain what to say, so he said what he felt.
I doubt Ill ever b ready
Kurt wasn't certain of that. After all, he had felt comfortable enough with being gay to attend that party on Friday. What was he doing there anyway? Kurt didn't feel comfortable asking Dave that yet, so instead he replied back
When and if you are ever ready, tell me and Ill be there for you
Y?
Kurt furrowed his brow at Dave's quick, short response. He sat there and thought about it for a while. Why was he being nice to Dave? Yes, Dave had been traumatized, but Kurt had helped him, already. He didn't owe Dave anything. Kurt sat back in the chair, his arms across his chest, trying to figure out for himself why he was helping Dave. Tentatively, Kurt picked up his phone again.
I guess because you aren't really the bully here. Society is. You did what society made you feel you had to in order to protect yourself and your own secret
Dave's response took even longer than Kurt's
society didnt push u into lockers. I did that. Im sorry
Kurt felt a hopeful smile tug at the corner of his lip
The fact that you are willing to own up and take responsibility for your actions makes me want to help you even more. It gives me hope
xoxoxo
When Kurt returned to McKinley the following Wednesday, it took only a period for him to spot Dave. He carelessly tossed smaller students out of the way as he thundered down the hall. Gone was the cowering young teen in the back of the Ford, back was the Paleolithic brute Kurt had come to know and hate. But he couldn't bring himself to hate Dave in the here and now, not knowing what he knew, not having seen what he saw.
Kurt kept his eye on Dave as he pulled a book from his locker. Sooner than Kurt had expected, Dave stood beside him, staring him down. "So you really did it. I thought you were calling my bluff when you said you were coming back."
Kurt refused to look away as he shut his locker door. "I missed my friends." In a lower voice, barely a whisper, Kurt tacked on, "How are you doing?"
Dave shrugged, an awkward smirk, full of faux confidence, on his face. "I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"
Kurt furrowed his brow and looked around, confused. Did Dave think he was talking about how he felt about Kurt being back? In a voice even quiet than before, Kurt replied, "David, you were raped."
Dave took a step closer and towered over Kurt, attempting, almost successfully, to intimidate him. "I'm a football player: a right guard for the McKinley Titans, the conference champions. I'm 240 pounds of raw muscle." He lowered his voice, matching Kurt's previous level. "I don't get raped, got it?
Kurt steeled himself, leaning in closer to David, he said as sternly, yet compassionately, as possible. "Just like you don't kiss boys, or threaten to kill people, or go to parties where guys hook up with guys and girls hook up with girls?"
"I swear to god, Hummel, if you ever tell your lies to anyone-"
"I get it, you'll kill me." Kurt held his book protectively to his chest and watched Dave back away and continue down the hall, his head held awkwardly high. Dave shoved his way through two smaller sophomores that were blocking his path, forcing one against the wall with the strength of his push. Kurt pulled out his cell phone. As quickly as his thumbs could go, he typed out and sent:
I told you that you could trust me
Kurt watched as Dave halted his retreat. He could see him pull his own cell phone out of his pocket and glance down at it. For a moment, Kurt thought it looked as though David was about to respond, but he could just barely make out Karofsky shaking his head before putting his phone away again. Kurt sent out another quick text to Dave:
Im still here if you need to talk. EVER
Dave didn't even pull out his cell phone this time.
xoxoxo
Song is "A Fine, Fine Line" from Avenue Q