The Butterfly Effect

by Trunks lil' sis

Burt Hummel marries Carole Hudson just before Kurt's seventh birthday and everything changes. Written for the Kurt BigBang on livejournal. Kurt/Dave, Kurt/Sam, Finn/Quinn. See author's notes for full warnings and information.

Title: The Butterfly Effect

Characters: Kurt, Finn, Sam, Quinn, Dave (and supporting cast)

Pairing(s): Kurt/Dave, Kurt/Sam, Finn/Quinn

Genre: AU, Romance, Drama, Angst

Rating: R

Wordcount: 122k

Warnings: Infidelity, Body Image Issues, and potentially triggering subjects

Summary: Burt Hummel marries Carole Hudson just before Kurt's seventh birthday and everything changes.

Author's Notes: Please note, this is an AU. I've tweaked the timeline and various characters. To start, both Finn and Quinn, along with Blaine, are all one year older than Kurt and other characters. Certain fixed points in the series, such as Kurt's age at his mother's death, have changed, and are relevant to comprehending the plot. If you run across something that seems to invalidate what we know to be canon, refer back to the fact that this is an AU, and the point of this fic is to examine changed variables and their effects on the characters.

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March 22, 1997

Kurt's mother died three weeks short of his sixth birthday, on a Tuesday morning. It was March and the very last of the snow was drifting down, making the temperatures frigid and Kurt testy. All he wanted to do, despite his father's desperate coaxing, and his mother's sweet urging, was crawl into bed with a cup of coco and listen to his grandmother's records. And nap a lot. Kurt adored naps, even if most of the kids in his playgroup had decided a year previous that naps were quickly becoming a thing of the past. It was also early in the morning, another thing Kurt detested, and they were on their way home from the supermarket.

She died, with Kurt none the wiser, through fault of her own. As he sat in his booster seat, placated easily by a new toy he'd just had to have while waiting in line, she was running late. She'd promised Kurt's father morning breakfast together at the house before she headed to work to pull a double shift. But there had been traffic that morning, the unusually heavy type, and an above average crowd at the store. Kurt's patience had worn thin, as had hers, and she failed to yield at a familiar intersection, attempting to make up for lost time.

There was screaming, and the shattering of glass, and Kurt lost his grip on everything except for the seat he was belted into. He took a soft and rasping gasp, choked out a sob, and then called out, "Mommy?"

He could just see her, across from him in the driver's seat, wedged down in some unnatural manner. Tears pricked his eyes. She twitched, and for one dreadful, long moment, he could barely breathe.

The chilling, March wind blew through the car, destroying the coifed hair on top Kurt's head that this mother had worked so hard on earlier that morning. He could feel the thin strands blow across his forehead, and the prickling of his skin was almost painful.

Her head turned towards him and he strained forward desperately, shouting, "Mommy! Mommy!"

She tried to speak and he screamed loudly, seconds passing like years.

But then next he was snatched from his seat and traveling away from her, tucked against a stranger's chest. He fought wildly, even as the man holding him, the navy blue of his paramedic's uniform something Kurt recognized from his safety videos, whispered fiercely, "You're okay, son. I've got you. Let me help you."

This man, Kurt decided, twisting as awkwardly as he could, was not good. He couldn't be, not if he was taking Kurt further away from his mother. He couldn't see her anymore, couldn't reach for her, and the blueness of her eyes were lost to him. He could barely remember they were blue.

They didn't let him see her. Instead Kurt ended up sheltered into the back of an ambulance, piled under thermal blankets. A nice woman sat with him the entire time, her arm foreign around his shoulders and unwanted. He cried, and begged, "I want my mommy. Take me to my mommy." There was no relenting on the topic, and it seemed like they were destined to wait forever.

His father's eyes were horribly red when he appeared in Kurt's line of sight. The big, strong man's shoulders were hunched and instinctively Kurt began to cry once more. He reached out with small, grasping fingers for the hug that he knew would engulf him, and then barely squeaked as he was squeezed a bit too tightly.

"Where did mommy go?" Kurt asked that night, sheltered under his father's heavy arm as they laid together in bed. Kurt had deliberately chosen his soft, red satin pajamas, mostly because he'd had to beg his father for weeks for them, and unlike his mother's preferred clothing, they did not have footsies. "Is she coming back? When can I see her?"

They hadn't had dinner. Kurt knew that usually meant he'd been bad, but his father had been expressively certain, and told him time and time again, that he had done nothing wrong . But they still hadn't had it, and instead Kurt had wound up crushed to his father's chest while he watched his grandmother and grandfather from a distance. They'd talked to the police while his father held him, and they'd puttered around the house when everyone had finally gone home. But Kurt's father hadn't done much of anything, and so neither had Kurt. His tummy rumbled a bit, but it wasn't anything to fret over. Kurt had thrown enough tantrums in his life to know that if he went to bed without dinner, there'd likely be an even bigger breakfast waiting for him.

"Kurt," his father whispered, fingers heavy on his cheeks, then his forehead, then through his hair. "Mommy had to go away."

Most things, Kurt learned later on, did.

August 28, 2009

The alarm was set for six thirty, which was about average fro Kurt, and hours earlier than Finn was used to getting up. Finn, at least during the summer, could sleep well into the afternoon hours, something that Kurt was a bit envious of, even if he found it exceedingly unproductive. But for the most part, when school let out for ten weeks during the hottest weather of the year, there wasn't a lot to really do, and as long as Finn showed up for his late shift at the garage, Kurt was more than willing to take the morning shift.

They coordinated a lot of things, the more Kurt thought about it, laying in bed, glancing periodically at the alarm clock that wouldn't beep for another half hour or so. He and Finn had a natural way of working things out without conflict. It was, at least by Kurt's understanding, because they were so different. Part of Kurt thought maybe they should have clashed more often, but in the end they didn't, and there likely was some truth to opposites attracting. If Kurt was inclined to believe such things.

With a deafening sigh, the sound alone in the dead quietness of the room, Kurt rolled from his back to his side, bringing a pillow with him. He hadn't been able to sleep at all that night. And furthermore, he'd known the day before that getting to be was going to be difficult. There was always a telltale sign of anxiousness tightness in his chest the night before a restless attempt at sleep. Usually, Kurt could attribute his infrequent sleeping patterns to something specific, and the previous night was no different. Because, if Kurt was being honest with himself, he was nervous.

The night before, with Finn, his father and mother at the dinner table, Burt had asked, "Are you boys excited to go back to school?" And Kurt had only been able to look up from his grilled chicken and shoot his father a look of unadulterated disbelief.

Naturally, Finn had exclaimed, "Way excited!"

Then again, Finn had a lot to look forward to. Often, Kurt was envious of his brother. Finn was a lot of things, and most of them qualities and attributes that made Kurt jealous. It was absolutely petty to be jealous of his brother, but he was. Because Finn was tall, and handsome, and the star quarterback of the Titans. Finn made friends so easily, had a drop dead gorgeous girlfriend that Kurt knew Finn would end up marrying one day, and was generally well liked by everyone at McKinley High. He was, in a word, normal. Not that Finn was without flaws, but to Kurt, it seemed as if Finn were normal, and he was not. Sometimes Kurt wondered if other people saw them in that way. Sometimes he worried.

A minute ticked by on the clock and Kurt shifted again. At dinner he'd declared to his father, "I'll make the most of this year. This year counts." It was his way of promising, because junior year did mean everything. Unlike Finn who was a senior, and who was likely going to ride a football scholarship to Ohio State, and then, if he was really lucky, a pro career, Kurt planned to study hard and shoot for an out of state University. He had a trust fund, Kurt knew as much, set away for college. It had been gaining interest for over a decade, and if he could maintain his GPA, add on a few extra curricular activities, and kiss enough ass, Kurt was sure he could make it into a good school. He was shooting for Berkley, or maybe NYU.

Chewing intently, Burt had paused for a moment, then asked, "You gonna be able to keep your grades up with that coach breathing down your neck?" The words weren't at all what is father's really meant, but Kurt played along. He supposed they were going to ignore the giant elephant in the room, which was just as well.

So Kurt had only been able to laugh, unable to tell his father that of all things, the Cheerios were his fallback plan. Sylvester's Cheerios scholarshiped like Jacob Ben Israel gossiped. If, for whatever reason, Kurt's grades took a tumble, he knew he could fall back on the Cheerios. Particularly, he was gunning for the head spot the following year. He'd even toyed with idea of challenging for it as a junior, not that he'd let onto Finn or his parents about that. Finn's girlfriend, Quinn, had occupied the spot for the past two years, though there was never any doubt that she'd have it for her senior year. But afterwards, next year, when Quinn and Finn went away to college, it was going to be Kurt's, and it was going to solidify his place at McKinley. It was going to offer him the last bit of protection that his brother couldn't fully give him. The kind Dave Karofsky could try to, and his father had no clue about. No one messed with the head Cheerio, not as long as Sylvester lived and breathed.

Around six, and nearly dying or boredom, Kurt rolled out of bed and trekked across his room to his closet. His fingers caught the light switch on the way and he had to blink several times against the flood of brightness. But when his eyes stopped watering and he was firm on his feet, Kurt let himself pull his closet door open and gaze inside.

A day earlier he'd meticulously chosen his back to school outfit. With Finn lounging on his bed, a motor magazine open in front of him, Kurt had questioned, "You're just going to grab the first thing you see in the morning and throw it on, right?" He'd tossed a look of disapproval over his shoulder to Finn who was only grinning madly. The answer was silent but implied. "Finn Hummel, you wound me." For Kurt, the first back to school outfit was a statement. Though, he reasoned, it was easy for Finn. Finn generally threw his football jersey on over a plaid tee most days of the week. That suited him just fine. Kurt, however, needed his clothing to speak to McKinley's population.

"Don't know why you're freaking out again," Finn said, reminding him that the past two days they'd gone through the same routine.

"I should kick you out of my room right now," Kurt returned, holding up a navy blue shirt. It was tailored perfectly, fitted him heavenly, and Kurt had fond memories of ripping it out of a Filipina woman's hands one season previous at a McQueen trunk show. "You're clearly not going to be helpful."

Finn had only rolled to his side and nudged the magazine closed. "Dude, you're only going to be in your clothes for like, a couple hours at most. Then we have the pep rally and by then no one is going to remember what you were wearing in home room."

"It's the principal of the matter," Kurt retorted, and didn't dare tell Finn that his clothing was more than decorative. As much as Kurt loathed to admit it, his clothing defined him. It was a physical, visual, and unavoidable representation of who he was, what he stood for, and how he intended to be perceived by the people he went to school with. Kurt was loud, and so his clothing was. Kurt was unforgettable, and so he made his clothing that way.

Ultimately Kurt had settled on one of his favorite items of clothing, a form fitting, knee length sweater. He paired the outfit with black, clingy pants and stepped back to admire the choice as Finn stood behind him, so much taller and lacking appreciation.

"What?" Kurt demanded. His father hated the collection of sweaters he owned. His father was always very careful with the words he chose, and had never openly showed any disapproval of Kurt or his lifestyle choices, but neither had he ever hidden the way he felt about the clothing Kurt wore. His father probably thought the clothing was gender inappropriate, at least Kurt assumed as much. There was also something about the clothing that made the older man nervous. Kurt had noted on several occasions, his father's hand always came down a little more protectively on his shoulder when they were out and Kurt wore his sweaters. But the sweaters were nothing in comparison to the kilts Kurt owned. Those, Kurt remembered somberly, had taken him two months of whining to obtain. Kurt hardly wore his kilts.

With a grunt, Finn said, "Your boyfriend is gonna like it."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Don't act so moody. You pretend like he's not your friend." They had the argument frequently, nearly once a week, and it always ended with neither feeling as if they're won.

Predictable, Finn argued back, "He's not my friend. Dave is not my friend, Kurt. He's my teammate. That doesn't make him my friend."

Kurt's hands had gone to his waist. "You have the same friends, play on the same football team, have nearly all of the same classes, and hang out together. You get along, Finn. You're friends."

Finn had mumbled something, something Kurt hadn't caught, and left the room with the motor magazine forgotten. Kurt sighed and gave another look to the outfit.

Twelve hours later and Kurt still shared the same opinion of his back to school outfit. He thought it was flawless. And Finn was right. For all of Finn's attitude and implied tone, Kurt's boyfriend was going to like it. Dave Karofsky never made any secret of how he enjoyed Kurt's clothing, whether it was molded to his body or on the teen's bedroom floor.

There was a soft knock at the door to his room and Kurt called out instinctively, "Come in." He couldn't help looking back at the clock once more. It was still too early for Finn to be invading his personal space. Nothing short of some type of apocalypse was going to get Finn out of bed before seven. His father was out, too, because Burt Hummel was a little bit too much like Finn. That only left his mother.

"Sweetheart?" That was his mom.

Kurt's face broke a smile when her head popped into the room, her hair still limp from sleep. But her face was warm and inviting and Kurt could see that she was wearing the satin pajamas he'd gotten her for her birthday earlier that year.

"Hi, mom," he offered softly, waving her into the room. "It's early."

She nodded, entering the room completely and shutting the door behind her. "I thought you might be up earlier. You usually are, the morning of something important. I just wanted to check in on you." She moved closer to the closer and observed the outfit for a moment then remarked, "It's wonderful, Kurt. You outdo yourself every time."

"Dad will hate it," Kurt muttered, reaching out to brush at the fabric.

Carole laughed, her hand coming up to rub at Kurt's back. "He doesn't hate the clothing, sweetheart. He hates the way it makes the other boys look at you."

"I'm sixteen," Kurt snapped a bit. He'd be seventeen before long, and his father's overprotective routine was starting to get old. What had started out, years ago, as a protective feeling, truly had morphed into something of a smothering nature. His father tried, and Kurt appreciated the effort, but he was a teenager now, with a boyfriend, and he wanted his independence. He wanted trust.

His mother kissed his forehead gently. "Kurt, I know how little you like to be reminded of this, but you're always going to be you father's baby. You got the short end of the stick there."

Kurt turned to her. "Finn is only a year older. He doesn't hover over Finn like he does with me." Kurt jabbed a finger at her. "And he doesn't grill Quinn for an hour when she comes over like he does with Dave."

Carole's cool fingers wrapped around the one Kurt had jabbed in her direction. "Finn doesn't look like he's several years younger than he actually is," she reminded. "And he certainly isn't going to ever find himself overpowered by Quinn during a heated makeout session." She breathed deeply. "He doesn't mean to set a type of doubt standard."

Shoulders falling, Kurt admitted, "I know he doesn't. I just wish he …"

She nodded slowly. "In the end, he just wants you to be happy. He looks at you now, Kurt, and he doesn't see happiness."

It stung, her words, and the truth resonating from them.

"Neither do I, sweetheart."

He wasn't. He wasn't happy, and he knew it wasn't hard to see. But then he didn't think he really was supposed to be. He was sixteen, and he lived in Lima, Ohio. He was too thin, often looked younger than he actually was, came across overly pale, and so very, very gay. Surrounded by conservatives and people who were openly disapproving of that fact, Kurt wasn't certain it was possible to be happy. And so it was why he worked hard to keep up his grades, had joined the Cheerios in order to fit into the status quo a bit more, and most importantly, part of the reason why he left Dave Karofsky kiss him so often-the other part was that he actually liked it.

"I just want … mom …"

"You won't be here forever, Kurt."

His mother knew him so well.

Kurt gave a laugh. "I may not be so happy, mom, but I'm not unhappy."

There was a deep frown line on her forehead that made him want to rub out. It was a while before she said anything, and not before she pulled him in tight for a hug. In fact it seemed like minutes later before she promised him, "One day you won't have to settle for this. And the only real travesty will be if you convince yourself otherwise."

His face tucked into her neck and for one, brief moment, he wondered if he could have had this conversation with anyone else. Finn was so important to him, and his father was irreplaceable, but there was something about his mother that just made him feel so much better whenever he was down, or doubting himself, or just in need of reassurance. She was so good at knowing when to push, and when to wait for him to be ready to share. She had just the right amount to wisdom, and Kurt couldn't imagine his life without her.

He confessed, the anxiety in his chest unfolding a bit, "But mom, sometimes I feel … it's this feeling of …"

"Hmm?"

"Restlessness," Kurt managed eventually. "I'm waiting, mom."

"For what?" she asked, pulling back and keeping him at arms length as she studied his face. "To be happy?"

Kurt shook his head. "Not exactly." He could only shrug helplessly.

"Well," she breathed out, "no sense trying to get these things into words. They'll work themselves out, and when they do, you'll know. But I'm always here, Kurt. I will always be here. If you want to talk, or if you don't, that's what I'm for. You can always come to myself or your father or even Finn."

There was never any judgment. There never had been. Kurt couldn't imagine most kids had the kind of parents that he did , but he never took it for granted.

"Want to come downstairs and help me make pancakes?" Carole suggested. She wiggled her eyebrows at him. "I bought fresh blueberries, and I think we have bananas and walnuts."

"It's six ten," Kurt pointed out. "No one will but up for another twenty minutes, or more. And I can't eat pancakes anyway."

Her hand slid down from his shoulder to catch his thin wrist and she asked critically, "Kurt, just so we're clear, this year …" she was struggling, and Kurt knew immediately what she was trying to ask. But he couldn't bring himself to help her. All he could do was stand there silently as she continued, "We're not going to have the same problem? Not that it was a problem! Your father and I just worry. We need to know that you're going to be okay. You can't let it happen again. We have to … we'll get you help … your father will …"

"I'm fine," Kurt eased out, his voice rough. "Mom, I promise. I … you don't have to worry."

Her eyes were a little glassy and Kurt felt so guilty.

"Just have one pancake," she tried, squeezing his wrist. "I'll make you a wheat one, so it'll be better for you. And I bought skim milk."

In the few moments that she'd been the room the sun had begun to come up, and Kurt reached out to switch the light off, letting the natural light take up the room instead. "Okay. One."

She kissed him again, once more on the forehead and was just so appreciative that Kurt wanted to curl in on himself.

June 17, 1997

The first time Kurt met Carole his mother had been dead for six weeks. His father had taken him to the shop with him, sat him in the office and set a coloring book on his lap. Kurt always colored in the lines, unlike some of his friends, and he even had a large, one hundred and twenty crayon pack that his father had bought him after he'd thrown a fit over being unable to work with the standard twelve crayon pack.

"My son, Kurt."

Kurt looked up at his name. He could see a woman following behind his father into the office. Kurt nearly wiggled off the office chair as he watched his father produce papers for her to sign. But as much as it nearly killed him to remain seated and still while his father conducted business, he did. His father had reminded him as recently as that morning how important it was that Kurt be good while at the shop. It was dangerous around the shop, and Kurt didn't want to go away like his mother had.

Burt was handing Carole the keys to her car over when she spotted Kurt. "He's adorable," she remarked, her fingers brushing against Burt's.

Burt nodded, a smile on his face. "He's my life. Kurt, say hi to Ms. Hudson."

Kurt offered her a shy wave, then he held up the picture he'd colored. Burt flashed him a thumbs up.

The keys to Carole's Toyota were in her pocket as she told Burt, "I've got one of my own. Finn looks like he's just a bit older than Kurt." She was at Kurt's side a moment later, her soft fingers brushing at the fringe on his forehead. "How old are you, sweetheart?"

"Oh," Burt said a bit suddenly, moving to Kurt's side. "Ms. Hudson, Kurt … he … he hasn't spoken in a while. Not since … not since his mother died. Not since the funeral."

Her eyes watered immediately and she kissed his forehead. Then she whispered to him, "My name is Carole, Kurt, and it's okay if you don't have anything to say. Sometime we say the most when we don't say anything at all. Don't let anyone push you. You go ahead and do it at your speed. But I want you to know that I think you're a very brave boy. I can tell you've been taking very good care of your father." She flashed a smile up at Burt who had looked away and tipped his cap down further on his head. "You're special, Kurt. I can tell, and it's very nice to meet you."

Slowly, and so softly that both adults nearly missed it, Kurt said, "Hi, Carole."

Burt choked out a sob.

Kurt had maybe fallen in love with her a bit in that moment, and so had his father.

August 28, 2009

"Please," Finn begged, rocking back on his heels. He had his backpack thrown over one shoulders and was staring at Burt with his best pleading look. "Please dad. We already missed the bus."

Carole laughed behind her hand while Kurt winced a bit. He knew what Finn was aiming at, but there was a good chance it could backfire on them and they could end up crammed into the back of their father's pickup, dropped off in front of the school like they were children. It had happened before.

"I took your car away for good reason," Burt reminded, arms crossed. "You may not have confessed to it, but I have it on good authority that you and Puckerman were part of the group that stole Lincoln High's mascot."

Finn scoffed loudly. "They're our rivals, dad. They toilet papered our football field. There was, like, a foot of TP everywhere. We couldn't practice for two days. And if we did steal their mascot, it's not like they didn't deserve it."

Carole raised an eyebrow, then asked, "But to steal a goat, Finnegan?" Finn scowled fiercely at the use of his full name. "How did you manage that? Burt, I think if he's willing to explain how he managed to do that, he should get the car back."

Burt did not look amused, and Kurt thought he was nearly clear of the mess entirely until his father said, "Carole, do you know why I insisted on taking the car away from both Finn and Kurt?"

Kurt shrugged when she looked to him. He offered, "Guilty by association? Osmosis?"

"Because," Burt pointed out, "I know both my sons very well, and I'm aware of the fact that Finn may have come up with the idea to steal that goat, but he couldn't have constructed the details of that plot down to the point that they were." Burt's gaze shifted to Kurt. "But Kurt's good at that."

Kurt's eyes widened a little. "There's absolutely no proof that I was involved at all." Finn nodded a little too quickly.

"Also," Burt added, "Finn, I know that the Navigator was used in the getaway. Puckerman doesn't have a car and none of your football buddies have something big enough to fit you, them and a goat in one go."

Finn looked unsure.

Kurt popped in, "Relevance?"

Burt's eyes raked over Kurt in his sweater, eyes lingering on the length of it, the way it fitted across his hips, and the too obvious curve of his figure. "You haven't let Finn drive the Navigator since he took out our mailbox, half of Mrs. Tillman's fence and three trashcans. So I know you were there. I know you were the one driving, and that you probably played lookout, and that you likely coordinated the whole thing."

Kurt shared a look with Finn. His brother had covered for him without being asked to, days earlier when Finn, Noah Puckerman and several other of the football players had become bent on revenge. Kurt had never really thought that Finn would sell him up the river, they were closer than most siblings were, and desperately loyal to each other, but Kurt's name had never come out of Finn's mouth when the goat had been discovered in the basement of their house. And neither had any of the other boys involved implicated him, even when they'd received their punishment and had the last bit of their summer vacation left over destroyed. Kurt hadn't asked why not, and he wasn't sure if he owed his freedom to Finn or Dave.

A bit awkwardly, Kurt said to his father, "We did miss the bus."

Burt fished around in pocket for a moment before he pulled out a familiar key chain and tossed it at Kurt. "To school and then home and that is it. You both should know how lucky you are that the police think the school rivalry is a funny thing. So try and keep things civil this year and don't steal any goats."

Finn embraced Burt suddenly and nearly ran to the door, calling back, "Come on, Kurt! I want to see Quinn before class!"

Kurt embraced Carole quickly and then followed the action with a hug to his father, the keys to the car he shared with Finn still clutched in his palm. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"Home by five," Burt reminded. "And don't skip out on your Cheerio practice to spend time with Dave and think I won't know."

Kurt could still smell his father's aftershave even after he'd pulled back and wandered to the kitchen table to pick up his school bag. "Dad," Kurt said with a shake of his head. "Dave had football practice, the same as Finn."

There was a scowl on his father's face and Kurt departed quickly.

"So," Finn offered when they'd been in the car less than five minutes, "how about we rule the school this year?" They lived no more than fifteen minutes from school and Kurt couldn't really remember them talking much in the car the previous year. Their mornings were mostly filled with Kurt gulping down too hot coffee in a thermos that his father thought was filled with orange juice and Finn sleeping against the window.

"It's high school," Kurt said skeptically. "Not the world."

Finn shot him a look. "Why do you do that?" Finn demanded, an edge to his tone.

"Do what?"

Finn sunk down a little in his seat. "Pretend like you don't like being popular."

Kurt glanced from the road to him, then quickly back. "Who said I didn't?"

"Whatever." Finn waved a hand in his direction.

Swallowing down too honest words, instead Kurt said, "No, Finn, you're right. This is our year."

A bright smile split across Finn's face. "Been working for this for years. It's gonna be awesome." Finn turned nearly completely to him. "The Titans are actually going to win a game this year. Me and Quinn, we'll be in the prom court, probably prom queen and king. And you'll make perfect grades, and Quinn will put in a good word for you for Sylvester next year. We'll go to a ton of parties and totally not get caught pranking Lincoln High and keep Puck out of juvie."

"Some of those aspirations are shady at best."

Finn knocked his fist playfully into Kurt's shoulder. "Face it, this is going to be the best year ever for me, and it'll pave the way for you to have the best year next year. I'll be top dog this year, and next year it'll be your turn."

Frowning a little, Kurt asked, "Is popularity so important to you?" It was to Kurt, no matter how he denied it when pressed by Finn, but Finn always seemed a bit of a different story. Finn liked being popular but rarely Kurt heard him talk about its importance to him.

Finn could only shrug. "What's that mean? Dude, I don't want to be unpopular. You know what happens to the unpopular kids."

Kurt shuddered a little and looked down instinctively at his clothing. He couldn't imagine it being ruined. He worked hard at his father's shop for his clothing allowance. And most of what he owned was delicate, dry clean only. He couldn't stomach the idea of his clothing being ruined, or being humiliated in such a way.

"True," Kurt conceded. The he asked, "Hey, Finn, what're you going to do when you graduate? I mean, what are you and Quinn going to do?"

His face was blank for a moment and Kurt wondered if he'd been clear enough. His brother wasn't what Kurt would call intelligent. Finn struggled with school, and Kurt knew it was his status on the football team that helped him pass his classes with descent grades most of the time. Sometimes Kurt needed to repeat himself with Finn.

"I'm probably going to State," Finn said easily enough. "I guess she'll come with me. She's smart like you, Kurt. She'll get in on her grades. Then we'll get married and stuff. Have kids. Whatever."

"And you're okay with that?" Kurt pressed. He wasn't sure what he was expecting Finn to say, or what he wanted him to. Kurt liked Quinn. She could be a little rough on the edges, and on her worst days, an absolute bitch, but he'd known her since his childhood. She could also be exceedingly kind. His friendship with her was something that had taken a while to build up, but was important to him. She was complex, as complex as he was, and he was sure that was why they meshed at the end of the day. They understood each other.

Finn asked, "What's not okay?"

"Nothing," Kurt waved off. In the end, it did seem appropriate. Finn and Quinn had been an item since elementary school. They'd gone off and on for nearly a decade, and Kurt had always suspected that it meant something. It was just … Kurt had been dating Dave officially for the better part of two years and he couldn't imagine himself ending up with Dave after graduating. He cared deeply for Dave, and was with him primarily because they went so well together, but Kurt couldn't lie to himself say he imagined spending the rest of his life with Dave.

By the time they arrived at school there were only a few moments to spare before the first bell, and Finn was gone in a flash, promising to text him before lunch. Instead of following his brother's example Kurt took his time to straighten out his clothes and make himself presentable before heading towards the front doors of the school.

He made a quick stop at his locker to deposit that month's hair products into the allotted space. He caught his reflection in the small mirror that hung on the open door and fretted a moment over his hair. After pancakes that morning he'd gone back up to his room for his morning ritual. There hadn't really been time for it all, and now, as Kurt looked more intensely at his hair, it became more apparent he'd need to get up earlier. His appearance was something he had always taken pride in, and regardless of anything else going on in his life, he needed to maintain it.

"Is that Ralph Lauren?"

Kurt was startled a bit by the soft voice. He pushed at his bangs once more, capped his hairspray and pulled back from locker to glance at the girl near him. He'd seen her around a bit. She was black and pretty, but Kurt didn't know anything more than that about her, which told him immediately that that ran in different social circles. But, and he took a better look at her, she dressed in a chic way that had him a little envious, and her confidence seemed authentic, and not at all like his own which was forced and maybe a little less than genuine.

Slowly he shook his head. "No. It's Fendi."

"Oh." He thought that might be all she said to him, but then after a second more, she remarked, "It's just that I saw that same sweater in the Spring collection for Ralph Lauren's new line. You know, the line that just showed in Milan."

He found himself nodding quickly, and responding, "I know exactly which one you're talking about. The lead in, the purple and black dress, it was my absolutely favorite. Lauren should have closed with that dress. It was byfar the best of the collection."

The girl shook her quickly, combating, "The line is about transformation. Lauren isn't Mizrahi. He actually makes sense. Lauren knew he had to close with a lighter, fresher look. It would have been pointless to let that slinky dress be the big wow factor."

"Oh, god," Kurt gushed, happiness bubbling up in him, "You're so right, Mizrahi is a mess. One would think he doesn't have a vision." Kurt gestured down at his navy sweater. "This is Fendi. It's a season old, but I felt it didn't get the recognition it deserved last year. You could say I'm paying homage to it. I think Fendi was a trendsetter last year, because everyone from Vera to Calvin, and Lauren, are going for this look this season."

She laughed, and it was a wonderful laugh. Kurt hadn't really heard anything like the laugh she gave, outside of his mother, in what felt like forever. It was an airy laugh, light and effortless and Kurt just wanted to hear it again. He gave her a broad smile and said, "I'm Kurt."

"I know," she offered. "Kurt Hummel. Everyone knows who you are."

He hated the sound of that. He knew he couldn't keep his name out of the mouths of other people, but it didn't mean he wasn't bothered by the gossip he knew was running rampant. He didn't want attention drawn to him, but she was saying it in a way that made him think there was a chance his name was coming up more than he had originally thought. Or maybe it was just with her. She seemed to appreciate fashion. Maybe she'd taken note of his clothing and was just desperate to have a decent conversation with him about it.

"I don't know you," he offered, trying not to sound contrite.

"Mercedes Jones." She cocked her hip to one side, hands on her hips, and he was finally able to appreciate her outfit completely. He couldn't name the pieces, but they were expertly put together. "We had math together last year."

He only nodded mutely. Math had been his last period of the day the year before, and frankly, the most boring part of his day. He'd shared the class with both Finn and Dave, and between the two of them, and Puckerman, he was usually too distracted to notice the other people in it. Kurt recalled fondly that he'd spent most of the year passing notes back and forth with Finn, and trying not to elbow Dave in the ribs when he nodded off.

"So," Kurt offered awkwardly, aware of the bell and how it would ring at any moment, "you like fashion?"

She closed her own locker, it was only a bit down from his own. It made him wonder if their lockers had always been so close. Had he gone two years at McKinley and never noticed her before?

"Not the name brands and all that," she added, "that part seems pointless to me, you know? I know the big players, but that's about it. I like matching stuff together, and I like shopping."

"I love shopping too," Kurt was quick to note. "Finn hates it. I usually have to blackmail him into it, and that's on a good day. I think the only time he willingly goes is when I promise him a pretzel and Jamba Juice."

At that Mercedes cracked a smile. "Do you shop at the mall? I try and find the good stuff there, but it's like looking for a needle in a haystack."

A letterman's jacket passed by and Kurt glanced at him briefly, trying to put a name to the face. He'd seen the male hanging out with Finn a few times but couldn't recall anything past that. But it was the quick jerk of the football player's head that caught Kurt off guard. He wasn't sure what it meant, but then the male was gone and Kurt could barely remember Mercedes' question.

Finally, he came to his senses and was able to answer, "I shop mostly in Columbus. It's bigger and has a better selection. Prices are higher, but fashion knows no limits." He hesitated, then offered, "If you like shopping, and I like shopping, maybe we could go shopping together sometime. In fact, I was planning on making a trip up to Columbus this weekend."

There was a flash of something dark across her face and he couldn't place what it meant. But she was quick to say, "I don't think that would be a good idea."

Kurt frowned. "You don't want to?"

"It's not that."

The bell rang loudly and Kurt closed his locker. "Okay." He had another five minutes to get to class but his first period was only around the corner. Still, the air between himself and Mercedes had so suddenly become thick that he couldn't wait to get away from her. The bell seemed as good of an excuse as anything else.

"Kurt." She reached out for him, without touching, and it was enough to stop him from moving. "I want to, I just don't think your brother would approve."

Kurt's mouth fell open a little, and he repeated, "Finn won't approve? Mercedes, forgive me, but I lack the ability to see how Finn has any part of what you and I choose to do. He's my brother, not my father. And furthermore, I don't run things past him."

She closer her own locker door and looked frustrated. "You can't not know."

"Not know what?" He felt as frustrated as she looked. "What does Finn have to do with this?"

"We're just different."

"Mercedes-"

It was his turn to reach out for her this time, and he'd nearly snagged her sleeve when suddenly there was a deep laugh and a spray of blue.

It took Kurt a moment to realize that the wave of blue was a slushie, and that it was covering Mercedes. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and her body was incredibly tense. Her beautiful, impeccably fashioned clothes were ruined, and even her white shoes were now colored.

"Score!"

Kurt looked to the owner of the voice and could see Noah Puckerman high-fiving the football player from earlier. There were empty slushie cups in both hands and matching smug looks that Kurt had always hated.

"Mercedes," Kurt whispered, suddenly unable to process the sight in front of him.

"Don't," she said sharply, and spun away, stalking towards the bathroom.

"Welcome back, geek!" Puckerman called after her.

"Noah Puckerman!" Kurt turn on him angrily, fists clenching. The other football player deserted them immediately and Kurt paid him no mind, turning his attention to the handsome boy he'd known since childhood. "What is wrong with you? Has your brain completely deserted you? What gives you the right to-"

"Chill," Puckerman said, tossing the empty slushie cup towards a nearby trashcan. It bounced on the rim, but eventually slid in.

"Puckerman!" Kurt grabbed at the front of his shirt. "I asked you a question."

Puck caught Kurt's soft hands easily and asked carefully, "Did I get any on you?" There was a swagger to his tone and body language that had Kurt rolling his eyes. "Well, princess? Did I mess up your shirt dress thing?"

At the sudden question Kurt look down at his own clothing. He'd been standing near Mercedes, but not as close as he could have been. And after a moment he was thankful to see that he remained now as impeccable as before the slushing had happened. "No."

Puck shrugged. "Then what's the problem?"

And he was at a loss for words, because it certainly wasn't the first time he'd seen a kid slushied. It happened all the time. It happened several times a day. Puck did it. Dave did it. Kurt had even seen Finn do it from time to time. It was a hazing or sorts, something accepted and condoned as a part of high school life. Kurt thought it was wrong, but he was also incredibly aware that there were only a few, sacred things keeping him from experiencing the frozen slap of liquid himself. If things had been different, if he and Finn weren't so close, if he and Dave weren't dating, if he wasn't a Cheerio, if only a couple of things were different, it could have been him to have the slushie thrown on him.

"Princess?"

"Why did you do it?"

Puck seemed at a loss for words for a moment, then he said, nonchalant and slinging an arm around Kurt's shoulders, "Natural order of things. The geeks have to know their place. Nothing has changed from last year. If we let them think we're going to go easy on them we may have an uprising. I guarantee you, Finn and all the other guys are going to do their part."

Kurt found himself mumbling, "It's not right."

"You like being at the top, right?"

The hallway was clearing quickly, and the tardy bell was fast approaching, but Kurt's feet felt so heavy. He just couldn't bring himself to leave Puck without a real answer.

"Well, Princess," Puck drawled out, ignoring the glare Kurt sent at him with the moniker, "I'll answer for you, because I know you like things just the way they are, even if you can't admit it. You like having the best, being the best, and getting the best. You're a prissy bitch, Kurt. If you had to vacate your precious lunch table in the shade so the band geeks could have it, I think you'd shit a brick."

Kurt crossed his arms. "You're an asshole, Puck."

"And," Puck continued, "What about all those perks you get as a Cheerio? People get the fuck out of your way. They give you what you want. You actually have some of the freshmen eating out of the palm of your hand, begging you to talk Sylvester into getting them on the team. People look at you and they talk. They say that's Finn Hummel's little brother, and they back the fuck off. That's because he's at the top, and that means you are too. Tell me to my face that you'd give that up so some loser doesn't get slushied in the face once or twice a day."

"Did I mention you're an asshole?"

Puck shrugged at Kurt. "Call me all the names you want. The fact is, you want us to play nice, but you don't like what the means for you in the end."

Kurt gnawed a little on his bottom lip, then asked, "If Finn wasn't my brother, would you have thrown that into my face?" He meant to ask if his popularity was dependent on Finn. Finn was exceedingly charismatic, and Kurt knew in that department, he could never measure up. But Kurt was hesitant to think that Finn was the whole reason Kurt was always a spectator and never a victim.

"Depends," Puck asked honestly. "Still a Cheerio?"

Kurt heard himself make a small noise and bend forward a bit, the single, blueberry pancake from earlier threatening to come up.

Puck's hand was heavy and unwelcome on his shoulder as Kurt tried to keep his balance. He told the younger boy, "It's nothing. Not really. You think I wouldn't be getting tossed in dumpsters if I wasn't a football stud?"

Kurt straightened back up. "But you know it isn't right?"

"It's four years," Puck offered, hitching his bag up on his shoulder. "Four years and then half of us go to college, the lucky half, and actually make something of ourselves. We get away and stay the hell away from this place. I'm guessing you're part of that. The other half stay here, pop out some kids and start the cycle all over against. It's just four years. Who cares. Get over it. Two days from now you won't even know that chick's name. And two hours from now, when Sylvester is yelling at you about your pear hips, you won't remember the slushie at all."

His voice was a little shaky as he said, "You know Finn said he'd beat you up if you mentioned my hips again." But there was also something liberating about Puck daring to mention it. Everyone was so careful with him, with what they said to him, and Puck wasn't. It was nice, actually.

Puck gave a serious nod. "Whatever. Okay. I'm gonna go have a smoke behind the bleachers. Wanna join? I won't tell Finn."

Kurt's face scrunched up. "Smoking, Puckerman? I don't think so."

Puck rolled his eyes. "You know I hate it when you call me that. My mom calls me that."

"Noah," Kurt corrected, their history speaking volumes for them. "And no, I would not like a cigarette. And you should be thankful I don't tell Beiste you're smoking. You know she'd make you run laps for that, until your lungs feel like they'll explode."

"No worse than when Sylvester caught Santana smoking pot that one time."

Kurt winced at the memory. "She was stuck at the bottom of the pyramid for months. And Sylvester had her clean out her septic tank. She smelled forever."

"Yeah," Puck whistled out, "I heard about it forever."

"I'm going to be late," Kurt told him, inching his way away. "See you at lunch?"

Puck nodded, and was nearly on his way when he jerked a thumb down the long hallway. Kurt followed the motion and could see Quinn, looking stunning at usual, and another, tall boy with her. Even from a distance Kurt could make out his blond hair, handsome features and attractiveness.

"New?" Kurt offered.

"Evans," Puck filled him in. "Sam Evans. He's a junior. Transferred in from New Jersey. His dad is in the military, so they move around a lot." It didn't surprise Kurt that Puck knew about him. Puck made it his business to know everything about everyone.

Quinn gave them a wave and Kurt waved back, feeling himself flush as he met Sam's eyes. He couldn't tell the color from the distance, but he could feel the ferocity behind them.

"Don't get any ideas." Puck pinched Kurt's arm.

The second bell sounded and Kurt demanded, "What's that mean?"

Quinn and Sam were gone a moment later and Puck said, "New guy has a slushie facial at noon. I wouldn't be around him at that time, especially if he's going to look at you like that."

"At that?"

Puck's head cocked to the side. "You know like what. I've done my fair share of mentally undressing girls. I know it when I see it, and you're red enough in your face that I know for a face you felt it. And I mean it, don't go trailing after him. It won't end well."

"And why's that?" Kurt tapped his foot impatiently.

Puck laughed a little. "Because, like I said, he's got a date with slushie, and Karofsky has the honors this time."

September 30, 1998

His father was going to marry Carole Hudson. That was what Kurt knew. Because his father was nothing if not honest with him, and Burt had told him firmly that Kurt deserved to know as soon as they settled the matter. Kurt still ached terribly for his mother, and he'd thrown quite a fit when he'd been stricken with the idea of Carole replacing her, but a good, long talk had smoothed out the worst of it, and Kurt was almost looking forward to the wedding.

The wedding meant a bigger house, and Kurt was going to wear a special suit for the occasion. Carole wasn't going to replace his mother, but she was going to be a mother to him. That was okay. And in addition, he was getting a brother.

Kurt liked Finn. He'd liked him from the moment they'd met, when Kurt had thrust his hand out and announced, "I'm Kurt Elizabeth Hummel," and then waited impatiently for Finn to shake his hand in return and introduce himself. His father's gaze had felt heavy on his back but Kurt hadn't wavered. He'd known, even before there had been talk of a wedding, far before talk of anything, Finn was going to be important to him.

Finn had said, "Kurt Elizabeth? That's totally a girl's name." But it hadn't been a mean tone, or an accusing one. It was only curious.

"Yes. Kurt Elizabeth. My mommy thought I was a girl. The doctor told her so. My name was going to be Elizabeth. So don't you make fun of me. It's not my fault." And he kind of liked it. It was a pretty name, and even more importantly, his mother had given it to him.

"Everyone calls me Finn," the much taller of the two of them had said effortlessly, awkwardly shaking Kurt's still outstretched hand. "But my real name is Finnegan. It's a family name." He made a sour face. "So you don't make fun of me and I won't make fun of you."

It had, for all intents and purposes, been the start of a beautiful relationship.

The important thing was that they established a routine. On Wednesdays Carole picked the both of them up from the nearby Elementary school. They were in different grades, and shared neither a class or recess period, but they'd started drifting together after the final bell rang, and could usually end up together on the school's main playground.

Finn was rough and loud and busy. Kurt liked to watch him, but not really participate. Kurt valued both his dignity and his clothing much too much to roll around in the dirt like Finn did. Kurt liked the monkey bars and the swings, but not much else. Mostly he was content to wait for Carole, who always drove them afterwards for ice cream before heading to the auto shop.

But then one day Carole was late. Finn slipped a dirty hand across Kurt's shoulders and promised, "She's probably still at work. Sometimes they're really busy and she has to stay extra late. She told me just to stay here. It'll be okay, Kurt." Carole was a nurse, which was a pretty big job in Kurt's opinion. She saved lives. She made Kurt feel safe. He liked to think that if Carole had been there, that day when his mother died, that she could have saved her. It was a conflicting thought, one that Kurt didn't share with anyone, even his father.

"But she's really late," Kurt protested, looking down at the watch on his wrist. Most kids couldn't tell time as well as Kurt, Finn couldn't and he was older, but Kurt tried not to hold that over anyone's head.

Finn gripped his wrist instead and dragged him towards the nearby jungle gym. "We just have to play for a little. Then she'll be here, and we can get ice cream. I think I'm gonna get two scoops this time."

Kurt's face scrunched up. "You'll make yourself sick again, Finn."

Finn ignored the statement and pulled on Kurt again, forcing him into the sandbox and towards the highest tower on the jungle gym. He asked, "What do you want to play? I like to play Pirates the best. What do you like to play?"

"I don't want to get dirty," Kurt nearly whined.

"Finn!"

Kurt turned just in time to see a tan boy streaking towards them. Kurt pressed closer to Finn, fingers brushing up at his would be brother's hand as he recognize the boy. Noah Puckerman was trouble. Kurt didn't know him personally, but he'd heard the other kids talk, and they said Puckerman could be mean. They said to stay away, so Kurt did. He just hadn't been aware that Finn knew him, or that they were friends.

"Puck!"

The boy stopped in front of them and gave Kurt a hard look. "Who's that?" His expression was less than forgiving.

Kurt kind of idolized Finn. He was funny and good at the see-saw and made everyone happy. He wasn't too smart, but he made up for it in other ways. He was a good person, and he'd never been mean to Kurt, even when Kurt was mean to him. They'd spent the night at each other's houses before and Finn had stayed awake with him well into the morning hours when Kurt had admitted to being afraid of the dark house. And they'd played Ninja Turtles together and had epic fights with their Power Rangers and Kurt really thought they were friends. But part of him, a part that made his chest hurt, made him wonder if this was the moment when Finn deserted him. Most people did, sooner or later. Kurt had always wondered about Finn.

But then Finn said, "This is my brother Kurt." Finn had rambled on quickly about how they weren't actually brothers, they had different parents, but they were going to be. And he was going on about how swell he thought Kurt was right around the time Puck commented meanly on Kurt's red bowtie, shinny black shoes and delicate form.

"Finn," Kurt mumbled, unsure what to say, still somewhat shaken by Finn's open declaration of their relation.

Then Finn was gone. He was gone from Kurt's side and rolling around viciously with Puck, pulling at his shirt, kicking up sand and demanding that Puck take his words back.

Finn got to his feet after a minute or two, breathing hard, and moved right back to Kurt's side. He thundered, "You take it back, Noah Puckerman. Kurt is the coolest ever. He knows everything about everything, and he has the best ideas and he's really smart. He's my brother and you take it back or I'm going to beat you up."

Puck was sporting a flushed face and a cheek that looked like it my swell. He snapped, "You hit me!"

"He's my brother," Finn said plainly.

There was a tense moment wherein Kurt wasn't really sure what was going to happen. Maybe Puck and Finn were going to fight again, or maybe their friendship would be over. All Kurt knew was that Finn was the best brother ever, and he wasn't going to give him up for anything.

Finally, Puck said, "Okay." And that was it.

A smile broke on Finn's face and he suggested, "Miss March read us this really awesome story today about a knight and a dragon and a princess. We should play that."

Puck shrugged. "Fine, but I get to be the dragon."

Finn's arm settled once more around Kurt's shoulders. "I'm the knight. I thought the game up so I get to be whatever I want to, and that's what I want."

Kurt blushed prettily and tried not to think in that moment of how he'd changed his mind. Maybe it was more of a curse that Finn was destined to be his brother and never anything more.

Smugly, Puck said, "Guess that makes you the princess, Kurt."

Kurt scowled at him. And it was years before the nickname Puck had given him that day, which stuck all too easily, turned more into an endearing term than a taunt.

August 28, 2009

Kurt had two classes, English and History, before the pep rally. He changed into his uniform in the locker room, the few other male Cheerios on the team scattered around, barely paying him any attention. Kurt tried not to let his mind wander, instead concentrating on remembering his choreography. There was more of it this year, and it was harder than ever, and Kurt didn't look forward to whatever punishment Sylvester was capable of thinking up if he ruined her routine with a misstep.

When it was half past ten Kurt bent to retie his shoelaces, then made his way out into the hallway behind the gymnasium. Nearly all of the other Cheerios were present and Kurt went directly to Quinn at the head of the line, bypassing a sulking Santana and a scatterbrained Brittany.

"Hey," Quinn greeted him, hugging him gently. They hadn't really seen each other since the pervious school year. Kurt had gone away for the summer, and aside from the party at Quinn's when he'd come home, they'd really kept their distance from each other. That was Finn's doing. Kurt knew without having to be told. And even if Finn had claimed the grudge had passed, he knew his brother was carrying a chip on his shoulder over the whole mess with Quinn. He hadn't forgiven her completely. He still blamed her.

In reality, most of the Cheerios had kept a respectable distance from each other after the previous year's meltdown. But Kurt had missed Quinn more than any of them . He'd known her just as long as Finn had, and been friends for nearly that long as well. She was like his big sister, he usually came to her when he needed to vent, and he was going to enjoy being related to her when she and Finn eventually married.

"Nervous?" Kurt asked.

She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and smiled. "Not even close, Kurt. How about you?" There was a gold lace to her uniform, subtle against the white and red of the lettering. She'd worked hard for her position as head Cheerio, but Kurt relished in the idea of having that same gold touch to his own uniform the next year.

He breathed out, "Terrified." He'd been a Cheerio for two years, and a flier for nearly as long. He was used to simple choreography. At pep rallies and competitions his biggest worries had been the trust placed in the strong arms of his base. But those days were gone now, and he was suddenly front and center. He stood next to Santana now, in the first row, and had nowhere to hide.

"Don't be." Quinn's fingers brushed his own.

Sylvester's voice echoed down the hallway and Kurt tensed. "If she doesn't back off this year … if anything happens …" He broke off, smoothing his hands nervously down his uniform. "I'm lucky I'm still a Cheerio, Quinn. If she lays into me at all this year, or like she did last, my dad will pull me. I don't want that to happen. I can't believe my parents let me back on to begin with."

She pointed out, "I'm sure your dad will have Finn stalking Cheerios practices to make sure Sylvester isn't picking on you."

Kurt nodded. "Only, you know Finn. I can't imagine it'll be me, he'll be looking at."

Quinn laughed. "You can't blame an eighteen year old, completely straight, hormonal boy for getting distracted watching over a dozen girls dance around in tiny outfits."

Kurt was silent in his agreement. He let his shoulder bump into Quinn's. People called her a bitch. They said she was stuck up, judgmental and icy at best. They adored her, aspired to be her, and all the while judged her. Kurt understood why, and it was for the same reasons they spoke about him in the same way. But she was his friend. He understood her. He knew why she acted the way she did. And he wondered what he'd do without her the following year when she and Finn were off at college and he was left to combat with Santana threatening him for the head Cheerio position.

After a minute more Kurt said, "Noah and I saw you with that new guy earlier today."

"Sam Evans," she volunteered easily enough. "Principal Figgins asked me to show him around a bit in the morning."

"What's he like?" Kurt hoped he hadn't asked too quickly, but the smirk on Quinn's face said he had.

"You mean," she corrected, "do I think he's cute?"

Kurt knew he was flushing then. His face was hot, his palms were sweating and he wanted to be anywhere else.

Quinn continued, "The answer is yes, of course. I'm a tried and true authority on handsome boys. My taste is refined, and Sam Evans is one sweet tasting wine."

Scandalized, Kurt demanded, "Quinn!"

She rolled her eyes and waved a hand at him. "I showed him where his first class was, told him who sits where during lunch and let him know to start bringing a change of clothes for the next few weeks, at least if he isn't going to assert his male dominance, and quickly." She added, "And for the record, even if I was interested, he wouldn't feel that way about me. He plays for your team, not mine."

"He's gay then?" Kurt had only dared to hope. Aside from Dave Karofsky, and a few, often secretive other students, the gay population was drastically low at McKinley. There weren't a lot of options. Of course, Kurt was happy with Dave, how could he not be, but Sam … he opened the playing field a bit. He introduced a new option. And even if he was unrealistic, it gave Kurt a new daydream, and a handsome one at that.

"I told him to stay away from you."

Kurt turned sharply to her. "Say what, Quinn?"

She raised an eyebrow. "He was asking all these questions about you. He wanted to know who you were, and what grade you were in, and if I knew you well."

"So?" Kurt's heart was beating a bit faster.

Quinn scoffed, "Today, around lunch time, the worst that's going to happen to Sam is that Dave and Azimio and maybe a couple more of their meathead buddies are going to give Sam a slushie facial. He's tall and he looks pretty strong, so he may escape a dumpster toss or locker slam. As of right now, Sam will get off easy. But can you imagine what's going to happen if he takes an interest in you?"

Kurt leaned back against the hallway wall. "Nothing I want to happen to him. He seemed nice."

"You barely breathed the same air as him." She poked him in the shoulder. "But I know you understand what I'm saying. It's just … it's best if things go this way, and you know it."

A sharp screech from a bullhorn had Kurt jumping a moment later, and the Cheerio's coach came barreling down toward the front of the line. Her face was pinched, her posture threatening and Kurt pressed himself back against the wall, hoping to avoid her line of sight.

"Hummel!" She stopped in front of him, naturally, and eyed him for a moment. Kurt wondered if she'd start yelling again. After her confrontation with his father five months earlier she'd eased up on him. There had still be screaming, and threats, and overall abuse, but it hadn't been on the level he knew she was capable of. And she'd never crossed the line again. In fact she hadn't even come close to toeing it.

"Coach?" he asked.

Her eyes narrowed. "You missed the last two practices. I noticed. Don't think for a second, sweet porcelain, that you're any less messed up than the flock of hungry, selfish, sniveling and spoiled little monsters surrounding you. No preferential treatment. I should hang you out to dry by the tighty whities I know you wear."

She was humiliating him on purpose, because she knew where he'd been. And she knew why. She also knew it was her fault, but Kurt wasn't about to point that out.

Instead of snapping back, he offered, "I know my routine. I won't mess up. Quinn worked with me all day yesterday to make it perfect."

Sylvester's gaze shifted over to Quinn. "That right, Q?"

Exuding confidence, Quinn answered, "He's ready."

"Mess up my rally," Sylvester said, her finger dangerous closer to Kurt's face, "and you'll know what it feels like to have half a dozen teenage girls fall on you when I deliberately knock down the pyramid."

Kurt gulped loudly and nodded.

Sylvester turned on heel, already shouting about something else, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief.

"You are ready," Quinn repeated, touching his elbow. "Don't doubt yourself." When he nodded, she mentioned, "And even if you completely blow it, knock a couple girls down, ruin the rally and manage to evade Sylvester for it, Finn will still tell you that he thought you did a good job, and it'll be the truth coming from him."

Kurt straightened up. "Okay. Let's go be awesome."

"As if we could be anything else."

Much to Kurt's relief, the rally did go well. The rallies always went well, as long as the Cheerios were involved. And twenty minutes after it began, Kurt found himself back in the locker room, picking up his things while he could hear the echoing of the continuing rally as Finn tried the rouse the school up for the first football game. He knew his brother would be at it for a while longer, and then there would be a speaker from each of the main sports teams and clubs. Kurt took his time freshening up, and appreciated the fact that he didn't need to return to the auditorium.

He went to math after the rally, which was uneventful and maybe even boring, and then headed directly to his Bio class. He stopped in the doorway when he spotted Sam Evans at one of the lab tables, his chin on his hand, looking out the nearby window. He looked lonely and even though Quinn had been right about them keeping their distance, he couldn't help making his way over to the blond.

"So you're new then? Sam Evans?"

Sam startled and turned towards him, his mouth open a bit, eyes wide. "You …"

Kurt smiled patiently. "I'm Kurt Hummel."

Sam cleared his throat, then asked, "How'd you know I was new? It's the first day of school. Everyone is new."

There was a free chair next to Sam, and Kurt put his bag down on the lab countertop, giving the other boy more than enough time to object before Kurt slid into the seat. He crossed one leg over the other carefully, mindful of his uniform, and then said, "I know everyone at this school."

Sam gave him a look of open disbelief. "This school has like a thousand people at it. I doubt you know them all."

"Seven hundred or so," Kurt corrected, "and believe it or not, I know most of them. I'm not saying we're friends, but I make it a point to know people. Other than the in coming freshmen, who are pretty easy to spot, I can put names to faces. Or at least recognize them. You don't strike me as a freshman, so I took an educated guess that you were new. I am correct, right?"

"Oh," Sam said, a bit dumbfounded. Then he nodded. "Yeah. You're right. My folks and I moved in about a month ago. How about we call me semi new? I've had a couple weeks to get used to this place. It's a lot different from where I lived before."

Sam Evans, Kurt decided, had kind eyes.

"And," Kurt admitted, "Quinn told me you were new and she was showing you around. Puck also knew. He was the guy who was with me earlier today. But don't mind Puck. He just makes it his business to know everything. He says it helps him keep ahead of the curve, but personally I think he's just nosey."

"You sure talk fast."

Kurt pulled back a little, worried he'd overstepped. Finn was always saying, Kurt could come on too strong. He could go too hard. He was too much. It wasn't always a bad thing, but it could be overwhelming. "I can go." Kurt reached for his bag. But then Sam's hand was laying over his, stilling it. The hand was warm and heavy and Kurt sucked in air suddenly. "No?"

"No," Sam agreed. Then he released Kurt's hand. "I was just saying, that's all. I don't want you to go."

Trying to salvage the moment, Kurt said, "Biro is teaching Biology this year. He's a tough grader. How are you at science?"

Sam leaned a little closer and Kurt could smell his aftershave. It was a much different smell from the scent that Kurt had always thought he preferred. Dave wore something heavier, and Finn something a little muskier. But Sam's smell was nice, and so was the fact that while Sam's hand had retracted from his, it was still dangerously close. Their fingers were nearly touching.

"Are you offering to be my lab partner?"

Kurt wanted to say yes. He really did. There was a churning in his stomach, the good kind, and a fluttering in his chest. He didn't know what the feeling was, the anxious pleasure that rushed through him as Sam held his gaze, but Kurt liked it. It was exciting. It felt right, and Kurt didn't want to give it up. But still, he had other things to think of, things that went beyond a sudden and unwanted schoolboy crush.

Kurt repeated, "How are you at science?" He elaborated, "I have my GPA to think of. My brother had Biro for Bio last year and he told me that Hanson grades lab partners together, and on a curve. If I'm going to have you for my partner, I need to know you can pull your weight. I'm going to get out of this cow town one day. I'm going to go to the city. I'm going to college far away, and to do that, I need my GPA."

Their fingers were touching. Kurt nearly stumbled over his words as he noticed.

Sam said, "Well, then, you have me, Kurt Hummel."

The buzzing in Kurt's ears was deafening.

Sitting next to Sam, as the class began, and trying to pay attention, was more of a struggle than Kurt had ever believed anything could be. He tried to scribble notes as the teacher spoke, but as class was nearing and Kurt took a closer look, he could see most of what he had written was gibberish. He felt defeated in a way.

The bell rang shortly after that and Kurt scrambled to put his notebook away before Sam could see any of what he'd written. The other boy didn't seem to be as distracted as Kurt was. His confidence put Kurt to shame, and he was sure they had been flirting earlier.

"Lunch?" Sam asked, getting to his feet.

Kurt nodded and reminded himself that even if Sam was showing an interest, he had a boyfriend. He had Dave Karofsky, and he had all of the good and bad that went along with that. More importantly, he couldn't take Dave back, or trade him in. Kurt had known, the moment he entered into the relationship, that he and Dave were going to be a couple, through whatever ups and downs they had, for as long as they were in high school. Sam's arrival, and the fact that Sam had touched him on more than one occasion, meant nothing. The feelings Kurt thought he was beginning to have for the handsome blond meant nothing. They couldn't mean anything.

"Yes," Kurt answered. "Only fifty minutes, though. Most people stay on campus. It's not really worth the drive to one of the only fast food places in town."

"Where do you eat?" Sam asked. "Maybe you could show me. Or I could walk you there."

Kurt averted his eyes. "I think Quinn showed you the cafeteria earlier today, right?"

"And maybe," Sam ventured, "I want you to show me the way."

Kurt meant to say that he had a boyfriend. He meant to be completely honest with Sam, but his books were heavy, and in his rush he lost his grip on them, his book bag sliding off his shoulder and nearly dragging him down with it.

"Here." Sam reached out, and he lifted the bag over Kurt's head. He slung it over his own shoulder and helped Kurt gather up his books. "How about I carry that for you. And then you can tell me more about you. Tell me your favorite color. Tell me what you like to watch on TV. Tell me how you got to be a cheerleader. Just tell me about you."

"More about me?" Kurt squeaked out. Now he knew Sam was flirting. But the taller boy had his bag, and Kurt's attention and all Kurt could think was how different Dave and Sam were. Dave never carried Kurt's books, but then Kurt had never asked him to. It was different, and in an important way.

His mouth ran away from him and he asked, "What if I want to know more about Sam Evans?"

People were quickly exiting the room, but Kurt and Sam continued to linger.

Sam flashed white teeth. "All you had to do was ask." Then Sam started off for the door and Kurt had no choice but to follow.

He'd just caught up to Sam, and was a moment behind him when he saw Sam freeze. He tensed, braced himself, and then cherry flavored slushie was sailing through the air, only to land on Sam.

"Welcome to McKinley!"

Kurt looked across the hallway to see Dave, the usually faithful Azimio nowhere to be found. But Puck was there, arms crossed, and so was another upperclassman.

Slowly, and with what looked like great restraint, Sam reached up and pushed at the slushie coving his eyes. He slicked it away and then blinked sharply, trying to clear his vision. He was sputtering a little and he'd dropped Kurt's bag in his surprise, the leather satchel now stained with red liquid.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sam demanded, "You can't just … you …"

"Welcome to McKinley," Puck repeated, then headed off down the hall, shoulders squared.

"David Alan Karofsky!"

Kurt surged past Sam, snagged his bag and demanded, "Are you touched in the head?"

"Babe," Dave said with a laugh, hand curling easily around Kurt's waist. "Sorry about the bag."

"The bag?" Kurt demanded. His eyes flew back to Sam. The teen was beginning to recover and now he just looked confused, his eyes flickering from Dave to Kurt, and then back again. "I was only a second or two behind him. How do you think it's okay to just throw slushies on people like that?"

Dave shrugged, nonchalant. "I wouldn't have gotten you. I have your class schedule. I made sure it wasn't you." His eyes narrowed. "What was the new kid doing with your bag?"

Dave's fingers were tight around Kurt's waist, and dangerously close to being inappropriate on his hip. Kurt understood the hold for what it was.

"Tell him, Kurt," Sam demanded, confusion falling away like the clumps of slushie in his hair.

Kurt sputtered, "He was helping me carry it, that's what. I have a lot of books, and it's not like you ever offered to carry any for me. Sam was being a gentleman. I was going to show him where the cafeteria is. That's all." Kurt seethed, "And this is my Gucci bag."

Dave's free hand fisted itself in his letterman's jacket. "I'll carry your bag for you. All you had to do was say something." Kurt thought in that moment that he shouldn't have had to.

"This your boyfriend, Kurt?" Sam asked. Now he looked hurt, and it wrenched at Kurt's heart.

Kurt could only nod.

"That's a slushie," Dave elaborated. "It's your very own, personalized with love, welcome to McKinley present. Stay out of my way, and stay away from my boyfriend, and it'll be the only one you get. Or, give me a reason to give you another one. It's your choice. Whatever."

Sam's sneaker slid on the floor a little, the new, white shoes completely ruined.

"I got it," the blond said. "I have it crystal clear." Sam's chin rose defiantly and he told Kurt, "Actually, now that I think about it, I'm horrible at science. I wouldn't want to drag you down, Kurt. I wouldn't want to lie to you about anything important, or mislead you. So I'm going to ask Mr. Biro if I can get another partner for the year. Don't worry. You're saved."

Kurt wanted to say something, but he couldn't make anything to come out. Instead he watched in silence as Sam stalked away.

And once Sam was out of sight, it felt to Kurt like all of his strength returned to him. The football player who'd been a part of the slushing vanished and Kurt threw his elbow into Dave's side, dislodging him. "You're an asshole," Kurt said firmly. "A real jerk, you know?"

"Fuck," Dave hissed, doubling forward. "Christ, Kurt. I said I was sorry about the bag. I meant it. Look, I've been pulling extra hours at the gas station. I can buy you a replacement. It's no big deal."

"Not about that!"

Dave frowned, head cocked. "About slushying that new kid?"

"Sam's nice!" Kurt defended, hands on his hips. "He was nice to me, and you ruined it."

Still looking confused, Dave said, "It's tradition, Kurt. It's … you can't say you didn't know it was coming."

He had. That was the worst of it. He'd known because Puck had told him, and still he hadn't said anything to Sam. He should have, but it had slipped his mind, and then he'd gone and let everything spin out of control. Sam probably hated him, and Kurt couldn't think of a way to explain himself.

Kurt ran a hand carefully through his hair, exhaling loudly and nodding slowly. "You're right. I did. I knew, Dave. I'm …"

"Hey." Dave pulled Kurt back against his side. "Like I said, whatever. Let's go eat lunch."

Kurt tucked in an let himself be led down the hall, and away from the red stain on the formally pristine, tiled floor. Maybe it was better to just let whatever had happened with Sam just end. Sam was going to be mad, and Kurt had been wrong, and there was little he could do to justify himself of fix things. Maybe, if he didn't rock the boat with Dave, Sam would fade from the jock's mind. It already seemed like that was a real possibility. Sam was a nice idea to entertain, but Kurt had Dave, and he had protection, and that was the way things needed to be.

Still, twenty minutes later as Kurt poked his yoghurt disinterestedly with a spoon and listened to Puck and Dave recount the slushie to Finn who laughed loudly, Kurt couldn't help but wish things were different.

November 21, 2003

Kurt knew a lot of things, and one of the most important was that for as much as his father loved him, that's how different they were. They shared virtually none of the same interests, and while Kurt could say that his father indulged him frequently, probably more than he should have, there were things that they just didn't do together. And because of that, Kurt was equal parts thankful and jealous for Finn.

Kurt couldn't be the son that joined the junior football league that Burt had always wanted him to, but Finn could, and by the time Kurt was eleven, and Carole was mom, their problems were solved.

Twice a week Finn went to practice, and Kurt did not. Burt took time off from the shop, three hours, exactly, and drove Finn down to the local high school for the practice time. And Kurt, who absolutely adored the fact that Carole let him parade around in her high heels and never made choked sounds like his father did, usually went shopping with her. On several occasions Kurt came home with a bag or two that made his father sit him down on his bed and remind him quite firmly that people could be mean, would be mean, and that some things were better left quite. Kurt wasn't sure what that meant, mostly because Finn and his parents kept most of the bad things in life away, but he nodded firmly and stored the newest article of clothing away for another day.

But then Finn had a game. And apparently it was something they all had to be at. Burt took the entire day off from the shop, Carole said there'd be no shopping, and Kurt sat still while his father rubbed suntan lotion over his skin and told him they'd be spending the day up at the local high school.

Kurt, though way past the appropriate age to do so, had thrown a fit.

"Doesn't Finn go to the things that art important to you?" his father had asked. He'd shared a look with Carole and reminded, "We all went and saw Fiddler on the Roof for your birthday."

Kurt crossed his arms. "Finn fell asleep. It doesn't count."

Carole said softly, "He's been to every one of your piano recitals."

"And," Burt furthered, "you know he's the first to back you up when you want to rent a romantic comedy from the movie store. Kurt, you know he hates those movies. Finn does things for you all the time, so you're going to do this for him. And you're not going to act like it's because your mother and I forced you to."

In the end, before Finn came charging through the door, in full gear and swearing up and down that he'd be late if they didn't leave right away, Kurt asked, "Can I paint Finn's number on my cheek?" Carole had plenty of red face paint, conveniently enough.

"I don't understand the rules," Kurt said an hour later. He and Carole were seated high on the high school's west facing bleachers. Kurt could see his father further down, buying them drinks. Finn was out on the field, engrossed in whatever his coach was saying. Kurt tried not to feel put off because Finn had only turned and waved once. "But it looks stupid."

Carole's hand smoothed down his bangs. "I know, sweetheart. It isn't my favorite game either. But remember, this is important to your brother, and you're a terrific actor. So give it your best cheerleading effort."

Kurt stiffened. "Cheerleading is stupid, too."

"Alright," Burt announced, coming up on Kurt's right. He handed Carole a bottle of water and had a can of diet coke in the other.

"For me?" Kurt asked pleadingly. He adored diet coke, but his father was usually hesitant to give it to him. His mother usually folded long before his father, so it seemed a little unlikely that his father would have brought the drink for him.

Burt said nothing for a minute, then pressed the ice cold drink into Kurt's hands. "You get one, buddy. And don't press it. With my luck you'll be bouncing off the ceiling tonight. Drink it slowly."

Kurt hoarded the can close to his chest.

The football game seemed to go on forever for Kurt. The sun was hot, his coke was gone within minutes, and he was bored. But he suffered in silence, noting the way his father cheered louder for Finn than any of the other fathers, and the way Carole snapped pictures of Finn frantically.

Near what Kurt learned was the end of the game, he asked his father, "So Finn's important, right?"

"Important?" Burt repeated. "He's the quarterback. That's the most important position." Kurt regretted his words quickly after that, and was then subjected to more information of the game than he'd ever wanted to know.

But then it was over, and everyone was leaving and Kurt was rushing down to the nearby bathrooms, calling back to his father, "Be right back! The soda!"

On his way out of the bathroom he clipped the side of a red and white form, spinning them both around. Kurt nearly took a tumble, but then there was a firm hand on his arm and he was being pulled forward onto a solid chest.

"Sorry," he barely got out, and looked up at the taller boy who'd caught him. He was handsome and smelled horrible, but that was almost surely because he was wearing the same uniform that Finn had been for the game. This was a boy who played on Finn's team, but Kurt couldn't remember seeing him out on the field.

"It's okay," the boy said. "You okay?"

Kurt nodded wordlessly.

The boy took a step away. The sudden awkwardness was terrible.

Finally Kurt asked, "Are you on the team?"

A smile blossomed immediately on the boy's face and prideful he said, "I'm first string. My dad says that's the most important. And I'm a defensive man. It's my job to protect the other players-especially the quarterback. He has to throw the ball and I have to make sure he can."

Excitedly, hands clapping together Kurt said, "My brother is the quarterback!"

"Your brother?" The boy's eyebrows rose. "Finn's your brother? I guess that makes you Kurt. He talks about you most of the time."

Kurt pointed at his cheek, Finn's number still displayed. "That's me."

"I'm Dave," the boy offered shyly. "Me and Finn talk sometimes. But we go to different schools."

Happily, Kurt complimented, "You guys won the game, and my dad said it's because Finn threw lots of touchdowns. So if he did that, it means you protected him really good. That's awesome."

Dave looked down at his feet. "I was okay."

"No," Kurt insisted, reaching out for his hand. His fingers were cool and Dave's were warm, but Kurt slid them together easily and held on tightly. "You were really, really awesome. I don't know anything about football, but I know that. Maybe next game I can paint Finn's number on one cheek and yours on the other."

Dave's fingers squeezed back. "You want to do that?"

Kurt laughed. "Sure."

Dave's head ducked one more, and Kurt was going to tell him not to be ashamed of being so awesome, but then Kurt was pressed back against the bathroom's dirty wall. A leg slid in between his own and he was being kissed.

It lasted only a moment, was more chaste and desperate and awkward than anything else, and entirely too wonderful. Carefully, Kurt bought his hand up to Dave's chest where it rested, and together they breathed in silence.

"What was that?" Kurt dared to ask. His lips were tingling and his heart was beating so hard it hurt. "You kissed me."

Dave caught his hand, held it, and then took a step back. "Don't tell anyone. Don't tell, okay."

"You kissed me," Kurt said once more.

"I have to go!" Dave made a break for the door. He nearly ripped it from the hinges in his attempt to escape.

Kurt pressed full back against the wall and promised, "I'll wear your number next time!" But Dave gave no reply that he'd heard, and was gone out the door just after that.

Two weeks from that day, at Finn's next game, Kurt dutifully had Carole paint Finn's number on his right cheek, and then Dave's on the other.

Finn eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then commented, "That's Dave Karofsky's number."

Kurt held still as Carole continued to paint, but did answer, "I have two cheeks, Finn."

Finn huffed, "You're only supposed to wear my number."

Carole's hand was steady as ever.

Burt twitched a bit.

August 28, 2009

After lunch, where a year previous Kurt would have headed to his homeroom, he instead went to the guidance councilor's office. In Kurt's opinion, Emma Pillsbury had more problems than he did, but it had been a stipulation of his father's to come back to school, and Kurt knew full well there was no dodging the mandatory hour sessions each day.

He settled into the seat across from her, let his bag slide to the ground and couldn't help but linger on the stains dotting his bag.

"Kurt? How are you feeling today?"

Kurt slouched a little. "It's the first day of school."

"You participated in the pep rally today," she observed.

The whole meeting felt useless to Kurt. He'd never considered her much of a guidance councilor, or of much help at all. He barely had any recollection of her over the past two years. He seriously doubted she knew anything about him, or why he was now seeing her five times a week. Though maybe that was the point. He could vent to her, she'd remain silent about whatever he said, and that would be the end of it.

Slowly he answered her, "I did participate. If you're asking did Coach Sylvester try and accost me, or threaten me, then you can breathe easy. She didn't do anything that would upset me. You don't need to call my dad down here."

Pillsbury made a small sound, then cleared her throat. "That's good."

"Furthermore," Kurt said, "I doubt she's going to, not after my dad came down here and threatened to take his blowtorch to her face." He blanched a little. He made jokes now, and waved the idea off, but five months ago he'd been certain it was going to happen. He'd never seen his father look so murderous. He'd never seen him so upset, or so destroyed. He'd gone to jail, mainly to cool down and wait to see if Sylvester was going to press charges, but he had ended up on a cell for several hours.

Instead of pushing the matter, she asked instead, "How are your classes so far? Anything exciting happen yet?"

Kurt's eyes once more found the stain on his bag. He asked bluntly, "Have you ever messed something up so completely that you think there's no coming back from it?"

She blinked rapidly. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"What if," he tried instead, "you saw something, and you thought it was something you wanted, but you also knew you couldn't have it, mostly because it would upset other people and the way things worked. The status quo. But you let yourself get lost in a fantasy that maybe, just maybe, you could, even if it was only for that moment. And … and …"

"Kurt," Pillsbury eased out slowly.

"I liked him," Kurt blurted out.

"Him?"

He blew out a puff of breath. "This stays in here, no matter what, right?" When she nodded, he dared to say, "I met this guy, today. His name is Sam. He's new. And I like him. He's easy to talk to. He's funny. He's … he's really nice. I like him. But I knew he was flirting. I knew he liked me, Quinn told me he was asking about me. I knew better, but I think I led him on, and then I got his feelings hurt because I didn't speak up."

She looked utterly flushed and Kurt wondered maybe if he shouldn't have spoken. After all, his sexuality was no secret, but it was gossip. Some people liked to talk about his preference for boys frequently, and other people felt nervous under the ease in which Kurt was open about his sexuality.

"What …" she cleared her throat again. "If you like this boy, Kurt, what's holding you back?"

Gruffly, Kurt said., "I have a boyfriend."

Her hands folded on her desk and she watched him for a minute.

Feeling the sudden pressure, Kurt added, "And Dave isn't exactly Brad Pitt, but there are a lot of good things about him. He keeps my head above the water, even if he's got unconventional methods. Last year when I was … when I got … while I was sick, he was there. He was there every day he could be, and he talked me through it and that's not just something anyone would do."

"It sounds like the two of you are pretty serious."

Kurt shrugged. "We've known each other since we were kids. We've dated for years. Dave is safe. He's reliable. He's everything I should want. I should just be happy. We're not going to be together forever, but right now he's what I need. Between him and Finn, I can be safe here. I can be who I want to be, and like who I want to like, and say whatever I want, and I'm safe."

"Then what's the problem?" Pillsbury asked. Her eyes were wide but unsure. "If Dave is all of these things to you, they why do you seem so unsure? Where does Sam come into play?"

"It's not that I don't care about Dave anymore," Kurt rushed to say. "It's just … things used to be different. When I knew him in middle school he was quieter. He was … it's just that high school changed him. He's rougher now, and sometimes I see this anger that I didn't know was there. He … it isn't that he scares me! He would never hurt me. I just think if I had ever been in love with him at one point, I'd have fallen out of it by now."

She pushed, "But what about Sam?"

Airily, Kurt defended, "It's not like I know Sam at all. He's new. I've spent an hour in his company. But I look at him and it's like I feel-"

"How?"

Kurt's hands wrung tightly together in his lap. "Have you ever been in love?"

Shaken, she said, "Kurt, I don't think that's-"

"Humor me."

"No," she answered honestly, a blush on her face. "I've never been in love. Have you?"

The corners of Kurt's mouth tipped upward. "I haven't either. I think I'm too young to be in love. My dad always says that you can't love anyone else until you love yourself, and you can't love yourself until you know who you are. I'm sixteen. I won't know who I am for a while. So I don't think it's possible to fall in love with anyone right now. But, Miss Pillsbury, what do you think it feels like?"

Her lips pursed together. "I imagine it feels good. It would have to. And maybe a little scary, and it would probably make you nervous, but in a good way."

"Would there be butterflies?"

"In your stomach?" she asked. Kurt nodded. "Likely. Being in love is a fairly biological response. Your body reacts in specific ways. When you fall in love, butterflies in your stomach would be expected. Kurt, what's this got to do with anything?"

He confessed, "When I was eleven Dave kissed me. He wasn't out yet, didn't even know if he was gay or bisexual or just experimenting. But he kissed me one day after my brother's football game, and then did it again the following football game. We kissed a lot that summer, and every summer after that. I've only ever kissed Dave, no one else. And when we were old enough to know what kissing meant, we started dating. It was always so nice, the kissing, I mean."

She looked terribly uncomfortable but Kurt couldn't help himself.

"Dave has brig hands. They're rough from him playing football, but they're nice. He holds me with them and I feel safe. His kisses are warm and he never takes more than I want to give. I've loved kissing him from the beginning. It's probably what I love most. But …"

"But?"

In a defeated tone, Kurt told her, "When Sam looks at me and when he smiles at me, and when he touched me … I got butterflies. I've never gotten butterflies from Dave. Not once, not even when we kissed, and Sam gave them to me within minutes of talking with him. What does something like that mean?"

There was a sort of sadness that settled onto her face as she suggested, "It could mean a number of things, Kurt, and maybe it means you're not being true to yourself." He looked sharply to her. "If you're reacting this way to Sam, there is a good reason. Maybe you should take some time and figure out what you really want from both young men. It really would be in your best interest. I'm not saying you should decide on anything right now, but think about it. You sound like you're content with Dave, but not that it's what you really want. And you sound equally as confused about Sam and unsure."

They'd only been in the office for fifteen minutes, but to Kurt it was an insufferable amount of time. He felt like he couldn't breathe and he got to his feet suddenly. "It doesn't matter anyway, Miss Pillsbury. Sam hates me now. I led him on, even if I didn't mean to, or to hurt his feelings. It happened and he hates me and that means whatever I could have had with him, is gone. I'm with Dave, Dave is who I belong with for the time being, and nothing is going to change that. I have to go."

She shot to her feet, calling out after him, "Wait, Kurt!"

"I'll be back tomorrow!"

He blew out of the office as fast as he could and found himself nearly sprinting down the empty hallway to the nearest bathroom. He threw himself into the furthest stall and pressed his hand against his mouth, stifling any sounds that might have come from it.

Eventually he pulled himself together enough to leave the bathroom. And after that there was still French class to endure, most of which he spent with his head down and a feeling of nausea welling up inside of him.

But by the time Cheerio practice came around after school, Kurt felt better. He'd had a few hours to internalize everything he'd said to the guidance councilor, and he was actually looking forward to how distracting practice could be.

Finn was already in the locker room, along with the whole of the football team, and Kurt waved awkwardly to him as he popped open his locker, reaching in for his practice shoes.

"What's wrong?"

Kurt looked to Finn who'd appeared so suddenly at his side. His much taller brother was already dressed in his heavy pads, cleats hanging from the tips of his fingers. "Hmm?"

"Who do you think you're kidding, Kurt?" Finn pushed a bit at his shoulder. He sobered a bit and noted, "You look upset. What's wrong?"

Covering quickly, Kurt gestured to his bag. "Dave hit my bag earlier when he was welcoming the new guy. It's Gucci. It's vintage. He can't just buy me a new one."

Finn cracked a smile. "What were you doing so close to a slushie?"

Kurt huffed. "It wasn't intentional. I assure you that."

"Who got it in front of you?" Finn asked, leaning into the locker next to Kurt's.

Kurt's eyes narrowed. "Did I or did I not say it was the new guy?"

Finn looked disinterested at the question and for one brief moment Kurt was wounded by the idea that his brother could be so indifferent over the whole matter.

"Sam Evans," Kurt answered him. "He was going to be my lab partner in Bio, but I doubt he'll want to be now. He basically told me to start looking for a replacement."

"But you're like the smartest kid in the school."

"Hardly," Kurt breezed out, his eyes catching Dave's further down the row of lockers, the male heading his way in an instance. "And it had nothing to do with my intelligence."

"Hey," Dave offered. He slid an arm around Kurt's waist easily and said to Finn, "I'm totally going to mack on your brother now." Finn was gone less than a half second later and Kurt groaned happily as he was kissed.

"I'm still mad at you," Kurt chastised.

"I told you," Dave swore, his fingers curling under the uniform Kurt wore, "I will get you a new bag."

Kurt pushed at him instantly, dislodging his boyfriend's fingers. "It's not about the bag."

"Then what is it?" The locker room had all but emptied by that point, but Kurt could see Finn lingering. Finn always lingered. Once, back when Kurt had only began dating Dave, Finn had admitted that there was a lack of trust on his part. Finn hardly trusted anyone with him. Kurt called it big brother syndrome, likely perpetuated by their father's paranoia. So Finn lurked, and Kurt let it slide, because Finn was his brother and some things needed to just be the way they were.

"It's nothing," Kurt denied, bending to fit his shoes on. "I'm just … it's not your fault. Not really. I'm sorry. Can we just let this go?"

Dave shrugged. "Sure. Listen, my dad is going up to Seattle this weekend. I think his mistress is getting bitchy again about the time they spend together. And my mom's extended her stay down in Jamaica with that pool by she met down there. No one is going to be home this weekend and I'm having a party. Can you find a cover that'll be convincing enough to your dad?"

At that, Kurt was actually unsure. His dad had a fantastic sense of when people were lying to him. It was almost a sixth sense, as far as Kurt was concerned. But there was a chance, if Kurt could get Finn to back him up, that it was doable.

"What kind of party?" Kurt asked. Dave's parties could range from mild to out of control, Kurt had seen both from him in the past. They were nothing like the parties that Puck threw, those always ended up with the police banging on the front door and Kurt trying to slip out the back window before he was caught or his curfew was violated. Or Santana's, which had a record number of three cases of alcohol poisoning.

Dave took him by the elbow and began to lead him out of the locker room, Finn trailing behind them. "The usual. Jocks and cheerleaders are in automatically, and then probably just a couple other kids. Swear to me you'll be there. Saturday night."

Kurt looked back for Finn and asked, "What're we doing Saturday night?"

"Going to a party." He smiled in a toothy way. "If Quinn's gonna be there, so am I. We can tell dad we're going to a double feature downtown. Those show on Saturday, right? That'll buy us until midnight easily."

"See?" A kiss pressed to Kurt's bangs. Dave promised, "It's going to be great."

Cheerio practice was long. It was probably too long, especially with the lack of wind, the high sun and the ridiculous August temperatures. But Kurt kept his complaints to a minimum and tried not to show much emotion as Jason Kenmore, a senior and Kurt's old base, told him genuinely, "I miss you being my flier." It could have had more to do with the fact that Kendal Jacobson was now flying for him, and she stunk horribly of gasoline, the same way that Dave did after he came home from a shift at her parent's gas station. But it also probably had something to do with the fact that Kurt and Jason had trained together for two years, and had become as comfortable with each other as Kurt was with Finn.

During a break from routine, as Sylvester berated a girl into tears and Kurt drank down his entire water bottle, Quinn plastered herself to his side and said daringly, "Our boys look incredibly sexy right now, don't they?"

Far across the field, away from the baseball diamond that the Cheerios were practicing on, and on the football field that varsity line occupied, Kurt could see Finn and Dave clearly. They each stood out easily enough, each tall and strong and noteworthy.

"If you enjoy the sweaty look," Kurt told her.

She kissed his cheek and said, "I happen to enjoy my boyfriend looking like a man. It's a personal preference. In fact I like it when Finn doesn't shave for a day. During the summer I have to beg him to do it every other day. I like the way his stubble scratches. I like his big hands and his broad shoulders and how much bigger he is than me. Don't you like any of that about Dave?"

In all honesty, Kurt had to nod. He and Dave were intimate often enough, though the entire notion of sex still made Kurt uncomfortable. But when they were, Kurt liked to pull Dave down on top of him, and feel such a solid form pressing him down. He liked to crowd himself into his boyfriend's lap and let his weight be taken easily. He liked being enfolded on and the cherished feeling that went along with it. Kurt always wanted to be the little spoon.

"And did anyone tell you that the football team is also hosting tryouts today?"

Kurt looked to her suddenly. "For incoming freshmen?" He wasn't completely sure how that system worked. He'd gotten on the Cheerios because Finn was a grade ahead of him and a football player. And Quinn was already a freshman and on the team. She'd vouched for him. He'd shown Coach Sylvester how flexible he was, certainly not cried when she'd tried to make him, and then signed an inch of paperwork promising his firstborn to her if he didn't get her another trophy at Nationals.

Quinn shook her head. "For anyone, really, it's just usually freshmen who try out for the team. Beiste makes them go up against the varsity line, and when they get completely trashed, she tries to figure out which ones can be salvaged for next year. Finn tells me it's this big production that they look forward to every year."

"Why do they just pull the take measure out and be done with it ahead of time?"

Quinn ignored the statement. "And look who's trying out." She pointed and Kurt followed her finger to a familiar blond head.

"No way," Kurt breathed out. "He's going out for football this year?"

"He's pretty ballsy." Quinn knocked back a long drink from her water. "Considering Karofsky and the other defensive men are going to give him one hell of a time. Think we should call ahead to the school nurse?"

The question hung between them, and then Kurt asked, "Do you think he's any good?"

Quinn's fingers pinched his cheek and she nearly shrieked, "Do you have a crush on him?"

He was certain he was never going to speak to her ever again.

Kurt could feel her watching him as he bent forward to grab his ankles, taking his time stretching out, preparing for the second half of the practice. He answered, "I don't have a crush on him. I'm curious. One might even say I'm interested, but I don't have a crush. School girls have crushes."

She gave something that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "So I'll take that as a yes."

He looked up at her, bangs falling into his line of sight. "It's not a crush," he protested. "I messed up with him, Quinn. I hurt his feelings, and I feel horrible about it."

Quinn was the kind of girl who always read easily into what Kurt was thinking, and worked out his problems long before he did. So when she said he had a crush on Sam, he was inclined to believe maybe he did, and he just wasn't ready to recognize that. Or maybe it wasn't a crush just yet, but he couldn't deny, Dave fell away from his mind so quickly when Sam came into the picture.

"He's good."

Kurt straightened up when she spoke and looked across the field to Sam. The blond had thrown a football up into what looked like a perfect arch, and Puckerman was flying down the field, in line to accept it.

"Really good," Kurt whistled. "I've only ever see Finn throw like that."

Quinn finished off her water. "Do you think he's trying to claw his way up McKinley's social ladder?"

"What, exactly, does that mean?"

Kurt knew the jocks and the cheerleaders were at the top, and everyone else fell into varying subcategories, their division tedious to Kurt on a good day. He'd never really taken the time to work it out, mostly because his place at McKinley had been decided by Finn, who was both older and about as popular as one got. Kurt didn't need to worry about the social ladder, not with Finn and Dave around, and the Cheerio logo on the front of his uniform. It was never a big deal to him, figuring out the details. The only thing that mattered as his place at the top, and keeping it.

"Well," Quinn drawled out, "he had his welcome slushie today at lunch, right?"

Kurt nodded. "I was there."

She continued, "I imagine it was unpleasant at best. You and I have never experienced one, but it looks horrible."

Kurt swallowed hard at her words. It was true, he'd never had a slushie before, but he'd come close. There had been one day, his freshman year, when a cocky, moronic soccer player had failed to make the connection between Kurt and Finn. Dave had been there, and he'd pulled Kurt aside just in time, and wrapped him up in such a fiercely protective hold that Kurt couldn't breathe, and never wanted to move. And then Finn had been there, coming out of nowhere, reeling into the kid so hard that Kurt was proud. Scathing retorts were Kurt's specialty, but when necessary, Finn could manage.

"If I had one," Quinn pointed out, "I'd do everything in my power to avoid it happening again. And what's the fastest way to not need to bring a change of clothes to school?"

"Climb the social ladder?" Kurt guessed. "Knee pads optional?"

She gave him a dirty look that told him she was not pleased with his answer. "And how do we climb social ladders?" She didn't wait for a response. "You get popular, and you do that by joining a team. I don't know much about Sam, but he seems like a pretty smart guy. It wouldn't have taken him long at the pep rally to realize that football dominates the McKinley mindset. If I were him, aside from completely dying from the size of my lips, I'd try out for the football team."

"That or the Cheerios," Kurt said.

Quinn's head tilted towards Sam. "And he might make it. I wouldn't be surprised if Beists gave him a real shot at the team."

Sylvester's bullhorn sounded and Kurt groaned. "Break over?"

Quinn slung a thin arm around his neck for a half second. "She let us rest for at least three or four minutes. That's got to be a record. We should be thankful."

"My thighs will be thankful when they stop burning," Kurt quipped. He gave one last look to Sam, who was now looking his direction, and then hurried off after Quinn.

Like always, Kurt waited for Finn after their respective practices ended. For once, Cheerios practice had ended before Beiste had let the football players go, and Kurt was able to shower and change before making it to the parking lot to meet Finn. Finn was sweaty and dirty when he came into Kurt's line of sight, and Kurt made an appropriate face.

"Dude," Finn said, tossing his football gear into the backseat, "don't even say it."

Kurt slid into the driver's seat and settled his sunglasses over his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it. But call me dude again and mom might just find out about the stash of porn Noah gave you over the summer."

"You don't know anything about that." Finn jabbed a finger at him accusingly. "It's straight porn. You wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole."

"I know the title is Banging Bitches part four. Such an eloquent title, by the way. And knowing Noah, there's bound to be a MILF in there somewhere."

Finn snickered, "You said MILF."

"What are you, twelve? Yes, Finnegan, I said MILF. I even know what it means. But the bigger question is if our mother knows what that means, and if she doesn't, how completely freaked out she's going to be when she finds out exactly what it does."

Finn held his eyes for a moment before Kurt turned back to the road and Finn stretched out in the comfortable seat.

They were about halfway home when Kurt, loathed as he was to bring it up, mentioned to Finn, "I saw Sam out there on the field with you guys. He was trying out?"

Finn perked up immediately, and said right away, "Sam? Yeah. He's cool. He's pretty funny and has a wicked throw. I told Dave we should lay off him."

"Really?" Kurt asked skeptically, because he'd seen the gleam in Dave's eye earlier that day. He knew his boyfriend well enough to know when he had a new favorite punching bag. "And why is that?"

With a shrug, Finn answered, "Coach had him running some of our old plays. And he was doing pretty good. I wouldn't be surprised if she started him some time this season. And since we guys gotta have some team unity, that means laying off. I want us to win this season, we all want to win, and that means no more slushies."

Carefully, Kurt asked, "What position does he play?"

It was a mistake, Kurt knew it the moment Finn asked him suspiciously, "Why do you want to know? You don't like football. Me and dad and Dave have tried a million times to explain it to you. Kurt, you're a Cheerio, you go to all the games and you still don't know how the game is played."

Kurt sputtered. "I know very well, thank you. You throw the ball, and then if it's a good throw, most of the team ends up in one giant, homoerotic boy pile. Or, someone kicks the ball and you make a goal."

"Touchdown," Finn corrected, "and football isn't gay. How many times do I have to say that?"

"Please. I've yet to see a boy on your team wear those spandex pants who doesn't look like he could pass for a party boy at a rave. And need I remind you how many times in an hour you swat at each other? And I'm taking at your rear end. Football players may not be gay in the least bit, but they play a very gay sport."

Finn's eyes narrowed. "You're trying to distract me."

"Shinny objects distract you."

Kurt knew in that moment the conversation was bound to go one of only two ways. Either he and Finn were about to launch into an incredibly juvenile and brainless wave of insults, or they were going to go full circle back to the question at hand. Kurt hoped for the second of the two, and held his breath until Finn said, "Beiste had Sam playing a whole bunch of positions. He's not built to play some of them, but I don't know where he's going to exactly. Maybe running back. Maybe he'll give Puck some competition. Now tell me why you want to know."

Keeping his voice as even and controlled as he could, Kurt told his brother, "I wrecked a potential friendship with him earlier. I'm hoping to make up for that tomorrow, but I'd have more of a chance if I knew anything about him. He likes football, obviously, so maybe if I start there, he'll actually hear me out before completely blowing me and my apology off."

Finn's expression darkened. "If he gives you trouble, you just let me know."

"Finn." Kurt sighed. "I doubt that's ever going to be the case. But thank you for your completely unnecessary show of protectiveness. We'll just redirect that to Quinn, who's happy to have you grunt and drag her back to the cave. Your chauvinistic wiles are best suited for her. She thinks they're funny."

Eyes wide, Finn questioned, "How are we related?"

"We aren't."

"You know what I mean." Finn scowled. "Sometimes I'm not even sure you're speaking English."

"Funny," Kurt returned, "that's what your English teacher said to dad at the last conference they had."

September 1, 2005

What Finn had to show for the first day of school was a split lip and bruised knuckles. Next to him, the chair too high and his legs too short, Kurt did his best not to touch his freshly bandaged palms or forearms. And even further down from them, the third child in the principal's office, sobbed quietly as he pressed an ice pack to his mouth.

Wordlessly, Kurt leaned into Finn, who put an arm around his shoulders and drew him even further away from the room's third party.

The door to the office opened quite quickly and Burt strode into the room. He took a moment to take in the appearance of his sons, then demanded of the principal who'd followed him in, "What happened?" Burt was still dressed in his garage coveralls and had clearly come down to the middle school the moment he'd gotten the call.

The principal, a tall, distinguished looking man, answered, "There are several accounts from students and teachers that your sons, and Thomas Martin, were involved in a schoolyard altercation. There are, as you might imagine, conflicting reports so we can't be exactly sure of what happened. And there hasn't been a word out of any of them since we brought them in."

Burt disregarded the Martin boy completely, and knelt down in front of Kurt, putting a heavy and comforting hand on Finn's knee. "You guys okay?"

Finn nodded for the both of them. Kurt's fingers dug deeper into Finn's shirt, his eyes refusing to meet his father's.

"What happened?" Burt asked, looking between the two of them.

"A fight," Finn said gruffly, and it was clear from his tone he wasn't going to elaborate.

Slowly, and with a groan, Burt stood and told the principal, "I have good boys. They're a little mischievous, but they're good. They didn't start this fight."

The Martin kid sniffled loudly and when he pulled the ice pace from his mouth, even if only momentarily, Burt could see several teeth missing. He sighed, and wondered if there was an impending lawsuit somewhere.

"I'm inclined to believe this fight was completely mutual," the principal told him. "But fighting can't be ignored completely. Today is Monday. They can come back to school on Wednesday and I'll expect both Kurt and Finn to serve a week's worth of detention."

Kurt squeaked indignantly. His perfect attendance record was about to be shattered. Finn's arm around him only tightened, urging him to remain quiet.

"And the Martin boy, he'll get the same punishment?" Burt questioned.

The principal nodded and the matter seemed settled.

They went home right away, even though Kurt knew his father had plenty of work at the shop. Carole was still at work and the house was silent as Kurt climbed the stairs to his bedroom, Finn's feet thudding behind his own.

"I want to know what happened," Burt said, his hand closing over Kurt's shoulder and Finn pausing in the doorway to his room. "Maybe you didn't want to say anything in front of that Martin kid, or the principal, but you tell me. The two of you don't fight. What brought this on?"

Kurt wanted to tell him so badly he thought he'd burst. Because it was Kurt's fault, and he was certain if Finn would let him he could get Finn's role in the whole mess excused. But Finn remained stubbornly quiet and Kurt followed his lead.

"You know what this means, then?" Burt asked.

Finn toed off his shoes and kicked them into his room. "Yeah."

Burt bent forward to Kurt's eyelevel and let him know, "This means Columbus is out this weekend. I'll see if I can get a refund on those play tickets, but if you and your brother won't talk, and all I have is the principal's word to go on, then I can't take you to see something that is a reward."

Kurt felt tears well up in his eyes. He tore himself way from his father and rushed the distance to his room. He collapsed onto his bed, pillowed his head in his arms and just wanted the world to swallow him up.

Dinner was a strained and quiet affair. Kurt took his usual seat across from Finn at the square dinning table but didn't dare meet his brother's eyes. Not yet.

Carole remarked, "I got a call from Patricia today."

"Yeah?" Burt asked, less than interested.

"Patricia Martin."

At the name Burt looked up suddenly. Finn hunched down a little and Kurt held his breath.

"You know Patricia, Burt. We shop at the same grocery store. We run into her all the time, she's always there, buying those special cereals. Her son, Thomas, is allergic to gluten."

Under the table, Finn's foot nudged Kurt's.

"She told me something interesting today," Carole continued, "about how she had to take her son to the dentist. It was an emergency visit, mind you. He managed to knock four of his adult teeth out today. Apparently she was called down to the principal's office because Thomas was involved in a fight today. Isn't that odd, considering you had to go down there and pick Finn and Kurt up for the very same reason?"

Burt winced. "Yeah, honey."

Carole held up a finger. "The funniest thing, boys, you're going to love this, is that she absolutely cannot get the story out of her son. He's not talking at all."

"Can I be excused?" Finn asked. His dinner was half eaten but he looked pale enough that Burt nodded.

"Kurt," Carole said gently, "Fighting is a serious matter. Violence is never the answer, but if it does happen, the truth is always the best policy to go with. You father and I would like you to tell us what happened, and then we can talk about it, and resolve the issue completely. That sounds like a good idea, right?"

Finally, and in an excruciatingly soft voice, Kurt admitted, "I got pushed."

"I figured, sweetheart." She gestured to his bandages. "Those are defensive wounds. Finn's indicate he was the aggressor. Patricia says her boy has both. I think that pretty much tells the story, but I'd like to hear it from you."

Kurt shook his head. "No. If you want to ground me, that's okay, but no."

He was excused from dinner short after that and fled to his room where he did homework for another hour, read a book and then finally dozed off.

The sun was just beginning to come up when Kurt startled awake. He took a deep breath and then pushed away his blankets, getting out of bed and then opening his door. When he saw the coast was clear he hurried down the hall to Finn's room and entered without knocking. Finn was awake, lying on his bed, and he waved Kurt over without hesitation.

When Kurt was burrowed beneath Finn's blankets and tucked close by his arm, he admitted, "I told them someone pushed me."

"That's okay. They probably already knew that." Finn's breath was arm near Kurt. "But you didn't tell them anything else?"

"I didn't." He didn't tell Finn how badly he'd wanted to. How he'd wanted to spill his guts about how Thomas Martin had been giving him grief for almost the entire day, and Kurt had been fine with ignoring him up until he'd gotten a hard and unexpected shove. Kurt had tumbled down to the pavement and scratched up the skin on his hands and arms. And then Finn had been there, laying into his bully, rolling around on the ground with Thomas, shouting at him. It reminded Kurt of the one time Puck had said mean things and Finn had hit him, but this time it was worse, because there was blood and Finn was absolutely vicious.

"I'm not sorry." Finn tucked his chin above Kurt's head. Their feet slid together. "I'm not sorry I hit him at all, and if they try and make me, I won't tell him I am. I don't care if I'm grounded forever. I won't be sorry."

Kurt thought of Finn's split lip. "I'm sorry you got hurt."

"You're my brother," Finn said abruptly, the strength of the words overpowering to Kurt. "And it's my job to drive you crazy and freak you out, and teach you how to be cool. But it's also my job to take care of you. I'm always going to protect you, Kurt. I won't let people hurt you. And when I can't be there to stop it, I won't let them get away with it."

Kurt's toe rubbed against Finn's calf. "You knocked out four of his teeth."

"I wanted to kill him. I guess it was a good think Puck was there. I think he pulled me off, right? Because I was going to try and kill him, Kurt. You were there, and you were bleeding, and I wanted to make him bleed too."

Kurt shivered. "Don't let mom and dad hear you say that."

From downstairs the sound of kitchen cabinets opening and closing drifted up, and Kurt wondered if they'd gone to bed at all that night. Kurt knew it would only be a matter of time before one of their parents came up to check on them. It was a little embarrassing to think they might see Kurt in his big brother's bed. He hadn't wanted to climb in bed with Finn for years, not since they'd come down with the chicken pox at the same time and sought comfort any way possible.

"Thomas Martin won't ever mess with you again," Finn said confidently. "And when I get through, no one else will either."

"You can't beat up the whole school," Kurt scoffed.

"No," Finn agreed, "but I can make it really clear what's gonna happen if anyone messes with you. And Puck's gonna help me, and you should tell Dave."

Kurt knew he was blushing at the sound of Dave's name. They'd shared secret kisses for years and as puberty approached, so were other feelings.

"I don't want people to be scared of me," Kurt said honestly. "Or you, for that matter."

"I want them to be scared of hurting you." Finn's words were unabashed. "I want them to be so scared of hurting you they wet their pants. Because I can't see you hut again, Kurt. I don't want to see you bleed anymore."

Kurt wrapped himself tighter around Finn. "Everyone gets hurt sometimes, Finn."

Finn seemed grouchy with him the entire day.

August 29, 2009

On Tuesday, feeling sore from Cheerio practice the day before, and having spent the night restlessly tossing in bed, Kurt set out to McKinley with a purpose. He knew mending the bridge he'd burned with Sam was gong to be difficult, and chances were he wasn't ever going to get a friendship out of the boy who made butterflies flutter around in his stomach, but he had to try. There were too many feelings whirling around inside of him, too many conflicting emotions, and he was too confused to ignore the situation. Kurt was convinced that Sam was supposed to mean something to him, even if he hadn't a clue what it was just yet.

Finn have him a customary wave when they separated through McKinley's gates, and Kurt headed straight towards Sam's locker. The previous night he'd wrangled the locker number out of Quinn on the phone, and had sat through nearly twenty minutes of her ribbing before he was allowed to hang up. Kurt only hoped she didn't tell Finn.

Sam wasn't there when Kurt arrived, and his spirits fell a bit. Still, a glance at his watch told him that there was still close to twenty minutes before the first class of the day. There was plenty of time for Sam to show, and Kurt could be patient. He'd been the one to spend nearly three hours teaching Finn how to tie his shoes, refusing to let him relegate himself to a mindless life of Velcro. Kurt knew well of patience.

And waiting for Sam gave him a chance to think. It gave him a moment to collect his thoughts and decide whole heartedly that for as much as he cared for Dave, he wasn't in love with him. Kurt had always known, even from the beginning, that he didn't want to grow old with Dave. He didn't want to go away to college and write him long winded e-mails, or sneak away during holidays. Dave was never going to be the boy who made his knees weak, and for as much as Kurt cared for him, it wasn't fair to pretend like he was.

Of course breaking up with Dave wasn't an option either. Kurt needed him, for various reasons, but foremost to keep the bullies of McKinley away. Finn was the first line of defense against Kurt's very own slushie facial, and he had no doubt the kind of pull his brother had was gigantic, but it wasn't fullproof. Dave was the kind of added insurance that had Kurt unafraid to show up that morning in a kilt, black leggings hugging sinfully to his body. Dave helped solidify Kurt's s standing at McKinley as untouchable, and Kurt wasn't willing to rock that boat, at least just not yet, not without an idea of where Sam was going to end up on the social ladder.

Kurt felt incredibly shallow.

"Kurt Hummel, I need a moment of your time."

Kurt had been hoping desperately for Sam Evans. Instead, what he had in front of him was a very short, very loud, completely unstable Rachel Berry. Kurt didn't know her personally, only through word of mouth and second hand association. But what he did know of her was that she was brash and unashamed and determined. They were good qualities, no doubt, but she was also abrasive, and Kurt recoiled from her.

"Yes?" Kurt asked, and he could see her white blouse stained a cheery red, proof that she'd had a run in with someone already. Kurt nearly felt sorry for her, at least until she began shrilly explaining about how important it was he pay attention to her. He wondered if his annoyance had been showing.

"You and your brother are close, right? You and Finn?" There looked to be little hearts in her eyes, and Kurt could only sigh. Most of the girls at McKinley, if not nearly all of them, were at least a little in love with Finn. Kurt couldn't blame them, but it was a little tedious, considering the amounts of times he was approached by one of them and asked about Finn.

"We are brothers," he told her, uncomfortable with how the conversation had started already. Rachel Berry liked to have her nose in everyone's business and Kurt wanted her out of his. "But yes, to answer your question, Finn and I are close."

She spoke quickly after that, telling him of last year and how a teacher at the school, one Kurt had never had a class with, had been caught having inappropriate relations with a male student of his after classes had let out.

Kurt remembered that incident well. There had been no impact to Kurt at school, but the night that the story had broken on the television his father had sat nervously on the edge of his bed, hat wringing between his hands, and asked Kurt if he'd ever been victimized by the accused teacher. Kurt, thankfully, had not, and then both he and his father had agreed never to speak of the subject again.

"I know he was fired," Kurt mentioned. "What's the relevance?" Another glance at his watch said time was dwindling.

"Do you know Mr. Schue?" Her hands flapped a little as she spoke. "No, of course you wouldn't you take French. I remember now, Sylvester had you sing that fourteen minute Celine Dion medley last year and you were all any of the teachers could talk about." Kurt hated the look of contempt on her face. "Even Mr. Schue, he teaches Spanish, talked about you to the class. He said we should aspire to be as fluent as you."

"Okay."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm fluent in Spanish."

"Look." Kurt hoisted the strap on his bag a little higher onto his shoulder. "It's been great talking to you, but I need to go. I'm sure someone else will be happy to listen to your rambling."

Rachel continued on, "Mr. Schue took over Glee Club this year. And much to my incredible thoughtfulness and generosity, he's decided to institute a fair acceptance policy."

"Rachel." Kurt rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "This is why people say you give them headaches."

She huffed a little indignantly. "Pay attention, Kurt, this is for your benefit."

"I'm going."

Her grip on his arm was hard enough to stop him in his tracks, and when she finally let go he didn't make another attempt to flee her company.

"We need members," she elaborated. "Twelve, actually. "Myself, Mercedes, Tina and Artie are a nice foundation, but you understand, we're not exactly going to qualify for any major competitions. Furthermore, Mr. Schue and I are in agreement that what we really need in glee is a plethora of voices, mainly of the male kind."

Kurt questioned, "There was a signup sheet for glee auditions on the bulletin board?"

Rachel nodded emphatically. "That's when the others signed up."

"Then," Kurt drawled, "I'm pretty sure I would have signed up then if I was interested in glee club."

She snapped, "But I'm not interested in you at all."

Kurt rolled his eyes as Rachel took a moment to calm herself.

"Mr. Schue asked me to ask you about Finn. He heard Finn yesterday. He thinks your brother is really talented, and it's the kind of talent we need. I want you to ask him to join Glee club, as a favor to you, if need be. And in return Mr. Schue and I are willing to let you in as well, no audition required and without any type of stipulation aside from the fact that you bring Finn with you."

She, Kurt decided, was absolutely, ridiculously, uncomprehendingly, crazy.

"Let me get this right," he tried. He cleared his throat. "You want me to ask Finn to join glee club. Not only would he become the laughing stock of this school, but his popularity would drop tenfold, he'd probably end up slushied, and there's no guarantee he even wants to sing publicly in the first place. I've known Finn almost my entire life, and I've heard him sing a little, but he's never expressed a desire to do it in front of people. And he has his reputation to think of before anything else. Finn's on top of this school Your club would just drag him down, and I'd get dragged down with him."

"Glee club isn't just this pathetic waste of time, you know."

"It's a popularity deathdrap, that's what it is."

"We need Finn!" Her hands were balled into fists and he had no doubt she was close to truly exploding on him.

Cruelly, Kurt said, "The laughable thing here is that you think you're so clever. You think I want to be included in your club, maybe because you think I want to be friends with you, or maybe because you're really just that delusional. So you think I'd be willing to talk my brother into social suicide, knowing just that. But I know the truth, Rachel. It's as clear as day on your face."

"And what is that, Kurt? That you're nothing but a stuck up, prissy, arrogant guy who rides his brother's coattails of popularity?"

Kurt corrected, "We're talking about glee club, Rachel, not the contempt we clearly have for each other."

She sputtered, "It's a healthy distain we hold for each other."

He agreed, "Ever since you tried to screw me out of that A in English last year by accusing me of not properly citing the whole of my sources. Don't look so surprised, I know it was you, even if Mr. Abbott never told me directly. But I got that A, and you took a nose dive on the grading curve, and while this is only a theory on my part, I firmly believe you're looking for a little payback."

"You dragged down my entire GPA."

"I earned my grade." Kurt tried to keep his emotions under control, but Rachel was just so good in eliciting unhappy thoughts from him.

"I read your paper," she seethed. "It wasn't the best in the class."

Even more time was gone and Kurt was certain Sam wasn't going to show, at least not before class. Maybe he had a chance to catch him in between periods. Kurt just wanted to talk to him before their Bio class. He still wanted to be Sam's partner. He didn't want to have their problems displayed in front of the class, either.

"The fact is," Kurt said, bringing them back to the topic of glee, "you have a crush on my brother. That's completely understandable and excusable. But you're trying to use your little club to get closer to him, and completely disregard the fact that he has a girlfriend. Rachel, he's dating Quinn. He loves Quinn, and he's probably going to marry her. Whether he does or doesn't join your club, won't impact that. So forget about that right here and now, and don't set yourself up for that kind of heartbreak."

When she wouldn't meet his eyes he knew he'd gotten it right.

Kurt let her know, "You also want Finn to join because you're smart, Rachel, very smart, and more than smart enough to know that what Finn does, Puck tends to do as well. And a lot of the guys on the football team in addition. So there's a good chance that if Finn joins, Glee club will get a huge boost of testosterone. And what could be better?"

Rachel was silent and she looked crestfallen, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to sympathize.

"It's not right to try and coerce or trick people into things, either," Kurt chided. "Finn should join if he wants to, not because I ask him to or for whatever other reason. Do you get that?"

"I get it," she mumbled.

The first bell rang and Kurt deflated. He gave in and agreed, "I'll ask Finn, okay, Rachel? I won't try and make him join, and I won't push, but I will let him know that you have asked him to join. But don't hold your breath. Finn likes where he is right now. He likes the way thing are. I know my brother better than anyone else, and I'm telling you, Rachel Berry, nothing is going to make him join of his own free will."

Kurt left her in his wake and headed to his first class. He felt tense and worked up and wanted nothing more than to blow off some steam. He had a good idea that Puck was probably behind some of the bleachers on the football field, smoking a cigarette or something a little stronger. It seemed to work for him, but the first and only time Kurt had tried a cigarette he'd ended up doubled over, wheezing desperately for air. And Dave had hit Puck much harder in practice that he usually did, probably under the request of Finn who seemed to have a sixth sense for any time Kurt did something he wasn't supposed to.

The last thing that Kurt wanted to do was wait until class began to see Sam, but it was the way things ended up several hours later. And not that it surprised Kurt, but it still hurt to see Sam seated at a different table, one that already had a student occupying the second seat.

Swallowing his pride and a great deal of nervousness, Kurt made his way to Sam. He recognized the girl sitting next to him and said, "Hey, Christie, could you let Sam and I talk for a moment?"

She looked reluctant at best, and but eventually slid away, leaving Kurt and a very obviously unhappy Sam.

Kurt asked, "Can I talk to you for a few minutes?"

Sam was still, then said, "I don't really have anything to say to you. I think everything that needed to be said, came out yesterday, right around the time your boyfriend was throwing a frozen drink on me."

"About that." Kurt's fingers gripped the edge of the lab table.

Sam interrupted, "You know what? You don't have to say anything. It doesn't matter."

Kurt shook his head. "It does, because I hurt your feelings and that's the last thing I wanted to do. We had … it was a miscommunication."

"I guess," Sam agreed. "But I thought I was pretty clear with you yesterday. I mean, I'm no Romeo, but flirting is flirting."

Very aware of the people already in the room, and all the ears that could be listening, Kurt sat next to Sam and pressed in close. "I thought you were flirting, but I wasn't sure. I mean, there aren't exactly a lot of people who flirt with me."

An eyebrow rose on Sam's face. "You expect me to believe that? You're hot."

Kurt blushed, then reminded, "This is Ohio. Some of the bigger cities are getting pretty close to taking a step into the twenty-first century and realizing that equality should be guaranteed regardless of sexual orientation, but Lima isn't one of them. Boys don't flirt with other boys here. To be honest, boys don't really come out. I never came out. I was always just out because it's impossible not to be."

"And your boyfriend didn't flirt with you at some point?" Sam's voice tensed clearly over the mention of Dave.

"Dave?" Kurt asked skeptically. "You saw Dave. He doesn't do flirtatious. He kissed me in a public restroom when we were kids. He told me he liked me and after that we just kind of fell into dating by the time we were old enough to know what that meant. He never flirted, to answer your question. He never had to. I was a gay kid and so was he, and neither of us had a lot of options."

Sam frowned. "You shouldn't date someone just because they're available and you want to be in a relationship."

"I care for Dave deeply," Kurt reminded, "and it may be at this point that Dave is really more of a convenience and necessity than anything else, but he does matter to me. The fact is, above all else, there are benefits to dating him that outweigh everything else. When you've been here long enough you'll understand why people who don't seem to have anything in common, are together."

"How can you be okay with that?"

Kurt squared his shoulders. "It's only high school. In a couple of more years no one will even remember half the people they knew. Noah told me that, I believe he's right." Tentatively Kurt reached out and covered Sam's nearby hand with his own. "I'm sorry if I led you on. I never meant to hurt your feeling or let you believe something that isn't true. I just wanted to be friends. Because you're interesting, I like interesting people." And he had to figure out the butterflies.

Sam smiled wide. "You're adorable."

Kurt's face, which had been warm before, was on fire now.

"But you're not happy."

Kurt looked to him. "How would you know?"

The class was nearly full by then, and Kurt could feel Sam's fingers curl around his own, squeezing tight and holding secure. The hold reminded him of Dave, but without the biting edge of desperation. Dave always held him like he was afraid Kurt was going to disappear. Sam held him like he just wanted Kurt to stay.

"Your eyes," Sam said. "You look sad in your eyes, especially when you talk about your boyfriend."

Kurt remarked, "My parents say the same thing. But it's not like I don't care about Dave."

"We already established that."

"He's just not the one," Kurt said, refusing to meet Sam's eyes. "I would know by now. He's not. And I'm bidding my time until I find the one."

Sam's hand lifted off Kurt's as the teacher entered the room.

"Just so you know," Sam said jokingly, "I'm available."

Kurt stood, ready to move back to his table. "I'll keep that in mind. But for the moment, how about we try friendship? I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to get to know you. Everyone at McKinley is pretty boring, but you're not, and it's exciting."

"Stay," Sam urged, gesturing to the seat Kurt had just risen from. "Be my lab partner. And my friend."

A warm sensation flooded Kurt and the butterflies were back, making his knees threaten to buckle. "Okay."

"And," Sam continued, "let me in on how you're related to Finn Hudson. Because he's pretty gigantic, and you're kind of not."

Kurt laughed, because everyone knew him, and everyone knew Finn, and it wasn't a secret as to how they'd become brothers. But Sam was new, and he hadn't grown up with what often felt like public information. It was a nice change, and as Kurt settled into his seat for the last few minutes before the teacher started the lesson, he knew for a fact that he and Sam were going to be great friends.

The lesson went by too quickly for Kurt, who found himself intoxicated by the smell of Sam's cologne. And in the blink of an eye the bell was sounding for lunch.

"So," Sam posed, still sitting as Kurt gathered his things up. "How about we get together some time?"

"What?" Kurt's hands froze halfway in his bag.

"For our upcoming Bio project?"

"Oh. Yes. Of course." Kurt took a steadying breath. "That sounds like a great idea. My house or yours?" It seemed impossible that Sam ahd forgien him so quickly, and so easily, but he wasn't ungrateful.

"Yours?" Sam proposed. "If you don't mind? My place is still kind of a mess. My dad is never home and my mom just started full time at her job. Boxes aren't even unpacked in some of the rooms."

Kurt nodded. "That's fine. I have Cheerios practice after school, but anything from then is good. Or on the weekends. Sylvester has us pulling double practices in the morning, but they're usually over by one."

"I can hang around after school," Sam assured him. "Or maybe I'll come watch you practice. I saw you during the pep rally, you were great, and then again yesterday during practice."

"Speaking of," Kurt said, shouldering his bag. "I saw you with the other Titans. You're joining?"

Sam explained, "Just looking for a couple of clubs and activities that'll look good on my college application. Plus, like I said, my folks aren't really around, and it sucks going home to an empty house."

Kurt let Sam walk him to the door. "Maybe you'll get a taste of popularity after all. The football team is pretty much god's personal gift to Lima, as far as the people of this town are concerned. Everything revolves around the football team. If you make it, and Finn told me you're good enough that you might, I wouldn't be surprised if you started eating at the same table at lunch with him."

Sam's eyebrows shot high. "Eating at the same table? I can barely contain my excitement."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," Kurt stated. "But this is a good thing, you joining the football team. You slushies will disappear for that matter, and-"

"Will I be as popular as you?" Sam asked abruptly, stopping Kurt from moving.

"The funny thing about me is that I never set out to be popular," Kurt said. "It just happened. Quinn and Finn are the ones who pushed for me to be a cheerleader in the first place, and my popularity is pretty much linked to Finn's. Plus, I think Dave would destroy any kid who did to me, what they did to you yesterday."

Sam hummed a bit, then sad, "But just so we're clear, you'd only consider dating someone of a specific social standing? And we're not going to mention how shallow that is."

Kurt poked at him. "You're making me like you less. But yes, Sam, I'm only interested in boys who don't need to change their clothes several times to day, and who don't run up a dry cleaning bill."

"In that case," Sam whistled out, moving ahead of Kurt, "I'll just have to be quarterback. Then maybe prom king. And by senior year, I'll run this place."

"Not likely!" Kurt called after him.

Kurt watched Sam disappear off down the hall for a moment more, and then an arm pulled him close and Kurt was ducking under Finn's large stature.

"Come on," Finn said, leading him in the opposite direction of Sam, "it's lunch time. We'll swing by my locker and pick up your food."

Kurt glared at him. "I left it at home for a reason."

Finn stiffened for a moment, then continued pulling Kurt along. "I'll tell dad."

Kurt resigned to his fate and only a few moments later he was holding several Tupperware containers. Then they were on their way to the cafeteria.

"I had a run in with Rachel Berry," Kurt told Finn when they were settled into their usual table in the cafeteria. It was still a little too hot to eat outside, the residual heat from the summer slowly tapering off, but Kurt couldn't wait to get away from the cafeteria as soon as possible. It was always a little too cramped for him. Too many people. Too many people watchign.

Kurt ended up with Puck pressed in close on one side, and was letting the older boy sneak bites of the brown rice based casserole Carole had made for him. Finn was pretending not to notice. It was a system and usually how lunch unfolded.

"Berry?" Dave asked from Kurt's other side, a greasy hamburger in his hands. "That little psycho who goes around telling people how much better she is than them?"

Kurt mentioned, "You and your Neanderthal friends do the same thing every time you slushie someone."

"What did she want?" Finn asked, sneaking a chip from Mike's bag when the Asian teen was distracted.

Kurt could feel everyone's eyes on him, from his brother's, to Quinn and Santana and Brittany who were even further down the table, along with a few other Cheerios.

"She wanted me to coerce you, Finn, into joining glee club."

A wave of laugher rose up as Finn demanded, "She did not!"

Kurt nodded furiously. "She did. And she graciously let me know that she'd be willing to allow me to participate in the club as well if I talked you into it."

Puck snorted. "Berry has such a boner for you, Finn."

Finn puffed out his chest. "Most of the girls do at this school."

A piece of carrot went flying through the air at a phenomenal speed and it smacked into Finn's forehead.

"Quinn!"

Her eyes were slits. "You know the rules, Finn Hummel."

Finn's hands went up in the air instinctively. "Look, but never touch, and think, but never say."

She sent another carrot careening his way for good measure. "And don't forget it."

"I told her I'd ask you, but that she had a better chance of being well liked, than you joining glee." Kurt pushed the rice completely aside and started in on his fruit salad. "I think she'll let the matter go."

Dave waved a hand. "We'll give her a double shot tomorrow, just to make sure the message is clear."

Finn nodded, but Kurt could easily detect the hesitation in the action. Kurt just wasn't sure what to think of it all.

October 12, 2005

Kurt knew he was different by five. But he didn't have a label for it, or the confidence to admit it, until after he'd had his first kiss with Dave Karofsky, and his thirteenth birthday passed.

His family, for the most part, had always indulged his eccentricities. They overlooked his oddities and accepted him fully for the person he was. They loved him. And Kurt had no doubt, that barring some horribly unforgivable action, they'd continue going on that way, regardless of whether or not he told them he was gay.

So he didn't tell them.

He accepted the fact that it was plainly obvious what he sexual orientation was. He fussed over his hair, hoarded pairs of distinctly feminine shoes in the back of his closet, and had a sinking suspicion that his voice wasn't going to drop like Finn's had. And that was okay, because Kurt could tell, his father was going to be a little awkward with the subject if he tried to bring it up, and his mother was probably going to try and take him to a PFLAG meeting. Kurt was really okay with not telling anyone, and instead letting actions speak for themselves.

Kurt's best friend, after Finn, was a scrawny looking, button nosed girl who spent more time with her nose in a book than Kurt did shifting through his closet. They were mostly friends because she was very good at listening, and Kurt had gotten to the point in his life where all he wanted to do was talk, and he was afraid he'd burst if he didn't get it all out. Plus, her older brother was the same age as Finn, and they knew each other, which Kurt likened was probably the reason he and Amber were friends in the first place.

She was the one who gave Kurt his first crush. Not directly, of course, but she was responsible for it, and in a way, of Kurt finding a way to come out without actually having to say anything.

She gave him Johnny Weir.

"Dude," Finn said, strolling past Kurt's room. It was the first year in the new, bigger house, and they were both still adjusting to the fact that there was on an observed personal space between them. Kurt liked having his personal space, something that hadn't really existed before, but he missed how he and Finn could go nearly a whole day without seeing each other. "What're you doing?"

Kurt's hands braced the Johnny Weir poster as he fumbled for a thumb tack. "Putting up a poster. Amber gave it to me. She thought I'd like it. She was right."

Finn moved easily into the room, frowning a bit. "Who's that?"

Kurt took a step back to admire the poster once he had it in place. "Johnny Weir. He's the reigning US Champion. I think I'm in love."

"You put a poster of a guy in a leotard up in your room?"

Angry, Kurt defended, "So you get to have all of those posters with brainless and toothless Neanderthals up in your room, but I don't get to have one of the only person who fully embodies grace and determination?"

"Hey," Finn said, hands up. "Sorry. I didn't mean to piss you off. But for the record, I have posters of hokey players in my room. And some of them still have their teeth."

Kurt sighed. "Johnny Weir is perfection, Finn. Not only is he a flawless mix of femininity and masculinity, but his fashion sense is impeccable. He's more physically fit than most of your hockey idols, and I have no doubt that he'll go to the Olympics next year, looking fabulous while he's at it. He's-"

"-really gay."

Kurt had Finn by the scruff of his shirt a moment later, and all but threw the larger boy out of his room.

Standing at the doorframe, Kurt told him, "I don't expect a lot out of you, Finn, but I was kind of hoping I could count on you for this. But you let me down, and that hurts worse than anything. You're a jerk. Leave me alone." He slammed the door as hard as he could and headed to his bed where he sat on the edge and deflated.

His eyes lifted back to the poster. Johnny Weir was everything Kurt wanted to be. Because Johnny Weir was beautiful and confident and didn't care about what other people thought of him. When it came down to it, the figure skater wasn't fooling anyone about his sexuality, Kurt could see it as plain as day, and that meant others could as well, but the more Kurt learned about Johnny, the more he admired. Johnny thought his sexuality wasn't anyone's business, and neither confirmed nor denied what it was. Kurt wanted that to be the case with himself. Because who Kurt ended up loving was between himself and that person, and not anyone else.

At his father's call for dinner, Kurt ignored it. He'd lost his appetite.

He was laying in bed, a book open on his lap when a gentle knock came at the door. A half second later his mother poked her head in and Kurt waved at her, a smile forced on his face.

"You and Finn fought?" she asked quietly, sitting next to him on the bed.

Kurt nodded slowly.

"He was tight lipped at dinner." She smoothed out his blankets and took his book carefully, marking the page and setting it on the nearby nightstand. "Your father is worried. You want to talk to me? He's going to handle Finn, and I was thinking we could talk."

Kurt pulled the blankets to his chin and waited a moment before mumbling, "I know this is Ohio, and I know people can be horrible here, but I didn't expect it from Finn. He's my brother. He's not supposed to … I just thought …."

Carole scooted further up the bed so she could put an arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Did you ever tell him?" The context was heavy in the air.

Defensively, Kurt answered, "I never told you or dad."

When Carole laughed, in a light and airy way, Kurt relaxed a bit. She said, "But then you never had to, sweetheart. Your dad has known since you were very young, and I'm sure I knew before you even started considering the possibility. Your father and I, we pick up on these things because you're our child. We know you better than you know yourself. We don't need to be told these things, especially if you don't feel comfortable enough yet to say them. Finn is different."

Kurt's eyes slid shut and he leaned his head on his mother's shoulder. "It's the way he said it, mom. He said gay like it was something bad, something abnormal, something I shouldn't want to look to or be like."

The pressure of her fingers on his shoulder tightened. Then she said, "You know how much I love Finn, Kurt. I love both you boys, but I love Finn in the way that your father loves you, with just a little more time together, and a lot more understanding."

Kurt nodded.

Carole continued, "So believe me when I say that Finn is absolutely clueless when it comes to most things. His heart is always in the right place, and he's a good boy, becoming better with every day. But he is rough on the edges, he doesn't think before he speaks, and often he just doesn't think at all."

"Will he hate me when he finds out I'm gay?" Kurt assumed that was what their father was talking to Finn about at that very moment.

"Oh, sweetheart." Carole kissed his fringe of bangs. "Listen very carefully. Finn does not hate gay people and you know, no matter how badly you're hurting right now, that he could never hate you. I've never seen anyone as protective of another as Finn is of you. There is no question or doubt in my mind that Finn will love you as dearly as it's possible to love someone for as long as you both live, and then after."

"But he said-"

"Finn repeats a lot of what he hears at school." Carole's tone was tryingly terse. "It's something he's always done, and as he gets older, it happens more frequently. Finn is like a mirror, I think. He reflects back what he sees and hears and learns. I wish we lived somewhere else, somewhere more accepting, but the fact is, we live in the Midwest, and in an area where homosexuality isn't accepted. Finn sees and hears that every day when he goes out, and from nearly every person he talks to. He parrots it back because he doesn't know any better."

Angrily, Kurt demanded, "Why can't he tell that it's wrong to make fun of someone or disrespect someone or treat them different just because of who they love?"

"I don't know," Carole said quietly. "But I believe that's why you're here."

"Me?"

The tips of Carole's fingers moved up along Kurt's shoulder to the base of his nape. "You are the most honest person I've ever met, Kurt. We all have our flaws, but yours are greatly outweighed by the type of person you are. Your father and I worry all the time with Finn, but not with you. Not with most things. Because we know how capable you are, Kurt, and furthermore, we know what a good person you are."

Kurt thought suddenly of all the times the past few years that he'd stood around and watched all of Finn's friends-his friends-make fun of others because they were different. He thought about how he never did anything to stop them, and at most told Dave once in a while how it was wrong.

"I still don't know what you're saying."

Patiently, Carole said, "You are Finn's very best friend. You're closer to him than anyone else. And that means, despite what he sees from other people and hears at school, he still mimics you more than anyone else. You're ultimately his role model. Kurt, honey, what I'm trying to say is that you have to teach Finn how meaningless judgment based on sexual orientation is. You need to talk to him, and he will listen. You can go from there."

Kurt admitted, "I'm not even sure I can be in the same room as him."

Carole stood and then bent forward to kiss his cheek. "Sleep on it, okay? Your brother is a little ignorant on this issue, and you can fix that, if you want to."

Kurt slid a bit further down his bed and nodded to his mother. Then her hand passed over the light switch and the room was plunged into darkness. Kurt curled onto his side and brought his knees up. Maybe a full night's sleep would do some good.

He was startled awake sometime later that night. His room was still pitch dark, and he was a little too hot for comfort. It took him a moment to register that there was an uneven weight against his back, feet tangled in with his, and the unmistakable feeling of an arm resting across his stomach.

"Just me," Finn murmured sleepily, and Kurt wondered if his jolt had woken Finn as well, or if his brother had only just climbed in bed with him.

Kurt cleared his voice, then in a scratchy tone, asked, "What're you doing?"

Finn's arm pressed Kurt closer. "We didn't talk before bed. No warm milk. I hate it when we fight."

Kurt gave his brother a slight shove and turned towards him, one arm tucked under him and another clenching at Finn's shirt. "You're right." It was a tradition of their's, one that Kurt had started with his father after his biological mother had died, and then continued on with Finn once their parents had married. They always had warm milk together, and talked about all kinds of things. And the rule was, without negotiation, that they were not allowed to go to bed without having resolved their problems. But they had the previous night, and clearly it had eaten away at Finn as much as it had with Kurt.

"You hurt my feelings," Kurt whispered to him.

Finn's head shifted on Kurt's pillow. "Why didn't you tell me you were gay? Dad says you are. Why didn't you say something?"

Kurt scoffed. "Are you kidding? Listen to my voice, Finn. Look at the way I like to dress, and how picky I am about how I look. I've never shown an interest in girls. I don't like to get dirty, and outside of working at the shop with dad, I wouldn't be caught dead with grease on my hands. Finn, how did it take me putting a poster of Johnny Weir up in my room, for you to realize that I like boys?"

"I don't know." Finn shrugged. "I don't … I don't see stuff like that when I look at you, Kurt. You're just my brother. It's just the way you are, and I guess I thought you were waiting for a girl like Quinn."

Kurt bumped his head gently against Finn's. "A girl like Quinn? Finn, don't get me wrong, I like Quinn, but even if I were straight, I don't think I'd be into a girl like Quinn. You know I wouldn't."

The only sound in the room after that was the gentle breathing of the two of them. And the silence lingered for so long that Kurt was almost convinced that Finn had fallen back asleep. But then Finn said, "So you're gay."

"I didn't think I had to say it." Kurt's fingers clenched around Finn's shirt. "Gay is just a label. It's something that people call other people. It's an excuse to hate someone, or be mean. I just like boys, Finn. I like kissing them. That's all. I shouldn't have to label myself of justify myself. Not to anyone, and especially not to you."

Finn grunted, shifted, and then asked, in a calculating tone, wide away and fussy, "You kiss boys?"

"You kiss girls," Kurt returned.

"Who?"

Kurt leveled himself up a bit, head resting on his palm, arm out and bent at the elbow. "Are you serious?"

"What?" Finn demanded, sitting up all the way.

"You do not get to do this, Finnegan."

"Look," Finn said haughtily, "you're gay, or you like boys, or whatever. I don't care, Kurt. I was surprised earlier, and I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings, but I don't care. You're still my brother. I still love you. I'm still going to have your back. That's the end of it. I'll beat anyone up who tries to give you crap for liking boys, too. But I get to know who you've kissed."

Kurt jabbed a finger into Finn's chest. "You don't get to play the overprotective brother card."

"I think," Finn responded, "I get to know who my little brother is kissing. Tell me, or I'll tell dad you're kissing boys. I know you want me to know more than you want him."

Kurt paled at the thought. Finn could be overprotective on his best days, and a downright terror on his worst, but their father was a million times worse. "You play so dirty, Finn."

"I know." Kurt didn't need to see Finn's face to know he was smiling, and in a distinctly victorious way.

Kurt warned, "If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll murder you in your sleep. I mean it. I will smother you with a pillow until I'm sure you're dead."

"Cross my heart."

"Sometimes," Kurt eased out, "Dave kisses me after you guys play your games. And when he comes over, he holds my hand. He likes me, and he likes kissing me."

"Dave? Dave Karofsky?"

"What?" Kurt demanded.

Finn laughed once more. "Nothing. I just … it's not who I thought you'd be kissing. I mean, whatever. He's never said anything mean about you, and I like him enough. I guess he's my friend. If you want to kiss him, I'm okay with it."

Kurt drawled, "Well, who did you think?"

Finn laid back down, hugging Kurt once more and settling the both of them into the heavy comforter. "Dude? Honestly? Maybe Puck?"

"I'm going to smother you with a pillow," Kurt repeated.

Finn explained, "Hey! It's not my fault for thinking that! Puck kisses everyone. He has like five girlfriends at once, and he even says he got to put his hand on some girl's boobs."

"No. I did not kiss Noah Puckerman. I would be swallowing mouthwash by the gallon if that were the case." Kurt folded his hands over his stomach and closed his eyes. "I'm glad we talked, Finn."

Finn's voice was a whisper when he said, "I really don't care if you're gay, Kurt."

"I'm glad, Finn."

Kurt was nearly asleep again, Finn's warmth lulling him back to his dreams, when Finn's voice rumbled out, "What's it like to kiss a boy?"

"Finn!"

September 5, 2009

"I want you to marry me right now."

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure that's not legal in Ohio."

Nearly salivating at the mouth, Sam braced himself on the Hummel entertainment center. "If you agree to marry me I will go down to the main office of the Ohio State Court, and petition that to change."

"It's just a TV." Kurt crossed his arms. Well, Kurt knew it was more than a TV. He and Finn been with their father a year previous when he'd bought the system. Kurt knew exactly what the machines entailed, and how much it had all cost. His father had saved for what seemed like forever for the system, and with the shop's business being better than ever, Burt had indulged himself. Of course Carole seemed to always be at work, the same with Burt, and Finn hadn't quite managed to turn the thing on without breaking something. Kurt hardly watched TV, outside of a couple of shows that were complete guilty pleasures, so the entertainment system never really saw much use.

"Just a TV?" Sam repeated, fingers brushing over the expansive cabinet of movies next to the system. "This is heaven on Earth, Kurt."

"I'm glad you like it. I promised you one afternoon free of studying, and free of homework if we got through our science project. So go ahead and pick something. I'll get our snacks."

Kurt had been, what he could officially call friends, with Sam for just a bit over a week. And like Kurt had suspected, getting along with Sam came a bit too easily. They weren't compatible in the slightest bit, but it was oddly enough what drew them close together. Kurt found he could talk to Sam, and the other boy not only listened, but returned an answer relevant to the question. It was something revolutionary to Kurt, who usually received only a look of confusion from Finn, and a smartass joke from Puck. And Dave was a great listener, but rarely had something to say in return.

Getting to know Sam, to know what he liked and didn't like, was fun. Kurt couldn't ever remember being so engaged in another person, not like he was with Sam. They could talk about anything, and usually did. Sam made him feel like he could open up with his emotions, and never judged him for things that Kurt often felt stupid saying. Even more, Kurt was learning to trust Sam. Kurt didn't trust people easily.

If they worked well together as individuals, they worked even better as students. Kurt was relieved to find that Sam was above competent. In fact he was actually very smart, and Kurt, who'd never once had a science partner who could meet him half way, found himself running to catch up at times. It was a nice change.

"What kind of snacks?"

Kurt turned to see that Sam had followed him into the kitchen.

"Your job is to pick out the movie," Kurt reminded.

Sam held up a blue box. "I have that covered. How do you feel about Avatar? It's kind of my favorite movie ever."

Kurt eyed him. "Never heard of it. It must be Finn's."

Sam's hand came down hard on the nearby island and he demanded, "Never heard of it? It's only the most profitable movie in the history of American cinema. This the culmination of James Cameron's life, his legacy, Kurt. This movie redefines the Sci-Fi genre, reinvents it, and then makes you think about it afterwards."

Kurt popped open the refrigerator. "So, how many times have you seen it?"

Sam looked guilty. "Probably dozens. Favorite movie, remember?"

Peering closer at the movie box, he said, "Oh, the movie with the blue people. I remember now. Finn went with Puck to see it. He said it was so long he fell asleep halfway through, then woke up just in time to see Sigourney Weaver die. Noah probably got this for Finn as a joke."

Sam looked scandalized.

"I'm not a Sci-Fi fan. I tend to become bored easily," Kurt answered honestly, placing two cans of diet coke on the countertop, followed by veggies and salad dressing. As he made up a quick platter, he said, "My dad is a big fan of westerns, and Finn, whether he'll admit it or not, most likely the second of the two, had never seen a romantic comedy he hasn't cried at the end of. He acts like he can't stand them every time Quinn wants to see one, and then presses his face into her shoulder to hide his tears when they're done."

"Healthy much?" Sam observed, watching Kurt topple fruit onto the platter.

Kurt pursed his lips for a moment, then said, "Healthy eating is a priority in this house. We don't really go out to eat, and my mom is careful to plan all of our meals. You probably won't find many things that are high in fat or sodium or things that can lead to an unhealthy lifestyle. In fact mom is kind of pushing for us to go down a vegeterian route. My nutritionist says it's a real option."

"Nutritionist?" Sam asked with a frown. "Who has their own nutritionist?"

"I do," Kurt said defensively. "I like being healthy. Sorry to burst your bubble. Though I think there are some chocolate chip cookies in the far, lower cabinet. I did some baking yesterday and they should still be good. Finn ate a whole batch by himself, but I was smart and made two."

Sam retrieved the sweets and remarked, "Why doesn't it surprise me that you bake?"

"I stress bake," Kurt corrected. "It's a tick. A habit. A way for me to vent stress without blowing up on people. Right before midterms and finals you can expect, as my new friend, for me to show up on your doorstep with cakes and cookies and brownies. Finn showers me with presents during this time. He thinks it's bribery, and I let him think that, because Finn may play clueless when it comes to fashion, but he knows what I like, and he knows the right stores to go to."

"I like cookies," Sam said. "Feel free to bake for me any time." Sam and Kurt exchanged a long smile, one that had the butterflies in Kurt's stomach fluttering about. Then Sam mentioned, "You never said what kind of movies you like."

Teasingly, Kurt said, "Why don't you take a guess?"

Sam leaned forward onto the top of the counter. "Well, it's obvious to me that you are a classic fan. You like your movies without special effects, plot driven, and in black and white. Am I right?"

"Carey Grant," Kurt answered, "he's my favorite actor. I love all the classics, but anything he's in, that's what I like to watch."

"I thought so," Sam said, delighted.

Kurt handed the platter over to Sam and followed him back out into the living room. "And musicals."

Questioningly, Sam repeated, "You like musicals?"

Kurt could only shrug. "I like music. No, I love music. Music is … it's freeing. It makes me feel free. When I'm listening to music, everything else just kind of fades away. The music is all that matters in that moment, and I let myself get lost in it. I like musicals because they make me feel the same way."

"I don't see any musicals in here," Sam observed when they were back in the living room and in front of the movie rack.

Kurt sat easily on the edge of the long couch. "I don't keep them in here. Finn has his friends over all the time There are some things I like to keep private."

Sam only frowned.

"Go ahead an pop the movie in," Kurt said, fumbling with the remote for a second before hitting the button to open the player.

Sam set the disk in the machine and told Kurt, "I play guitar. My mom taught me when I was little. Her dad taught her. And some day, I'm going to teach my kids. Do you play anything?" Sam joined him on the couch and if he sat next to Kurt, instead of a respectable distance away, Kurt couldn't bring himself to mention it.

Instead, Kurt thumbed towards a closed door, further down the hall. "We keep the piano in the study. I've taken lessons since I was four. I think I'm okay. I did a few recitals when I was younger, and for a while I wanted to be a concert pianist, but eventually I got too busy to keep up with my practicing and I'm sure I sound horrible now."

Sam watched him carefully for a moment, then asked, "Can you sing at all?"

"Debatable." Carefully, Kurt set a napkin out in front of him and counted out various pieces of vegetables, ignoring how he could feel Sam watching him. He refused to look at the boy and continued on with his exercise.

The opening credits of the film began to roll as the front door opened and Finn called out loudly, "Kurt? You home?"

"Finn?" Kurt rose met him in the foyer. "What are you doing home so early? I thought Quinn was taking you shopping for her cotillion dress."

Finn rolled his eyes. "She knew she could take care of that without me."

Kurt crossed his arms. "She took pity on you, didn't she?"

With a groan Finn tipped forward and rested his forehead on Kurt's shoulder. "It was so boring! All the dresses looked exactly alike. I thought I was going to die." He asked, "What's a cotillion anyway?"

Kurt's fingers pushed through his hair. "I know Quinn has explained it to you, Finn, and probably several times. But for the sake of my sanity, I'm going to tell you one more time. It's akin to a coming out party."

"Coming out?"

Kurt scoffed, "Don't look so scandalized. Not that kind of coming out. It's her introduction to polite society." Finn's frown remained.

From behind them, Sam said bluntly, "It's an excuse for rich people to get dressed up, throw their money and power around, and then parade their daughters like cattle."

If possible, Finn looked even more annoyed, and he greeted, "Hey, Sam."

"Finn." Sam nodded, then said, "Kurt, I paused the movie."

"You guys are watching a movie?" Finn asked, eyes shifting between the two of them.

Kurt grabbed Finn roughly and excused the both of them, dragging his brother to their father's home office. Kurt shut the doors completely and then asked, "What's your problem?"

Finn huffed. "You're bringing him over now?"

Irritated, Kurt reminded, "He's my friend, Finn. And you have your friends over all the time. We worked really hard all week to finish our Bio project early enough to submit it for review, and I promised him a movie and snacks. Why do you have a problem with that?"

"You can't associate with him," Finn barked out.

The sudden exclamation caused Kurt to laugh. "Did that just come out of your mouth? Why don't you try and justify it to me."

"You have a boyfriend!"

Kurt leaned back against the door. "I'm not cheating on Dave. I'm still with him, and Sam is nothing but a friend. Don't even think about starting some double standard, because you bring girls over several times a week that I know you're just friends with, and I never say anything to you."

"Yeah, but Quinn is almost always with them, and they're Cheerios, so they know if anything ever happened, Quinn wouldn't just destroy their faces, she'd kill their chances at cheerleading scholarships."

"That is not the point."

Finn asked, "What if people from school see him here?"

Incredulously, Kurt said, "Then I guess they see him, right? I just told you, he's my friend. I don't care what anyone else thinks."

"He's on his way to a slushie a day," Finn argued. "You can't hang around with him, Kurt."

Kurt shook his head. "You said he's on the football team."

"Not officially." Finn shook his head. "I mean, he probably will be. Beiste is going to be posting the official list on Monday, and she's had him practicing with us all well. But he's doing just as much damage as he is good, and right now, the bad is outweighing it all."

"In what way?" Kurt asked.

Finn took a step closer. "He joined Glee Club."

Kurt doubled over laughing. "He did not."

"He did!" Finn's voice rose. "I saw him yesterday, singing with them in the practice room. He joined, and Azimio is already talking about showing him what that means. And, to make matters worse, he tried to talk Mike and Matt into joining. And some of the other guys, too."

"I will assume by your tone you mean he also approached you."

Finn took a long breath. "I'm just saying, you don't know this guy, Kurt. He seems grabby with you. I've watched you guys study, and he's always closer than he needs to be. So I think he doesn't really care a lot that you have a boyfriend. And I'm not saying he's like, gonna try anything, but what if part of the reason he's friends with you is to get to me?"

Finn's train of thought, or logic process, wasn't always clear to Kurt. But in that instance, Kurt could follow along too easily, and he was reminded of how Rachel Berry had tried to get to Finn by going through Kurt.

"That's sweet, if not patronizing, Finn, that you would think Sam is taking advantage of me, but it's not true. We really are just friends. We like to hang out, just like you do with your friends. And yes, before you ask, Sam knows about Dave, and he'll respect that. I don't know what you think grabby means, but he hasn't crossed the line, and won't." Kurt nudged Finn to the side. "Now, I'm going to go watch a movie with my friend. You're welcome to join us, because we are just friends. Otherwise, I need you to give me a little breathing room and trust me."

Like Kurt had suspected, Finn was quick to ask, "What're we watching?"

"Sam," Kurt announced, heading back into the living room, "Finn is going to join us. I hope that's okay."

Sam said easily enough, "Okay. But we're watching Avatar. Kurt said you fell asleep the last time you saw it."

Finn gave Kurt a gentle shove towards the end of the couch and was careful to set himself on the middle seat, closest to Sam. Kurt was not amused.

"I'm not six," Finn protested. "I won't fall asleep."

A little over an hour later Kurt asked hesitantly, "So it's Dances with Wolves meets The Smurfs?"

Sam leaned around Finn to tell him, "Okay, you can say stuff like that when it's just us, but don't ever compare Avatar to things like that within a hundred mile radius of San Diego?"

Next to him Finn gave small twitch and then snore, and he dropped further onto Kurt.

"Why San Diego?"

Sam's eyes widened. "Comic Con? It's held in San Diego? It's nerd Mecca? Are the words coming out of my mouth the English language?"

"Questionable," Kurt laughed softly. Then he gestured to Finn and said, "Not even halfway, right?"

Sam's arm draped across the back of the couch and his fingers could almost touch the collar of Kurt's shirt, even with Finn between them. "Nope."

"Well," Kurt said, offering Finn's sleeping form a fond look, "this is Finn in a nutshell."

Sam popped a handful of chocolate chip crumbs into his mouth and then squinted at the tray of fruits and vegetables Kurt had prepared for them. Sam had destroyed most of it, and Finn had done a bit of damage as well, but Sam couldn't help but notice Kurt still held a napkin in his lap with several pieces of broccoli, mostly untouched.

"Not hungry?" Sam asked, gesturing at the food.

Kurt smiled kindly. "I made it for you. And honestly, dinner in this house is served early. If I fill up now, I won't have any room for that. I think mom is cooking tonight, and that's always something to look forward to."

Sam nodded slowly.

They finished the movie without interruption, and Kurt left Finn still sleeping on the couch when he walked Sam to the door.

"See you at school?" Sam asked, hands deep in his pockets.

Kurt nodded and opened the door for him. "In Bio."

Sam hesitated, hands itching deeper in his pockets. "I was kind of thinking during lunch."

Puzzled, Kurt repeated, "Lunch?"

Sam took a careful step over the threshold and out onto the porch. "Yeah. Lunch. We could go somewhere close to campus. Or we could just chill outside. We really only get to see each other during Bio, and maybe passing in the halls. How about we catch lunch?"

Kurt shook his head immediately. "I sit with Finn at lunch."

"He could come too, if you wanted. You could bring anyone you wanted. I don't mind."

"I'm sorry, Sam." And the truth of the situation was that Kurt understood all too well the type of relationship he needed to maintain with Sam. More importantly, he understood what was expected of him. There was no chance he'd be able to spend a lunch period with Sam, at least not until the boy cemented his place on the football team, and likely only if the glee club rumors that Finn swore on, disappeared altogether. Lunch time was for socializing. It was the biggest opportunity, and Kurt absolutely knew there was no escaping the fact that he need to sit with Finn, and Dave, and all the other of the most influential people at McKinley. "It's just that Finn-"

"Don't make excuses," Sam said, and he didn't seem angry to Kurt. Just sad. "And don't use your brother as that excuse. If you don't want people to see us hanging out together, whatever, that's cool. Maybe I should use the backdoor entrance to your house while I'm at it."

"Sam," Kurt said desperately.

"I know you think I'm not good enough for you," Sam said, and it wasn't at all what Kurt thought, or would have been willing to say. "You think I'm not good enough to be your friend or anything else. But that's going to change Kurt, and then it's going to be you who's questioning himself, and not me."

"That's not what I think, Sam." Kurt reached out for him, but could only grasp at air as Sam moved back. "It's just the way things are. I keep telling you, the more you're here, the more you'll understand. It's not about not being good enough."

Sam shook his head. "I'll see you in Bio, Kurt. I won't take it personally if you and your Cheerio friends don't wave to me at school the next time we see each other in the hall."

Kurt watched Sam set off down the road and ended up slamming the front door so hard it woke Finn.

"Dude," Finn said, blinking rapidly. "What the hell?"

Now in a terrible mood, Kurt only stormed past Finn, glaring darkly as he charged towards his room. He took the stairs two at a time and refused to acknowledge the burning in his eyes.

The following day, after a tense Biology class, and a lunch spent with Kurt's stomach churning too badly to even attempt to eat anything, Kurt blew off plans with Dave to head over to his father's shop.

"Kurt," his father said cautiously. Kurt knew he hadn't been expected.

Hands twisted around the strap to his bag Kurt said slowly, "I was hoping for a little private time." His father was dressed in his usual coveralls, the blue material streaked with oil, and it was a good indication of how long Burt had been at the shop that day. "With Shelby."

He knew he surprised his father, especially when it took the older man a moment to say, "You haven't. Not in a while."

Kurt could only shrug. "I'm all … I feel all knotted up. Tense. Anxious. I need a little car therapy."

Burt gave a gruff laugh. "Better than retail therapy. That costs me an arm and a leg." Burt pulled a rag free from his pocket and blotted his forehead. "Fine by me. You know you can, any time you want. I'll tell the boys to stay out of your way." Burt frowned. "How'd you get here?"

Kurt crossed the floor of the main area, ducking around a car on a lift and calling back to his father, "Finn can get a ride home with Quinn. It'll be a great excuse for them to make out."

His father trailed after him. "I got that car for you and Finn both, Kurt. You can't just cut out on him, even if you won't left him drive it."

"Do I need to remind you the amount of collateral damage he incurred the last time I handed him the keys?"

Kurt reached the far end of the shop moments after that and stood still in front of a covered shape. He let his hand reach out and rest against the brown cloth, wondering how he'd let so many months go by without paying Shelby the kind of attention she deserved.

Quietly, from over Kurt's shoulder, his father observed, "I wasn't sure you were going to come back to her."

Kurt gave a hard tug at the cover and unveiled his current project, taking more than a moment to appreciate the Shelby Cobra. She was in pieces still, in desperate need of a paint job, and with more than a year's worth of work left on her, but she was still as beautiful to Kurt as the first day his father had shown her to him. He still loved her dearly.

"I got distracted," Kurt acknowledged, a hand sliding along the frame. "But I'm here now." He offered a toothy grin to his father.

It was something they'd started half a decade earlier, when Kurt had accompanied Burt to the junk yard for the first time and run across the framework for an Aston Martin. He'd spent the next three years working on the car with his father, learning the more intimate details of car construction, and working towards the mechanic's license he'd gotten just before his sixteenth birthday. He'd ultimately sold the Aston Martin, despite his father's urges for him to keep it, and spoiled himself silly with every piece of clothing he possibly could.

The Viper had come next, and then the Charger. But then Kurt had entered high school, and slowly but surely he'd found less and less time to devote to his cars. He hadn't been to see Shelby since he'd been released from the hospital.

Burt joined Kurt at the car. "We're pretty full up in the shop today, I'll probably have to work up until dinner, but how about we work on Shelby this weekend." Burt leaned against the car a bit. "We hardly work on the cars together anymore." Mostly it was Kurt who worked on them when he had the free time, and Burt who doubled check for him, but hardly waited up.

Kurt shook his head. "Sylvester called an all day practice on Saturday to get us ready for our first competition next week. And Sunday I promised I spend some time with Dave. I think I've been neglecting him, and he's just been too nice to say anything."

"About those Cheerios."

Kurt reached for his coveralls hanging from a nearby rack and stepped into them. "What about?"

Awkwardly, Burt asked, "How is everything going? You don't talk about it that much? That because you're afraid to let me know?"

Kurt gave a puff of breath, loud and exaggerated. "Sylvester fears no one, but if she did, I think you'd be the closest. She's still hard on me, dad, but she's fair."

Burt scoffed. "Fair?"

"It was my fault," Kurt said darkly. "No one forces a Hummel to do anything they don't want to. That's a fact. She may have been the motivator, but I was the perpetrator. We all have to shoulder a little blame, even if it's easy to just pin it all on her."

Kurt rolled his sleeves up as his father said, "I still think it was a mistake for you to go back."

"I'm not a quitter, either. And face it, even with my AP classes this year, and my cumulative GPA, my chances of getting a full academic ride to one of my preferred Universities is still pretty slim. Berkley's acceptance statistics are low, and NYU's aren't much better. Cheerleading is my failsafe. Dad, you know that Sylvester's squad is the best. She knows it too, and that's half the problem."

Slowly, Burt nodded. He'd been to nearly every one of Kurt's performances, sans the pep rallies and on campus events. "But would you be happy riding a cheerleading scholarship? Really?"

Honestly, Kurt admitted, "No, but I want to get out of this cow town. I want to get out of this cow state. If it means I have to shake pompoms for four years in college to make that happen, I'm willing to sacrifice what little dignity I have left."

For the next few moments Kurt worked quickly and efficiently, retrieving his tools, inspecting them, and then setting them within easy reach.

"How about that councilor you're seeing?"

Kurt popped the hood on the Shelby classic. "I think she has more problems than I do. We talk a little about me, but mostly her OCD just runs rampant and she ends up dissolving into a complete mess afterwards."

"We can find you someone else." Burt settled a serious hand on Kurt's shoulder. "If she makes you uncomfortable, or you feel like she isn't helping, we can get you another person to talk to."

Kurt leaned into the touch a bit. "She's not not helping, if that makes any sense. I do honestly think she has more problems than I do, but she's a good listener. When I do decide to talk, she listens. I think that's all I really need. Going helps, even if I don't want to be there." Kurt finally pulled away from his father's hand. "High school can be a lot of things, and mostly right now it's suffocating. I feel like I can't breathe sometimes, but that feeling isn't there in the councilor's office."

"I told Finn to keep an eye on you," Burt grumbled.

Eyes narrowing, Kurt protested, "He's my brother, and I know we're supposed to look after each other, but I don't need him trying to coddle me, or you enabling him to do that. Finn thinks he's helping me, but he's really just sticking his nose into my business. Sam's not trying to use me. He's a good guy, but Finn can't see past the end of his nose and all he's doing is helping me destroy a perfectly good friendship."

"Woah, there." Burt's hands came up. "I think we just jumped subjects. Sam who?"

Slowly, and with a bit of reluctance, Kurt told his father about Sam, and about their misunderstanding, but more importantly, about the fight they'd had a day previous. He couldn't leave out how their friendship was strained again, and how easily it depleted Kurt's stamina.

"I'm not," Burt told him, "going to pretend like I know anything about your friends, or Finn's friends, or the teenager code that you two obviously live by. But I remember McKinley all too well, and I know where Finn is coming from."

"You're not supposed to side with him."

Burt scoffed. "I'm not siding with anyone. But it was exactly the same when I was at McKinley, as you are now. Face it, jocks and cheerleaders are always going to be on the top, and the funny thing about people is that once they make it to the top, they'll do anything to sink their claws in and hold on for dear life. Those people at the top, they don't like it when the boat rocks, and it impairs their judgment. Finn probably sees Sam as a threat, not only to him, but to you as well. Teenagers are like Neanderthals, Kurt. They're all instinct and no brains."

"He thinks," Kurt mumbled lowly, "that Sam is interested in me." He tried not to bring up matters of boys to his father. Kurt had never met anyone as understanding and loving and accepting as his father, but it was exceedingly obvious that the older man shied away from certain topics. In return, Kurt did his best to avoid them completely, never more thankful for how low key Dave was.

"And is he?"

"We're so hot and cold with our friendship, it's impossible to say that there would be the possibility of something more in the future."

Someone from across the garage called Burt's name. "You didn't answer my question, kid."

Kurt nodded. "Sam expressed an interest, but he respectfully backed off when he found out I wasn't available. He says he's not giving up, but he doesn't press the issue, either. I have Dave in my life, dad, and that's what I need right now."

"So you're settling?" Burt asked. At Kurt's questioning gaze he elaborated, "Well, obviously those feeling Sam has for you mean something. Maybe it's even a two way street. I know you, Kurt. I know when you're settling. When you're not happy. When you're sacrificing things. Maybe you ought to give this Sam kid a try."

Kurt shook his head and picked up a wrench, leaning into the car. "No way. I told you, Dave is what I need."

"There's a difference between needs and wants." Burt rubbed the back of his neck. "Geez, your mom is much better at this than I am."

"I know you don't like Dave all that much," Kurt said with a laugh.

Burt interrupted, "I never said that."

"You didn't have to." In fact Kurt had been aware of his father's feelings for Dave from the beginning. It was no big mystery that his father was wary at best, with the idea of them dating. The only reason he kept quiet was out of respect. "I'm not going to marry him, Dad, but like you said, jocks and cheerleaders are on top. I may be years more mature than Finn, but I'm no less a teenager, and falling down that social ladder is not something I'm willing to risk, not with witnessing first hand what happens to the bottom feeders of McKinley. Dave keeps me right where I want to be. Things will be different in college, but this is how they are now, and that's okay."

Burt shook his head as his name was called out once more, this time with a far more tense tone.

"I gotta go," Burt said, waving a hand at one of the newer mechanics. "But we should talk about this some more."

"Talking really isn't our thing," Kurt pointed out. They were good with a lot of things, and they communicated just fine, but Kurt had most of this heart to hearts with his mother. He was pretty sure it was the way things were supposed to be.

"And some things," Burt said, "are worth talking about."

Kurt watched his father jog the distance of the office on the other side of the shop, and then bent further into the engine, assessing the condition of it.

He felt his phone in this pocket vibrate but he ignored it. He turned his concentration fully to the car, preparing to spend the next several hours dedicated to making progress. The phone could wait, everything could wait, and all that mattered was working through his anxiety.

July 11, 2007

Kurt's eyes narrowed. His fingers curled tighter and he issued, "You have exactly three seconds to let go of the Gucci or I will launch myself over this display table and rip it out of your cold, dead hands." The scarf in question was immediately released and Kurt snatched it up victoriously, jostled suddenly as a pair of screeching high school girls plowed past him.

"Sorry," the boy across from him said, taking a step away from Kurt. "I just saw it and liked it. It's pretty. I thought my sister might like it, and her birthday is coming up."

There was genuine honesty on the boy's face, and when he smiled it was soft and lovely, which had Kurt's resolve weakening considerably. He steadied himself and said, "Sorry. I was perhaps a little forceful." He was still careful to keep the scarf pressed squarely to his chest. "I've been shopping all day for the perfect ensemble piece to complete my back to school look. This trunk show was my last chance."

Kurt's fingers were a little numb from the bag they were curled around at his side. He'd spent nearly the entire day shopping, his father's credit card tucked securely into his back pocket with his own wallet. He'd lost Finn an hour in, after he'd become distracted by the Swarovski Crystal shop. Kurt had a hunch that Finn would be spending the entirety of the money he'd made that summer working at the garage on a present for Quinn. He found it endearing.

"Sounds important."

Kurt scoffed. "It'll be my first day of high school. You only get one chance to make a first impression and mine is going to be fabulous."

The boy flashed white teeth. "I'm sure all incoming freshman think that. You won't feel that way by the end of the first day."

Behind the pair, a small group of women began feuding over a pair of stilettos. Kurt took a step closer to the boy to avoid being dragged into the mess.

"I'm Blaine," the boy said suddenly. He didn't hold out his hand, but he still looked as welcoming as he had minutes before.

"Kurt."

Security began converging on them and Blaine offered, "How about we get out of here before we end up in that dog pile?"

Kurt paused, unsure over the words. They sounded like a proposition, even if it was innocent in nature, and there was something overtly flirtatious about Blaine, something that made Kurt want to blush. He sort of made Kurt forget about Dave. There was, he realized, something incredibly attractive about Blaine. He looked like an addictive personality.

"Let me pay for this first?" There was still a good hour and half before Kurt expected his father to show up, and a good seventy minutes before Kurt needed to go hunt for Finn.

Blaine waited patiently with Kurt while he paid for the scarf, and together they made small talk, words easy and light between them. Kurt grew even more convinced that Blaine was flirting, but was at a loss of how to respond.

They ended up on the food court, Blaine dumping ketchup heavily onto his hamburger and Kurt palming his frozen fruit drink.

"So about earlier," Kurt said suspiciously, "you sounded pretty jaded. I doubt you've even had your first day of high school. Do you have an older brother or sister who's been telling you horror stories of high school? Because I have an older brother, and he says it's great. So does my dad."

Blaine blinked slowly. "I'm going to be a sophomore this year." When Kurt's eyes opened wide, Blaine laughed loudly, and in an attractive way. "I know what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking," Kurt interrupted, "is that I have an excuse for being so small. My growth spurt is coming, my dad says it'll probably happen sometime in the next year. What's your excuse?"

Blaine popped a fry into his mouth. "The cruel, cruel fate of genetics, I'm afraid. I'm pretty sure this is about as big as I'm going to get, which hey, it's not that bad. At least my voice dropped."

Kurt glared a little, self conscious of his own, airy and pitchy voice.

"Where are you enrolled?" Blaine asked.

"Not here in Columbus," Kurt answered. "I live in Lima. I'll be starting at McKinley."

Blaine shook his head a little. "No where near me. I thought as much. I think I would have remembered seeing you around campus. We probably would have ended up getting swirlied in neighboring stalls."

Confused, Kurt asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Blaine gave a quick look around, then dared to move his chair closer. He dropped his voice and remarked, "Well, it's not hard to tell. I mean, it's pretty obvious what you are."

There was a pit of anxiety in Kurt growing. "I don't follow. Could you please be blunt?"

"Anyone with common sense could tell, well, that you're," Blaine gestured oddly, "gay."

Kurt found himself snapping, "I don't approve of labels, Blaine, or of people who try and put me in categories. I'm my own person, and I'm not defined by who I choose to love, or want to get married to some day. There's a lot more to me than my sexual orientation."

"Woah!" Blaine's fingers caught the sleeve of Kurt's shirt. "I didn't mean to offend you. And you're not alone. I'm … I'm gay too."

Kurt froze, and he realized that it was the first time he'd ever heard anyone aside from himself admit to being gay. Even Dave, who kissed Kurt frequently, held his hand, and pressed himself up against Kurt in a decidedly sexual manner, didn't call himself gay.

And Blaine didn't look it in the least bit.

"You're gay?" Kurt deadpanned.

Blaine nodded slowly. "I haven't told my parents yet, they think I just come home with bruises and wet hair because I'm small, and I like theater, and I don't play sports."

Kurt's free hand came up to rest over Blaine's. "What?"

"You're excited," Blaine explained, "but that's because you don't know how horrible high school is going to be for you. You said you have an older brother?" Kurt nodded. "And I'm guessing he's tall, probably athletic, likable, and straight?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"This is Ohio," Blaine ground out. "The hetero normative is in. Anything that doesn't fit the status quo is what earns you a one way trip to being stuffed in a locker. I spent my entire freshman year being teased and humiliated and picked on."

"Your parents," Kurt stumbled to say.

"Don't know I'm out," Blaine reminded. "They're not exactly free thinking people. My dad, he wouldn't be okay with it. And my mom would have to pull herself away from the bottle long enough to fully get what me being gay means. So I can't tell them I'm being bullied at school because the one boy I kissed at the beginning of freshman year told everyone that I forced it on him, and what a giant fag I am."

Kurt blanched at the word. "It won't be like that for me."

"You're out?"

"I don't like labels," Kurt reinforced. "I don't like people calling me things like gay, or homosexual. I'm just me. But yes, for clarification, my family knows that I'm attracted to the male gender. And they accept me for exactly who I am."

"And," Blaine pressed, "do you plan to be out at school?"

Cautiously, Kurt replied, "There's this boy, I've known him for years. We … I think we're going to be together. We … you know, we do all the things together that people who are together do. Well, most of them, anyway. I'm pretty sure we're going to be boyfriends, so I think it would be a little hard not to be out at school. Plus, I'm not going to hide who I am. I may not go around shouting my preferences, but if someone asks, I'll be honest."

Blaine said sternly, "Kurt, you need to be prepared for the reality of your situation. You're a fifteen year old gay boy in Ohio. High school is going to be hell on earth for you, just like it is for me. You deserve to know that. You deserve to be prepared, and not to buy into your brother's bologna about how great it'll be."

Kurt tugged himself away from Blaine. "You don't know my brother. He doesn't lie to me, and he wouldn't let me go to a place that wasn't safe."

"Your brother isn't going to be able to control a school."

"Look, Blaine." Kurt cleared his throat. "I know you're just trying to warn me. You're trying to look after me, probably due to some strange homosexual ethic code you think you're obligated to fulfill. But I'm telling you, Finn told me to my face, he took care of everything. And that means everything. I'm not going to go to school and be scared. Finn wouldn't let that happen. And Dave, that boy I'm going to date, he wouldn't let it happen either. We're going to be out, and nothing is going to hurt us."

Blaine sunk a little in his chair. "I'm sorry, Kurt. But one day, and that day is going to be very soon, you're going to know how right I am. High school is breeding ground for ignorance and prejudice and discrimination. The next four years for you are going to toughen your skin, and it's going to make you-"

"Bitter like you?"

Kurt squared his shoulders. "You think I'm naive. You think I'm unprepared to deal with people who are going to hate me for just being me. And you're wrong, because you don't know anything about me. So I'm going to tell you, and I want you to listen very carefully."

To his credit, wordlessly Blaine nodded and seemed to relax a bit.

"Finn joined the football team this year. He's only on the JV team, but he's their quarterback, and he's good. He's so good I've heard my dad talking with the team coach. They're going to scout him out. He'll scholarship to Ohio State without any trouble, so long as he remains injury free. He'll be a Buck Eye, and maybe even a professional football player. Furthermore, nearly all of his closest friends, Noah, Mike, and Matt, just to name a few, guys who we've known since elementary school, made the team."

"Football won't protect you."

Kurt held up a sharp finger. "Finn's girlfriend, Quinn, she's a Cheerio. That's the school's cheer squad. Football may be a sport, but the Cheerios are an art form. They're the real power at the school. Their coach, Sue Sylvester, she's about the scariest person alive, next to my dad, and the way I hear it, she doesn't care about much, but she protects her Cheerios like a lioness. Quinn got me a tryout. I've been practicing all summer, getting as flexible as I can, and I'm going to make that team."

Kurt took a long drink from his smoothie.

"Kurt-" Blaine started.

"I'm joining student council," Kurt continued. "Laugh at that now, but student council controls school events, fundraising, and all of the dances at the school, including prom. I don't know how student council is run at your school, but at McKinley, it's a powerful club to belong to. Noah knows someone who can get me in, and I think a good portion of the student body is going to understand how easily I can fast talk the chair of the student council into slashing funding for the kinds of activities they look forward to all year, including the annual Cheerio wet bikini car wash."

Blaine gnawed a bit on his bottom lip, then asked, "What about you being gay? Kids won't overlook that."

"My boyfriend," Kurt said, and he felt confident calling him that, "Dave, he's already hit his growth spurt. He's pretty big, and he's going out for football next year. And the hockey team. His friends will back us. Now, I'm not saying everyone is going to be supportive, or even okay with us, but they won't cross that line, not unless they're looking to end up on academic probation for the next four year of their lives." Kurt arched an eyebrow. "I take honors classes, and most of my friends, and Dave's friends are more concerned with the newest video game coming out, and less about their homework. I usually hold a weekly cram session for them. They all come over and we study some, and I bake and Finn does his best to be a complete distraction."

"I want to think you have a chance," Blaine said quietly. "Someone should."

Kurt finished, "But you're forgetting the most important thing, Blaine. It's the one thing you blew off very early into this conversation. You're forgetting about Finn."

Blaine pointed out, "You mentioned him, with the football."

Shaking his head, Kurt corrected, "The point of that was that Finn is going to rule that football team very shortly, and they have the most sway over popular opinion with the school. I won't have to worry about them because of that. But Finn is a whole different story. Finn is a point unto himself."

Blaine revealed, "I have an older sister. She's almost seven years older." A bit sourly, Blaine added, "She was planned. I wasn't. That's why there's so much time between us. What I'm trying to say is that she's much older. We never went to school together. She's got her own life and I only see her a couple times a year. I love her, but I'm not so sure she'd put her own social life on the line to try and protect mine."

"Finn is different," Kurt said fiercely. "When we were kids he used to get into fights a lot, and always because people were picking on me. He always defended me, and he never cared about the consequences. Blaine, he broke bones and knocked out teeth for me, and he did it because he loves me. He will always love me. I'm his brother. He'd do anything to protect me, and I'd do anything to protect him. It's how we are, and I would never doubt him, not even for a second."

Blaine turned away, his face hidden from Kurt's sight, and he thought for a moment that the tension between them was about to boil over. But then Blaine sniffled, and Kurt realized he was trying to hold back his tears.

"I just," Blaine managed, shoulders folding in. "It gets so hard. Every day. They're so mean. They hate me so much, and no one cares. No one listens when I try and tell. I don't know what to do."

Kurt lifted a careful hand to Blaine's shoulder, then slid it fully around him. "It's okay. Didn't you tell me it's just four years? You're already done with one. That should count for something."

"Some days," Blaine admitted, "I don't think I can do it anymore."

Kurt felt a coldness flush over him. "What does that mean, Blaine?"

"Nothing." Blaine waved a hand at him. "Nothing. I just … Kurt, I'm glad things are going to be different for you."

Swallowing hard, Kurt said, "Sometimes I think, Blaine. I think that if only a couple things had been different, or maybe even just one, if it was a big one, that I could be in a bad place. Kind of like the place it seems you are."

"I guess life if funny like that."

"Maybe," Kurt mumbled.

There was, unexpectedly, little awkwardness between them for the next half hour. Kurt enjoyed his smoothie, then indulged in a bowl of steaming white rice while Blaine filled up on a second helping of french-fries.

"I have to go soon," Kurt said, scraping the bottom of his bowl. "My dad will be here soon and I still have to find Finn. If I'm lucky I'll find him at footlocker, salivating over fifty pairs of sneakers all in different colors." Kurt made a face at Blaine. "And they say I have a shoe fetish."

"I should get going too," Blaine agreed. "You have my phone number?"

Kurt nodded. "How about we try and talk at least once a week. It wouldn't hurt to have a support system between the two of us."

"Deal," Blaine said, and he was smiling as wide as he had been the first time Kurt had laid eyes on him. "Don't forget about your fortune cookie."

Kurt reached for the wrapped item. "I didn't even see it." He held it out to Blaine. "You want it?"

With a shrug Blaine popped open the wrapper and split the cookie in half, offering a piece of Kurt. He chewed on his half and squinted down at the slip of paper that had been inside it.

"What does it say?" Kurt asked, gathering his shopping bags up.

Eyebrows furrowed, Blaine turned it around so Kurt could see. There was one word, and Blaine read it out loud to him. "Courage."

September 6, 2009

With a sharp gasp Kurt dug his heels into the soft mattress and anchored his hands to Dave's shoulders, tugging the heavier boy closer as he was pressed further into the bed.

"Dave," Kurt breathed out, feeling his toes curl and a spark of pleasure shoot through his spine.

"What?" Dave asked, mouth trailing over the smooth column of Kurt's neck.

It took a great deal of self control for Kurt to push hard at Dave, and manage to find enough leverage to slide his boyfriend to the side. He let his hand rest on Dave's chest and said, "It's dark. Dinner will be in less than an hour and my dad will start spamming my phone about half an hour before that."

Dave sighed, rolled to his back and took a deep breath. "Your dad is amazing."

"Huh?" Kurt laughed a little, pressing his fingers against Dave's jaw line. "How do you figure that? You usually alternate between being scared to death of him and sulking because he knows full well how … physical, our relationship is."

Dave leaned in for a quick kiss, palming at his jeans despairingly. "Because he manages to be a fucking cock block without even being here. That's amazing."

"I'm not going to answer that."

Kurt threw his legs over the side of the bed and smoothed out his clothing, catching sight of his reflection in the nearby mirror. His hair was a mess, and he'd need to fix it before his father saw him.

"Hey." Arms settled around Kurt's waist and tugged him back against a solid form. "Breadstixs tomorrow? Beiste is going to post the official roster for the team tomorrow and I want to celebrate being first string again. Two years running."

Kurt pushed back into the embrace and mentioned, "So very modest."

"Just confident." Dave pressed a kiss to Kurt's neck. "I know what first string feels like. I took everyone down this week. Beiste knows what's going to get her a few more wins this season."

"Going for two this season?"

Dave's arms tightened and Kurt felt a sudden constriction in his airway. Nausea rose up in him and the entire situation, sprawled out on Dave's bed, disheveled from a make out session that had nearly gone a bit further, it all felt so wrong. He felt horrible, and suffocated, and like he was only perpetuating the hurt Dave was going to feel when the entire relationship came crashing down.

A swipe of tongue pressed over Kurt's pulse point and he shivered.

Dave reminded, "Every time the Titans win a game you and those other Cheerios shake your pretty little rear ends. So baby, believe me when I say I'm pulling for a sweep this season."

Kurt pulled away, scrambling to his feet and hunting immediately for his shoes. "I really have to go. You know my dad, Dave. That rifle in the den isn't just for show."

Leaning on one elbow, a look of confusion on his face, Dave said, "Yeah, okay. But tomorrow? Breadstixs? I know you like to shower after practice, so how about I pick you up at five? See if you can get your dad to extend your curfew, or at least not rip my balls off if I bring you home after ten. I was kind of thinking we could have some personal time afterward." His eyebrows rose at that and Kurt knew exactly what he meant.

Kurt bent, sliding a boot over one foot. "I can't."

"Can't?" Dave asked roughly. "What's more important than us celebrating our rise to the top?"

"What's this rise to the top?" Kurt asked, looking up through his bangs. His hair had fallen limp half an hour earlier, and he tried to remember if he'd used the last of the emergency hairspray he kept in his car.

Dave stood. "Your brother may run the school now, Kurt, and I'm cool with that. But next year he'll be gone, and quarterback or not, I'm taking over as top dog. You'll be head Cheerio and no one will ever say anything bad to us."

"At least not to our faces," Kurt mumbled.

"So why can't you?"

"Go to dinner tomorrow?" Kurt asked. He slid his other shoe on and shrugged into his jacket. "I have plans. A new record store opened up about fifteen miles from here. Sam and I are going to check it out. They might have some decent LPs to add to my collection."

"Sam?" Dave demanded. "You spend an awful lot of time with him, considering I'm your boyfriend."

Kurt snapped, "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought it was you I just spend half an hour making out with. I thought that was my hand on your dick, and your tongue down my throat. Was I wrong? Because I don't do that with Sam."

"So you're going to be a prissy bitch now?"

With a roll of his eyes Kurt headed to the bedroom door. "You're a real tool, Dave. Sam is my friend. Our friendship is pretty unstable right now am I'm trying to smooth it out. That's what friends do, Dave, they put time and attention into their friendships."

Dave groaned loudly. "I just don't get why you want to be his friend. You've got plenty now."

Kurt pursed his lips. "I'm entitled to being friends with whoever I want. And for your information, my supposed friends are your friends, and they're Finn's friends, and they're Quinn's friends. I actually have very few friends of my own. So it may seem selfish, or petty, but I want Sam to be my friend, and just because you've decided to regress in an evolutionary way, doesn't mean I'm going to change my mind. Also, call me a prissy bitch again and the next time I handle your balls, I'll be digging my nails in."

"Look," Dave said, reaching out and catching Kurt's elbow. "Just blow him off for one day and come out with me. I'm your boyfriend. You're supposed to do what I want."

"Unbelievable." Kurt pulled open the bedroom door. "You don't own me, Dave."

Dave lashed out, "I keep you safe, don't I? I make people leave you alone. I do a lot of shit for you, Kurt, that you don't know about. I make a lot of sacrifices for you, and take a lot of crap for hanging you off my arm."

Kurt's fingers tightened around the door handle. "I'm so sorry that I'm nothing but a dead weight to you. Don't think for a second that I want to weigh you down like that. Go ahead, cut me loose."

"That's not what I meant," Dave ground out. "But this is all I hear from Finn. That's all he has to say. You and Sam go out to the movies. You have Sam over for study sessions. Sam's your partner in Bio. And you'd be interested to hear what people are saying about Sam Evans and just how interested he is in being a lot more than your friend. Why don't you cut me a break and try and be a little understanding."

Kurt turned back sharply, demanding, "Is that what Finn is telling you? Because you're absolutely moronic if you believe my overprotective brother isn't sprouting off complete bullshit. Finn sees things that aren't really there. For Christ's sake, he spent three months last year thinking the crop circles at the McGillion farm were made by mutated cows."

Dave thrust a finger at Kurt. "Finn says you have Evans in your room!"

"It's my room!"

"Maybe you should just leave." Dave scrubbed a hand over his face. "And tomorrow, you send me a text message after practice lets out. Go ahead and let me know if I should pick you up, and let me treat you like my boyfriend, which you are, or if I should just blow off the entire idea and have a beer. You pick, Kurt. But just keep in mind that you're my boyfriend and I put you first, and you should put me first, too."

"That sounds like an ultimatum," Kurt bit out.

Dave settled on the edge of his bed, a bit deflated. "You know it isn't. You know I love you. I'd never let you go."

Slowly, Kurt nodded. But he couldn't say it back, and he couldn't shake the haunting feeling of the words. "I'm going to go now. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Want me to walk you to your car?"

Subdued, Kurt waved him off. "It's fine. Dave. I just …" Kurt wasn't sure how to finish.

He picked at his food that night for dinner, stewing silently as Finn rambled on about his plans for the following day. Truthfully, as Kurt pushed peas around on his plate, he wanted to take his fork and shove it down Finn's throat for feeding ideas of infidelity and mistrust to Dave about Sam. But he held back, and went to bed angry at Finn who lurked around for only a few minutes, sensing the mood he was in.

The following morning, in the car, as they drove to school, Kurt found himself exploding, "You're a complete asshole, Finn!"

Finn straightened immediately in his seat. "Woah. Kurt. Is this about me using your shampoo yesterday? I ran out of mine, and I'm totally going to buy you another bottle. Don't worry. I know how you salivate over that stuff."

"You told Dave about Sam."

"Why are you making it sound like he's your dirty secret? Weren't you the one who told me you and Sam weren't anything?"

Kurt's hands gripped tightly to the steering wheel. "We aren't, Finnegan."

"Not cool with the full name."

Kurt glared at him. "The point is, you know how Dave is with our relationship. Insecure, Finn, he's insecure. And no matter how many times I tell him Sam and I aren't anything but friends, the second you mention something fishy to him, he's going to take it and run. That's what he did last night. I wouldn't be surprised if he confronted Sam over this, and if that's the case, there's a good chance I'll destroy both relationships."

"Sorry." Finn rubbed his palms on his jeans. "I know. Sorry. But dude, you know this isn't going to work. Sam, he's a nice guy and all, but you can tell, Kurt. I know you can tell. He's not fitting in. He's not working into McKinley's system. And he doesn't want to. He's messing with everything, and that's not cool."

Kurt demanded, "And how is that my fault? Because I want to be his friend?"

"Because you want to be more," Finn said, sounding the kindest he'd ever. "You know it, even if you won't admit it, and Sam knows it. Kurt, Dave knows too. Half the fucking school knows it. Quinn's calling it repressed sexual tension, whatever that means."

"That's absolutely ludicrous."

Finn smiled. "I just want you to know, I'm going to laugh at you."

"Laugh at me?" Kurt asked, annoyance seeping into his expression. "For what?"

"The moment you realize," Finn explained, "you know, that you're falling for the guy. Because dude, if I can see it, and everyone else can, you'll have to eventually."

Kurt turned his attention back to the road and tried his best to ignore Finn completely.

Kurt caught up to Sam, later on in the day, in the break between his third period class, and Bio. Sam was rooting around in his locker and Kurt took a moment to admire the curve of his spine in the fitted Tee he wore, and the way his jeans hugged him. He truly was attractive, and even with the horrendously bad dye job, one that Kurt had yet to call him on, wasn't enough to detract.

"Hi," Kurt greeted, heading over to Sam with his books pressed firmly to his chest.

Sam's head popped out of his locker and he gave Kurt a once over, observing, "You look extra nice today."

"Versace," Kurt commented, "with a splash of McQueen. He's my staple. And I'll have you know I'm dressed like this for a reason." Kurt rocked back on the heels of his boots. "What're you doing tomorrow? After school?"

Sam seemed a little startled, then answered, "My parents are trying to guilt trip me into spending some actual time with them. The thought is almost too much to bear. I'd love to have an excuse, so if you're offering something, I'm already accepting."

"Then," Kurt eased out, "I was hoping we could take a rain check today, and let me make it up to you tomorrow."

"You're canceling on me," Sam said flatly.

Kurt hugged his books closer. "To be fair, we're mutually canceling on each other."

Sam closed his locker, threw his backpack over his shoulder and gestured for them to start off for their class. "How do you figure that?"

Trying to keep a bounce out of his step, Kurt mentioned, "So Finn told me you're really good at football, and by the way Puck grumbles about you all the time, I'm confident in thinking that's the truth, or better. So I have it on good authority from several members of the team that you'll have a spot for the first game. Beiste is probably going to put you in from the start, which is pretty impressive."

Sam nodded easily enough. "Coach already told me I've got the best potential she's seen in a while. I think she was trying to tell me I was on the team without actually saying it, at least before she's supposed to. What's your point?"

Kurt continued, "It's tradition here, tonight, that went Beiste officially posts the list, that the people who made the team go to Breadstixs and celebrate. It's basically one giant excuse to order a ridiculous amount of food and be loud and rowdy without getting thrown out. And it's pretty much required for you to go. Finn calls it a team building exercise. I think he's just parroting back what Beiste said to him." In fact Kurt felt a bit dense, thinking back over the conversation he'd had to Dave the night previous. He realized now that Dave was reminding him of the party, even if it had come out sounding like a date. Dave had, in his own, careful way, wanted to reaffirm their relationship as publicly as possible, and Kurt hadn't been able to see it.

Sam gave a small frown, then said, "Oh yeah, I remember Mike telling me about that tonight. I was just going to blow it off."

Kurt wagged a finger at him. "Not a good idea, Evans. Just go. Spend a couple hours with your new teammates, make yourself endearing and maybe they'll stop hunting for you in the hallways after glee practice."

"How'd you know about that?"

"Everyone knows everything at this school. Secrets are unheard of. Get used to that. Plus, everyone knows Mr. Schue's glee club is everyone's favorite punching bag, or slushie target. You're basically asking for it, joining that group."

"I like glee," Sam said with a shrug. "I like singing, so why shouldn't I join? I do the things I like, Kurt, and not the things that other people think are cool. You should try that idea on for size."

Kurt put a little distance between them as he said, "You can like singing perfectly fine. I'm talking about joining a club filled with losers who make a mockery of the very idea of that club."

"Way harsh." Sam hooked an arm around Kurt's shoulders and the shorter teen blushed. "They're not really losers, Kurt. Despite what your brother and friends might tell you, being different is a good thing, and it doesn't make you a loser. In fact, they're all pretty cool."

"Even Rachel Berry?' Kurt asked skeptically. He could feel the pressure of Sam's fingers pressing against his skin.

"Now she's a crazy chick," Sam said plainly. "If you have any complaint about that club, she's probably the reason, but Kurt, we're all kind of flawed. Everyone is a little messed up. Rachel is just … more messed up than the rest of us."

"Understatement of the century."

Sam let go of Kurt and he missed the contact immediately.

They arrived at their Bio classroom and Sam gave Kurt a gentle push, letting him go in first. He told Kurt, "But man, she's got a set of pipes on her. That girl can sing. I don't think I've heard anything like her voice before. Sure, that's the problem, she knows exactly how good she is, but that doesn't take away from it. She'll learn Kurt. She'll become a better person. We're teenagers, okay, and we're supposed to be selfish, annoying and all around hard to deal with. So she's a pill. Whatever. I like to think that I make her a little less of a pill, and so does that club. Now, if we got a few more members, we could actually compete. We need twelve. We've got five."

"Five?" Kurt laughed out. "That's not a club."

Sam slid into his seat. "Don't laugh. We're trying to recruit. But people are hesitant."

Kurt set his books down on the table and shrugged out of his jacket. "Because that's a one way ticket to loser status. Are you even listening to me when I talk?"

"Of course." Sam smiled wide. "You have a nice voice. I like listening to you talk."

Kurt looked away suddenly, fingers gripping the edge of the table. Sam had such a way, such an easy way of making Kurt feel unbalanced. Sam had Kurt unable to get his feet completely under himself. And it was such a freeing feeling that he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Everyone says I talk too much."

"I could listen to you talk all day. You have a soft voice."

"Don't be condescending," Kurt said sharply. "I have a girly voice. It's high pitched and feminine and if people weren't so scared of Finn and Dave, they'd tease me for it."

Definitive, Sam said, "Well, I like it. And I bet you'd have a really pretty singing voice."

"Oh no," Kurt said, suddenly realizing. His eyes went wide. "Don't even think about it."

Sam didn't say it, and Kurt appreciated it, but he knew exactly what Sam was thinking.

"You never said why it would be a mutual rain check," Sam reminded. He dug around in his binder for the homework he'd worked on with Kurt days earlier.

Perking up, Kurt said, "The football players and the Cheerios are pretty much inseparable."

"I got that." Sam rested his elbow on the table and leaned his chin into his palm. "I almost thought it was some kind of rule. You know, that Cheerios and football players could only date each other. You seem to all be paired up. Even you."

"It seems easiest that way," Kurt said with a shrug. "But I assure you. It's not a rule. Anyway, the Cheerios always join the football team at Breadstix. Dave asked me to be there with him, and I'm going to go. He's my boyfriend and I haven't been treating him very well."

"So you'll be there tonight?" The room was filling up as Sam asked, "You'll be at Breadstix with the rest of the Cheerios?"

Kurt nodded. "I'll be there."

"Okay," Sam said easily. "I'll be there too, then. And I'll see you."

Sam focused back on his homework and Kurt frowned, unsure of what had just happened between the two of them. All he knew was that Sam was going for him, and Kurt was going for Dave. The night clearly promised to be a headache in the making.

By lunch Kurt made his way to the cafeteria to tell Dave his decision in person, but he was filled with tension and anxiousness. He hoped his saving grace would be his brother's good mood. Finn never ceased to brighten Kurt.

But Finn was subdued as Kurt sat down next to Dave a pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. The boy was picking at his sandwich while the other boys at the table shot each other unsure looks.

"You okay, Finn?" Kurt asked, feeling Dave's hand slide over his own under the table and squeeze hard. "You look like Quinn just dragged you to another chastity club meeting."

Finn failed to respond, and instead dug around in his backpack until he produced Kurt's lunch and slid the container over to him. Kurt accepted it equally as wordlessly, then bit on his lip, worry starting to mount.

Puck spoke up, "Beiste moved the list back until after school."

Kurt turned to him, then asked for clarification, "The football team list?"

"It's a total buzzkill," Puck added.

Dave nodded. "This means something is up."

Kurt could suddenly appreciate Sylvester a little more. She was always completely up front with them. There was never any waiting around or nail biting.

Quietly, Kurt asked Finn, "Are you nervous?" He popped the lid off his lunch container. "Because I can't imaged you'd have anything to worry about. Maybe Puck, but not you."

"Hey!" Puck leaned over and pinched Kurt. "Watch it."

"Touch me again, Puckerman," Kut said, but his tone was light and playful, "and I'll make sure you don't see the underside of Santana's skirt for a month. Push me some more and I'll make it longer. I have enough dirt on her to extend your dry spell indefinitely."

Seriously, Puck said, "I never, not even once, doubted that you're McKinley's HBIC."

Kurt smiled triumphantly.

Finally, Finn spoke. With a mumble, he said, "I know the coach. She's changing something. She's rethinking herself, she's moving people around, or making extra cuts or something. There is a real reason that list isn't up by now."

Down at the end of the table, and with a mouth full of ham sandwich, Mike noted, "It's probably Sam. You know she's had him playing three different positions and running on two different lines. She probably can't make up her mind about him, and maybe some of the other new guys, too."

Kurt stabbed a fork at the eggplant salad in front of him. He recognized it from a book his parents own, one filled with high protein meals. With the combination of the way Finn was watching him pick at it, he knew he was in trouble. Kurt let himself fall back wholly against Dave as he skillfully avoided the small, cubed potatoes of the salad.

"Doesn't matter who she sticks where," Dave said confidently, his chest rumbling beneath Kurt as he spoke. "We're in charge here. We're top dogs. If there's an uprising, we'll just have to put it down."

Next to him, Azimio offered Dave a fist bump.

"You're not going to war," Kurt said with a small snort.

"Football is totally war," Finn protested.

"Well," Kurt allowed. "Sometimes you do come home bloody."

"I mean it," Dave continued, "We're the football team. No matter what coach does, we've been here from the start. If anyone tries to move in on that, we'll just have give them a little dumpster dive."

And in that moment Kurt was struck with the shallowness of not only his boyfriend, but his friends who were all nodding in agreement. He couldn't help remarking, "You'd think you'd be more interested in actually winning more than a couple games this season. Who cares if you have to share your popularity to do that." Because honestly, Kurt liked his popularity just as much as the rest of them, but he was beginning to think that there were more important things. Popularity, at least to Kurt, was starting to seem more like a burden. He wasn't sure he wanted to give high school a try without it, but the option was starting to sound a lot less horrific.

Dave's fingers released Kurt's hand and he said, "Look, I don't care who makes the team, not really."

"That's only because none of the new guys are bigger than you! Your spot is safe!" Puck called out, giving them a wave as he headed away from the table and towards a group of Cheerios who'd entered the cafeteria.

"I just care," Dave told Kurt, "if you're coming to Breadstix with me tonight."

Kurt's voice dropped and he said, "I told Sam we'd take a rain check, because I needed to spend some time with my boyfriend. He understood. So yes, I'll go with you. You can be at my house by five, no later than five-thirty, don't wear the aftershave I hate and try not to give my father a reason to shoot you when you're in the same room together for more than thirty seconds, waiting for me to be ready."

Dave defended, "You mom totally likes me."

Kurt got to his feet. "She's just a better actor than my dad."

Frowning, Dave watched Kurt gather up his things.

"Where are you going?" Finn asked. "Lunch isn't even half over."

"My locker." Kurt capped his lunch container. "I'll eat this on the go. Gentlemen. I'll see you tonight." He could feel Finn's disapproval, and Dave's confusion over his sudden departure, but Kurt continued on, moving quickly to his locker and dumping his lunch out into the nearest trashcan.

He was halfway through exchanging out his morning books for his afternoon ones when a shadow fell over him and Sam said in a forceful voice, "Dump your boyfriend and let me take you to breadstix instead."

Kurt glanced at him over his shoulder. "How about you try and be less delusional. I prefer sanity."

Sam plucked Kurt's books out of his hands, ignoring the protesting sound he made. Sam asked, "Did you or did you not tell me that at least half the reason you're with your boyfriend is because he helps keep you popular enough to keep the bullies away."

"You make me sound like such a callous bitch. I do actually care about him."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

Slowly, Kurt admitted, "Yes. If we're being truthful, the main draw to Dave is that he's got a powerful position in this school. Without him I'd probably just be the faggy kid that dresses like a girl half the time. Finn alone isn't enough to keep the homophobia at bay."

Chest puffed out a bit, Sam said, "Well, I can do the same thing."

Kurt closed his locker and took his books back from Sam. "Joining the football team will get you a lot of things, Sam, including a bunch of girls at this school who'll open their legs. But it won't get you respect. And that's what earns you popularity." Kurt considered for a moment, then added, "That and fear."

"And your brother, he has respect?"

Kurt nodded. "He's the quarterback. He's also the team captain. He inspires them, supports them, and holds them together. They respect him for that, and so does the rest of the school. The Titans aren't exactly … they tend to loose more games than they win, and Finn doesn't let that get them down."

"So what you're saying is that being quarterback earns you respect?" Sam crossed his arms, then repeated, "Dump your boyfriend and go out with me."

"Go to lunch, Sam." Kurt started for the parking lot and his car. He planned to hide out for the next twenty minutes. He need to be alone. He wanted to be alone. Sam's sudden change was jarring. Something was different and Kurt wasn't sure what it was. All he knew was that they'd gone from subtle, only somewhat wanted flirting, to brazen declarations. It made Kurt nervous.

"You'll change your mind!" Sam called after him. "Give it a couple of hours!"

Several hours later nothing had changed. As the final bell for the day rang, Kurt met Dave by his locker and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

"You're in a good mood," Dave said, happily taking Kurt's bag and throwing an arm over him. "Let me walk you to practice?"

"Don't you want to go check if you made the team?" Regardless of the question, Kurt looped a finger into the pocket of Dave's jeans and they started down towards the football field. "Sylvester knows that list is going to be posted today, and she may be a cold, heartless bitch, but she knows tradition when she sees it. She'll let us go pretty early tonight."

Dave jerked a thumb down a nearby corridor, "I'll double back and check it as soon as I drop you off. But I know I'm on it. I'm more interested to see where Evans ended up."

"I don't want to talk about Sam, okay? Just us."

The bottom line was, and of this Kurt was sure, Sam wasn't a safe bet. He wasn't anything steady or reliable and he wasn't worth risking Dave over. Dave wasn't perfect, but he was everything Kurt needed at the moment. Finn and Puck and the other guys were always talking about not rocking the boat. Kurt supposed it was time that he started listening to them, especially with homecoming around the corner, and prom later on in the year.

They stopped in the middle of the hallway and Dave looked at him for a moment, his expression unreadable and rattling Kurt's nerves. Then he said, "I love you, Kurt." There was such ferocity behind the words, such authenticity and passion that Kurt couldn't move, not even as Dave angled him backwards into a row of lockers, his hand cradling the back of Kurt's head as it made contact. He tilted back, jaw rising, and then they were kissing, deeper and harder than they'd ever done before, forgetting their setting, and who could be watching. Dave's fingers fisted Kurt's shirt and worked his mouth open.

Kurt felt himself tremble, and then Dave pulled back, a frightened look on his face. "Kurt." His fingers brushed at Kurt's cheeks, catching tears that had leaked out. "God, did I hurt you?"

Kurt caught his fingers, curled around them and then kissed them softly, shaking his head. "No."

"Then what?"

Sniffling a bit, Kurt said, "Just walk me to practice, okay? Walk me to practice and then pick me up afterwards, take me to dinner and make me forget."

Mouth open in frustration, Dave asked, "Forget what?"

That there were not stars, Kurt wanted to tell him. That there were no stars and no butterflies and nothing but a warm pressure and a determined tongue. Dave had kissed him with everything he had, and Kurt had felt nothing.

"What's with you?" Quinn demanded halfway through Cheerios practice. She dabbed at her forehead with a white towel. "You look like you just ruined your favorite shoes or something." Her eyebrows rose. "The Chuck Taylor boots."

Kurt pulled his own towel across the back of his neck. "You love Finn, right?"

Quinn shrugged. "I guess. I'm not really sure what love feels like, but I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I want to have kids with him. I think that's enough."

"What if Finn wasn't popular?"

Quinn seemed confused. "He's the quarterback. Why wouldn't he be popular."

"No," Kurt sighed. "Say he wasn't the quarterback. Say he wasn't on the football team at all. Or maybe he joined glee, or wasn't so good looking. Anything. Just … what if he wasn't all the things that you like best about him, but when you looked at him, you kind of felt your knees lock up and your stomach jump around."

Her nose turned up. "I wouldn't. Kurt, you know as well as I do that status is everything. I wouldn't fall for a guy who didn't have it."

"Quinn," Kurt snapped a little. "Indulge me. What if?" He ran his fingers through his hair. It was already destroyed from the heat and his sweat. "Or what if another guy, who didn't have any of what Finn has, made your heart beat a little faster? What if you wanted that, even if it wasn't what you'd been told to want."

Quinn made to answer, and then Sylvester was barking at them to get back in formation. Kurt took his position at the front, catching a wink from Jason Kenmore, his old base, before the boy bent forward to told tight to his flier. Never more in that moment did Kurt miss flying.

And it was on his mind, that and Quinn and Sam and Dave, in a wave of anxious thoughts that had come to be routine for him, by the time practice was over.

Quinn gave him a long wave and promised, "I'll see you tonight at Breadstix!" and then was gone, heading off with Santana and Brittany towards the locker room.

Kurt lingered behind, stretching his tired muscles a little more and enjoying the peace. He had no doubt he'd go home to his father and brother causing a ruckus over the football roster. And it would continue long into the night with the party, so Kurt let himself go in the quietness of the football field, the sun threatening to drop behind him.

"I wasn't kidding when I said I missed you being my flier."

Kurt spun sharply, a hand pressed to his chest. "Jason," he breathed out. "You scared me. I thought everyone was leaving." The tall senior had his bag over one shoulder and his cleats hanging from one hand.

"I'm going," he said with a laugh, "I just wanted to tell you that I really meant what I said last week when we talked."

Kurt's memory raced until he could recall that morning on the first day of school when Jason has smiled kindly at him and said as much.

Kurt knelt to gather up his things. "We both know why things can't be that way. That's kind of you to say, but I can't be your flier anymore."

"You trust me?" Jason asked, moving up behind Kurt, his hands fitting so casually onto his waist on either side.

"Of course," Kurt barely managed. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be held by him. It had been almost half a year since the last time. But the fact remained, he did trust Jason. He trusted him with his life. They had years of solid trust built up between them, and a little time apart hadn't diminished it at all.

"Then," Jason said, his voice tickling Kurt's ear, "hold on and keep your balance."

He went up so fast and so suddenly, with so much power, Kurt wobbled. He remembered when wobbling would have earned him a shout from Jason, a scream from Sylvester and disappointment from himself. Now there was only silence, and concentration, enough for Kurt to straighten out and extend his arms.

"You okay up there?" Jason called out.

Kurt couldn't help the brilliant smile that refused to be moved from his face. "Fantastic!" He could see out across the whole field, towards the school, and even further back. He was only a mere six feet of the ground, but it felt like a mile. And he was so overcome with happiness that he started to shake once more.

"I'm bringing you down!" Jason warned, and then Kurt was back on the ground, held fast and sure to Jason, the both of them laughing wildly.

"That was so great!" Kurt staggered a bit when Jason let go of him.

"I told you I could do it!"

The laugher falling away, Kurt was struck by the seriousness of his friend. "I realize that now. But it doesn't make it any less dangerous."

Jason crossed his arms. "We're cheerleaders and we tumble. There's a good chance a good deal of us will break some bones in a single season, especially with the way Sylvester works us. But me lifting you, with the trust and familiarity we have, that's not dangerous."

Kurt shook his head. "A year ago that would've been true, but things are a lot different now."

"I know," Jason said determinedly. "I've been at the gym this summer. I've bulked up. I mean look at this guns. I put on at least fifteen pounds of muscle. I'm stronger than ever, and I think I just proved that by how easily I lifted you."

"I finally hit my growth spurt," Kurt argued. His voice trembled as he admitted, "And I put on weight."

"Sylvester is a bitch."

Kurt's eyes widened. "That doesn't mean she's wrong."

"You're my friend, you're my flier, Kurt Hummel. I should get to decide that, not Sylvester, and I'm gong to go bat for you with her."

"You just don't like working with Kendal." Kurt shook a finger at him. "That's no reason to stir up trouble."

Flatly, Jason asked, "You like flying?"

Kurt couldn't lie, not to one of the few people in his life that had always stood by him. "Of course. You know how much I love it."

Jason's head nodded to the side, and Kurt looked to the edge of the field where he saw Sylvester watching.

"When she told me," the senior told Kurt, "that you weren't going to fly with me anymore, I may have freaked out on her a little bit. Maybe she was still scared from when your dad came after her, but she told me something Kurt. She told me the real reason why you weren't flying with me anymore."

"The real reason?" Kurt could barely tear his eyes from Sylvester, and he knew she'd seen everything, including the illegal lift. He could only be grateful she couldn't hear the conversation he and Jason were having, or that she wasn't tearing into them for him going up without more than one person to support him.

"You doctor," Jason said with a kind smile, "and your father. They agreed. The stress to your body involved with the conditioning you'd have to go through to be ready to fly … they didn't want to chance it. The didn't want that pressure on you, so they told Sylvester, and Sylvester told me. Then she made up another reason why, because she doesn't want people to know that she actually cares about us. I think she sees that as a weakness. She didn't want you to get hurt anymore, Kurt, but I think this is hurting you just as much."

Kurt's hands balled. "I should be furious at the people in my life for going behind my back like that and making these kinds of decisions for me."

"But?"

"But nothing." Kurt shook his head. "I hate this. You know. I hate this so much."

"You're not sick anymore," Jason said, turning a bit, prepared to leave. "And I've been watching you this past week. It wouldn't be that hard for you to get into shape. I want you to fly with me, Kurt, and I'm challenging you to make it happen. We're going to train together every day after school when we don't have practice, and this time next month we're going to throw Sylvester's words in her face. Deal?"

Kurt looked back to where Sylvester had been standing, but she was gone. "Sylvester-"

"This isn't about Sylvester. This is about you and me. That's it. I want my favorite flier for my senior year."

"What if I get you hurt? I know you're going to cheer next year on the collegiate level. I'm not the same I was last year, or the year before that."

"Take the deal, Kurt. I can see it in you when you're standing in front, holding up a dinky sign while I throw Kendal in the air. You want this, so just agree already, because my mom is making meatloaf tonight and if I'm not there on time I'll get stuck washing the dishes. Kurt, there are six people in my family. That's a lot of dishes."

It might have been a moment of weakness, but all Kurt could think of was how badly he wanted to fly again. He wanted things to go back to the way they had been, and he wanted his confidence back. He was tired of faking it. "Okay."

"Okay what?"

Kurt swatted at him, "Okay, you're right, I do want to fly again. I miss it, and thank you for forcing me to admit that."

Jason assured, "I'm being totally selfish here, Kurt." He started heading off the field. "I like the best, and you're that. So don't thank me!"

Kurt was practically buzzing with adrenaline after that, nearly running to his car and climbing in with lightening speed. He took a moment to check his phone, cycling through several text messages to get to the one from Finn, dated nearly an hour ago that informed him he was catching a ride with Puck. There was another message from his father from fifteen minutes earlier, and one from Quinn, but Kurt ignored them both in favor of getting home as quick as he could.

Kurt knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into the house. It was quiet, and in a way that seemed unnatural.

"Hello?" Kurt called out, toeing his shoes off and then bending to pick them up. "Finn? Dad? Mom? Is anyone home?"

He was expecting his brother to greet him, or maybe Puck. Puck seemed to spend more time at their house than his own. But instead it was Quinn who came around the corner to stand in front of Kurt in the foyer. She was still dressed in her Cheerio practice uniform and looked more disheveled than he could ever remember in the past.

Her eyes were glossy.

"Quinn?"

"What you said earlier," she ground out, voice rough and full of emotion, "about Finn not being popular and not being quarterback and not being all of those things that I say are so important."

"Huh?" Kurt let his Cheerios bag fall to the floor. "What're you talking about."

She jumped forward and startled him, her hands curling around his and tugging hard. She was a delicate girl, soft and feminine and looked fragile, but she had a hard grip and she was pulling hard. "Tell me you didn't know."

He shook his head instinctively. "Didn't know what? Quinn, I don't know what's going on." But it was bad. He could tell that much by the way she folded in on herself. "Quinn?"

She pointed to the stairway and said, "Go see your brother, Kurt. He needs you right now. He … I think he's …"

Kurt couldn't wait for her to finish. He rushed past her, taking the stairs two at a time until he burst into Finn's room and found him hunched over at the foot of his bed.

"Finn?" Kurt settled next to him, tentative at first, and then put a hand on his knee. "What's wrong?"

Finn turned slowly to him, anguish on his face. "Kurt."

"Oh, god," Kurt breathed out. "Is is mom? Is it dad?"

"No." Finn's hand captured his and he said firmly, "No, Kurt, it's not that. They're fine."

"Then what!" His nerves were shot, and in the past few hours he's been through more emotions than he usually let himself feel in a week.

"I …" Finn started to say, and it looked so difficult for him. "Kurt, I lost my spot."

"Your spot?" Kurt parroted.

"I'm not the quarterback anymore." Finn made a sound, something that Kurt through was akin to a muffled sob, and then he had his big brother pressing into his shoulder, face hiding in Kurt's sweaty, smell uniform.

Kurt's hand came up immediately to cradle the back of Finn's neck and he held his brother close, taking a moment to let the reality of the situation set in. It suddenly made sense why Quinn was so upset, and why Finn, who was probably the strongest person Kurt knew next to their parents, was crying. Because for as long as Kurt had been old enough to recognize what things were important to Finn, he'd always known football to be at the very top of the list, mixed in somewhere with family and Quinn.

And Finn had played football forever. Kurt remembered going to Finn's games as a child, in the years when he'd just been starting to make the transition from the little guy his father liked to coddle and a preteen who was dead set on middle school in the coming years. Finn had always worn some sort of team jersey, and been out of the house on the weekend, working his body ad mind hard to prepare for games. Football was, without doubt, what had taught Finn confidence, and teamwork, and given him self esteem. It was everything to Finn, and so was the position of quarterback.

"I went to check the list," Finn explained. "We all did, me and the guys. We were all joking about Puck getting cut from the team. I didn't think … I never even thought for a second …"

Kurt pulled Finn down a bit so he could press his forehead against the much taller boy's. "You were cut from the team?" Kurt could barely imagine a Titans team without Finn on it, or what his coach had been thinking. It had to be a mistake. It had to be one cruel joke.

"I wish I had been." Finn choked out a dry laugh. "I wasn't cut at all. I'm the alternate. Second string. I play only when needed, which won't be very often."

The alternate.

Kurt could barely ask, "Who's the new quarterback?"

But truthfully, Kurt had already known the answer.

"So you really didn't know?" Quinn asked Kurt out in the hall. He hadn't wanted to leave Finn, but the teenager had curled up on his bed shortly after spitting out Sam's name viciously, and then asked to be alone for a bit. "You didn't know Sam took Finn's spot?"

"No." Though it made sense, considering how he'd delivered to Sam the idea that he wouldn't be willing to date anyone who couldn't rise to the top of McKinley's social ladder, and then all but informed him the quickest way to do that was through the football team. Namely the quarterback position. And then earlier that day Sam had come to him and been evasive, vague, and alluded to something that would make Kurt change his mind. Sam had known, even during the lunch period, that things were about to change.

Quinn leaned back against the wall and Kurt thought she might sink down it at any moment. "I don't know what we're going to do, Kurt."

"What was the coach thinking?"

Quinn bit out, "It's Sam. He's the problem."

Kurt was upset, and he was hurting, and he confessed, "I think it's all my fault, Quinn."

There was the edge of a glare on her face, something that implied hellfire if she didn't like what he said, and Kurt heard the tone in her voice as she asked, "How do you figure that?"

"Sam," Kurt struggled to say, "he likes me. I think I gave him the idea that if he made the team and was popular enough, that I'd be wiling to date him. I never meant for this to happen, Quinn. I didn't know he'd go after Finn's spot."

Like Kurt had expected, she braced herself as she slid down to the ground. Quinn tucked her knees to her chest and said, "We have to do something, Kurt. I already talked to Puck and Mike and some of the other guys. We have to do something."

Kurt joined her on the floor of the hallway, his legs stretched out towards Finn's closed door. "What're we going to do to fix it?"

Kurt wasn't sure what could be done, but he knew he had to try. If he was responsible for Sam, and there was a good possibility of that, then Kurt needed to know what Quinn wanted from him.

"We have to go to Breadstix tonight," Quinn said, turning to Kurt. "We have to be there, and we have to get Finn up on time to be there too. He has to be there to show the team that he's still okay, whether he is or not. And Sam, as the new quarterback, will be there too. Kurt, you're going to talk to him. You going to tell him what a crappy thing this was for him to do, and then you're going to give him an ultimatum."

Kurt swallowed hard. "An ultimatum?"

"If this is your fault," she said, voice shaking, "then you have to fix it. And if you have any kind of leverage with him, you have to use it. You tell him that if he doesn't give Finn his spot back as quarterback, then you're never going to talk to him again."

"You can't make me do that," Kurt pointed out. And it would be difficult, considering Sam was his friend, and his partner in Bio.

"You need to do this for Finn." Quinn's eyes were hard and unforgiving. "You helped do this to him, so you need to help fix it. You tell Sam that you aren't going to talk to him anymore, your friendship is done, and if he so much as tries to move on you, that you'll tell Dave and that'll be the end of it."

Something was churning in Kurt's stomach, acidic and painful. He knew what Quinn was saying was wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything but nod.

"I heard the guys talking," Quinn continued, "they're not happy with this. Some of them are as upset as Finn, and they'll put their loyalty to Finn over winning a game any day of the week. I wouldn't be surprised if Sam had an accident one of these days, or didn't have someone watching his back at all times."

"That's not right and you know it."

"It's the way things are," Quinn said, sounding angry for the first time. "Sam came here and started messing things up from the beginning. I think he's a nice guy, but we were very clear to him in the beginning. He knew the way things worked around here, who was top dog, and how to blend in. And he's ruining everything."

"No," Kurt said softly, "he's doing exactly what we told him to do. He's just doing it a lot better than any of us, and that's why everything is crumbling. He didn't just learn how to play our game, Quinn, he learned to play it better. That's it."

"I don't care," Quinn bit out. "I don't care about any of that, Kurt. You're the one who can fix this, so you'd better. Think of your brother. Think of what Finn just lost and tell yourself you can't fix it. Tell yourself you won't try and do everything you can for him."

And that, Kurt decided, pulling his knees up and resting his forehead on them, was how well Quinn knew him.

August 3, 2007

It had never crossed Kurt's mind for a moment that his brother could be a bully. The thought was incomprehensible. Finn was the hero, not the villain. Finn had always protected him, and been a great friend, and the best brother in the entire world. Kurt had been known to be a bit idealistic in his youth, but there was no doubt in his mind, Finn was not a bully.

And then, three weeks before the start of Kurt's freshman year, seated in his living room while Finn and Puck wrested each other for possession of the game controller, Kurt learned that as far as his brother was concerned, there was most certainly a gray area.

"Dumpster toss?" Kurt asked, repeating back what Puck had said to him. "What's that?"

There was a half eaten slice of pizza hanging from the corner of Puck's mouth as he crossed his legs and dropped down to the left of Finn. Behind him Finn took control of the game on the screen and on the recliner that Kurt's father liked to relax on after work, Dave shouted loudly at the television.

"It's totally awesome!" Puck exclaimed, chewing loudly. "It's where you take a kid, a real dweeb, hoist him up, and then toss him in the nearest dumpster."

"That sounds unethical," Kurt said plainly.

"It's cool," Finn said with a shrug, barely paying attention. "It's not like we hurt the kids or anything."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "The kids? You said it like you're a senior. You're only going to be a sophomore, Finn."

"Doesn't matter," Finn argued. "Me and Puck do about a dumpster toss a day."

"Swirlies?" Dave asked, eyes flickering from the television to Finn. "What about those, dude?"

Finn laughed. "Only during lunch period. You gotta know when to pick your battles. Not enough time between class periods for that kind of thing."

The fact that Finn could be so callous, and unkind to someone had never really broached Kurt's mind. Finn was, after all, one of the nicest people Kurt knew. The only time he'd ever experienced Finn's nasty side was usually in defense of Kurt, and even then there were limitations.

"I still can't …" Kurt said slowly, staring hard at Finn, "I can't believe you do that to people."

"It's kind of like a rite of passage," Finn said with a shrug. "It doesn't matter Kurt. They're asking for it anyway."

Puck snorted loudly. "The ones who get it are the geeks, Kurt. The nerds. The losers. Everyone knows where they fall, after that."

Kurt shook his head slowly. Things weren't like that at all at his middle school. Kids could be cruel to each other, but there was no physical manifestation of that. Kids left Kurt alone because they remembered Finn from the year previous, but even if they hadn't, Kurt wouldn't have thought for a second that one of them had plans to toss him into a dumpster.

"Yeah," Dave spoke up, reaching across to the coffee table in the center of the room for another slice of pizza. Kurt could barely look at him without flushing, thinking of the time they'd spent hours earlier that day in Kurt's room, kissing and touching. "Real losers."

Puck sized him up for a moment, and Kurt demanded, "What, Puckerman?"

Puck made a face. "You're kind of small, dude, so I guess we can count you out of the tossing. But you'd made a pretty decent lookout. I bet that's what we'll have you doing for at least a couple of years. Some of the teachers can get a little nosey, but they know when to back off."

"I will not play lookout," Kurt said, feeling outraged at the presumption. "And I won't have any part of that bullying, either."

"Kurt," Finn said, dropping the controller and his fingers catching the skin at the crook of Kurt's elbow. "It isn't bullying."

Suspiciously, Kurt asked, "It isn't? Explain that to me, Finn."

Finn seemed to fidget, like there wasn't a solid answer at hand, but then he said, "Bullying is like, you know, when you actually hurt someone. We're just having a little fun. We don't hurt them, Kurt. We just toss them around. No ones ever had to go to the hospital or anything."

"There's a first time for everything, Finn. What if something happens?"

"Chill, Mother Theresa," Puck said snappishly. "That's just the way high school works. We're not making you do it. So I'd just be thankful you're Finn's little brother, if I were you."

There was a pause in the room and Kurt let the words process for a moment, then he asked Finn gently, "What are the prerequisites for these dumpster tosses?"

Finn's eyes were wide as he said, "I have no idea what that word means."

"What kinds of people do you toss in the dumpster?" Kurt clarified. "Who do you decide is trash?"

Kurt's mouth was dry as he waited for Finn's answer. He had a decidedly morbid idea of where they conversation was about to head, and as much as he wanted to avoid it all, he couldn't. He had to know.

"Not trash," Dave said awkwardly.

Kurt rounded on him. "I imagine that's how a person feels when they're laying in a dumpster, having been placed there by general consensus of their peers. So yes, trash, David."

"Don't call me David," Dave glowered. "You sound like my mom."

"Or your wifey," Puck teased.

"Dude." Finn delivered a sharp punch to Puck that had the tan boy ducking away from future harm.

"What people, Finn," Kurt asked again. "Who are the losers?"

Finn sunk a little lower on the couch. "Just, you know, the … the freaks."

"Band kids," Puck continued easily enough for him. "Chess Club losers, AV nerds. Anyone who sticks out like a sore thumb."

Or, Kurt refused to voice, anyone who wasn't on the football team, or popular. Anyone who didn't conform or fit in.

"Like me."

"What?" Finn asked, looking twice to Kurt in disbelief. "No, dude. Not like you. No one would ever do that to you."

Kurt's throat was tight with anxiety as he said, "That's what Noah meant when he said I should be thankful I'm your brother. Because you're on the football team, and popular and cool and people actually like you. They want to be your friend. So they won't do it to me because of you. But Finn, if we weren't brothers, if you and I-" Kurt couldn't bring himself to finish the statement. He felt nauseas.

Puck's mouth snapped shut and Kurt had his answer, even if it hadn't come from Finn.

"Kurt-"

"If I wasn't your brother," Kurt told Finn flatly, "you'd be throwing me into a dumpster the very first day of school. And you'd be doing it because I'm never going to have a girlfriend and I fuss over my clothes and my voice is pitchy."

Finn clambered suddenly to his feet, the sofa pillows falling down around him and his foot hitting the edge of the pizza box in his haste.

"Finn!" Kurt dove for the box, thinking of the grease stains and the carpet.

"Leave it," Finn demanded, hauled an arm around Kurt and dragged him from the room.

They ended up in the nearby foyer, Kurt's back pressed against the wall as Finn leaned in close, bracing both hands on their side of Kurt's head.

"This is disconcerting," Kurt remarked, staring up at his much taller brother.

Fiercely, Finn said, "I would never throw you in a dumpster, okay? You're like the coolest person I know. You're definitely the smartest, cause, you know, you use all those big words and read a lot and I'm pretty sure you know everything about everything. I wouldn't, okay, Kurt. I wouldn't. You're my brother and I'd never let that happen to you."

Palms flat at his side, Kurt looked away and asked, "Do you ever think what our lives would be like if our parents hadn't gotten married?"

"No?"

Kurt risked a smile. "Is that a question or an answer?"

"I don't know, dude." Finn shrugged. "I like my life. I like having two parents and a brother and everything that's here."

"I think," Kurt said, "if our parents hadn't gotten married, things would be very different."

Finn made a face. "Different like how?"

"We probably wouldn't friends, Finn. Face it, the one thing that binds us together is the fact that we're family. If you remove that element, what you're left with is a series of incompatible people who have nothing in common with each other. I'm not even sure we'd talk to each other at school. And whether you want to admit it or not, as soon as I'm in high school, you and Noah and all of the other guys who are your friends, not mine, would be personally introducing me to the inside of a dumpster."

Finn looked like he might cry. His face scrunched up, his eyes narrowed, and there was a slight shake to his shoulders. Kurt wondered if he'd gone just a bit too far. Finn was tough and strong in all the ways he needed to be, but for some things, the really delicate kind, he could also be fragile.

Kurt found himself quickly tugged into a strong hug, Finn wrapping completely around him and pulling him up to the top of his toes.

"Listen," Finn demanded. "You're my brother. I don't care about the what ifs, or the maybes or the could have beens. You're my little brother and I will never let anything hurt you, Kurt. I won't."

"Finn," Kurt breathed out, hugging his brother back.

"Don't listen to anything Puck says," Finn insisted.

"Even if it's the truth?"

Finn made an unhappy sound. "No one is throwing you in any dumpster."

Kurt settled back onto his feet and let his hands fall away from Finn. "I want to ask you something, Finn, and then I want you to think really hard before you give me an answer."

"Okay." Finn exhaled loudly. "What is it?"

Steadying himself, Kurt asked, "If the idea of me being dumpster is so offensive to you, if it's such a horrible thought, then why would you do it to anyone else?"

As Finn struggled to answer Kurt settled into the steady existence of what Finn was. His brother was good natured, and Kurt believed that Finn thought it was all teenage fun, but there was no denying anything anymore. Finn was a bully, and even if he wasn't a malicious one, he still was a bully. Kurt wondered if that was what high school did to people. Did high school separate people automatically into victims and bullies? Was there a middle ground at all, or a gray area?

"I just …" Finn stammered.

"Take some time and think about that," Kurt offered.

Kurt was sure Finn would, but he doubted it would change anything.

September 7, 2009

"They're all going to laugh at me. I'll be one big joke, and not even a good one."

Kurt pressed his shoulder against Quinn's in a show of solidarity as they both sized Finn up. They were both in their Cheerio red and white, urging Finn to take the jersey Kurt had laid out for him and put it on.

"We're going to be late" Quinn reminded.

Kurt assured, "They won't be laughing at you."

Angrily, Finn demanded, "Why wouldn't they? I'm the school laughing stock, why wouldn't I be their's?"

Quinn, who was always more brazen than Kurt, and equally as forceful as he was, caught Finn's chin in a vice grip and said, "You listen to me, Finn Hummel. No one is laughing at you. Everyone who's going to be there is your friend. And you know how much that means to them. They won't laugh at you. And regardless of whether you're their quarterback or not in writing, I've got a feeling you'll still find that they think of you in that way."

Curiously, Kurt looked to her. He'd had his doubts, honestly, about whether she'd stick by Finn's side. Quinn was, without hesitation, his friend. She was one of the few he had, and he knew her well. He was proud to call her his friend, but there was a startling reality of her that made him recognize how much value she placed on the superficial. She loved Finn, there was no mistaking that, but how much more she loved her popularity, he couldn't say. Still, she hadn't moved from his side since finding out, and she'd been the first to come to him with comfort. It said something important, that she hadn't dumped him right away, or changed the way she treated him. It spoke volumes.

"They'll need you there," Kurt said with a nod. "You know Noah, and Dave and all the guys. Out of the lot of you, you're the brains, and that's saying something. If you don't keep them straightened out, and in line, who knows what they'll end up doing. Think of it this way, because even if you won't go for you, go for them."

Finn was still for a moment, then brought an arm around Quinn and hugged her tightly, kissing the top of her head. "Thanks," he said, voice tight. "Thanks a lot."

Kurt backed out of the room, Quinn following behind him shortly, and they worked in tandem to finish getting ready themselves.

"You're going to do what we talked about?" Quinn asked, applying mascara in the nearby bathroom without looking at Kurt who stood behind her.

"I'll do what I have to," he told her.

She brushed at her eyelashes diligently. "Good."

She hadn't left Finn, he reminded himself, but he had to ask, "Are you asking me to do this so Finn can have his position as quarterback back?"

At that, Quinn did turn and look at him. Then she asked, in a tone as if she thought he was bit touched in the head, "Of course. What else would be the point? We all need this, Kurt, not just your brother."

"What I meant," he said staunchly, "was if you wanted me to do this for you. So you'd still be dating the star quarterback. So you'd be a shoe-in for prom queen. So you would still be HBIC."

She scoffed, "Kurt, everyone knows you're McKinley's queen bitch."

"That's not funny. And I want a real answer."

She leaned back against the sink in front of the mirror. "Kurt, god knows I'm a bitch. I'm shallow, and conceded and selfish. But I want you to understand something, and I'm only going to say it once."

Silently, Kurt nodded.

She cleared her throat. "I love your brother. I love him a lot. And I won't let him loose something that means this much to him. It's only football to us, but to him, it's everything, and if we have to murder someone to get him that spot back, then we'd better go get a body bag and a shovel."

He wanted to hug her so badly in that moment, but all he could manage was a weak, "The Navigator is big enough for a body to fit in the trunk."

She nodded firmly. "Now come here. I'm going to put some eyeliner on you."

Kurt ran for his life.

When they got to Breadstix, most of the team was already there, crowded into the big, party room at the back of the place, food piled high onto tables. Kurt spotted Dave and immediately made his way over, thankful his boyfriend had understood when he'd called earlier and explained the situation, and asked for time alone with Finn. It had ended up time alone with Finn and Quinn, but all the same, Kurt felt like they'd made progress. At least the way that Finn held his head high and accepted high fives from his teammates meant anything.

"Hey, babe," Dave greeted, head tilting up to share a kiss with Kurt. "Everything good?"

Kurt nodded towards Finn who'd slid into a seat next to Azimio, reaching for a can of Coke. "Yeah. I think so. He'll be okay, as long as he has his friends to stand next to him."

Dave's hand squeezed his and Kurt felt such a sweep of relief that his knees nearly gave out. "Count on the team to do that. Finn's still our captain, no matter what Coach says. No matter what."

Kurt kept a close eye on Finn that night, carefully monitoring his brother's mood, making sure he remained happy, surrounded by teammates and pretty girls in red and white.

Nearly halfway through the party, Sam arrived. Kurt's eyes found Quinn's right away. There was the sudden development of tension in the room, and a quieting of conversation right away. Sam sat at a table and accepted congratulations from several of the younger players. Kurt couldn't fault them. They'd hadn't been on the team long, and they weren't as close as Finn was with some of the other guys.

When Sam rose to excuse him half an hour later, heading towards the bathroom, Kurt pressed a kiss to Dave's cheek and said, "I'll be right back. I need to freshen up."

Dave's hand grazed his backside and he remarked, "Don't need to. You look hot."

"This?" Kurt pointed to his eyeliner. "This is Quinn's fault, and just you wait, I'll get my revenge. She'll be on the bottom of the pyramid by the Spring Formal. You just wait and see."

Sam was washing his hands when Kurt entered the bathroom. It made him stop only a few feet in. He'd never really seen a teenage boy wash his hands without being told to. Kurt, up until that moment, had been completely convinced he was the only sixteen year old boy on the planet who willingly washed his hands after using the bathroom.

"Hey," Sam said, looking up through his fringe.

Kurt wasted no time, thankful for the privacy they had, unwilling to think his luck would last. "We need to talk."

"Okay." Sam reached for a paper towel. "About what?"

"You're the new quarterback?" Kurt took a cautious step towards him.

"That's what Coach said. She tried me out on a bunch of positions, but I seem to be the best on that one. So when she offered me the spot, I said yes."

Kurt's lips felt so dry that he was certain they cracked as he asked, "And you just took the position because you wanted to?"

Sam frowned. "I took it because she said I'd be best for it, and she's the Coach."

"That's the only reason?"

"Kurt, what are you getting at?" Sam was so close that Kurt could smell his aftershave.

"I told you," Kurt said, the words coming out harder than he wanted them to, "that the position of quarterback was coveted. That the most popular kid in school was the quarterback, and the guy who had the most respect. I told you to your face, Sam, that I'd only go out with someone who had that. That I'd only break up with my boyfriend for you if you could keep the bullies away, and not damage my popularity or reputation. That's what I told you, and now I'm asking you if you took that position because of what I said."

For one, sharp moment, Kurt thought Sam was going to lie to him. And he'd know it was a lie because he knew Sam well enough now to predict him. He also knew how Sam felt about him, and there was no mistaking his intentions, even if he'd been a gentleman and not pursued the subject more than infrequently.

"It crossed my mind."

Kurt turned a way, fingers in his hair, nerves unraveling.

Sam's hand was warm and firm as it caught Kurt's shoulder and turned him back. "Well, won't you now? I like you a lot, Kurt, and I know you like me. You don't have to say it. When we touch, when you look at me, I can tell, and know you can too. And I want you to give us a chance, and to let me prove to you that I can be a good boyfriend. This position, being quarterback, I can take you out now. I can protect you, better than Dave does now."

"You don't know anything about Dave," Kurt said darkly.

"I know he's big and he's mean and that's the kind of protection he give you. You're not some girl, Kurt. You're not helpless, but you are gay in Ohio, and I'm not trying to fault you for needing someone who can keep you safe until you move away and keep yourself that way."

"He's not mean."

Sam shook his head slowly. "Kurt. I'm quarterback now. I'm popular, and I'm important. Give me a chance. That's all I'm asking. Just give me a chance."

"That's my brother's position, Sam." Sam was taller than him, but only by a few inches, at least since Kurt had hit his growth spurt the past summer. It was easy to look into his eyes with a firm and unwavering gaze. It was hard, however, not to lean into Sam's hand. The mixed feelings were causing his heart to thump harder.

"I know," Sam said awkwardly. "But it's the best spot, and I needed the best to win you over."

Kurt took a step away, forcing himself from Sam's hand. He boxed his shoulders. "It's absolutely laughable, Sam, that you would think for once second that this would win me over. This is my brother's spot we're talking about. You didn't just bump him out of the spotlight, Sam, you destroyed his world. Finn's had that position for two years now, and works himself to near death keeping it. Being quarterback is everything, Sam. It defines him. And Finn is my brother. Next to my parents, I love Finn more than anyone in this world. That means I'm absolutely loyal to him. What matters to him, matters to me."

"Kurt."

Sam reached out for him and Kurt snapped madly, "You ripped my brother's world apart because you want to get into my pants? That's supposed to be okay with me?"

"I don't want to get into your pants," Sam returned, just as roughly. "I want to get to know you. I want to be someone you trust and confide in and care for. I want to take you out and hold your hand and be able to proudly tell everyone that you're my boyfriend. I want to be the first person to defend you and the last person you'll ever doubt. That's what I want. I want a relationship. I want you. And hey, some kisses would be great, and who knows what else, but I didn't do this to get into your pants. Think anything else you want about me, but never that."

"Then give it back!" Kurt pleaded. He was rapidly loosing control of the situation, and he knew Quinn would have been disappointed. She was always so good at manipulating people and situations, and she'd tried to make him better at it, but Kurt had never had the heart for it. "If you care about me, give Finn back his position."

It was a moment too late before Kurt realized that Sam had moved them readily back against the nearby wall. Sam had him in a hold once more and he said, "I can't give it back, and you know it. Coach made me quarterback, and I want it."

"More than me?"

Sam blinked a bit dumbly before asking, "More than you?"

Kurt steeled himself. "I'll break up with Dave. I'll do it. I'll go out with you. I'll give you that if you give Finn that position back. That's the deal, and I think it's a damn good one. You should seriously consider it."

"You love your brother that much?" Sam asked, eyes a bit squinted.

Kurt did. He loved Finn that much as more. He loved the boy who'd always stood up for him, and taken care of him, and protected him. He loved Finn, who never knew when to back off, or stop asking questions, or mind his own business. He loved the teenager who was just an oversized teddy bear with a heart of gold, and a bully who was really only that way because of peer pressure. He loved the boy who had never questioned Kurt's moral compass, taken anyone else's side, or judged him. And for that, Kurt was willing to forsake his own happiness. He'd give up his own popularity to save Finn's.

"I love Finn more than you can ever fully comprehend."

He meant to only give Sam a graze, a taste, or a hint of what was to come. Kurt had intended to seal the deal with the briefest of kisses, chaste and as light as he could manage it. He wanted to entice Sam, to sweeten the deal, and not to give away more than he needed to.

So he kissed Sam. He leaned up, breathed in Sam's pleasant aftershave, and kissed him.

Somewhere along the line, between the exploding stars, the toe curling excitement, the thundering of Kurt's heart, and the dizziness that nearly took him off his feet, Kurt found himself dragging his fingers up into Sam's hair. His mouth fit perfectly against Sam's and it was electrifying, nothing like he'd ever experienced and better than his mother had ever said kissing could ever be. He lost himself, moaning happily, feeling Sam's hands slide under his shirt, and then up his skin. And it was perfect. It was right. It was what Kurt hadn't known he'd needed, and now wasn't sure he could live without.

"Kurt," Sam mumbled, breaking away for only a moment, then diving back in, kissing once more at his lips, then his jaw and his nose and his eyelids.

Kurt held him close, tightly, and unwilling to let him go. He couldn't.

"Holy shit," Sam said, nails raking gently at the small of Kurt's back. "Hold shit, Kurt. Holy shit."

When their mouth's met once more there was the barest nudge of a nose from Sam, a silent question, and then Kurt responded, mouth opening and inviting Sam in.

"Oh. Wow. Kurt."

That wasn't Sam's voice. Kurt knew that much, but he was certain his brain had stopped working, and if it hadn't started to drip out of his ears yet, it was certain to start soon.

Breathing hard, feeling like he'd never have enough air again, Kurt tore his eyes open and looked towards the door of the bathroom. "Jason," he gasped out.

"Look," the teen said, "this is totally not my business, and I just want to pee, but I'm sure you're really lucky it's me who just opened this door, Kurt, and not Finn, or Dave or any of the other guys."

Sam stood there limply while Kurt sprung into action, straightening his uniform and smoothing out his hair. He brought the back of his hand up to his mouth and rubbed firmly, trying to brush away the past few minutes.

"You okay?" Jason asked, and Kurt tried to remember that the last time he'd seen him had been at the table Mike had been sitting at, his pretty red headed girlfriend trying to talk him into ordering something healthier from the menu. "Kurt?"

"You can't," Kurt said, having to lean forward to brace his hands on his knees, "you can't tell anyone what you just saw, Jason."

"Not my business," Jason repeated, "and I think I'm going to go use a different bathroom, or pee in a bucket or something, and I suggest the two of you put some distance between yourselves. Kurt, maybe you should go back out to your boyfriend. He's asking about you." He exited the bathroom quickly and Kurt was left alone with Sam.

So quiet Kurt had to strain to hear him, Sam said, "Holy shit."

"Is that all you can say?" Kurt snapped at him. When he glanced at Sam he could see how badly he'd messed the blonde's hair up, and how puffy his lips were. "But it's okay. Jason is my friend. Jason won't tell anyone. He's my base."

"Your base?"

"In cheerleading," Kurt said quickly. "He throws me up in the air and then helps catch me. He's the main barrier between my skull and the floor. Our relationship is … he won't tell. He'd never."

"I don't care," Sam said, suddenly too close to Kurt again. "That was amazing, Kurt. That was … that was legitimate. I know you feel the same way."

"I do not," Kurt denied, but his lips were pulsing and he words felt so dirty.

Sam's eyes trailed down Kurt's body and he said, "You're half hard, Kurt. So am I. If that's just from a kiss, imagine how explosive we're going to be together if we …"

"Are you going to give Finn his spot back?" Kurt pushed at Sam, forcing him back. "That's what you can have, Sam. I'll kiss you as often as you want it, all the time if you do, and all you have to do is tell Coach Beiste that you're stepping down."

Sam blew out a sharp breath. "I can't. And you shouldn't be asking this of me, because you're worth more than you're offering, okay? I gave the coach my word. And I made a promise to the team. I'm not going to renege, not even for you, because I think I can have both, and I'm going to try."

Kurt's eyes narrowed. "You can't have both."

"But you want me," Sam said, not cocky, or arrogant, just honest.

"I'll admit," Kurt said, "that kiss was …" It was a struggle to find the right words, and even more to admit to Sam how spectacular the kiss had been. It was how Kurt had always imagined his kisses with Dave were supposed to feel. He wasn't sure he could ever kiss Dave again and not feel the same explosions. "It was amazing. But it won't happen again."

Kurt made a mad rush for the door, and when he looked back to Sam, all he could see was determination. Worse, he believed the set look on Sam's face.

When Kurt returned to his seat next to Dave at the table his boyfriend asked right away, "Are you okay?"

Kurt felt like he had cheater stamped on his forehead. "Of course." Kurt look a long drink from his water. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Dave shrugged and turned back to his food while Kurt nervously reached for a breadstick and broke it into pieces, frantically dividing and counting them. His tick wasn't unnoticed.

"Thanks for making me go," Finn said to him later that night. They were both dressed for bed and lingering on the stairs. Further into the house they could hear the quiet murmurs of their parents barely over the television. "It really helped to know the guys are still my friends, and they're not going to treat me any different."

"Are you really okay?" Kurt asked, watching for a hint of deception. "I know this is probably the worst thing that could ever happen to you. I wouldn't be okay if I were in your shoes."

Finn crossed his arms. "Not the worst, Kurt. And you call me a drama queen. I mean, it's horrible, but do you know what I've learned from you?"

"From me?"

"From you." Finn poked a gentle finger into Kurt's chest. "You taught me that in order to be the best, you have to put the best in. So I'm going to work twice as hard. I'm going to train longer and harder and pull double practices if I have to. I'm going to get my spot back, Kurt, and I'm going to do it by being the best."

"Finn," Kurt said softly, and was even more embarrassed that he'd tried to force Sam's hand over the spot.

"It's not the end of the world. Now, are you okay?"

"Me?" Finn was hardly the perceptive one of the pair, at least not more than once in a blue moon.

Finn poked him once more. "Yes you. Don't think I didn't notice how upset you looked the whole night. You practically ripped your food to shreds. You have a fight with someone?"

"That's your first assumption?" Kurt rolled his eyes and stepped up the last bit to the second landing behind heading down the hall towards his bedroom. He knew Finn would be trailing after him.

"You can get a little hot tempered," Finn called from behind him. "Don't act like that's a lie."

Kurt paused, hand on the handle to his door. "I'm great Finn. I just … I figured some stuff out tonight. Important stuff."

"Okay," Finn said slowly.

"Go to bed." Kurt opened his door. "Goodnight, Finn."

After he was safely in his room, alone and with the door closed behind him, Kurt collapsed face first on his bed and groaned. He'd told Finn he'd figured some things out, and he had, but he'd also developed a hundred new questions and even more of a problem with Sam. He'd made leaps forwards but fallen back as well. And now he wasn't sure where he stood. All he knew was that things with Sam were becoming even more complicated and he was ever more aware of unhappy he was with Dave.

Something had to change.

September 1, 2007

Kurt had it on good authority, Quinn's, that the Cheerio wait list was nearly two hundred names strong. Quinn had said in a jokingly way, but with enough edge that Kurt couldn't really tell if she was being completely truthful or not, that girls put their names down for the Cheerios somewhere in late elementary school. Quinn made the Cheerios out to be the end all be all for high school girls, which really made Kurt wonder what he was doing standing on the McKinley field in red shorts and a white shirt emblazoned with the school's logo.

Self-consciously Kurt tugged down on the shorts and said, "I still think this is a mistake."

Quinn finished tying her hair up. She was dressed in her uniform, the only one on the field. It reminded Kurt that he was the only person trying out for the Cheerios who had a member of the team personally helping him.

"Don't be crazy," she said a bit shortly. "Sylvester is going to eat you up, and you practically don't need to try out. Your anatomy gets you in."

Kurt looked down instinctively. "Huh?"

"The girls," Quinn clarified, "on a good day, need to slit each other's throats to get a spot on this team. Boys are a little different. Sylvester needs them to catch and to act as supports."

"And," Kurt drew from that, "I'm guessing she probably doesn't have them lining up around the block."

Quinn's eyebrows rose. "Men, or boys who think they are, often have a difficult time with her."

"What is she, an Amazonian?" Kurt mumbled, then tugged at his shorts again.

Quinn slapped at his hands. "Stop that. Stop fidgeting. You look fine, and as long as Sylvester doesn't think you have Tourette's from all the moving around you're doing, you're on the team."

From behind them, a tight voice said, "Don't sound so sure of yourself."

Kurt saw the tightening of Quinn's mouth for what it was, and took a step back. He'd seen the angelic looking girl fight before. She was vicious.

"Santana," Quinn said, "don't you have an ass to kiss somewhere."

Kurt didn't know Santana, even if Quinn apparently did, but he did know the girl next to her, Brittany. Both girls were dressed like Kurt, but he could easily see them in the Cheerio uniform.

Santana assured, "Already stopped by Sylvester's office. My lips are all kissed out, so it's your turn now."

"Hi, Kurt." Brittany wiggled her fingers at him.

Kurt was certain Quinn and Santana were mere moments from attacking each other when Sylvester appeared on the field, dressed in her routine track suit, bullhorn in hand.

"Whatever you do," Quinn said quickly, voice low, "don't show fear. She'll single you out in a second if you fear her."

"What is she, a bloodhound?"

Quinn's silence was telling.

They ran laps at first, tested their flexibility afterwards, and then were subjected to varying degrees of verbal abused based on their individual evaluations.

Kurt thought, as Sylvester screamed at him how sloppy he was, how worthless he appeared to be, and how she could do better tumbling when she was four and apparently suffering from malaria, than he could now, that he was doing okay. After Quinn had convinced Finn that the Cheerios were a good place for him, and the two of them had some how managed to talk him into it, Kurt had spent the entire summer training. Quinn had come over five days a week and they'd gone running together. She'd taught him basic tumbling, and he'd worked on becoming the healthiest he'd ever been.

His father still hadn't stopped grumbling about the lack of red meat in the house and how little he'd seen Kurt over the past ten weeks.

"This is the kid, Q?" Sylvester asked when Kurt supposed she'd screamed herself hoarse. His knees were wobbly, he was sweating more than he'd ever, and his shorts had ridden up to an indecent height. He was too exhausted to tug them down again.

Quinn nodded. Kurt had seen how she'd been attached to Sylvester's side for the entire process. She wasn't Head Cheerio, but Kurt knew it was the road she was traveling down. Apparently Sylvester had said as much, but Quinn had confided in him that if she ever let that get out, Quinn's tongue was apparently forfeit.

"Kurt Hummel," Quinn introduced.

Nearby Santana and Brittany were listening. Kurt wondered if they always came in a pair.

"Freshman," Sylvester said, disgusted. "Fresh meat." She leaned into him, mouth stretched tight. "I can smell your fear."

Kurt might have squeaked.

"He's perfect, Coach." Quinn continued, "Just what you've been looking for. He's small, light, and cute."

Kurt worked hard to keep quiet. He knew he was small. He hadn't hit his growth spurt, even if puberty had stated for him over the summer. Most of the girls at the tryouts, and almost all of the girls that Kurt knew, were bigger than him. When Kurt stood next to his father, and worse, Finn, he looked even smaller. And it was a sore spot for him, one that Quinn knew.

"He's weak," Sylvester said, and Kurt really hated that she and Quinn were talking as if he wasn't even there. She thumped at Kurt's knees suddenly, making them buckle a little. "Weak."

"I am not," Kurt said instinctively.

Sylvester glared. "When I talk to you, you'll know, cream puff."

Kurt huffed.

Quinn said, "He'll be easy to lift, Coach, and even easier to throw in the air. And contrary to what is coming out of his mouth now, he won't give lip."

Santana laughed. "Just tongue."

Absently, Brittany touched her own tongue.

"You think you're so clever," Kurt said condescendingly. "But I know what movie you stole that from. And just for the record, you're not half as evil as Courtney. You're just a second rate hack."

Santana sputtered and Sylvester emitted something that sounded suspiciously like a real laugh.

Quinn joined in with her own, airy laugh, but only for a moment. Then she said, "Coach, I've been working with Kurt all summer long. I can put my word behind him."

"You afraid of heights?" Sylvester asked through straight teeth.

"No," Kurt said, unable to see how it was relevant. Quinn had said that her expectations of him on the Cheerios were low. As far as he understood, he was expected to look good in the uniform, jump around a lot and be a pretty face. He was going to be there for aesthetic, more than anything.

"You're not big enough to support anyone," Quinn had said month earlier when she'd been explaining the squad to him. "I wouldn't put my life in your weak little arms. And you're not strong enough to throw anything bigger than a hairdryer during one of your famous bitchfits." In Kurt's defense, Finn had insulted his Mary Jane's, and the hair dryer hadn't even come close to his brother's head.

That was, at least, the way Kurt remembered the short lived conversation.

Now, standing in front of Sylvester, he wished it had been longer. He felt utterly unprepared.

"You look," she said sneeringly, "like a fourteen year old milk maid."

Kurt leveled himself up to his full height, straightened his shoulders and said, "I'm fifteen, actually. And the only time I've ever been around a cow ended up with that cow kicking me. So I don't think your description is entirely accurate."

He kind of thought for a moment that she was going to rip his head off. She looked like she wanted to, and Kurt got the impression that people didn't stand up to her very often.

"My office tomorrow morning," Sylvester barked at him, and then she was gone, tearing after a girl who'd failed to extend herself properly during a backhand spring.

"I feel," Kurt said carefully, "like she just ate a part of my soul.

Quinn said, "That's pretty normal. Welcome to the Cheerios."

Kurt gaped at her. "What? I'm on the team?"

"She didn't make you cry, did she?" Quinn asked, hand gesturing at several of the girls on the field who were sobbing.

"Are you sure?"

Quinn's arm fitted easily around his waist and she told him, "I'm sure that Sylvester decided you were on the team about thirty second after she fist saw you. I keep telling you, Kurt, you're just too cute for your own good. The day you wake up and realize that is the day you start your bid for world domination."

Kurt decided to count the day as a win.

The following morning when he arrived at Sue Sylvester's office he found it was already occupied. There t were two shapes in the room, one behind the desk and the other in front of it, and Kurt had to take several moments to steady himself before he was ready to step onto Sylvester's territory.

"Milkmaid," Sylvester demanded, "get in here!"

Kurt bit his lip at the nickname he had a feeling was going to stick with her. "Coach Sylvester. You wanted to talk with me?"

The other person in the room was male, tall, and average looking. Kurt hadn't seen him around with Finn before, so there was a good chance he wasn't a member of any of the school teams. But he was good looking and the way he smiled at Kurt made him feel less nervous about Sylvester.

"I'm Jason," the boy greeted, holding a hand out to Kurt, one that Kurt shook awkwardly.

"Gay tryst later," Sylvester demanded, pushing back in her chair.

"I'm not gay," Jason said easily enough, but didn't look the slightest bit offended, much to Kurt's relief.

Kurt felt obligated to say, "I have a boyfriend." He and Dave had made the decision jointly. They weren't going to hide in the closet, and they weren't going to hide their relationship. Kurt thought it was nothing short of spectacular for his boyfriend. Dave wasn't the out and proud type. His boyfriend still wasn't completely comfortable with being gay at all. And Kurt knew, at least to some degree, that Dave was willingly having a public relationship with him for Kurt's sake, because Kurt wanted it.

"Arms, this is the milkmaid I was telling you about."

"Arms?" Kurt took a moment to look, and he deduced, even through the tee that the other boy wore, he did have nice arms. He worked out, Kurt could tell.

"Coach has a nickname for everyone," Jason said with a laugh. "It's no big deal."

Kurt nodded slowly. "Okay. Do you know why I'm here?"

"Probably," Jason said, sharing a quick look with Sylvester, "because my flier from last year fell water skiing over the summer and broke her arm."

"Which is strictly prohibited," Sylvester said. "You don't do anything that isn't personally authorized by me. Do you understand? That girl is eating through a straw now, and I'll make damn sure the only cheering she does from now on is from the side lines at the Special Olympics."

Kurt recognized the term flier from the conversations he had with Quinn. She'd flown in her first year on the Cheerios, and did from time to time now, but was a far better tumbler. It made Kurt ask, "So you're a Cheerio?"

"Just because I'm a boy," Jason said with a laugh once more, humored by Kurt's doubt. Kurt thought it must be his personality. "Really, Kurt," and Kurt wondered when the boy had learned his name, "it's not such an impossible thing, right? You know Quinn, I know she's told you. The Cheerios have all kinds of members, and both genders."

"I knew," Kurt said a bit defensively. "Maybe you know Finn? He's on the football team? I came to watch him play at the school last year. He's a year older. I saw that there were boys on the Cheerios then."

Sylvester interrupted, "I lost five fliers last year. Two went off to waste their time and their sniveling parent's money at whatever college was stupid enough to let them in, and Arms here told you about that idiot who was clearly engaging in prohibited behavior."

"The other two?" Kurt dared to ask.

Thankfully it was Jason who said, "Carly's doctor advised her against this year, he said a second spine injury might just put her over the edge."

"Weak ankles!" Sylvester's fist slammed down on the desk, making Kurt jump.

"She fell a few too many times," Jason said. "And the fifth, Jenna, well, she's home schooling now. We should leave it at that."

"So," Kurt asked, "you're looking for fliers."

Jason gave him a wink. "You're small, Kurt, but I can tell, you've got a great sense of balance, and Coach here swears up and down you were the most flexible person at tryouts. She wants to pair us together. We should give it a go. You'll be my flier."

"But …"

"But what?" Sylvester demanded.

"I'm a boy."

Jason corrected, "Being a flier is all about your stature. It has nothing to do with gender. Stand up for me, will you?"

Jason was almost as tall as Finn, and Kurt fit perfectly under the crook of his arm. They were oddly complimentary, and as much as Kurt hesitated admit it, he could see where the boy was coming from. "I see," Kurt said.

"My last flier was just your height, Kurt. And probably weighed more than you do now. She also had your body type."

"Pear hips," Sylvester said, and Kurt frowned at what he took to be an insult.

Jason cleared his throat. "What I'm saying is that I need a new flier, and if you agree to it, I want you to be that. It won't be half as hard for us because I'll be used to someone like you, and it'll probably make things a million times easier."

Kurt wondered, "Are you going to be able to lift me? No, wait, are you going to be able to throw me? I've seen the Cheerios perform before. I know what it takes to get someone in the air. You can't be that much older than I am, or that much stronger."

"Milkmaid," Sylvester said, "Arms here could lift a two ton elephant up, which is close to what his last flier was. He's stuck with you. My mind is made up. You'll train together from now on and eat, breathe and die for each other if I say so. Now get your flaming little rear ends out of my office before I change my mind and kick the both of you off the team."

Kurt was halfway to the door before he hear Sylvester add, "And Hummel?"

Kurt paused at the sound of his real name. "Yes?"

"You're on a celery diet from now on."

"Huh?"

Jason caught up to Kurt at the door and opened it for him. "It's what all the new Cheerios go on, especially the fliers. You're only supposed to eat celery." From the look on his face, he clearly didn't agree with the diet.

"You have pear hips," Sylvester called after them. "Take off fifteen pounds by the end of the month or you're off the team."

"Don't listen to her too much," Jason said when they were out in the hallway. "She tells all the girls they're too fat. I don't think she understands how it destroys their self esteem. She should be telling them they're beautiful the way they are, but instead she tells them they're heavy, and to go on celery diets. The boys get the usual ultimatum to hit the gym and bulk up, or they're off. She tries to appeal to our sense of masculinity. It usually works."

"You're different," Kurt ended up blurting out. He blushed, then added, "Most boys don't think that way, you know? They want their girlfriends to be a size two and anything other than that is ugly to them."

It was nearly an hour before the start of school and the hallway was deserted, at least giving them the illusion of privacy.

"I have a feminist mother," Jason said. "Well, I think most women are feminists. The term is pretty under appreciated and misinterpreted. It just means equality between the sexes. And my mother enforces it like the iron fist of fascism. How do you think I ended up on the Cheerios?"

"How did you?"

Jason had shaggy, auburn hair that moved when he spoke. And the teen was considerably animated as he said, "I'm not kidding about my mother. She and my dad have an agreement when it comes to us kids. There's five us in total. I'm the youngest. They agreed, all of us had to learn some gender equality in as many ways as possible. So my sister played a bunch of sports when she was in high school and still does in college now. She's really getting into boxing. And all of my brothers were Cheerios before me. Mom only makes us do it one year, but since they all ended up sticking it out all four years, I figured I might do it as well. It's not that bad. Cheerios looks great on college applications, and I'm really building some muscle definition. All the guys in my family are big, and if I keep training, once I finish growing, I'm going to be as big as them. This is just a means to the end."

Kurt clutched at his bag tightly. "And you don't care that I'm … that I have …"

"If you're going to be my flier I'm probably going to end up gabbing your butt about a dozen times each practice." Jason was blunt, but friendly as he spoke. "My number one priority is getting you up in the air safely, and making sure you come down just as safely. That means it doesn't matter where my hands go, as long as I break your fall as gently as I can. I don't care who you kiss Kurt, I care about whether or not your boyfriend is going to have a problem with that."

It was Kurt's turn to laugh. "Dave might, but he knows better than to get huffy. He won't be a problem. He's trying this thing called being supportive. It may have taken him a while to realize it, but he's starting to catch on that the more supportive he is of me, the more likely I'm willing to give my time and attention to him."

"Good boy," Jason joked. "Now what about your brother, Kurt Hummel. I have it on good word that he's terrible to deal with when it comes to you."

"Who told you that?" Kurt wanted to know.

"About half the school," Jason answered. "Word's been out since yesterday that Sylvester has you pegged to fly. All of the guys who need fliers got very threatening notes in their lockers by the end of the day."

"I am seriously worried about this student body."

Jason said honestly, "Look, flying isn't the safest thing you can do in cheerleading, at least not with how Sylvester runs this team. But it is the most exciting. I can't promise you that you won't get hurt, everyone gets hurt a bit. Freshman year my flier ended up breaking my nose in two places. It only just started to look normal this year. Accident are going to happen, Kurt. If you aren't prepared for that, then don't do this, because I need you at a hundred percent. But I will promise you that I will do my very best to keep you from falling."

"Have you ever dropped anyone?" Kurt asked.

He expected honesty from Jason, and was pleased when the boy said, "Yes. I have. But it has never been on purpose, and it never will be."

Kurt let a bounce infiltrate his step as he and Jason continued down the hallway. "I never thought about flying before. Honestly, I never wanted to join the Cheerios to begin with. Finn and Quinn suggested it, to get my popularity going, and to have a team to watch my back."

"Everyone has a reason. No judging here."

When they reached Kurt locker Kurt said, "I know I'm small, okay, I get it rubbed in my face every day by my brother and father, but do you really think this is going to work between the two of us. Because I'm really okay just standing in the back and holding up a cardboard sign that says cheer on it."

"We're good," Jason assured him, and then knocked him just hard enough in the arm for Kurt to feel like he imagined Finn did, like one of the guys.

That night he told his father, "And I think my limited stature is finally going to be good for something."

It was obvious his mother was trying to hold back laughter as Finn asked, "Is that a nice way of saying you're small?"

"Not where it counts," Kurt mumbled to him. It was the dirtiest thing he'd ever said, spur of the moment, and he was sure only Finn had heard him.

Burt grumbled, "I guess that's good."

His mother swatted his father over the back of his head. It was endearing to watch. She said, "We're absolutely thrilled for you, sweetheart. It's such a nice activity for you to participate in."

Through a mouth full of food, Finn said, "You wouldn't say that if you knew Coach Sylvester. They call her Coach Satan for a reason."

"Finn!" she said, outraged. "You might take a page from your brother's book."

"He has a lot of books," Finn said, face pinched.

Kurt sighed. "It's just an expression, Finn. It means you should be more like me."

Burt poked his fork at Carole. "But honey, I'm glad Kurt isn't on something like the football team. Kurt, not offense or anything, but I think you'd get killed out there. Finn's a lot bigger than you. Cheerleading is safer. No giant teenagers mowing you down."

Kurt shook his head and excitedly said, "I get to fly!"

"Fly?"

"Jason is going to throw me up in the air. I'm his new flier. I get to learn how to do all of those twists and flips in the air, and we'll perform them at all the games and competition. That's what I was talking about earlier. I'm light enough to be throw in the air."

"Excuse me?" Burt choked, coughing loudly.

"It's a very coveted position. Not everyone gets to fly."

Finn took another bite of meatloaf. "I remember watching Quinn fly last year. I always thought she was going to fall and break her neck. I think some girl did last year."

"You're not helping," Kurt snapped at him, already making sense of the panic on his parent's faces. He assured them, "Quinn lent me her rulebook yesterday. I've been reading up on flying. It's illegal for them to throw me up without more than three people to catch me. And Jason, my bass, he's going to be making sure I come down just fine. There's nothing to worry about."

He had to work on his parents a bit more after that, explaining safety procedures and rules that he'd just learned. And by the end of dinner he was certain he had his mother on his side, and would have his father by the first time he performed.

Kurt was also delighted to learn how easy it was to push food around on his plate and escape notice. Finn took double helpings and Kurt was such a light eater to begin with that by the time he took his plate to the sink, he had remained allusive. No one had noticed how little he'd eaten. Kurt realized in that moment, escaping to his room to his baggy of raw vegetables he'd portioned out earlier in the day, that loosing fifteen pounds was possible, and more than achievable. He just needed to be smart about it.

He was going to loose the weight, he was going to fly, and everyone was going to be proud of him.

September 8, 2009

"I had a dream about you last night."

Jason withdrew his calculus book and said, "A good one, I hope. I've never given anyone a nightmare before. I wouldn't want to start now."

"No." Kurt sniffled a little. He was coming down with something, he knew it, and worse, his mother knew it. She'd ambushed him with medicine that morning, the nasty, cherry kind, and Kurt could still taste it. "It was good. I dreamed of the first time we met."

A bright smile lit up Jason's face. "I remember that. Sylvester's office. You were so young back then."

"I haven't exactly aged a few decades over night, or anything."

"No," Jason agreed, "But you've shot up four inches, put on a good bit of muscle and your hair is much better now."

Kurt's hand went to his coifed hair instinctively. "You are mean and unnecessarily cruel. Leave my hair out of this. It did nothing to you."

"Fair is fair." Jason closed his locker. "Was it just a memory?"

Kurt nodded. "I think, maybe, because we're going to start training together again. Or maybe just because I needed something good to dream about."

"You haven't told your father about us, have you?"

Kurt hadn't. He was looking for the perfect opportunity to break the news to his parents. And maybe he was trying to calm down over the fact that his father had gone behind his back and told his coach to prohibit him from flying, and for a reason that pulled painfully at his heart. Ultimately it was a reason that he knew would have Kurt backing off without hesitation, and without question.

"He won't be okay with it," Kurt said. "Which is why I may just end up waiting until our first game to show him, rather than say anything."

"You could give him a heart attack on the spot."

"Not possible."

With a shrug, Jason said, "And more importantly, I think you should be aware of the fact that we both know Finn Hummel can't keep a secret to save his life. I'm surprised your dad doesn't already know. I think he will by the end of the day. You may want to think about springing it on him sooner, rather than later."

Kurt nodded silently.

There was a flicker of emotion across Jason's face, the kind that Finn had when he was worried, and Kurt knew right away that they were about to talk about the kiss. They were going to have it out, once and only once, but they were.

"You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" Kurt had told Sam that Jason wouldn't, but he'd begun to doubt how sure he'd been. Jason was loyal, almost to a fault, but he wouldn't hesitate on matters that he knew were best for Kurt, whether Kurt wanted them or not.

Jason reached out and brushed at Kurt's bangs, a familiar gesture that made Kurt swallow hard.

"I'm not," Jason said finally. "It isn't my business. It's between you and Sam Evans. If you want me to pretend to forget what I saw, then I will."

Their voices were low, and admits the murmur of the crowded hallway, Kurt was sure they couldn't be overhead. It was why he risked saying, "I never meant to let it get that far. It was a mistake."

"That it got that far, or that you kissed him at all?"

Shortly, Kurt said, "My life is a little complicated right now, okay? You wouldn't understand if I tried to explain to you why I let Sam put his tongue down my throat."

Jason eyes widened and his mouth curled upward. "There was tongue? Kurt, you harlot. Give me all the details."

"You know," he pointed out, "you sound like a fourteen year old girl."

"My sister and I were closest in age. For all intents and purposes, I was her sister."

"There is something really wrong with that statement."

Jason nudged Kurt. "Really. Tell me why."

"Just … there are some things that I'm not comfortable with."

"There are a lot of things you're not comfortable with, Kurt. You're kind of a prude, but the good kind." Jason smiled kindly. "But more importantly, Kurt, are you stringing David along?"

"Dave?" Kurt asked, not expecting the turn of the conversation. "Am I stringing him along?"

"I said it wasn't my business," Jason responded, "but you know it isn't right to play those two boys against each other. We're boys ourselves, Kurt, we know how stupid and clueless our gender can be. You have to go easy on them, you're much smarter than they are."

Kurt breathed out, "Your mother would be so proud of you. But Jason, really, I promise, I'm not stringing anyone along."

"Then the kiss?"

"Poor judgment," Kurt dismissed. "I took a chance and it didn't play out in my favor. If anything it made things worse. I'm not leaving Dave and I'm not cheating on him. That was the last of it with Sam, and that's why I'm asking that you don't tell anyone what you saw. This could ruin a lot of relationships, not just my own. Please."

Jason's fingers curled reassuringly around Kurt's wrist. "I already told you I wouldn't tell. You have my word."

Kurt nodded. "Then, I'll see you at practice today?"

"Three sharp," Jason agreed. "And Kurt, just try and remember, emotions are a funny thing to play with. They're easy to hurt, hard to repair and complicated at best. They're not child's play when we're our age, and we may be a little too young to know what love is exactly, but we're getting there."

Kurt made a face. "Thank you Doctor Phil."

Jason swatted at him and Kurt took off down the hallway, feeling better prepared to see Sam in Bio, and finish the day with a positive outlook.

And it kind of looked like things were going to absolutely perfect by lunch. He and Sam hadn't mentioned the kiss once during Bio, and had worked perfect well together, tension at a minimum. It was almost as if it hadn't happen, except every time Kurt glanced at him from the corner of his eye he could still remember the pressure of Sam's lips against his own, and the warmth of his breath against Kurt's skin. He could still remember the rightness of it.

At the end of his last period at school Kurt tossed his bag over his shoulder and headed towards the south side of the school. On Wednesdays the Titans had a break from practice, and the Cheerios had double practice. It was usually the one time Kurt relented and let Finn have the car after school. His brother was typically fearful enough of Kurt's wrath to bring the car back vacuumed and washed, and all evidence of whatever Titan orgy had taken place in the car gone.

"Finn!" Kurt called out, his brother standing out easily in the hallway.

"Hey," Finn said, and he seemed demure, and so unlike himself. It made Kurt slow and reach him at a crawl.

"Finn," Kurt said once more. He held the keys to the Navigator out to him. "I was thinking you and Noah and maybe Mike and Matt could go down to the local rink. Get some milkshakes, pretend like you're badasses. Whatever you teenage boys do."

There was a forced smile on Finn's face, then he reached out and curled Kurt's fingers around the keys. "I won't tell dad, okay? I won't tell him you're flying again, even though he's going to be mad and worried and probably yell, at who I'm not sure."

"Thanks." Kurt looked down at his fist, fingers closed over the keys. "Thanks, Finn."

"But if that guy drops you on your head, I'm going to crack his. And don't, you know, push yourself too hard. Your doctor said you're going to break bones more easily now, at least for a while. And if you have any of those, what did he call them, heart beat things, you're supposed to call for help right away."

"Heart palpitations," Kurt answered for him. "And I haven't had any for a while now. Weeks. There's nothing to worry to worry about." Once more Kurt offered the keys to Finn. "But don't you want the car? I can get Jason to drop me off at home after practice."

Kurt felt himself tilting a bit in confusion, his chest seizing up as he watched his brother's eyes water. "Finn?"

"I … I have somewhere to be after school today."

There was a nearby classroom, empty and the door open, and Kurt seized the opportunity. He grabbed Finn roughly and dragged him in, demanding, "What's going on?"

"It wasn't my fault," Finn rushed to say, flushed, sweat gathering at his forehead. "It wasn't mine, Kurt. I don't know how it got in there. I don't … I don't know what to do."

"What?" Kurt held tighter to him. "Slow down and start over."

Finn nodded frantically. "It's Mr. Schue. He called me into his office today. He told me, god, Kurt, he told me he found pot in my locker today. He showed it to me, and it was in a little baggy and everything. My life is over."

"Pot?" That wasn't like Finn at all. Finn put athletics and his friends and the right thing above everything else. Finn wasn't a druggie. In fact Kurt was pretty sure the only pot that Finn had ever seen was on a badly acted, twenty year old public service announcement that his health class had watched freshman year. Finn wouldn't have known pot if someone had rolled it up in front of him and lit it. That much Kurt knew for sure. And his brother certainly didn't have any in his locker.

"Finn. Finn!" Kurt pulled him down so they were eye level. "Mr. Schuester said he got pot from your locker?"

"It's not mine," Finn wailed.

"I know that." Kurt shook him a little.

"I don't know how it got in there," Finn continued, and he sounded like he might hyperventilate.

Kurt thought frantically, and came up with, "What about Noah? He's quick to brag that he has access to it. God knows the one time I saw him smoke it he choked like his lungs were burning up, but he has the combination to your locker. Could it have been him?"

Finn gasped a little. "No way. He's on probation. You know after he smashed through Mr. Cobb's mailbox and took out half of the nearby fence and ran over Brittany's cat that he got off with community service. And he had to promise, Kurt, absolutely promise that he wasn't going to get into any more trouble. He wouldn't risk going to juvie, not for some pot."

"Who else has the combination?" Kurt demanded. "Quinn?" But she was even more unlikely.

"He told me he had to report me, Kurt." Finn knelt down on the ground, knees hitting the floor hard and hands bracing staunchly. "And that I'd get suspended, or maybe expelled. There could be criminal charges. And then the police would call mom and dad, and they'd be so upset and I'd ruin my whole life. He said it would happen."

Kurt knelt down next to him and settled his hands on Finn's shoulders. "He won't do it, Finn. He's a good teacher, daft and repetitive, but a good teacher. He knows you're a good guy."

Finn leaned his forehead onto Kurt's shoulder. "He said that. He said he knew it was just a mistake. And that's why he's doing this for me, Kurt. All I have to do is join glee club and he's going to make it all go away."

Kurt froze, joints locking up and air quickly deserting his body. Slowly and meticulously he enunciated, "That's exactly what he said to you, Finnegan?"

Finn looked up. "He said he would make it all go away if I agreed to join. Kurt, I can't do that to mom and dad. They love me so much, Mr. Schue is right, it would ruin everything. I have to join."

His mouth was dry and there was a collected rage settling over Kurt before he managed to say, "That bitch."

"Mr. Schue?"

"Rachel Berry."

Kurt had it all worked out, and it wasn't even the most clever plan he could imagine. But it all made sense and everything fit. He knew how interested Rachel was in Finn, and he knew first hand from their previous talk how desperate she was to get Finn involved in glee club. Kurt had heard the talk around school. Mr. Schue had once been a member of McKinley's glee club, and was trying to rekindle that part of his youth by taking over for the previous director who'd been excused. He was probably as desperate to have Finn as she was, especially if Sam had been truthful when he'd said the club was comprised of five members. It was entirely too possible to believe that Mr. Schue had seen Finn's obvious weakness, his family, and planted the pot. Rachel had enabled him and together they'd nearly destroyed his brother, and so quickly after he'd lost his position as quarterback.

"No," Finn denied. "She wasn't there."

Kurt stood up, hands on his hips. "Finn. Go home."

"Glee club," he tried to protest.

"Go home," Kurt said once more, trying desperately not to let his anger seep into any words he had with Finn. "I want you to take the keys to the Navigator and go home and do your homework. You don't say anything to anyone about this, and you forget it ever happened."

"He'll tell," Finn said, looking up and looking desperate and destroyed.

Kurt offered a hand down to Finn, and though it nearly took him off his feet to pull his brother up, he anchored himself and tugged hard.

"I'm going to go have a talk with Mr. Schue."

Finn blanched even further. "You're got that funny look on your face."

"My face always looks this way, Finn."

Finn shook his head. "No, that's the face you have when dad tries to sneak KFC into the house, and he thinks you won't smell it. It's the face you made when mom took your bedazzler away because you went a little crazy and put rhinestones on her work uniform. And that's really the look you had on your face when Puck and I accidentally took that pretty blue scarf you loved so much and used it to clean up the lasagna that exploded in the microwave that one time."

Kurt nearly threw the keys at Finn. "My McQueen scarf. My two hundred and fifty dollar Alexander McQueen scarf."

"Yeah, that's the face. It's the face that makes me really thankful you would never get your hands dirty with murder."

Kurt huffed, "Never directly."

Finn pursed his lips for a second, then asked, "You're going to go talk to Mr. Schue?"

"We're going to have words," Kurt nodded. "I'm going to clear this mess up, Finn. I'll take care of it."

They were still holding hands, and Kurt had forgotten, at least until Finn squeezed his fingers a bit too hard and just so Finn like.

"Dude," his brother said, "I don't want you to get in trouble."

But Finn's eyes were still wet, and he was sweating now, and Kurt couldn't stand by and let it pass. He had to say, "It's my turn to be the big little brother, okay? Go home, Finn. Help me out here. Just go home and wait for me."

Finn squeezed a final time, then held the keys awkwardly and said, "You're the best brother a guy could ever have, Kurt. I don't know if you can fix this, I don't know if you should try, but you're going to, and … and …"

"Go home," Kurt said gently. "Or better yet, drive to the mall and go to Body Works. I'm pretty sure I'm going to come home a veritable mess of limbs. I'll be uncoordinated, achy and pissy. Go and get me some bath salts. I ran out earlier this week and I think I'll want to take a bath tonight. I like the lavender scent, but I'm willing to settle on fresh cucumber if they're out. Don't get me cherry blossom again." Kurt coughed a little, thinking immediately of the cherry syrup from that morning.

"I think I should be writing this down," Finn said. "What was the first one again?"

Mr. Schue's office was located just a short distance from his Spanish classroom. Kurt knew that Mr. Schue knew Finn from that class. Most of the football players ended up in Mr. Schue's class for one glaring, obvious reason. It was no school secret that Mr. Schue was an absolute softie when it came to grading, and passed nearly all of his students, deserving or not. Kurt took French, not Spanish, and planned to put the language to good use when he studied fashion in France the summer between his high school graduation and his first semester at college. Kurt knew Mr. Schue only by reputation, and now by a lowball attempt at blackmail.

Mr. Schue was still in his office when Kurt arrived. He knocked once, then twice, and strode right in, settling into the chair across from the teacher's desk without being asked to.

"Kurt?" the teacher asked, clearly unsure. It was the first time, Kurt realized, that they'd been in the same room, save for the auditorium, in the several years Kurt had been at the high school. And they'd never been introduced.

Kurt said, "Kurt Hummel. Finn's brother, and I'd like a moment of your time, if you have it."

He knew he had Schue uncomfortable the moment he'd mentioned Finn's name. There was a stream of guilt in front of him that Kurt could see plain as day.

"I have to leave for glee practice soon," Schue said, "but I have a few moments."

"And I have a few questions." He crossed one leg over the other and glanced at the nearby wall clock. Cheerio practice was set to begin in less than twenty minutes, and he needed to meet Jason in fifteen. Pressed for time, he asked, "How stupid do you think my brother is? Honestly. I want to know. Do you think he's Sesame Street stupid, or get pinned with having a joint in your locker that isn't yours to begin with and let your favorite teacher blackmail you with it stupid?"

"Kurt …"

"Finn is not stupid," Kurt said, cutting of whatever the teacher had to say. "He's naive, and easily influenced, not to mention he spends most of his life being confused by things, but that doesn't make him stupid. And more importantly, Mr. Schue, I'm even less stupid than Finn is. I know my brother better than he knows himself, and Finn wouldn't know what pot looked like, let alone how to get it, even if someone lit it up right in front of him and offered him a hit. You have him in your Spanish class. Can we agree on that?"

Schue was rattled, and turning an interesting shade of red as he rushed to say, "The evidence was right there, Kurt. Now I know we don't want to think these things of people we love-"

"It's football season," Kurt snapped. "And during football season Finn, who is like a human garbage disposal, starts to bulk up. He cuts down his fat intake, has double portions of everything that is high in protein, and he starts spending twice as long working out. He takes it very seriously. That's what makes the pot even more unbelievable. Maybe if you'd waited until after football season, you would have gotten a little further than to this point, but not now. Finn won't so much as touch a Butterfinger for the first few weeks of football, and especially now that he's working to get his old spot back."

"I have the evidence," Schue said, and the man retrieved a baggie from his desk. "Now Finn is a good kid. I don't want to go to Figgins with this. I don't want to have to tell him that I found this in your brother's locker. That's why I proposed the compromise for Finn."

"What were you even doing in my brother's locker to begin with?"

When Schue didn't answer right away Kurt was more convinced that the teacher hadn't been.

"I hardly think that's the most important thing here, Kurt."

Kurt's hands folded over his crossed knee. "My brother's locker jams, Mr. Schue. It jams and you have to know the perfect way to jiggle the handle while spinning the dial for it to open. Finn's had that locker for four years now and he still can't get it on the rainy days when his fingers are wet. That's why I'm far more inclined to believe that you never found anything in his locker, and you just told him you did."

Mr. Schue stood and said, "I think this conversation is over, Kurt. We can take this to the principal's office if you'd prefer."

Kurt remained seated. "I'm far more interested in how you developed this idea. I'm well aware of how Rachel Berry has you wrapped around her little finger. She's good, damn good, and don't think I don't know how badly she wants Finn. I wouldn't be surprised if she convinced you how essential Finn is to your little club, and that's what drove you to this."

Fleetingly, Schue said, "We need more people. Finn is a leader at this school. If he joined glee, other people would follow."

"I already asked Finn if he wanted to join glee, mainly to get Rachel off my back and away from me." Kurt watched Schue slowly sink into his seat. "He said no. And his reasons are his own. Just because you decided to perv on my brother one afternoon in the showers and you found out he can sing, doesn't mean you get to force him to join whatever you have going on. It's a club, not a draft. Finn said no and you couldn't respect that."

Schue leaned forward. "Your brother has amazing presence, Kurt. His voice needs some improvement, but the charisma is there, and the potential. I'm certain if he and Rachel worked together, they could take glee club all the way to nationals."

"That's your dream," Kurt said peevishly, "and Rachel Berry's. Not Finn's. How dare you try and force someone to live out your dream."

"I think you should leave now."

"You know my dad?" Kurt asked curiously. "Burt Hummel? Of Hummel Tire and Lube? Bigger than me, likes hats and flannel?"

Schue nodded. "I remember him from …"

"Ah." Kurt agreed, "the flamethrower incident. To be fair, I would have guessed he'd go for the rifle before that, but he wasn't thinking. That's what happens when you're running on adrenaline. He nearly set Sylvester on fire, you know. He was really trying, and not even my mom could stop him, and she's got him on a tighter leash than Berry has you. So I wonder what he'd do if I went home and told him that a teacher that was loved and respected was trying to plant drugs on his son."

Schue turned pale, paler than Kurt had thought possible.

"I wonder," Kurt repeated. It was too easy, the threatening and the disrespect he was showing. He understood how Quinn did it so effortlessly, and why Santana liked it so much. Manipulating people and passive aggressively threatening them was an art, and it was one that was far from a pain to practice.

"I would simply explain to your father," Schue said, voice shaking and confidence gone, "the situation, and hope that he-"

Kurt's hands stilled from where they'd begun tapping against his knee. "My father nearly killed, Sylvester, Mr. Shue. There's a restraining order out against him with her. And since then he's become even more protective over myself and Finn. He's also watching our teachers carefully. He never thought they would deliberately hurt us before, and he knows better now. If I tell him this, he may just decide to dig that flamethrower out once more. I think he's got the lighter propellant working at full strength right now."

They sat quiet in the office together after that, both thinking, and Kurt wondering if he'd said enough to save Finn.

And then he knew he hasn't, because Schue said, "It would only be your word against mine, and I still have the evidence."

There was a line that Kurt had known always existed with him, one that he'd vowed never to cross. But this was Finn, and if there was a better reason, Kurt had yet to come across it.

Kurt crossed the line and asked, "Mr. Schue, do you remember who was the director of the Glee club last year?"

With a frown, the teacher said, "Of course I do. I've known Sandy Ryerson for years."

"Then you know why he was dismissed."

Schue cleared his throat and said, "I believe everyone knows that-"

Kurt finished for him, "that he took a less than innocent interest in a student, and Rachel went flapping to the principal, not only humiliating the school, but ruining two lives in the process. I'm not saying what happened was okay, or that I know the specifics at all, but the way I understand it, Principal Figgins is under strict orders never to let something like that happen again. His job is on the line."

"I would never," Schue said, and it was the first time Kurt believed him, "ever take advantage of a student that way."

"I know you wouldn't." Kurt nodded. "You're a decent human being, probably one of the few at this school, but other people don't know that. And they're probably going to believe me when I go running from this room in about ninety seconds, calling for help because you just tried to push me up against your desk and kiss me. Your hand is also going to go dangerously close to my rear end."

"Kurt!" Schue braced both hands on his desk. "Those are serous accusations that can ruin careers. They're not something to joke around with."

Kurt managed to his own feet. "I'm well in control of the situation, Mr. Schue. And what I'm doing may be deplorable, but this is the point I'm pushed to. So I propose a deal." Kurt straightened his clothing and took a step away. "I can turn around and walk out of this office and the both of us will never talk about this again. That's if you make the drugs disappear and leave my brother alone."

"Or?" Schue asked, looking moments away from passing out.

"Or I go right to Figgins and tell him that you tried something. You'll loose your job, your wife, your friends, and any semblance of respect you might have had among your peers. I'm out and proud, Mr. Schue. If it's my word against yours, at least on this topic, I think I'll win. And then I suggest that you run. I suggest you run very far and very fast, because if my father doesn't come after you, my mother may, and don't forget about Finn, and Dave and all the other people in my life who will have no problem seeing me as the victim. They won't even question it. That's if you don't make the pot go away."

Schue nearly sounded pleading as he said, "Don't do this, Kurt. Don't bring yourself down to this level."

"You tried to blackmail my seventeen year old brother with drugs," Kurt said darkly. "And your mistake wasn't the blackmail, Mr. Schue, it was how poorly you did it. I'm better. And I've just one upped you. So make your decision, and keep in mind that I've been able to cry on cue since I was twelve."

"Kurt." Schue closed his eyes and nodded. "Alright. I'll back off."

"And see about Berry," Kurt added. "You might also want to tell her that she should really figure Finn out before she tries to get you to manipulate him. The both of you tried to play into his fears of letting the people he loves down in his life. But that's not his greatest fear. You never hit on the one thing that would best get him to do what you want, and because you never figured that out, you never had a chance."

It was for Finn, Kurt told himself as he left Schue's office less than a minute later. He'd crossed the line for Finn, and used his sexuality against someone in a way he'd sworn he never would. For Finn it should have felt like a victory, but all Kurt felt was dirty. He felt wretched, and as he headed to practice, he couldn't wait to feel the horrible burn of the long workout ahead of him.

By the time Kurt got home dinner was long over, his mother was due home from her shift at any time and Kurt could hear his father in the kitchen, the sink running as he likely did the dishes.

"Hi," he greeted, passing through, muscles protesting with every step.

"Hold it!" his father called out, making Kurt wince and stop.

Kurt swung back around towards him. "Yes?"

Burt was up to his elbows in soapy water, hat on backwards and nearly all of the dishes finished. His mouth was pulled tight and Kurt could tell he was over thinking something as he said, "Your coach called me this afternoon."

"Sylvester?" Kurt asked with disbelief. "About what?"

"You …" Burt stopped, then started again, "The rules haven't changed."

"Rules?"

Burt nodded. "For Cheerios. The permission slip, kid. I have to sign it if you're going to do that again."

"Oh." Kurt had forgotten. Fliers were required to sign waver forms, along with permission slips. Once a year it was required, and his previous one had lapsed months ago. "So I guess you know, right?"

"Would be hard not to." Burt scrubbed at a place. "Just tell me you were going to say something."

Kurt argued, "Of course I was. I was going to tell you tonight, actually. Honestly. I've just been too nervous to say anything."

Burt asked, "You think I'm not going to sign, or try and forbid you from doing it?"

Kurt leaned back against the wall, trying to take pressure off his legs. "No. But you told my coach to lie to my face. You told her to tell me she wasn't going to let me do it anymore. If Jason hadn't told me the truth, if he hadn't been convinced I could do it, despite what you and Doctor Meyers think …"

Burt finished he plate at hand and moved on to the last of the silverware. Voice rough, he said, "It's not that we don't think you can do it. Kurt, you've never not been able to do anything. You're that kind of kid. But you can't fault your old man for looking out for you. I almost lost you. I'm not going to have a repeat of that, and I don't want this to be a trigger. You know it could be."

"It won't be." Kurt dug his feet in. "And anything could be a trigger. A TV commercial could be on, or something a friend says. Dad, I can't live my life in fear that I'm going to break down and fall back into bad habits. I want to do this. I want to fly. I won't get to do it next year. Jason graduates and so do most of the boys on the Cheerios. There won't be anyone strong enough to lift me, just a bunch of underclassmen. If I don't take this opportunity now, I won't get another chance until college, and I don't think I'll want to do this in college."

He could see his father working hard not say anything while he spoke, and Kurt appreciated the restraint.

"I gave Sylvester my verbal consent. You just go sign some papers tomorrow and you're back in the air."

Kurt nearly wept with relief. "Thank you."

"You tell your mother," Burt called out to Kurt as he headed towards the stairs. "You hear me?"

When Kurt reached his bedroom door, Finn's own door cracked open, and his brother's head popped out. Finn asked, "How did it go?"

Kurt sighed. "Mr. Schue will leave you alone. There was nothing in your locker. It was a misunderstanding."

Finn's hands twisted nervously. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"You're my brother," Kurt said. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Then suddenly, Finn said, "While you were at practice, Rachel called."

Kurt felt his mouth hang open a bit. "Rachel Berry? The original cause of this whole mess? She called here? How did she even get the number?"

Finn shrugged. "I guess she asked around for it. I don't know."

"What did she want?"

"She called to apologize," Finn answered. "She explained some things and she apologized. I think she meant it. And she's pretty nice when she looses the competitive bite. We talked for almost an hour."

"Finn," Kurt said tryingly.

Finn scoffed, "It's not like she's going to be my friend or anything, Kurt. But I think I understand her a little bit better."

Kurt nudged his bedroom door open, then paused, seeing the mass of objects on his bed. "Finn?"

Finn rushed to his side, exclaiming, "I went to the mall, just like you said. But then I got there, and I couldn't remember if you asked for bath salt or sea salt. And the lady was just kind of looking at my funny, and she asked if I meant body wash, or bath wash, and then there was this two for three deal, and a buy one get one free deal and I didn't know which was the better deal. I wrote down what you like, and what you didn't like, but they all these fusions things, like, where you take two scents and mix the together, so I was scared I was going to get you peppermint lavender and you were going to hate it, and isn't cherry blossom a fusion? Or are cherries okay on their own? Do blossoms have a smell? Just like regular flowers?"

"Finn!" Kurt dropped his Cheerios bag and wandered to his bed. "Did you buy the whole store?" He reached out to touch the nearest of the products. "And where did you get the money for this?"

"I worked extra at the shop this summer," Finn reminded.

"You shouldn't spend your money on me. I know how much Quinn likes it when you buy her things."

Finn rubbed at the back of his head. "Yeah, but Quinn never did anything like this for me. I don't think she ever would."

"Go to bed," Kurt said kindly. "And thank you for buying out Body Works for me. I'm sure you'll be their favorite customer from now on."

There was a cheesy grin on Finn's face as he retreated from the room, but he said halfway out of Kurt's space, "You know, you and Rachel aren't so far apart."

"Bite your tongue." Kurt nearly threw a bottle of Peach Passion at Finn's head.

"Really," Finn insisted. "When we were talking, so told me that what she did was wrong, but she really wanted me to think about what I wanted. She said I shouldn't let other people tell me what's cool and what isn't. She said I shouldn't care what other people think, as long as I like it. That's what you've been trying to tell me for a while, years, I think."

"And you've been telling me otherwise," Kurt argued back, voice low, "and for good reason. I'm not saying we should fold under peer pressure, but you've always had a point. Teenagers are mean, Finn, and they're not typically accepting of anything outside of normal. High school is about surviving. It's about blending in just enough to get by, until we're out in the real word, and then we can be whatever we want. Rachel wants to be who she is now, and that's commendable, but stupid none the less."

"And if I wanted to join glee?"

Kurt breathed in sharply. "I just nearly compromised myself, Finn, to keep you out of that club."

Finn clung to the doorframe. "I didn't say I was going to! And what does that mean? Compromised?"

Kurt sat heavily on the edge of his bed. "Nothing. Forget it. Finn."

"Do you hate me?"

"Are you joining glee?"

"I've been thinking about it," Finn admitted quietly, "since way before Mr. Schue said that stuff was mine. I've been thinking about it since Rachel tried to get you to convince me to join. I like to sing, you know. I like it. I just never thought I was very good. Not like you. When you sing, dad kind of looks like he wants to cry. He says you sound like your mom." Awkwardly, Finn said, "Your mom. Not ours."

Wordlessly Kurt nodded. He understood.

"You were considerably opposed to glee club he last time it was mentioned," Kurt pointed out. "Were you just lying then?"

"Sort of," Finn said, making a pained face. "I mean, I think it might be cool. Rachel says it's cool."

"Rachel probably thinks a box of crayons are cool."

Finn continued, "But the guys would never be okay with it. They'd make fun of me. And I'm already not the quarterback. Glee would ruin me."

"But is it what you want?"

The slump to Finn's broad shoulders was disconcerting, as were the words, "Sometimes I wonder if this is who I'm supposed to be."

"I don't care," Kurt said feverishly, "if you want to join glee. I don't care if you're some secret band geek. All I care if that you do what you want, Finn. All our lives we've tried to be the best, and have the best and do the best. We lie to ourselves all the time." Like he lied to his heart about Sam, and about Dave.

"What if it hurt us?" Finn posed. "We do what we do to stay strong."

Kurt wrung his hands for a moment, then said, "If glee is what you want, you should do it. If it isn't, then don't. Things have been happening this year, Finn, that haven't before. Things are changing. We can't be the same, we have to change, too. And I'm starting to believe that we need to reevaluate what makes us happy, and what we're willing to sacrifice for that happiness."

"I .. uh …" Finn stammered. "I haven't decided on anything yet."

"Neither have it." Kurt smiled a bit. "About anything, really."

"So, goodnight?"

Kurt gave him a wave and began clearing his bed. Things, he decided, in the Hummel house, were never going to be anything less than complicated.

Kurt got away on Saturday to the local coffee shop. Lima wasn't nearly as big as Columbus, which was the preferred destination as far as Kurt was concerned, and when it came to cool hang out spots, but there was the old, abandoned textile factory, and the coffee shop. Because the factory was absolutely creepy, and the police came around more than a few times a day, Kurt spent most of his free time at the café.

When he and Blaine managed to find the time for each other, it was their spot. They'd been meeting at the Lima Bean for a little over two years, and per tradition, they always sat at the same table, and ordered the same drinks. Blaine usually paid, and Kurt typically had something to vent about. How they worked, Kurt was still trying to figure out.

"You look good," Blaine observed, sipping at his coffee. "Better than I've seen you in a while. What's going on?"

Kurt smiled into his coffee. Blaine was probably the friend Kurt saw the least frequently, but of them all, he was the most valued. It was their shared sexual orientation that had initially brought them together, but it was their ability to geek out over musical theater that sustained the friendship.

"I think I blackmailed a teacher last week."

Blaine's eyebrows nearly rose to his hairline. "That's new. How'd it go?"

"Surprisingly well. If Sylvester ever found out, I think she'd be proud of me. She's been trying to blackmail Mr. Schue for years. I managed it in minutes."

Blaine's foot nudged his under the table. "I take it you had a good reason?"

A bit defensively, Kurt said, "He tried to blackmail Finn first. There were drugs involved, and all so my brother would join his glee club."

"Well, if it was for a good cause." Blaine's Dalton jacket was hooked on the back of the chair, and the emblem was still visible to Kurt if he leaned just a bit to the side.

"You're biased," Kurt told Blaine. Blaine was part of his own school's glee club, but Kurt had never actually heard him sing. He had, however, seen Blaine flanked by a series of red and blue blazers from time to time. Blaine had never said it, but Kurt was very much under the impression that the senior was really very popular at Dalton. It was a nice change from the years previous, before Blaine had transferred schools, when Kurt had worried about his friend's safety. "The Warblers are like rock stars at Dalton. McKinley's glee club is ranked lower than the AV club. That should clue you in."

Blaine jerked his cup a little towards Kurt and told him, "You have a very exciting school, Kurt. Blackmail, intrigue, deception, all you need is a good murder mystery and you could write a book."

"How are you real?" Kurt asked. "No. Really. Do you think I'm a bad person?"

Blaine had a medium drip, like the most predictable of clockwork, and Kurt glanced down at his own mocha. It was one of the few things he still indulged in. Coffee was his vice, and his true weakness.

Blaine said, "I think you did a bad thing for a good reason. That's something commendable, Kurt." The normally posh façade Blaine wore so easy disappeared for a moment, and he said, "And completely awesome. I wish I could have been there. You're brilliant when you're furious."

"I think it was all a bit pointless in the end."

"How so?" Blaine asked. His hair was gelled down, like Kurt could almost always remember it being, but it was the end of the day, and Kurt could see the edges curling up. It had always been an urge of his to run his fingers through Blaine's hair, free from gel and product. Kurt imagined it would feel amazing.

With a sigh, Kurt explained, "Finn was always the first person to tell me that once you got a taste of popularity, it was crucial to keep a hold on it."

"But in not as many words?" Blaine asked, good naturedly.

Kurt was forced to crack a smile. "In not as many words," he agreed. "But the point is, Finn worked really hard for his popularity, and to ensure the groundwork for mine. Blaine, Finn basically took me by the hand and passed me off to Quinn at the start of my freshman year. Together they decided I should join Cheerios, and what activities I could have at. And it's all for the sake of remaining at the top. But now he's gone and done the exact opposite of that, and I don't know what to do."

"What did he do?"

Kurt corrected, "It's more like what I'm afraid he's going to do. I went through all that trouble to basically tell Mr. Schue that I was going to report him for sexual advances, and then Finn turns around and says maybe he does want to be in glee after all."

Blaine hesitated, took a long drink of coffee, then asked, "Shouldn't it be his choice?"

"You'd think," Kurt allowed, "but his friends aren't going to be okay with it. The school won't be, either. Finn is falling into a slump. He's nothing like he used to be, and I'm concerned."

Blaine reached out, the pads of his fingers trailing down the side of Kurt's face intimately. "I think you're more worried about what it means for you, Kurt. He's always set the pace for you, and determined the path you'll walk. Now he wants to go out on his own, and you're getting lost."

"You'd fit right in at McKinley," Kurt assured him. "You're just as dramatic as everyone else at the school."

Blaine pinched Kurt's cheek, and harder than he needed to. "I'm just saying, you never completely bought into your brother's contrite bull about the emphasis of popularity, and maybe he didn't buy into his own, either. He could just be starting to realize that. I know the Glee club at your school is like poison, but if Finn knows that, and still chooses it, what more can you do, other than be supportive?"

In another life, if things had been different, and if there hadn't been Dave for Kurt to kiss, there might have been Blaine. Once in a while Kurt could really imagine the two of them together, drinking coffee in the morning, listening to the soundtrack of Breakfast at Tiffany's before bed, and linking pinkies in the way that Santana and Brittany did. They might have gotten together and stayed together. It would have been nice.

"I don't want him to get hurt," Kurt said, then begrudgingly admitted, "I don't want to get hurt because of him."

Blaine nodded slowly. "I think you're getting it now."

With a huff, Kurt leaned an elbow on the table and remarked, "No one ever tells you it's going to be this difficult in high school."

"I think that's a required secret." Blaine set his empty cup to the side. "Now, do you want to hear about how I made an absolute fool of myself at the local Gap? It involved singing a song with a line about sex toys to an older man. The Warblers backed me up. It was all very humiliating."

Kurt said, "Only if you're willing to listen about how I've managed to fall hard for the new kid, regardless of having Dave in my life, and how I kissed him a few days ago, and it was the best kiss I've ever had in my life."

Blaine was on his feet immediately, saying, "I need more coffee for this. And for god sake, Kurt, we have got to start meeting more frequently."

Blaine was halfway to the barista when Kurt called after him, "Did I mention I'm flying for the Cheerios again?"

Blaine shot him a maddening look, and then came back to the table a few minutes later with a strawberry tart and a sugar cookie. Kurt broke off a small piece of each as Blaine said, "Tell me everything. This is better than when Quinn and Finn had the pregnancy scare."

Rubbing at his fingers to dislodge the sugar grains, Kurt remarked to him, "You're most certainly a fourteen year old girl, Blaine."

"You can paint my toenails later. And my cuticles are looking atrocious." Blaine swatted at him. "But enough about me. Tell me about this new kids that you've fallen in love with. Is he blond? I bet he's blond."

"I have not fallen in love with him," Kurt said, jaw set. "And for the record, I'm convinced his blond tresses are faux."

Blaine blinked for a moment, then asked slowly, "And you still like him? I thought that was one of your deal breakers."

Kurt looked down at the piece of cookie he'd taken, and slowly broke it into even smaller pieces. He could feel the weight of Blaine's disapproval, and said haughtily, "I put up with your product damaged hair, don't I?"

There was mock outrage on Blaine's face. "You, sir, have offended me." He gestured at Kurt's hair. "And really, with the amount of spray that you're carrying around, it's a miracle your lungs haven't folded in on themselves yet."

Kurt framed his hair delicately. "You know I only use organic products."

"So, what's this new boy's name?"

"Sam Evans," Kurt said, and thought of the day previous when their teacher had chosen a particularly boring film to show in class on cell mitosis. Kurt had been falling asleep in his chair when suddenly a piece of paper had been nudged in his direction, a small cartoon hastily sketched in the top corner. Kurt had returned the paper to Sam with dialogue, and it hadn't been long before there had been another panel for Kurt to add to. Sam had let him keep it and Kurt still had it tucked into a binder fold.

"You said you kissed him?" Blaine asked eagerly.

Kurt nodded. "I was trying to do something really stupid, something that wouldn't have worked out well in the end anyway. I only meant to give him a peck, but then were really kissing, and Blaine …"

"Stars?"

"Fireworks," Kurt corrected. "I swear, I don't even remember most of it, that's how ridiculous it was."

"So then you told Dave to take a hike, and then kissed Sam a whole lot more, right? Please tell me you had sense enough to do that, because I may reach across this table and strangle you if you did anything else."

Kurt scooted back a bit. "Dave is my boyfriend, Blaine, and just because you're not his biggest fan, doesn't mean I feel the same way. I'm still with Dave and that's the way it's going to be."

"But you saw fireworks?" Blaine's head tilted to the side in confusion. "You saw the fabled fireworks and you didn't' think they meant something? Kurt, they blew up in your face and you ignored them?"

Before Blaine could jump any further down his throat, he was quick to explain all of the reasons why leaving Dave for Sam were a phenomenally bad idea. The reasons made perfect sense of Kurt as he laid them out, but he could tell Blaine was less convinced than Kurt had dared to hope for.

And his thoughts were confirmed when Blaine said simply, "You're a complete idiot, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel."

Kurt's fingers traced the lip of his coffee cup. "You're free to think that, but honestly, you can keep your judgment to yourself."

Blaine sobered. "I didn't mean for that, Kurt."

With a deep exhale, Kurt said, "It's fine. I just want you to understand how much I'm struggling with this. I've been with Dave forever. My feelings for him are layered and complex and deep. Dave is everything I should be content and happy with. But like you said, Sam and fireworks go together. I kissed him, Blaine, and I knew."

"Knew what?" Blaine asked.

"He was the one I wanted to wait for."

Blaine gave a nervous chuckle. "Are we really about to talk about your virginity here? In the middle of a Lima coffee shop?"

"No we're not," Kurt said annoyed. "I didn't mean sex. I meant that I could wait for Sam when we go our separate ways to college, and when we become adults, and actually have careers and lives. I could wait for him, Blaine, to love me and come back to me, ready to be with me. And that's not the kind of feeling you can just shake off."

"You sound pretty conflicted."

Kurt nodded a bit frantically. "I'm … I feel like I'm going to have an ulcer from this. And Sam's just making it worse by being such a gentleman about it. He hasn't brought the kiss up once. In fact he's pretending like all we are is good friends."

Blaine pointed out, "But all you are is good friends."

Kurt let out a small whine. "Blaine."

"Maybe," Blaine posed, "Finn isn't the only one who wants to step out of his comfort zone."

Right away, Kurt said, "This isn't a comfort zone, Blaine, it's a danger zone. And it's the kind of statement I can't afford to make right now. I'm on track to be student body president next year, and head Cheerio. Dave and I can actually walk down the hallway and no one says anything. McKinley doesn't have that fancy bully free policy that your school does. It's because he and I have a carefully crafted image that we're safe, and one little nick could have everything falling apart. No, Sam isn't an option."

"Not even for the guy who makes you feel fireworks? For the one you want to wait for? Come on, Kurt. Guys like that don't come around all the time. Sometimes you have to grab deep inside of you and take a chance."

Kurt cleared his throat and cupped his hands around his coffee. "My mind is made up. Things need to stay the way they are."

Blaine laid his hands over Kurt's. "You can't stop change, Kurt, and sometimes it's a good thing."

Kurt looked down at their hands, laced together, folded intricately. "Do you remember that day I came and saw you at the hospital? After … after …"

"After Carl and I got the living crap beat out of us?" Blaine supplied. "After Sadie Hawkings."

Kurt drew his hands back. "Yes. When I came to see you, to make sure you were okay. At the hospital. That night, Blaine, do you remember me sitting with you? I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't. You were pretty out of it. But you said something to me, and it's been with me ever since."

"Stay gold, Ponyboy?"

Kurt grimaced. "It was just after I'd made flier, and I was so excited to tell you. I thought it would cheer you up. I think it just made things worse."

"You were the one good thing," Blaine said, voice filled with nothing but conviction, "out of that entire mess. Kurt, aside from my parents, you were the only one who came to see me in the hospital, and you came the very next morning. I was happy to hear about you on the cheer squad. You really helped make me feel better. I was hurt, but I was still happy for you."

Kurt insisted, "I told you I was at the top. I was popular. I wasn't going to be persecuted, ostracized or hurt for being exactly who I was. I was so excited, and do you remember what you said to me?"

Blaine shook his head. "Like you said, I was doped up on pain medication. I had a concussion-"

"-you said I should do anything and everything in my power to keep that popularity. You said it was power. You said I was only safe as long as I had that power, and I should never give it up. That I should fight to my last breath for what I had."

"I had just been beaten up," Blaine said darkly, "for daring to go to a school function with a boy I liked."

"It's what I've been doing ever since. Because I'm scared, Blaine. I'm scared that could happen to me. You had to switch schools. You had to leave everything behind. I won't let that be me, not if I can help it. So what I have now, I'm going to cling to. I'm going to fight for it, and I will give up everything else for it. You can call me a callous bitch if you want to, but it's fact." Kurt stood. "I have to go, Blaine. I have Cheerio practice in a little over an hour, and some homework to catch up on."

Blaine nodded and stood. "You should think about this some more, Kurt. Maybe consult with someone. Your mother?"

Kurt dismissed that right away. "I know what she'd say. She'd say I have to let Finn go his own way, the consequences damned, and that maybe I should take a good look at why being popular is so important to me. It's not what I want to hear right now."

"Not her," Blaine said in a lighter voice.

"Oh." Kurt's eyes felt immediately damp, but he knew there were few tears left to cry for a woman he hadn't seen or heard or touched in over a decade. "I used to go and sit by her grave all the time. It always made me feel better. I don't know why I stopped going."

Blaine slid his jacked on. "You never know. It could be a great time to pick that back up."

"You never know," Kurt repeated.

April 14, 2008

"What the hell is that?"

Kurt looked up from his thermos, over to Dave, and said, "Huh?" The two of them were stretched out on a soft blanket, the grass acting as a cushion under them and the thicket of bushes and trees at the far side of the park provided more than enough privacy for their afternoon picnic. "This?" Kurt gestured down to his thermos in hand.

"Yes, that." There was a great deal of food spread out around them, most of it half eaten by Dave who Kurt had always known to be a picky eater. "It's been permanently attached to your face for an hour now. I thought we were supposed to be having lunch together."

As if to prove a point, Kurt reached out for a bushel of nearby grapes, pulled one off and popped it in his mouth. After chewing he said, "You know I brought most of it for you. This is my lunch. It's for Cheerios."

"I've seen Quinn carrying a thermos like that around." Dave sat up, crossing his legs. "All the Cheerios do?"

Kurt nodded. "Sylvester has us on a special meal plan." Because it sounded better when he said it that way. "The Sue Sylvester Master Cleanse."

"Sounds fishy."

Kurt bit back another swallow. "Did I make a big deal about you going on that whey and protein diet over the football season? This is nothing compared to that."

A bit densely, Dave said, "But that was for football. Had to bulk up."

"And this," Kurt responded, jiggling the thermos, "is for Cheerios. Honestly, Dave, as little as you and your fellow brethren would like to admit it, Cheerleading is a very athletically demanding sport. I'm trying to get into the best shape I possibly can."

Dave arm found itself around Kurt's waist as he pulled the boy back a bit. "You do look like you've lost weight. You look good."

Kurt beamed. "The last of the baby fat, I'm sure. I'll look even better by the end."

Dave pressed a warm kiss to the back of Kurt's neck. "I think you look great now."

"Sylvester says I have hips like a pear." Kurt caped the thermos and set it aside, gesturing down to his hips. "I flare out at my bottom."

"Your bottom is my favorite part," Dave laughed.

Kurt leaned an elbow back into Dave, satisfied at the whine of pain he gave at the motion. Kurt snapped, "The point is, as Santana would say, I have junk in the trunk. Sylvester weighs us at the end of every week, the fliers, I mean. She rides all the girls hard, but especially those of us who go up in the air. She made it a point to tell me personally that just because I'm male, doesn't mean she'll go any easier on me."

Dave shrugged. "I've seen the guys who hold you up. They're pretty strong."

Letting his legs stretch out, Kurt leaned back on his hands. "It's not about the holding up, Dave. I'm sure most of the girls on the team could hold me up. But what I weight now, it probably feels like several hundred pounds after I've gone up high enough, and then come crashing back down due to gravity. I don't particularly care for the idea of being dropped, so this is the alternative."

Before Kurt could stop him, Dave had the thermos uncapped and was sniffing at the drink. "It smells like death," he said, holding the canister away. "What's in this?"

Kurt rattled off, "Water, maple syrup, fruit glucose, lemon, cyan pepper and ipecac."

Dave's forehead creased. "That sounds like it's horrible for you."

"All the Cheerios drink it," Kurt said easily enough.

"And what's ipecac?"

Kurt's hand settled onto Dave's thigh and he leaned in, kissing him softly. On a lazy Monday afternoon the park was deserted, and Kurt felt brave. There was a new sense of courage instilled in him since joining the Cheerios, one that made him feel like he could do anything, or be anything, and all he needed was control.

"You want to talk about my diet drink," Kurt asked, "or do you want to make out?"

"Make out," Dave agreed, pulling Kurt down onto him. "That one for sure."

September 13, 2009

Finn said on Monday, "I'm going to go to Glee practice this afternoon. Rachel invited me, and Mr. Schue already apologized. He said there was a mixup." Finn made a face. "You know Brent? His locker is right next to mine. I guess the joint was his."

Kurt nodded slowly. Maybe it was best that Finn never knew what had really happened with his favorite teacher.

"Since I'm not," Finn struggled to say, "starting the next game or anything, Coach Beiste cut me out of some of the practices. I can go to Glee during that time."

Sullenly, Kurt reminded, "You know this is going to hurt your reputation."

"I don't care." Finn thrust his hands deep into his letterman jacket. "I don't, Kurt."

"Why not?" Kurt demanded. "I just don't understand why you'd throw all of your hard work away. You've spent so much time and energy getting to this point, and you're just letting people walk away with it. Didn't you tell me you were going to fight Sam to the end for that quarterback spot?"

"It's been a week," Finn said honestly. "I've had three practices with him since then. If anything, he was holding back during tryouts. He's good, Kurt. He's better than I am. His arm is stronger."

"So you're just going to join glee and be done with it?"

Finn grumbled, "You sound like Quinn."

"Quinn usually has a point."

Disapprovingly, Finn asked, "Dude, why can't you just be happy for me? Or, you know, just a little supportive?"

"What happened to us ruling the school?" Kurt asked, reminding Finn of the conversation they'd had on the first day of school. "It was all you wanted. You and me, at the top. You were looking forward to this being our year, and nothing getting in our way."

They were standing in the parking lot, next to the Navigator, and Kurt could see Quinn, Puck and several of their other friends across the black pavement, waiting near the entrance doors.

"Did you ever think you wanted something, and then figure out it isn't what you wanted after all?"

Kurt knew when he was beaten.

Kurt asked, "Are you quitting the football team?"

"No way," Finn said with a scoff. "I love football. Plus, people get hurt all the time. Sam may play one game and be out the whole season. I may not be the best anymore, but I'm right there after him. Coach would put me in before anyone else."

"Okay," Kurt said finally. "Okay. Finn, if you want to do this, I'll support you."

Finn grinned brightly. "Thanks. And you know, I was thinking, I'm a senior this year. I'm gonna be away from home this time of year, and probably most of the people I know, won't even be in my life. I won't see them, or talk to them, and I'll probably forget about them until, like, my ten year reunion. So why should I care what they think or do? Plus, I was kind of thinking, if I join glee, and Sam's in glee, then maybe we could start some kind of crossover. Like football players doing glee, and the hockey guys taking some art classes. I don't know. It just shouldn't be this hard. I shouldn't be judged so hard for wanting to do something new. I shouldn't have to pick one or the other."

"Someone is going to throw a slushie in your face," Kurt said. "Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but they'll do it. And it'll be because they saw you up on stage, singing some power ballad from the eighties, and everything they've ever been taught will tell them that it's wrong."

Finn hoisted his backpack up. "Maybe I should get a taste of them. You're always tell me to knock if off. I know you don't like it. You should feel good, then, that I'll get one to the face, for as many as I've thrown or let be thrown."

"I don't want that," Kurt said stubbornly. "And this isn't just about you, Finn. Because you know lines are going to be taken, and if Dave ever wants to so much as hold my hand again, he'll have to get involved the first time he sees it happen to you. He'll have to defend you."

"Kurt," Finn said gently. "I'll be fine."

Kurt wanted to believe him, but he'd always been the more realistic of the two of them.

During Bio Sam said to Kurt, "I have a copy of The Nightmare Before Christmas, a tub of red vines, two snuggies, and an empty house tonight. You in?"

"I have Cheerio practice," Kurt reminded. "Until five, and then a French project I need to work on." Though the truth was that Kurt knew he could postpone it several days if necessary. But he wasn't sure if being alone with Sam was the greatest of ideas. Sam had been nothing but wonderful to him, but the potential between them was palpable. Kurt feared he'd give into it, given the right atmosphere.

"And I have football practice. But can't you put off that homework after?"

With a frown, Kurt remembered that Finn was headed to glee practice after school and asked Sam, "How can you do glee and football at the same time?"

"Glee isn't until tomorrow," Sam said, confused.

"But Finn has glee practice today."

Sam thought for a moment, eyebrows knitting together as he did so, and then said, "He must be going down the Rachel Berry route."

"I don't like the sound of that," Kurt said, and he meant it. He knew he ragged on Rachel, and she wasn't nearly as bad of a person as he liked to make out that she was, but there were certain things that were not exaggerated. And there were things about her that really worried Kurt, and anyone associated with her.

Sam explained, "The way I hear it, and I hear it from her nearly every day, is that she's grooming herself to be a Broadway scarlet. That means glee practice every day after school. I wouldn't be surprised if she zeroed in on Finn to be the male lead she's been hunting for."

"And that's not you?" Kurt could feel his face flushing. "You're handsome, and athletic, and far more popular now, than Rachel will ever be in her life. I think she and the glee club really struck gold when you joined up."

Sam bumped their shoulders together, smiling wide. "So you think I'm leading man material."

"Stop it," Kurt shushed. "You know … you know that I do."

Daring and dangerously, Sam let his fingers skim up Kurt's arm. The classroom was dark, illuminated only sporadically as the slide show continued on at the front of the room. There was just enough light for Kurt to make out the emotion on Sam's face, and barely enough to hide his fingers.

Kurt brought his free hand down on Sam's fingers immediately, stopping them from trailing any higher. He's worn a short sleeved top that day, and was showing entirely more skin than he usually did. Kurt preferred a layered look, and the type of psychological protection it gave him.

"Okay," Sam breathed out, tugging his fingers away.

"We're talking about Rachel," Kurt reminded. "It's that or we actually attempt to pay attention to this incredibly boring lecture."

This time when Sam smiled it was a bit sad. He said, "She doodles Rachel Berry-Hummel in her binder. I've seen it. Sometimes it just says Rachel Hummel. There are actually a lot of variations. She seems to have a bit of free time. The point is, your brother has always been the leading man in her fantasy, or psychotic break from reality, whatever you prefer. Plus, she said I was way too gay to be her leading man."

"I'm pretty sure," Kurt said, "I should take offence to that. But this is Rachel I-have-two-gay-dads Berry. She'd probably call the ACLU on me and say I was being self homophobic. Rachel isn't my biggest fan."

"I would be your biggest," Sam said seriously, then elaborated, "you know, if you ever wanted to try Glee out."

Kurt flicked him hard. "Never going to happen."

"Be gentle with me. I'm a delicate flower." Sam rubbed at his shoulder and Kurt gave a low laugh.

A slide passed and Kurt asked abruptly, "Will you look out for Finn?"

"Look out for him how?" Sam asked seriously.

Distantly, Kurt answered, "Part of me is afraid Rachel Berry is going to sink her claws into him and refuse to be shaken free. If it comes to that, Quinn is going to have a meltdown. And I've seen it before. She can be ruthless when she wants to be. Rachel is persistent, but Quinn is just scary, and I'd put my money on her any day of the week."

Once more, Sam bumped their shoulders together, and Kurt thought even the simplest of touches, protected by layers of clothing, were still electric. Every time Sam did it, every time they were near, Kurt felt his resolve weaken a bit more. Sam seemed so easy to love, and Kurt was terrified.

"Something tells me that's not really what you're getting at."

Kurt said, "Finn and I belong to a group of people who aren't always very consistent. What I meant to say is that, frankly, I'm worried that some of them may turn on Finn. Most are loyal, I've known these people a very long time, but Finn's about to alienate many of them, and he'll need someone who has his back in glee. He'll need someone who understands what it's like to straddle that line between what's socially acceptable in high school, and what is a taboo. You're the star quarterback now, Sam. You have to set the example. You need to show solidarity with Finn, and prove to people that you can still score winning goals and belt out show tunes."

"Touchdowns."

"Huh?"

Sam's smile was real again, and it startled Kurt how relieved he was. The blond said, "We score touchdowns. Really, Kurt, you should know that by now. And stop being too adorable for your own good."

"I don't actually watch the games," Kurt grumbled. "And what does it matter what they're called. You get the ball through the fork and everyone celebrates."

"I really kind of want to pinch your cheeks now."

Kurt glowered.

"But I get what you're saying," Sam agreed. "And don't worry."

The touch came out of no where. Kurt hadn't even seen Sam's hand move, but suddenly Kurt's palm was upturned, and the rough pads of Sam's fingers were tracing the lines in the dark classroom.

"Sam," Kurt breathed out, unable to move, the touch sensual and ticklish all at the same time.

"I am sorry I hurt your brother," Sam said.

Kurt didn't dare look around. If he had, he was sure he'd find most of the class napping, and others occupied by their phones, but Kurt was frozen. Sam was touching him, so gently and so carefully that Kurt wanted to flop into a boneless mess. He ached to close his palm and trap Sam's fingers, and just hold onto them. He wanted to hold tight and never let go.

"We've already had it out over that," Kurt said, watching Sam's fingers.

"I would take it back," Sam admitted. "If I could, I would. But I gave my word to Coach, and I can't go back, only forward. I have to do what's best for the team, even if it's not what's best for Finn, or for you, no matter how much it hurts."

"I know," Kurt's voice dropped.

Sam continued, "Because if I had a choice, if I could go back on my word, I would have taken the deal. The one you offered in the bathroom at Breadstix. I would have taken it before you finished saying it."

Kurt's fingers twitched, and the curled upward.

"You know how I feel, Kurt. About you." Sam was looking at him intensely, his fingers stilling on the plane of Kurt's palm. "I've been very honest with you about that. But if I can't have you, Kurt, if I can't have you in the way I want, I will settle for just being your friend. For as long as you need, that's what I'll be. And if this is you, my friend, asking me to look after his brother and keep Rachel's claws filed down, and stick up for Finn when the hockey team comes around with fresh slushies, then I can do that."

"Thank you." Kurt let himself finally catch the fingers. He squeezed tight. "Thank you so much, Sam."

"But you still haven't answered my question." Sam gave a flick of his wrist and managed to angle Kurt's hand up into a better hold, and then they were simply holding each other's hand, fingers lacing together, locking into place perfectly. "You have really soft hands."

"Brittany calls them baby hands," Kurt said, "but then again, she also thinks her cat is a chain smoking alcoholic."

"The movie?" Sam elaborated. "The snuggies?"

"I have a rule, Sam," Kurt said, "about snuggies."

"About how much you love them?"

It was Kurt's turn to squeeze their fingers. "About how ever fiber of my moral code dictates that they be set on fire upon first sight. No snuggie is to be spared."

Sam compromised, "My Nana knitted me a quilt the year before she died. It's really soft and perfect as a substitute. I'd be willing to negotiate that with you, if you agreed to come over."

Mind made up, Kurt said, "Rain check?"

"You rain checked me last time, too."

Kurt poked at him. "That was a mutual rain check. But I promise, we can do the movie tomorrow. Today, after school, I think I'm going to go see my mom."

"Okay," Sam said slowly. "Like, at her work, or something?"

"Or something," Kurt agreed.

Kurt knew, by fault of being more computer capable than either of his parents, a great deal of what they spent their money on. He nearly balanced the book at the shop by himself, and swooped into the rescue the moment his father had trouble with the computer and threw something at it, usually a wrench of some sort. It was a bit different at the house, a lot of the bills that came were will paper based, despite the amount of nagging Kurt had done in favor of electronic banking. But by the end of it, and especially near tax time, Kurt was always confident in knowing just about where every penny of his parents paychecks went.

He knew, specifically, that his father wrote out a check on the first of each month to a Phyllis McGregor, an elderly, kind woman who was hard of hearing. He paid her, and a good sum of money at that, to take care of Kurt's mother's grave. She kept it clean, paid special attention to it, brought flowers, and, Kurt had heard his father say once, "She keeps Grace company, Kurt. You and I can't be there as much as we want to, but she can. She'll keep your mother company.".

It all seemed a little ridiculous, paying a woman to sit near a grave and talk to someone who'd been dead for over a decade, but if it helped his father find comfort, Kurt couldn't bring himself to say anything against it.

His mother was buried fifteen minutes out of Lima, and when Kurt got there he found pretty lilies decorating the slab of marble that marked her birth, and date of death. Kurt laid his coat out carefully before sitting in front of her marker.

Feet tucked up under him, he said, "Hi, mom."

It had been months since he'd gone to see her. He knew his father went every Sunday, predictable to the hour. It made Kurt feel like he was neglecting her.

"I've been having some conflicting thoughts lately," he confessed. Maybe it was foolish to talk to a grave stone, and he didn't believe in god, didn't believe she was up in heaven, looking down over him. But she was his mother. Carole was brilliant, but Carole hadn't given birth to him, and she hadn't been in the car with him that March morning when everything had changed. "Blaine said I should come talk to you, and it's really very annoying, but he's usually right about these types of things."

He could still remember the type of perfume she wore, Lancôme, light and feminine. She'd always worn her hair up when they left the house, professional and powerful, and then she'd let it down with a laugh the moment they were alone and no one else mattered. He recalled that she wore dresses year round, and had the most amazing shoe collection. Kurt could sit in her closet for hours, categorizing the red pumps, the ballerina flats, the woven sandals, strappy black dancing shoes and every other type she had. And the only makeup she wore was lipstick, pink and perfect and forever fading, retouching needed hourly.

Kurt missed her. He missed what he didn't remember, and he'd long since stopped trying to explain as much to Finn. Finn, who's own father had died months after he'd been born, only held an attachment to Burt. But for Kurt, his hear swelled up with the comfort of two mothers, and equal parts hesitation for them. Sometimes he worried about loving one of them too much, or more than the other.

"So there's this guy, Sam, he's new," Kurt tried to explain to her. "And I don't know what to do. I could really use a little advice."

He told her everything. He told her about every misunderstanding they'd had, every laugh, every fight, every touch and even the kiss.

He said, "I wish you could tell me about your first kiss with dad."

Kurt, who'd never had the guts to really talk about his mother to his father, wondered if it had been in the back of his father's Chevy. He'd seen their high school pictures, the two of them so in love, usually holding on to each other, always pictures near or around his father's prized car. His father had joked once that Kurt had been conceived in the back of the Chevy, and he knew his father had it in storage somewhere, locked up tight with all the memories of Grace Hummel that he couldn't bear to deal with.

Voice hoarse, Kurt said, "Every time we touch, I'm a little more sure of who he is, what he means to me. And I drift a little further from Dave, which isn't fair to him at all."

He couldn't remember her laugh, but he imagined she'd be doing so if she'd been there with him, in person, to hold his hand and walk him through his first romantic crisis.

Kurt stilled his shaking hands. "I'm going to loose the war, mom. I'm going to give in. I can see it as plain as day, and so can Sam. He's just bidding his time. He's being patient, but we both know the truth of it. There's too much chemistry between us, too many emotions, and that kiss was too much."

He tried to tell her about Finn after that, and how Kurt was worried for him, and worried for himself, and what it all meant for the both of them.

By the time the sun was starting to dip, Kurt had only barely finished telling her about what had happened during the previous summer. He was sure, and said, "Dad talked to you about that, right?"

Kurt rubbed at his chest, over his heart and felt the steady, reassuring thumps of it.

" But I'm better now," Kurt promised. "There was a program dad got me into. Twelve weeks, pretty intense. It was hard at first, I hated everyone, and what they were doing to me, but only because I couldn't see how much trouble I was in." Kurt dragged a hand over his face, glancing at the empty plot next to his mothers. He knew his father had purchased it right after she'd died. He'd never intended to remarry, and then when Carole had come into his life, he'd just let the plot sit. Kurt was very aware of how close he'd come to filing it.

A voice behind him cleared and Kurt startled, looking over his shoulder to see a man in a brown uniform. He said, voice kind, "Sorry to interrupt you, but it'll be dark in fifteen minutes. I need to lock up."

Kurt nodded to the groundskeeper. "Sorry. I was just … I needed to talk with my mom."

By the time he was back in the car, on his way home, he was no closer to having answers than he had been before the visit. But he did feel better. He felt relief. And a bit of closure. He thought it was written on his face as he entered the house to find his father lingering near the den.

"How'd it go?"

"Good." Kurt was at his side a moment later, accepting a warm embrace from the man who hadn't ever criticized the fact that for six months after his mother's funeral, Kurt had needed to sleep in his parent's bed. And never a word had been spoken over the brief period in which anxiety had gotten the best of him and he'd begun having night terrors, wetting the bed and destroying what was left of his father's frayed nerves. "I hadn't been in a long time."

Burt nodded, tucking Kurt's head under his chin. "I know, buddy. Sometimes it hurts just as much to go see her, as it does to stay away."

"The funny thing is," Kurt said, "it was just a headstone. She never said a word back, and I didn't really get any answers, but I feel really good. I've never gotten that from the previous times I've visited. What was different this time?"

Burt could only shrug. "Can't say for sure. Anything feel different?"

Kurt couldn't say that anything did. He gave his father a quick squeeze and said, "I'm going to bed."

His father caught his sleeve. "What about dinner?"

"It's late," Kurt whined a bit, feeling the exhaustion in his bones. He'd stayed with his mother much longer than he'd intended to. "I had my shake and a protein bar. I think I'll be sick if I try and eat anything else. Please, dad. I just want to go lay down."

He thought Burt was going to fight him on the issue. After all, this was the man who patiently portioned Kurt's lunch every day before leaving for the shop, and took him to support meetings without having to be reminded before hand.

"Alright," his father said finally. "Go on up to bed. You do look tired. But you'd better be prepared for your mom to force feed you tomorrow morning."

"Deal." Kurt turned to leave, then, with a thought, asked his father, "I was thinking I'd go see her again sooner this time. Maybe make it a weekly thing. Could I … do you think we could go together?" He wanted to be careful, he knew how much his father valued the time he spent at the cemetery, and Kurt didn't want to overstep his boundaries. But they hadn't gone together in years, and Kurt missed it.

Looking excited, Burt said, "That would be great."

Kurt beamed. "Fantastic."

May 31, 2008

Something was wrong. Kurt could see it in the way Finn's eyes were squeezed tight, his fingers balled into fists, his shoulders collapsed in. Something was very wrong, and it had likely had a lot to do with Quinn who was sitting on their living room couch, eyes red from recently crying.

"Finn?" Kurt reached out tentatively, laying a hand on Finn's shoulder.

He wanted to ask what was wrong, because he'd noticed Quinn's absence from Cheerio practice earlier that afternoon, and Finn had mysteriously disappeared long before the end of the day.

Quinn stood abruptly, fingers wiping at her eyes "I need to use the restroom." She blew past them and Kurt watched silently as she took the steps to the second level of the second level of the house two at a time, deliberately heading towards the furthest bathroom in the house.

"Today," Finn sad when she was gone, breath ragged and achingly pained, "today Quinn told me something."

"Okay," Kurt said quietly, digging his fingers into the junction at the crook of Finn's elbow. "Come sit with me for a second. Where are mom and dad?"

Finn let himself be led towards the couch. "Dad's at the shop. Mom took a double shift to cover for a friend at work, her message is on the answering machine."

Kurt reminded, "What did Quinn tell you today?" He thought frantically of everything that had happened that day. He and Finn shared three classes, all of them in the morning and elective, aside from their first period study hall, and nothing had seemed amiss. At lunch they'd sat together, and everything had been perfectly normal. Kurt hadn't seen Finn after that, but it wasn't an unusual thing. Still, the gossip mill at McKinley was a fine tuned machine that ran at peek efficiency, and that was why Kurt was baffled. Everyone typically knew everything, and secrets never remained for long.

Finn was trembling a little as he said, "Dad is going to be so mad."

Kurt sat next to him. "Finn, you have to tell me what's going on."

"Mom will cry."

"Finn," Kurt said tryingly. "Tell me."

"Quinn's late," Finn said abruptly.

Kurt frowned. "Late?" He shook his head. "No, she's never late for anything. Trust me on this."

The pained expression on Finn's face was enough to make Kurt freeze, and then review the information he'd been given.

"No, dude," Finn said with a strain. "She's … you know … her lady parts … that time of the month … I don't …"

Kurt's eyes widened. "Finn, swear to me you're not saying what I think you're saying."

There was little color left in Finn's face as he groaned loudly and tried to hide himself in his hands, fingers digging into his scalp as he rubbed a bit.

"Finn!" Kurt snatched at Finn's wrist and demanded to know, "Is Quinn pregnant?"

It was unfathomable to think of, considering Finn was only sixteen, and in many ways, still a child himself.

"I don't know!" Finn shot to his feet. "She just said she's late, and she's never late, and she doesn't know what it means, but she's been feeling sick lately, and god, Kurt, what are we going to do if she is? I can't have a baby, Kurt. I can't. And she won't. She's made that perfectly clear. I can't and she won't."

Kurt couldn't say for sure the moment he knew Finn and Quinn had started having sex. He shared a lot of things with Finn, and Finn shared with him more than Kurt could have asked for, but some things were as sacred as they were secret. Kurt knew that Finn often lied about sleeping over at Puck's, generally the same days that Quinn's parents were away for the night or weekend, but Kurt had never commented, and Finn had never needed to explain himself. It was their understanding, in the same way that Finn glared at little, but never spoke a word when Kurt climbed into his boyfriend's car and fibbed on the destination. They were brothers, and their unity on the matter, was well defined.

In fact a part of Kurt had been convinced that his brother was still a little naive on the matter. Kurt had a feeling that health class hadn't exactly clarified anything for him, and Quinn, who was part of the Chastity Club, would have seemed like the least likely candidate for premarital sex, at least if Kurt hadn't known her so well.

But then their father had sat them down one day, looking pale and nervous, and handed them each a condom and said, "I don't like the idea of either of you being sexually active. You're too young and even as grown up as you think you are, there is a sense of maturity that you need to have before you can truly appreciate what sex is supposed to mean for you and whoever you give yourself to."

Finn had said jokingly, "Hey, I know this brand. Puck and I made water balloons out of these one day."

Kurt had held his own away from his body, eyebrow arched at his father.

"But," his father continued, "I know the both of you are also old enough to make your own choices. That said, you know what the consequences of bad choices are, so if you're going to do that at any point, have sex, then I want you boys to be safe."

Later that day Kurt had hastily thrown the condom in a bottom drawer, absolutely certain that for as much as he cared about Dave, he was no where near ready to go to any level that required protection.

Kurt hadn't even stopped to consider that Finn had actually made use of his. Or now, considering the situation they were in, hadn't.

"Why didn't you use protection?" Kurt hissed. Their parents weren't home, but the mere topic made him nervous, because he could already imagine the devastated look on their mother's face, and the disappointed one from their father. "Finn, you know better."

Angrily, Finn snapped, "I did, Kurt. We did. You think I'm stupid, but we did. Quinn would never let me touch her without a condom. No matter how stupid you think I am, she's not."

Kurt flailed a bit. "Then how did this happen?"

"It didn't even rip or anything," Finn said mournfully. "Nothing happened. I did everything right. We were so careful. Kurt, how am I going to tell mom and dad?"

Kurt rubbed at his temples. "Are you sure? I mean, is Quinn sure?"

"She says she's always on time." Finn's eyes flickered towards the way Quinn had left. "It's her body, dude."

"Okay," Kurt breathed out. "It'll be okay. We'll get through this. I promise."

"I'm sixteen," Finn said quietly. "Quinn just turned sixteen."

Kurt dared to ask, "And you thought that was old enough to have sex?"

Finn's head snapped towards Kurt. "Aren't you and …" he had to pause before continuing, "You and Dave … you guys … you know …"

Feeling prudish, Kurt said, "That's really none of your business. But for the record, Finnegan, Dave and I are waiting until we're ready. Regardless of the fact that neither of us can get pregnant, it doesn't mean that we're ready to jump into bed. Sex is a big step in a relationship. It changes everything. We're mutually not ready for that change. I doubt you and Quinn were, either."

"Maybe not," Finn admitted. "But the first time it happened, it felt right. I was … I was sure. She was the girl, Kurt. I always knew she was the girl I was going to have my first time with, so … so …"

Kurt jumped a little at the suddenly knock that came from the front door. He asked Finn, "Expecting someone?"

As Finn shook his head the door swung open and Santana Lopez burst into the living room, a paper brown bag in hand.

"What are you doing in my house?" Kurt asked stiffly. He and Santana were not friends. In fact Kurt was fairly sure the only friend Santana had was Brittany, and then they were a bit more than just friends.

"Chill, milkmaid" she snipped, "and tell me where Quinn is."

"I don't think Quinn is up to seeing anyone," Finn said roughly. "In fact, Santana, I think you should leave her alone right now. We're kind of having a crisis here."

Mouth twitching a little, Santana said, "The way I understand it, you couldn't keep your willy to yourself. Way to go, Frankenteen, you just lost me fifty bucks."

"Huh?" Finn's anxiety seemed to melt away, replaced by confusion and Kurt was almost thankful for Santana.

She said, "The bet that I had with Puck. He bet me you'd gotten kicked enough in the sac during football that your little swimmers were defective. I guess you won, really, not me."

Kurt surmised, annoyed, "Quinn called you?"

Santana held up the bag. "Q couldn't go to the store herself. So she called me and I went for her."

"For what?" Finn asked.

Kurt understood, and told Finn, "A test. To be sure." Kurt pointed upstairs. "Bathroom at the end of the hallway. And rest assured, I have a photographic memory when it comes to each and every item in this house. If you so much as breathe on something wrong, I'll know, and I'll let Sylvester know about Doctor Lee."

Santana huffed and stalked off.

"Who's Doctor Lee?" Finn asked, watching Santana sway away.

Kurt crossed his arms. "He's a plastic surgeon, and we should leave it at that."

They waited together after that, nervously making idle chat about nothing really, avoiding each other's gaze.

Finally Santana emerged down the stairs fifteen minutes later. "Finn Hummel," she clucked, head shaking.

"What does that mean?" Finn demanded.

She was out the door a moment later and Quinn was emerging.

"Quinn?" Finn asked, to her side in a second. Before she could utter a word he declared, "I love you. I do and no matter what, I'm here. I'm going to be here for you. I can do it. You can lean on me. Whatever you want, whatever you decide, whatever happens, we're okay."

Kurt couldn't see Finn's face, but he could see Quinn's. There were fresh tears on her cheeks, and her eyes were impossibly clear. She was such a closed off person, keeping her emotions in, fighting her feelings constantly. But she appeared so bare now, Kurt could read her perfectly.

And he breathed relief as she folded in against him and muttered, "It was negative. I'm not. We're good, Finn. It's okay."

That night Kurt took his pillow to Finn's room after their parent's retired for the night and settled into the right side of the bed, soaking in Finn's warmth. He couldn't find the right words to say, so he let his hand rest on Finn's nearby arm and let the sound of their breathing fill the room.

He might have fallen asleep, or just been dozing, before he heard Finn say, "Don't have sex just yet."

"Huh?" Kurt asked, having to clear his throat.

"I thought I was ready," Finn said. "It felt right at the time, but this made me sure. I wasn't. I'm still not. If Quinn had been pregnant, if we'd been parents … I don't think I could have done it. I wouldn't have been okay. No matter what I told her. I wouldn't have been. So don't make my mistake, Kurt."

"I can't get pregnant," Kurt reminded lightly.

Finn shifted towards him, and although he couldn't see his brother in the darkness of the room, he could tell Finn was looking in his direction. "You know what I mean."

"I do," Kurt said. "And I won't."

"I would have ruined my life," Finn continued. Kurt couldn't disagree. "Quinn would have been ruined."

"But you're okay now."

"No," Finn said. Kurt felt Finn's hand squeeze his tight.

In the pitch blackness of the room, Kurt swallowed down the lump in his throat.

September 14m 2009

Kurt saw Quinn coming. He saw her storming down the hallway, Cheerio skirt swishing furiously, hair bobbing behind her. He tried to press himself back against the bank of lockers next to him, but as she swerved to follow after him, he sighed and greeted, "What can I help you with, Quinn?"

"You're a musical theater geek," she said right away.

"I have a strong admiration for the theater," Kurt corrected, "and a vast knowledge of musicals. If that's what you meant, then yes, you're correct."

Quinn's hands settled on her hips. "I need your help."

"Concerning?"

She glanced around a bit, and Kurt thought she might try and set on fire anyone who came close enough to hear their conversation. "Finn refused quit glee club when I asked him to," she said. "Berry had poisoned his mind. I'm sure of it. Whatever she's told him is a dirty lie and I can't snap him out of it."

"Quinn," Kurt said, popping open his locker and reaching for a book. "I'm certainly not Rachel's biggest supporter. I'm not even her friend, but she didn't make Finn do anything he didn't want to. Trust me, I don't want him in glee any more than you do, but it's his choice to make, and I think we should support him." He couldn't completely believe his own words, but he was eventually coming around to the idea, and doing his best to see it through.

Quinn made a sound that was suspiciously similar to a snort, then said, "If he won't quit, then I'll just have to join. I'll keep an eye on Finn the best way I know. Rachel won't dare try anything if I'm there."

Nearly speechless, Kurt floundered for a moment before asking, "You're going to join glee club?"

He didn't like the smile on her face one bit, and it was no better than the words that followed. She revealed, "Don't worry, I'll have plenty of company. Sylvester's invested in making sure the glee club doesn't eat into the Cheerio's budget by bringing it down. She needs to know what's going on, to see that happen. And you and I, and Santana and Brittany are going to tell her everything she needs to know."

"Excuse me?" Kurt coughed out. "What did you just say?"

"I'm just bringing the news."

"No, wait," Kurt protested. "I'm not joining glee club."

"If you want to be a Cheerio you are," Quinn persisted. "Sylvester will tell you later today. I just thought I'd give you a head's up."

Kurt sputtered, "She can't make me."

"Her word is law," Quinn said with a shrug. "Look, I know you guys have a weird sort of relationship right now. I know she's walking on egg shells around you, and your dad is ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble. I get that you should be wary of doing anything she tells you to, especially if you don't want to, but I'm telling you to your face, you're going to do this. You're going to go with me today and we're going to tell Mr. Schue we want to join. Because if you say no, and if you refuse, you're going to loose your pompoms, and you can kiss Head Cheerio goodbye next year. Santana will be happy."

"I don't want to join glee!"

"You think I want to?" Quinn demanded.

"You're joining because of your own insecurities," Kurt said, jabbing a finger at her. "I'm being blackmailed." And god, how was he supposed to look Schue in the eye and not think of the confrontation they'd had? The awkwardness would be unbearable.

"Don't act like you can't sing. I've heard you."

"Don't bring that up," Kurt hissed at her. "That's my business. You had no right being there."

In a gentler tone, one that he was more comfortable with, she said, "I went with Finn because I wanted to be supportive. We wanted to be supportive of you."

Fiercely, Kurt said, "You know they made me take that class. I had to participate in a group activity to build self esteem before they released me. I took the singing class because it was that or knitting and I was probably going to try and stab myself in the head if that was the case."

She urged, "You were good, Kurt. I heard you. Your range is phenomenal. For having no formal training, you were crazy good. I don't why you're so ashamed.

He wasn't, and he told her as much. It was another matter altogether, and it was one he knew she'd never understand.

Quinn's patience seemed to run thin. "Kurt, I don't care if I have to drag you by the hair to each and every glee practice, you're going. I know how much the Cheerios mean to you, and I know you won't give up your spot for anything, so don't pretend like you aren't going to do this. Suck it up. And help me pick out what song I'm going to audition with."

"Pick your own song," Kurt snapped. "You could sing the alphabet and you'd get in."

He stormed away, thinking angrily of how he was being forced into something he had no desire to do, and how anxious he felt all of the sudden. He detoured quickly toward the bathroom and with one well practiced, dirty look, he had the other boys occupying the room running for the exit. Kurt braced his hands on the nearby sink and took deep breaths, trying to shake off the feeling of his skin itching and his chest tightening.

His voice, he'd wanted to tell Quinn. It was his voice. He was already teased enough for it, teasing that Dave and Finn and his other friends had no idea about. Snide comments made barely within earshot, horrible jokes and terrible slurs were always fresh in his mind. People thought his voice was a joke, a terrible coincidence colliding with his homosexuality and letting a stereotype that Kurt hated to let gain any momentum.

His speaking voice was bad enough, but his singing voice … he knew he sounded like a girl. He knew he typically drifted towards an upper register, even if he was fully capable of hitting the lowest of notes. If he joined glee everyone would hear him, and everyone would laugh even more terribly.

He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. But he couldn't loose his spot on the Cheerios, either. He was going to fly again. He was slated to be Head Cheerio the following year. Everything he'd worked towards was centered around him being on the squad, and loosing it … well, Kurt assumed he'd feel like Finn did when Sam beat him out for quarterback. He'd be devastated. And watching Finn now, try and pretend like he was okay, like he could brush it off, Kurt was certain he wasn't as strong as his brother.

A toilet flushed and Kurt spun, fingers brushing quickly at the corners of his eyes.

"Great. Just great."

Sam held up his hands, not stepping out of the stall. "I can stay in here if you want. You kind of look like you want to murder someone on sight." Sam peered a little more closely, then amended, "Or like you'd like some privacy. You kind of look like you're going to cry. Are you okay?"

"Just," Kurt said, dragging in a ragged breath, "it's hard."

"A lot of things are," Sam said carefully, taking a step forward. "Want to be a little more specific?"

Kurt blew out a sharp breath. "Would it surprise you to know that I'm just so ridiculously insecure?"

"Would it be equally as surprising for me to tell you that you're not the only one?" Sam gave him a small smile. "Kurt. We're teenagers. We're sixteen. We're defined by our insecurities. That's what my mom says, and I believe her. The thing is, some people, like you, are a lot better at hiding it. That's all."

Kurt leaned back against the sink. "Years of practice," he said sadly. "I've perfected it."

"Your cracks are showing."

Kurt caught sight of his reflection in the sink mirror, eyes red and puffy. "I look horrible," he moaned, tapping at his cheeks.

"I didn't mean literally," Sam laughed.

Through the reflection Kurt caught Sam's eyes. "That's not what I meant, either."

Sam took up a place at the nearby sink, taking his time washing his hands. "So, did you just have this epiphany of insecurity all on your own, or is there a reason? You know I'm not going to judge you, and it might make you feel better to get it out."

"You'll be happy," Kurt said, blinking back any tears that might have fallen as he spoke. "I'm joining glee."

"You freaked, the last time I suggested that. Why the turn around?"

Kurt sniffled. "Makes me seem kind of fake, right?"

"Indecisive," Sam compromised.

"Things change," Kurt said simply. "I'm joining. That's it. Finn needs extra support, and I'm going to be there for him."

"No offence," Sam said, reaching for a paper towel, "but that would be an incredible selfless think for you to do, which is why I know it's a lie."

"That's really too nice of you, Sam. Thank you so much for that vote of confidence."

"You don't like to do things that seem scary to you," Sam said, daring Kurt to correct him. "And anything that your peers wouldn't agree with is scary. That's why I know you wouldn't join glee unless there was a reason beyond your control."

Kurt couldn't tell Sam it was because Sylvester was going to take away his spot on the Cheerios if he refused to spy for her. But he also couldn't repeat his lie from earlier and try and use Finn as an excuse. He felt the anxiety once more and had to squeeze his eyes shut.

"Hey. Hey, Kurt. It's okay."

There was the smell of Sam's aftershave once more, a scent Kurt had long since memorized, and then heavy arms were coming around him, engulfing, folding around him, drawing him close, and tightening. Kurt's arms were slack between them, but his face pressed into the crook of Sam's neck and he let himself be hugged. He let himself feel comfort and chaste intimacy. He let himself just feel.

"I've got you," Sam whispered to him, arms never slacking.

"This is so embarrassing," Kurt mumbled.

"I won't tell anyone," Sam joked.

Tentatively, Kurt let his hands come up to rest on Sam's hips, and beneath his shirt he could feel the Sam's muscles, defined and firm.

"Just hold on," Sam encouraged quietly.

Kurt had to ask, "Hold on?"

"You had this look on your face," Sam said. "It was scary. You looked like … like … well, I don't know, but it was scary. Lost, maybe. So just hold on to me and forget about to everything else."

Tentatively, Kurt asked, "You promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Who am I going to tell?" Sam asked. "I know you think I'm this giant tool for taking your brother's spot from him, but I didn't exactly get a sweet deal out of it. Not a lot of the guys on the team are willing to talk to me, and I'm starting to get the feeling that they may not watch my back on the field. Plus, being in Glee club hasn't exactly scored me any brownie points. Kurt, I eat lunch alone, and you're the only person who shows up at my locker to wait for me. So really, who am I going to tell?"

"Okay. Thanks."

After that, Kurt felt like he wasn't the only one holding on.

Kurt held tight past the bell for class, and then the tardy one that followed, and his grip only began to slacken as Sam said, "You bottle all the stuff up inside, Kurt, and it's going to make you explode one day. This is just the tip of the iceberg. When it comes down to it, everyone needs a way to vent. Now, I know you hate the idea of glee club, and it's probably the last place you want to be, and regardless of why you're joining, I think it could be good for you. I use Glee as a way to vent, and so could you."

Kurt scoffed a little. "I was under the impression that Rachel had all the solos in glee."

"She does," Sam said easily enough, "but once in a while Mercedes will make enough of a fuss that Mr. Schue has to give someone else the spotlight for a change. I usually sneak my song in there somewhere, right behind her."

Sarcasm lacing his tone, Kurt said, "Sounds exciting."

By then enough space had fallen between them that Kurt could look up at Sam, and he could still feel Sam's arms on his shoulders, the barest brush of fingers at his nape.

"I could help you pick a song to audition with. You should be aware, I have the entire soundtrack to The Sound of Music on my ipod. If you wanted to sing Sixteen, I could totally back you up."

Kurt laughed. "I don't think auditions are meant to be duets."

"The can be whatever you want the to be," Sam protested. "As long as it's you, singing, I don't think it matters at all, and Mr. Schue is so desperate to have glee club members I doubt he'll do anything but fall over himself trying to make you stay."

Straightening up, Kurt said, "I'll think of something to sing. Quinn wants me to help her, too, and that means Santana and Brittany won't be far behind."

"They're all joining too?" Sam asked, disbelief in his voice.

Kurt nodded. "But they're on their own. I can't … I can't help them."

Finally Kurt felt Sam's fall away, and he shivered a bit, clutching at the strap on his bag like a lifeline. He watched carefully as Sam thrust his hands into his pocket and patiently stood silently.

"What?" Kurt demanded.

"You won't want me to say it," Sam offered. He reached for nearby paper towels and handed one to Kurt, saying, "Here, looks like you need it."

"Oh," Kurt breathed out, his eyes were wet again. He dabbed at the wetness. "What were you going to say?"

"I wasn't," Sam laughed. "That's the point. You won't want to hear it."

"You can say anything to me."

"Even if it's kind of creepy?"

Kurt peered at him. "Now you're worrying me."

"Don't be." In a feather light touch Sam let his fingers graze Kurt's jaw. "It's just …"

"Just?" Kurt prompted, eyes fluttering as Sam continued the trace his features.

Sam concluded, "You're just so beautiful when you cry."

It took a moment for Kurt to realize that Sam had leaned forward, and his fingers had stilled. He meant to ask why, to break the spell that had settled over him, but then lips were against his forehead, and he was being kissed in a way that had never happened before, not from someone who wasn't his mother or father or Finn.

Kurt felt loved. He felt cherished. And he felt, for the first time in his life, that happiness wasn't just a feeling. It was something tangible, achievable, and it was standing in front of him, telling him he was beautiful, holding him so tenderly.

Kurt broke in with, "That is a creepy thing to say to another person." And then they were laughing, holding each other up, gasping for air, as if it was the funniest thing ever said. Kurt thought it might have been.

" Feel better now?"

"Not really," Kurt answer honestly.

"Fair enough. Want to get to class?"

Kurt tossed the paper towel away and glanced at himself in the mirror for a final time, sighing at the puffiness to his face. "It would be best."

Sam was nearly to the door when Kurt called after him, "Were you serious about helping me?"

"Pick out a song?" Sam asked. "Sure. After school?"

Kurt shook his head, gathering his courage. "I was thinking during lunch. Sit with me?"

The startled look on Sam's face was almost painful, and the quarterback protested, "Your friends aren't my friends, Kurt. I don't think they'd appreciate me being there, and I know for sure your brother wouldn't. In fact I kind of think he's half convinced already that I'm trying to steal you from him."

Kurt frowned. "That's not possible. And I'm not something you can steal."

"Not literally," Sam agreed. "But emotionally, it's possible. I think Finn is just worried that you won't need him as much as you have before, and it'll be my fault. I've seen enough movies to spot this a mile away."

Firmly, Kurt said, "And Finn is my brother. He'll always be the most important person in my life. He has nothing to worry about. He shouldn't think that way. I didn't when he and Quinn started becoming as serious as they are now."

"Remember when I said that all of us are insecure, not just you?"

Kurt squared his shoulders. "At lunch I'll meet you where ever you want. We don't have to sit with anyone you don't want to. I want you to help me. Will you?"

Sam pushed open the bathroom door, holding an arm out for Kurt to leave first. He said, "I doubt you need my help, you've got an amazing amount of music stored up in that head of yours. In fact I'll probably just end up being a distraction, but you are just too beautiful to say no to."

Kurt's smile fell a little at that. "I'm not a girl. I'm not beautiful."

"Maybe you do need my help." Sam's hand propelled Kurt out of the bathroom and into the empty hallway. "Because if you can't see what I see when you look in the mirror-"

"Sam," Kurt said abruptly.

"Meet me on the fronts steps near the flagpole." Sam started off in the opposite direction of Kurt's next class.

Kurt could only stare after him.

By the end of the hour Kurt found himself cornered, this time by Noah Puckerman, and in front of the auditorium. Kurt found himself suddenly wrenched to the side by a hard grip as Puck said, "Yo, Princess, this is where you tell me that the rumors are not true."

Kurt rolled his yes. "I'm sure everything has been over sensationalized. And for the record, it's called a kilt, not a skirt."

Confusion flooded Puck's face, and distracted, he stumbled out, "No, dude, not that, and who cares, you have rocking legs. That's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what, Noah?" Kurt had a brief flash of panic, that maybe someone else had been in the bathroom wit himself and Sam, or at the door, lurking and listening. He and Sam had done nothing wrong, they'd shared comfort as friends, but Kurt knew how easily it could have been misconstrued, and exactly who would be doing it.

"Look," Puck groaned, "it's bad enough Finn went and had some teenage crisis and joined that pathetic singing club, but me and the guys were counting on you to talk him down from the ledge of social suicide he's about to take a leap from. Come on, Kurt, he's your brother, you're supposed to have his back."

"Who told you this?" Kurt asked, eyes narrowing. "Santana? I wouldn't be surprised."

"Actually," Puck said, hip cocking out, "Berry is flouncing around school now, making a big show of the fact that she single handedly recruited Cheerios and football players. Apparently she's god's gift to musical theater and we're all just coming around to the idea finally."

Dismissively, Kurt said, "That's Rachel Berry for you."

Puck still had a firm grip on Kurt's arm and it nearly turned painful as he said, "Don't make a joke out of this."

"You think I think this is funny?" Kurt scoffed. "It's downright tragic. And for clarification purposes, Sylvester is making her favorite Cheerios join glee. It's not our choice. Well, it might be Quinn's choice, in fact I wouldn't be surprised if she's responsible for planting the idea in Sylvester's head, but she's only joining because she wants to keep a better eye on Finn. They have a serious lack of trust happening at the moment."

"So it's true?"

Kurt pulled his arm free. "Quinn said Sylvester basically made it am ultimatum. I can kiss my spot on the squad goodbye if I'm not there after school tomorrow, and if I don't have a song ready to go." Kurt winced and asked, "How bad is it?" He shuddered to think.

And it wasn't a surprise when Puck said, "The football team has your back no matter what. Most of us actually like you, and the ones that don't either like Finn enough to leave you alone, or have girlfriends on the Cheerios who don't want to see any chance of them getting some, go down the drain. And since the football team is top dog here, it's okay."

Frustrated, Kurt said, "The hockey team, right?" Dave was on both the hockey team and the football team, and Kurt knew the difference between the two teams very thoroughly. Dave never spoke much about his hockey teammates, and Kurt knew they didn't exactly get along. They were cordial enough off the ice, and were certainly a team on it, but Dave had warned him against them early into their high school run, and made it perfectly clear that there was no one on the hockey team who'd look out for Kurt the way that people on the football team did. "Dave said they couldn't be controlled, or even censored."

"I'm sure he'll do his best," Puck said, "but don't be surprised if they start circling you like sharks. They may not say it out loud, but everyone knows if they could, you'd be their favorite target. If you don't get Finn out of that club, and if you don't back away yourself, Kurt, there's a good chance you're going to get a slushie to the face, or you may find yourself dumpser diving."

Kurt froze. "Finn would freak out." Kurt would freak out, even if he couldn't form the words to tell Puck. Kurt, who'd sat by Blaine's bedside for forty-eight hours straight because his parents had been too ashamed to say that their son had been attacked for being gay, couldn't imagine going through anything even remotely similar. He couldn't. He wasn't strong like Blaine, and he certainly wasn't as capable as people liked to think he was. Kurt couldn't be humiliated in that way. He couldn't.

"Are you kidding?" Puck gave a loud laugh. "He'd kill whoever did that to you. He'd go after them the moment he found out, and as his bro, I'd be obligated to go with him. We'd both get picked up for fighting, and Beistet would have to suspend us for at least a couple of games. The whole football season would be ruined."

"It would be a disaster." Kurt agreed.

"Which is why," Puck continued, "you need to get it through your head that this is a place you don't want to go. I already tried talking to Finn, and I know Quinn did. So it's your turn now."

Kurt had already tried, and he told Puck, "Finn and I are alike in our stubbornness, Noah. He's not backing down, and me asking him to won't change his mind. You can forget that."

Puck looked helpless, and it as something that Kurt very rarely saw from him. Of everyone Kurt knew, Puck was easily the most confident of his friends, or at the very least, the only person who acted like he was without fail. Puck never seemed unsure of himself, or uneasy, and right now all Kurt could see was panic on his face. Puck was worried, and it wasn't for himself, but for his friends. Kurt felt pride at the realization.

"You want to help Finn, right?"

Puck nodded at the question. "Since we were kids, you know. He's always had my back, so I had his, and yours."

Resigned, Kurt said, "I'm joining glee. Noah, the most important thing to me right now is being happy. I can't go back to that place I was at earlier this year. I can't go through that again. So I need to do whatever I can to be here, right now, and be happy. For me, that means supporting my brother, and being on the squad. Both require me to be in glee, so I'm doing it. I'm going to pick out a song, go sing it, and spend one day a week, after school, sitting on a plastic chair in front of Rachel Berry while she pretends like she actually has a shot at Broadway. What are you going to do, Noah?"

"Me?" he asked, startled.

"Finn is your best friend, right?"

Puck nodded.

"So," Kurt drawled, "are you going to let your insecurities eat away at you, until there is nothing left to the relationship you care so much about, or are you going to do something about it? Are you going to grab your balls and back your best friend up?"

"I think you have my balls," Puck pointed out.

"Noah." Kurt gave him a stern look. "If you care about Finn you're going to do the same thing I am. You're going to put him first, and you're going to realize that some things are more important than popularity."

Darkly, Puck snapped, "You wouldn't be saying this if Sylvester wasn't making you join."

"Maybe not," Kurt admitted. "But she is, and that's what makes you more brave than I could ever hope to be. I have to join, but you can choose to."

Puck crossed his arms. "I'm a badass, not a loser."

"You know, we only think glee club is for losers because other people say so, and because someone told them that. We barely even think for ourselves when it comes to that. So why don't you try thinking for yourself for once, and decide what you care more about. Because Finn is probably the best guy you're ever going to run across. He'll always be loyal to you. He'll always support you. And all he'll want in return is for you to do the same."

Puck eyed him critically, then said, "Are you sure you're not Jewish, because you've got this guilt thing down like you were born for it."

"Would it really be so horrible?" Kurt asked gently. "I could get Dave to join, and probably Mike. If you joined, then other people would want to as well. It wouldn't be so bad. I swear."

Determinedly, Puck shook his head. "Finn is my boy, and I will always have his back, but I'm not joining that pansy club. I'm not getting up in front of people like a loser to sing songs about world peace and shit. I'm not doing it, and you'd better think really hard about what you're doing, Kurt, because Finn's sinking faster than the Titanic. His pull at this school is nearly gone, and if you join glee, I wouldn't be surprised if you started finding out first hand what slushies taste like. You're about to go from sympathizer to victim, and if you're okay with that, then cool, whatever, I'm not going to throw anything on you, but there are a lot of people who'll be lining up to do it." Puck took a step away from him. "Finn can't beat everyone up for you, Kurt, and your dad can't fight all your battles."

Puck nearly ran after he finished, jetting down the hallway and swerving around people, leaving Kurt alone and frightened.

This, Kurt knew definitively, was what people called being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

It was an uncomfortable feeling at best.

October 7, 2008

"Kurt? Kurt? Kurt!"

He could hear someone, voice panicked and tight, but he couldn't see. There was nothing but blackness, numbing and consuming and suffocating. He couldn't move, could barely breathe, and all he could think was that he felt like he'd finally taken the fabled fall from Jason's steady hold that the older boy had been telling him was inevitable for months. He had just thought that he would end up landing on something other than his head, but it was starting to become clear that was exactly what he'd hit on the way down.

"Kurt, are you with us?"

That was Jason's voice. Kurt recognized his partner instantly, and he had a good feeling that the heavy hand he now felt at the back of his neck, supporting his head, thumb rubbing soothingly, was Jason's as well.

He tried to open his eyes, but before he could manage it he was distracted by shouting above him. And suddenly nausea hit him harder than before, painful and paralyzing. He heard himself moan out, fingers twitching for some kind of relief, and he heard Quinn say, "Just hold on, Kurt. Someone went to get Finn."

"Get him up!"

At Sylvester's voice Kurt did open his eyes. She was standing above him, with half a dozen other Cheerios, blocking out the sun and shadowing the light. She looked furious at him, and he wanted to apologize for falling, but all he could do was lay there and blink.

"Coach," Quinn snapped, sounding more rebellious than Kurt had ever heard her be with Sylvester, "he needs a minute."

"You're all on my time," Sylvester replied, "I tell you what to do with it." Then she looked down at him again, looked hard, and said, "Practice is over. Get Hummel to the school nurse and thank him, because tomorrow you'll be pulling a double shift."

Kurt could hear the groans above him, but there were no dirty looks, not that he could completely focus on all of the faces he could see.

"Hey, Kurt." Jason leaned fully over him, his free hand pushing back at Kurt's bangs. "I've got some water here. I want you to try and sit up, then I'll help you drink a little."

Kurt's fingers curled around the boy's wrist and he nodded, his throat was parched and water sounded great.

"What happened?" Quinn hissed at Jason, taking up position on Kurt's side to help him up. "Did you loose your grip?"

Jason denied, "No way. I got him up there just fine, like always. In fact we were probably doing the best we ever have."

They were overlooking him, Kurt thought darkly. They'd been so concerned for him seconds earlier, and now they were ignoring him completely.

"He came down fast and hard," Quinn argued. "I saw. You barely caught him." She paused, then asked, "Are you okay, Jason? The catch was awkward."

"I'm fine. I'm worried about Kurt. He passed out. That's why he fell down like that."

"Kurt?" Quinn's fingers tightened on Kurt. "You passed out?"

Kurt could only shrug. He thought aimlessly of the grass stains his practice uniform was probably ruined with.

When Quinn and Jason lifted him up into a sitting position Kurt slapped a hand to his mouth and begged himself not to get sick. He squeezed his eyes closed and trembled, so dizzy.

"Think you can drink any water?" Jason asked, holding a water bottle up.

Kurt nodded, then carefully sipped at it, feeling better afterwards. He cleared his throat and asked quietly, "I passed out?"

Around them a few Cheerios had lingered, watching him, but most of them had started walking off the field. Kurt was thankful. He felt mortified.

Jason nodded. "I thought you were looking a little tired, but other than that, you seemed fine. We went up for a simple lift and when we were holding it, you lost your balance. I tried to keep you up there, Mark and Jon saw it too. They were spotting, do you remember that?"

Kurt did. He recalled as he and Jason advanced to more difficult lifts and began tricks, extra support had been needed on the ground, and they had begun working with some of the other boys on the team. He remembered their hands on his ankles, and their support, but not much more.

"Jason says you passed out," Quinn interrupted.

Kurt took another drink of water. Then he said, "I don't remember anything after the lift. Honest."

When Kurt looked to Jason for more information the look of guilt and pain on his friend's face was so horrible Kurt felt his stomach curl.

"I tried to keep you up there," Jason repeated. "I really did, Kurt. I knew something was wrong. But then your knees buckled and all I could do was try and catch you."

Kurt took a quick look down his body and observed, "I seem to be in one peace."

"Were you feeling sick today?" Jason asked. "I know skipping Sylvester's practices aren't really an option, but the rest of us could have made it easier for you without her noticing. There are ways. Kurt, you have to let us know. We won't tell her."

"I'm not sick," Kurt protested, finishing the water bottle and handing it back to Jason who tossed it to the side. "I'm fine. It's hot out here, and I haven't had a lot of water. Practice ran long today." The excuses flew from his mouth so easily, a testament to how long he'd been using them. And the blatant acceptance from both Jason and Quinn was something he took advantage of.

Relieved, Quinn asked, "How many times have I told you to drink water before practice. Haven't you seen Santana with the half gallon she keeps in her locker? It's not a pretty thing to think of, but most of us gorge ourselves on water to get through the practice this late in the year. You need to start doing it, and I'll be making sure."

"Probably mild heatstroke," Jason concluded. "I don't think you'll have to go to the hospital. You're already looking better."

"Hospital?" Kurt squeaked.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Jason's hand lifted from the back of Kurt's neck. "Head stroke is no laughing matter. You can die from it. But like I said, you're looking better. I think if you go home and rest for a while, drink lots of fluids and have something to eat, you'll be fine."

The very thought made Kurt cringe and feel sick all over again.

"Kurt! Kurt!"

"Finn," Kurt said, closing his eyes and preparing for the worst.

His brother was still dressed in his Titan's practice uniform, sweaty, and out of breath. He looked like he'd run the entire distance between the two practice areas and Kurt didn't doubt it. There was an out of breath Cheerio behind him and Kurt remembered that Quinn had said someone had gone to get Finn.

"What happened?" Finn demanded, hands everywhere, invading Kurt's personal space and doing it so carelessly. Finn's fingers held still to Kurt's forehead, and mumbled, "You're hot."

"We think it was heatstroke, or at least an overheating problem," Jason supplied. "He passed out right in the middle of a routine. But Kurt's going to be just fine."

Kurt pushed defiantly at Finn's hand and said, "Help me stand."

Quinn took a step back as each boy took hold of Kurt and in a burst of strength, lifted him to his feet.

Kurt saw starts. His vision grayed shortly after that, the world tilted, and he was down as fast as he'd been up. Panting hard, he managed, "Too fast … I can't … dizzy …"

Pale and panicked, Finn said, "Maybe we should go to the hospital, just to be safe. Kurt, you look like … like you're going to pass out."

"Again," Quinn added.

Determinedly, Kurt said, "I just got up too fast. Can we go slow this time?"

The next time they tried Kurt found himself wrapped completely up in Finn's arms, Jason lingering back and Quinn watching silently. Finn lifted him slowly, kept him tucked close, and when he was on his feet, waited patiently for Kurt to be sure he would remain there.

"I'm going to take Kurt home," Finn announced, and shortly after that they were off, walking slowly, Finn refusing to let go of Kurt despite the looks they were getting.

"I'm fine now, Finn," Kurt insisted by the time they were at the car, Finn pushing Kurt towards the passenger seat with a look that said he would not be challenged. "And aren't you going to get in trouble for just leaving football practice like that?"

Finn arched an eyebrow. "Unlike your coach, mine is actually cool. She won't mind. She knows, Kurt, family is family."

There was a sense of lethargy settling over Kurt and he let himself lean against the Navigator's window, settling in with the gentle vibrations from that car.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Finn asked quietly. He kept both hands on the wheel but Kurt knew his brother was aching to check his forehead again. "You were … I saw you …"

"Finn?" Kurt asked, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

It wasn't nothing, Kurt knew that much, and he had to push, no matter how horrible felt. "Finn, come on, you meant to say something."

Finn cleared his throat. "Nothing. Really. I just saw you laying on the ground and freaked out a little bit. I'm really okay. I swear."

"You were freaked out?" Kurt laughed. "Imagine being Jason. The way I hear it, I nearly landed on his head falling down."

"And you were just really hot?" Finn pressed. "You're not, like, going to just fall over dead or anything, right?"

The next time Kurt laughed it was louder and stronger and almost normal. "People don't just fall over dead, Finn."

"And they don't just pass out for now reason."

"Look," Kurt promised, "I'll be sure to drink lots of water before practice."

"And that elixir thing that Sylvester makes you drink doesn't count!"

"Elixir? Really, Finn, this isn't Harry Potter. It's a specially formulated mixture of things I need to maintain my place on the Cheerios."

Finn made a face at him. "I don't know why you can't just drink Gatorade like me and Puck and the other guys do. All you and Quinn do is drink that nasty stuff, and I tried some once, and I threw up."

Kurt felt a rush of panic. Finn could never know. "That drink is for Cheerios, Finn. It's not for the football players. It won't do anything for you."

Finn shrugged. "I just don't get how you can drink it all the time."

Kurt let his head rest back against the window and tucked his hands into his lap. "You wouldn't understand, Finn."

No one was at home when they arrived, and Kurt hadn't expected it. Business had been picking up at the shop, and their mother had been working longer hours in hope of a promotion.

Kurt let Finn held him into the house and then up the stairs to his bedroom. And while Finn was off putting their things away, Kurt indulged himself and changed into his pajamas before climbing in bed.

"How do you feel?" Finn asked, ducking back in the room fifteen minutes later. He had a glass of orange juice and hand and a bottle of Tylenol in the other. "I called mom."

"Finn!"

"What?" Finn demanded, sitting on the edge of Kurt's bed. "She's a nurse, dude. I just wanted to make sure you weren't-"

"-going to just fall over dead?" Kurt snatched the Tylenol and swallowed two pills down dry, ignoring the juice. "I thought we already established that wasn't going to happen. Stop being so obsessive."

Finn thumped the glass down on the bed's nearby nightstand. "I'm just trying to help. You don't need to get bitchy."

Kurt took a moment to steady himself and he apologized, adding, "I'm just not feeling well, Finn. I'm not going to die, I just need to rest." The feeling of lethargy, the nearly overpowering tiredness had been building for weeks, and taking its toll on him. He'd done his absolute best to hide it from everyone, especially after Santana had assured him it was perfectly normal. Today had been the first day he'd been unable to. But he swore to himself, watching the way Finn fussed over him, that he'd never let it happen again.

"What did mom say?" Kurt asked.

Finn recounted, "She said you'd probably be tired, and just to let you rest, and get you juice. And I'm supposed to take your temperature, too."

"I don't want the juice," Kurt said, eyeing it darkly. "I just want to sleep. How about that?"

Finn and Kurt had been brothers far long enough to recognized a stalemate when it presented itself. They had a push and pull to their relationship that was inherently frictional, always had been, and the way they worked best together was through compromise. Generally, Finn compromised to Kurt who was the more stubborn of the two. Kurt thought it was only fair.

"Let me take your temperature," Finn said, holding the thermometer out. "Mom said if it's under a hundred, I should just leave you alone until she gets home."

Kurt slid the thermometer under this tongue. "I love that woman," he said before closing his mouth and waiting patiently.

When it was revealed he wasn't running a fever, Finn begrudgingly left him alone, and Kurt snuggled down into his bed to catch a bit of sleep before his parents came home and accosted him with accusations of not taking care of himself.

When he woke a few hours later to use the bathroom, the glass of orange juice was warm still untouched on the nearby night stand, and there were voices drifting up from down stairs.

In the bathroom Kurt relieved himself, washed his hands, and then took a long look at himself in the mirror. And he immediately hated what he saw, the too pale skin, limp hair and the barest hint of dark circles under his eyes. He looked so unlike himself, different from how he remembered looking a few short months ago. He looked how he felt, tired, and restless, filled with anxiety over things he hadn't bothered to contemplate before.

And yet he'd never been more popular. He'd never had so many people clambering to be his friend, be his partner in class, sit with him at lunch, or hang out after school. He was a sophomore and he was more well liked and more accepted than a lot of the seniors Kurt knew. His Cheerio uniform commanded authority, and his clothes had never fit better. He could go to Columbus on the weekends for sample sales and buy clothes from the rack. Dave hugged him tightly and laughed about how well Kurt fit into his arms. Jason threw him up in the air without anymore effort than any of the other boys and their female partners. Brittany borrowed his jeans all the time. Everyone seemed so happy with his transformation.

Christ, he was gay, out and proud in Lima, Ohio, and he had enough power at the conservative town's one high school that he could get away with it.

"Kurt?"

"Dave," Kurt breathed out, unsure of how to feel about his boyfriend. "What're you doing here?"

Dave reached him a moment later, gathering him up into a hug and holding tightly. "I was running laps when they told Finn what happened to you. By the time I found out, you were gone." Dave's lips were light and loving on Kurt's forehead. "I talked to Finn and he said you were sleeping, but I just wanted to check on you. I had to be sure."

Kurt took his hand and tugged him from the bathroom and to the bedroom. Kurt settled back into his bed, pulling Dave down with him, making sure to order, "Don't put your shoes on my bed. Be thankful I let your socks touch my comforter. I know what kind of detergent your mother uses."

Dave's arm should have felt heavy and suffocating as he settled over Kurt, pulling him back against a broad chest, but it was a kind of comfort that Kurt found himself needing in that moment.

"What happened?" Dave asked.

"Didn't drink enough water," Kurt said simply. And he knew Dave wouldn't push it. Dave was unusually good at letting things go, letting Kurt stew, and unlike Finn, not fighting him on the topic at hand. "It won't happen again."

Dave's fingers splayed over Kurt's stomach. "Okay. Are you going to school tomorrow."

"Of course."

"Finn thinks you shouldn't." Kurt could hear Dave's breathing pick up a bit, a sure sign of anxiousness. "I'd get your homework for you, you know, if you wanted to stay home."

Kurt shifted, laying himself out against Dave and hooking an ankle against his boyfriend's. "I promise you, I'll be fine. I took a nap before you got here and I already feel better. It'll be perfectly fit by tomorrow morning."

"Let me drive you to school?" Dave asked.

And Dave so rarely asked for things, so Kurt found himself agreeing almost right away.

Kurt fell back asleep after that, and assumed Dave did as well, the both of them cocooned by Kurt's heavy blankets, kept comfortable by the house's air conditioning.

"I don't like it."

Kurt knew his father's voice.

"Burt, dear, it's obviously something Kurt needs at the moment. They're not doing anything wrong."

And that was his mother, trying to talk some kind of reason into his father who had a tendency to overreact.

It was then that Kurt remembered he and Dave were in his bed, something that he'd never let his parents knew happened frequently enough.

"He's barely sixteen," Burt grumbled. "He doesn't need to have a boy in his bed, even if it is his boyfriend. Especially if it's his boyfriend!"

Carole chastised, "Keep your voice down. And look, they clearly still have their clothes on. Come on, we've seen that Kurt is fine now. Let them sleep a little longer."

Kurt loved his mother so much.

He heard the soft click of his door close and then suddenly Dave was tense beneath him, his fingers pressing into Kurt's hips. He mumbled, "Oh, god, I thought your dad was going to murder me."

"You were awake?" Kurt asked, eyes opening. "For how long."

"A while."

Kurt stretched out a bit, pillowing his head further into Dave's shoulder. "You don't mind being lazy with me?"

Dave tangled his fingers into Kurt's fringe and held him still as he leaned down to kiss him. "I'll be anything with you-for you."

There was a thump on the other side of Kurt's door and he groaned. "Next time we nap together," he told Dave, "we're doing it at your house. Deal?"

Dave kissed him once more.

September 16, 2009

"You joined Glee club?"

Kurt nodded to the guidance councilor. "Several of us did, in fact. There was, I suppose, a sudden appreciation for music among the Cheerios and football players."

Miss Pillsbury looked stunned, and Kurt couldn't blame her. In fact days after it had happened, Kurt was still fielding incomprehensible looks from teachers and students alike, trying to figure the change out, or why it had happened so suddenly. Kurt assumed the reason that there hadn't been a backlash just yet was due to the confusion.

She observed, "But your brother was the first?"

Carefully, Kurt crossed one leg over the other, then rested his folded hands over his knee. He admitted, "For the most part, Finn is not a natural born leader. He tries to be, and desperately wishes he was, but ultimately, he's far more happy to find the status quo, fall in line, and excel in that way. He's most comfortable when he knows what's expected of him, and especially if it's expected that he doesn't deviate. Finn isn't the type of person to step outside his comfort zone very often. It's just who he is. That's what makes this all so odd."

"And what about you?"

"Me?" Kurt asked. "I'm worse than Finn, who falls in line at the drop of a hat. "

She leaned forward. "How so?"

Kurt hesitated. Weeks of meeting with Miss Pillsbury and he felt no better now, than he had the first time. She wasn't helping much, despite what he told his father, and visiting her was still a chore, each and every time. But she was easy to talk to, albeit a little annoying, and when Kurt really thought about it, there weren't many people he could open up to.

"I'm the guy," he said to her, "who absolutely hates conforming. I hate it and it makes me sick to know I'm doing what I do because I'm scared to do what I want. I'm terrified that I'll loose everything that I've put so much importance on. And that's the truth of it. Finn isn't a natural born leader, and I feel like I am, and in the end, Finn is still the better person."

Nervously, she chattered, "I don't think this is about being a better person, Kurt."

"Finn isn't fooling people," Kurt said with a shrug. "Everyone knows leadership is hard for him. But he tries. I'm sitting here, pretending like I'm okay being told who to be friends with, what to do, how to spend my time, what to … I just …" He broke off.

"Kurt?"

"Glee club," Kurt said, "or rather, Finn's joining of the glee club is absolutely one of the first moments of his life when he took a good, long look at himself and decided he wasn't going to let other people dictate his life for him. He was a leader in that moment, and it made me realize how much of a follower I am, and how unacceptable it all is."

"Which is why you decided to join?"

A bubble of laugher welled up in Kurt. "No. That's not why I joined glee."

"Then why?"

Kurt waved the question off. "That's really not important. I've gone and joined glee, and so have several other people. Apparently, if Rachel is to believed, we nearly have enough people to compete."

"You don't sound excited," Pillsbury noted.

Kurt held up a single finger and explained, "This is how many practices we have had so far. It was ninety minutes long and was comprised of Rachel complaining, Rachel screeching, one horribly performed version of Elton's John's Tiny Dancer, several rounds of inner fighting between club members, and Mr. Schue, and then it all concluded with Rachel storming out, Finn chasing after her, and the rest of us refusing to speak to each other. I can only imagine how exciting our next practice is going to be."

"Maybe," she tried, "you just need to get used to each other."

Kurt agreed. "Some of us, outside of pep rallies and classes, have never been in the same room as the others. You could see it in the way we sat during Glee, the Cheerios bunched together, Mike and Matt taking quietly, and the original members of New Directions not in the least bit receptive to us." Which completely understood. He knew what it looked like to them, the sudden influx of participants in the club. It was nothing less than shady.

Lightening the mood, Pillsbury asked, "Did you audition for glee club?"

At that Kurt felt his mood perk. He braved a smile and said, "Mr. Schue made it optional, he said he didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable, but that if we wanted to, we cold have the floor to sing something. I auditioned, mostly because Quinn said I had to. She actually likes my voice."

"What did you sing?"

Kurt recalled fondly, "Sam offered to help me pick out a song."

There was a smile on her face, one that was too knowing, and Kurt didn't like it one bit when she said, "So you and Sam seem to be getting along better."

Begrudgingly, Kurt admitted, "We have hot and cold periods, but lately, it's been good. He was originally just supposed to help me choose my song, and we ended up going through my collection of music on my computer."

"And?" she asked, excited.

"Sam discovered the extent of my musical nerdiness." Kurt clarified, "I have a lot of Broadway music."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of," Pillsbury told him.

"And we came across Les Miserables. I'm a countertenor. Sam found the perfect song to show off my rang from that musical. Bring Him Home. That's what I sang."

Pillsbury looked completely taken with him, and he knew she'd seen the musical before.

"Rachel reminded me that she sang Les Miserables for her audition," Kurt said. "And I guess I misjudged her, because I thought she was going to criticize me, but she said I sounded great, and now I think she's got it in her mind to stage a production of Les Miserables."

"So," Pillsbury concluded, "you may have misjudged her a bit? In the way that people misjudge you?"

"Maybe."

She let the subject go, and for that Kurt was thankful, because he was starting to think he had been too harsh with Rachel. She was loud and overbearing and distractingly annoying, but she was also brilliant. Her point of view, no matter how hard she tried to foist it on people, was usually worth considering, and her immaturity was something she'd grow out of. Kurt knew he still had some of his own left to work out of. In fact, Kurt could see with a little time and effort, Rachel becoming someone he wouldn't mind being around. She was genuinely a good person, he could see it, and he knew he'd let what other people thought of her influence how he'd perceived her. He knew he'd wronged her with his judgment, even if he couldn't tell her that.

Pillsbury asked instead, "How are you dealing with this year so far?" and he knew exactly what she was talking about. "It's been several weeks now that you've been back. Tell me about the stress of being on the Cheerios. Are you okay?"

"It's …" Kurt searched for the right words, then said, "challenging. To say anything else would be a lie. I spent two years making myself into the perfect Cheerio, and then a whole summer trying to convince myself how wrong I'd been. It would be a lie if I said I wasn't confused. The Cheerios are confusing."

"But you rejoined the team."

Kurt nodded firmly. "I know what happened was bad, but it doesn't change the fact that the Cheerios are the first place that I really felt accepted, like I was part of something bigger than myself. The Cheerios make me feel safe, like Finn does. I love being a Cheerio, and I love flying. I wouldn't give it up for anything."

Kurt uncrossed his legs and stood. "I should probably get going."

She reminded gently, "Our meetings are supposed to last for an hour. Isn't there anything else you'd like to talk about?

Kurt wrestled with the strap to his bag and glanced over at her. "Not really. I think the things I'm just starting to realize are the things that matter the most, and I'm supposed to figure them out on my own. I know you're just trying to help, but you're just like everyone else, and it's driving me crazy. I think I've been very patient so far, but I'm slowly going crazy."

Startled, she asked, "Excuse me?"

"You're like everyone else," Kurt repeated, not trying to be cruel, only honest. "You treat me like Finn does, and my dad, and almost everyone. I guess, well, Sam's the only one who doesn't treat me like you all do, and that's just because he doesn't know what happened to me. You treat me like you have to be careful, like I'm going to relapse and break down and give in."

"Are you?" she asked bluntly.

"Scared to death I will?" Kurt amended. "Absolutely. I get up everyone morning and hate the way my jeans fit, and my meal plans, and that class I have to go to every other Saturday, and I hate coming here, no offense, to talk about things that don't want to talk about. I hate it all, and I especially hate the way that Finn hovers, and my mom worries, and my dad obsesses."

She wanted him to sit down, Kurt could tell, but he couldn't. He couldn't relax when all he wanted to do was run for the door.

Then she said, "No one would blame you, Kurt, if you were struggling. You took a remarkably short amount of time to reverse what damage you spent years doing to your body and mind. Anyone would be struggling. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"You don't know about shame," Kurt snapped. "I don't have control over myself some days. That's the worst feeling in the world."

Pillsbury startled him by saying, "I think you'd be surprised by the amount of people who feel like they don't have control over themselves. Students and teachers included."

"I'm leaving," Kurt announced. "I promised Sam I'd have lunch with him."

Pillsbury got to her feet. "I really think we should talk about this some more, Kurt. The subject of lunch, if you don't mind."

"I have my lunch," Kurt said, jostling his bag.

"That's not what I meant."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, and left the office as quickly as he could without running, stopping only in the hallway to take a deep breath. She made his skin crawl, and it wasn't her fault. That was the worst part.

Kurt eating lunch with Sam had come about in a simple, but exceedingly abrupt way, a decision Kurt reached only minutes after Sam had revealed to him that he ate alone every day. To Finn, Kurt had said, "I'm going to start eating with Sam at lunch," and dared to hope that his brother wouldn't be upset with him.

And Finn, to his credit, and only shrugged and said, "Okay. You don't want to bring him to our table instead?"

That was a spectacularly bad idea, and Kurt knew it before he'd even finished explaining why to Finn. Sam hadn't been exaggerating when he'd mentioned how the guys on the team had never really warmed up to him. It wasn't that Kurt thought Sam would be openly attacked if he was brought by for lunch, but Kurt knew how much dirty looks and the silent treatment could hurt. He didn't want to put Sam through that, especially now that Kurt understood why Sam hadn't backed down from being the quarterback.

But Kurt had said, "Maybe, let me ask him," to placate Finn anyway. He had no intention of brining it up to Sam, or pursuing the matter, but Finn deserved to hear otherwise.

When Kurt had told Dave, his boyfriend had given him a long look, then shrugged. "Okay," Dave had said, clearly unhappy, but accepting of Kurt's choice. "Just, promise me one thing, okay?"

Kurt's promise of, "Anything," had been heartfelt.

Then Dave's arm had fitted itself around Kurt's waist and pulled him flush, allowing Dave to kiss him easily, and then say, "Be my date for Santana's party?"

"Of course," Kurt had said, and in that moment, he'd made the decision to go to the party. He really hadn't been planning to, mostly because his AP classes, while not nearly as challenging as the curriculum at Dalton, and Kurt had seen a great deal of Blaine's homework one afternoon out of curiosity, they still required some effort on his part. Cheerios was taking up a great deal of his free time, and with glee starting to cut into what little he'd had left from that, Kurt foresaw a need to cut out a portion of his social life if he wanted to keep his dream of a far off University acceptance letter alive.

Plus, Santana had the type of parents who worked long hours, all day long, and had the tendency to not come home on the weekends. Kurt had never seen parents like Santana's before, who never set rules or limitations, and it probably accounted for the way Santana was.

Not to mention she lived in Lima Heights adjacent. Kurt was never one to judge, but he knew for a fact that despite how small of a town Lima was, he'd seen less than legal activities taken place, and most of them in that area. His parents didn't like him to go down to the Lima Heights area, and when Kurt needed to, he usually had a fail proof cover to feed them instead.

But now, since Dave had decided to be an amazing boyfriend by being understanding about Sam, a little to Kurt's annoyance, he knew he'd need to make it there, and stay nearly the whole night. And naturally Finn would go as well. Kurt had learned his lesson when it came to trying to leave Finn behind.

To Sam, Kurt had sent a simple text message, asking Sam to meet him in front of the auditorium, and that attendance was mandatory. They'd agreed earlier on the front steps, but Kurt had plans for where they'd spend their lunch hour.

"You know," Sam said as Kurt approached, "your text messages sound just like you."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" Kurt asked. He had the perfect place for them to go for the lunch hour, and he led Sam skillfully to the nearby greenhouse.

Sam shrugged. "Maybe a backhanded compliment. I can practically hear your voice in the text, all pushy and authoritative. Sort of like my mom. But don't worry, I like it."

"There is so much wrong with what you just said."

The greenhouse on campus was small, private donation from a successful alumni years earlier. It was rarely used, barely kept up, and almost always a great place for privacy. There was also a small picnic table out in front, and it was a great time of year to smell the flowers, a fragrance that overrode the nearby grazing cows.

"So," Sam said, throwing one leg over the bench and smiling at Kurt who sat across from him, "I'm actually kind of surprised you followed through with today. Finn's been really nice to me about this whole football thing, but I can't believe he was completely on board with this. And then there's Puckerman, who seems to have a personal vendetta against me."

"I don't do everything my brother says," Kurt protested. "Sometimes it's easier to do that, but not mandatory. As for Noah, he's Finn's best friend. I'm sure he feels obligated to hate you for Finn, and he's not very accommodating to new people, to begin with. Noah is … he's complicated."

"You call him that." Sam began digging around in his bag, pulling out his lunch in pieces. "Noah. You're the only one."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Puck. Ridiculous. I've known him since Finn and I were children. He's always insisted on being called that, which is why I refuse. Noah has a lot of issues. I think everyone does in general, but especially Noah. His father left when he was young, his mother works full time, but doesn't really want to spend time with him when she has any. He doesn't like to let anyone know, but he's the primary caregiver for his younger sister, Sarah, and he's pretty much her idol."

"So you think highly of him, then?"

"Oh, Noah is a hormonal, arrogant, asshole a lot of the time, but he's a good person. He builds up these walls because he's afraid to get hurt, and it makes him come off like he doesn't care about anyone but himself. He goes by Puck because he wants to be bigger than he is, more confident, more secure. And everyone goes along with it because they're too afraid to see him be the vulnerable one for a change. I call him Noah because that's what he is to me, all the good, the bad and the hurt."

"Oh," Sam said simply.

Kurt grinned. "And because it annoys him."

"That's better. That's a little more Kurt Hummel."

"What about your boyfriend?" Sam asked, taking a large bite out of the first of two sandwiches he'd set on the table. There were bags of chips, several cans of soda, a mammoth bag of grapes, and more than one kind of cookie laid out. Kurt was certain that Sam could give Finn a run for his money when it came to how much he could eat. "He doesn't seem the clingy type, but if you were my boyfriend, and you wanted to eat lunch with someone else, you know, someone has hot as I am, I'd have a problem with that."

Kurt set his Tupperware container gently on the table and remarked, "That's so modest of you." He took care in arranging his silverware, cloth napkin, and drink, before continuing, "Dave isn't clingy, Sam. That's the most important thing. The second is that he trusts me. We've also known each other a very long time. He doesn't need to call or text me a million times a day. In fact there are days that we go at a time without seeing each other at all. He has a life and I have a life and if they intersect, we spend it together, but it's not necessary. Plus, I'm sure Dave already took a long moment to size you up and probably decided he could pound your face in, if need be."

Mouth half full, Sam said, "That is not comforting."

The lid to his food came off and Kurt looked down at the spinach and cabbage mixture in front of him, another one of his mother's new recipes. She'd gotten a cookbook for her birthday a month earlier, vegetarian friendly sprinkled with a handful of vegan dishes, and Kurt had been her guinea pig since he'd come home.

"What the heck is that?" Sam asked with a sour face. "It looks like rabbit food."

"My mom tries," Kurt said with a sigh, picking up a fork. "But this may be a lost cause." He took a tentative bite.

"Looks better than it tastes?" Sam tried sympathetically. "Dude, if you want to trash that, I'll totally share my lunch with you."

Tensely, Kurt asked, "can we not talk about food right now?" He forced himself to take another bite, each one harder than the previous. "I just want to get it down and be done with it."

"You know, I've noticed."

Smoothing down the napkin on his lap, Kurt asked, "Noticed what?"

"Your sparkling personality."

Kurt glared.

"The way you're so careful with your food," Sam said.

Kurt froze. "What?"

Kindly, Sam asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Kurt tried not to sound angry as he said definitively, "We are absolutely not talking about it. Now, you can either find something else to talk about, or we can sit in silence, but I'm tired of everyone being on my case about this. I can't do it anymore, and I can't have it from you."

Silently, Sam watched him, chewing in a thoughtful way, eyes flickering between Kurt and his food.

"Well?" Kurt demanded, impatiently.

"Okay." Sam chewed a bit more, then swallowed.

"Okay?"

Sam repeated, "Okay. New subject?"

Kurt's hand laid out on top of the picnic table, his fingers stretched out towards Sam. He mumbled, "Thank you."

"So?" Sam pressed. "We can talk about whatever you want. Next week's Bio presentations? How we're going to talk Rachel out of that god awful idea to have us sing theme songs next week?

Kurt suggested, "How about Santana's party. This is the first of the year. You won't know what to expect and you're lucky, I'm gracious enough to clue you in."

Sam frowned for a moment, then said, "She mentioned it to me early this morning when I saw her in the hallway. Is there something I should know?"

Kurt laughed, "You have no idea. Her parties are infamous. She has two a year, that's about all this town can handle, and they always end with teenagers passed out on the lawn, the police arriving sometime before dawn, and a whole plethora of new blackmail material for the school year."

"There's beer?" Sam asked disapprovingly.

Kurt rattled off, "Beer and just about any kind of hard alcohol you could want. Santana certainly likes her drink. She'll be wasted by ten, sobbing by twelve, and passed out twenty minutes after that. Mostly these parties turn into an excuse for the football players to challenge to hockey team to drinking games while the baseball players root them on. You're also obligated to be there."

Firmly, Sam said, "I don't drink. It's not my thing."

"Someone will put a beer in your hand. Just carry it around. They'll all be too wasted to care or notice. I'm not a big drinker either, and that's what I do. These parties are all about image."

"Parties aren't really my thing either. How about we just hang out at my house instead and watch movies?"

Kurt wanted to. He really wanted to. Ever since Sam had held him close and comforted him in the bathroom, Kurt had felt even more drawn to the blond. Their friendship was quickly developing into something more, even if Kurt wasn't sure what that more was, and he was desperately craving Sam's attention. But he had made a promise to Dave. It was one he couldn't break, and no matter how little Sam wanted to be at the party, Kurt knew how important it was for him to be there as well.

"I promised Dave I'd be there," Kurt revealed. "And I do want to keep any eye on him. Dave can get overwhelmed sometimes, and if there's beer, he'll drink it. I want to make sure he stays out of trouble, and gets home safely. Plus, I know Quinn. She'll gorge herself on wine coolers while Finn pounds beers away. Neither of them will be in any state to drive."

Sam asked, "So you're usually the DD?"

"Sometimes." Kurt's fork scraped against the Tupperware. "More often than not. Come to the party and we can do a movie weekend. I mean it. Sylvester is going out of town for a Cheer conference, probably brushing up on the best way to terrorize and demoralize high school students, and that means Quinn will be running practice. But she's so caught up in Finn actually wanting to spend time with Rachel that I have no doubt she'll let us leave early, or call practice off altogether. I'll still have to practice with Jason, and we're hitting the gym in the morning, and I have to be in Columbus that afternoon, but the rest of the weekend is open after that if you want."

Kurt knew he'd won Sam over by the blossoming smile on his face. And then Sam asked, "Who picks the movies? Because Kurt, I like musicals, but there are only so many I can sit through."

"I think I was very patient with Avatar," Kurt said, arms crossing. "All four hours of it."

Sam protested, "That was not a four hour movie." He finished his second sandwich and started in on his grapes. "But how about we trade off. One of yours, and then one of mine, unless you like mob movies."

Kurt didn't, but he liked the way Sam looked when he said it, kind of starry eyes, maybe a little infatuated. Kurt stored the information away for later and said, "I may have seen a Al Pachino movie or two."

Kurt had nearly finished his lunch by the time the hour was up, and he was getting ready to pack his things up in anticipation of the coming bell when he saw Mercedes across the grass, sitting alone. The girl was sitting cross legged, bag sprawled out next to her, and she seemed completely absorbed with her phone. Kurt caught Sam's attention and then nodded towards her.

"I don't know," Sam said by way of an answer. "I never see her outside of glee, actually. I guess I never really thought about it."

A glance down at his watch told Kurt that there was a good ten minutes left to lunch, more than long enough to begin righting a wrong.

"I'll be right back," Kurt told Sam, gesturing for him to stay seated. "Before you finish the last of your chips, even. I just want to say something to Mercedes real quick."

Looking confused, Sam only nodded.

Kurt approached Mercedes with trepidation, very aware of how things had exploded the last time they'd truly been alone. And Kurt hadn't missed the way she'd been skillfully avoiding him in glee, never sitting next to him, barely talking to him, never fully engaging.

"Mercedes?"

She looked up at him with surprise, and then something unreadable, but definitive. "Kurt."

Feeling awkward, he said, "I need to apologize to you. For that day, in the hallway, when I stood there and did nothing. For letting you be slushied while everyone laughed, and for every time that I wasn't there, but knew it was happening. I need to apologize because I've spent a lot of time being okay with something I knew wasn't, and going along with it because I didn't want it to happen to me. I was wrong, and indifference to something like bullying is just as bad as being the bully yourself."

He knew he'd rambled a bit, and she looked absolutely unprepared, eyes wide and mouth open. After a moment she said, "You never threw anything on me. You never stole my things, or made fun of me."

"No," Kurt agreed, "but Dave did, and Puck did, and a dozen other people I know and call my friends. I can't control them, but I do have some sway over their behavior and thoughts. I could have tried. The point is, I didn't. That's what I'm sorry for."

"And what?" she asked, getting to her feet, sounding defensive, "This newfound sense of moral righteousness came from being in glee together for a few short days? You can't have fallen that far down the social ladder, not that fast."

"No." Kurt shook his head. "But it has made me think. And that's something I didn't do before. I was happy to just fall in line, and it's different now. I'm not asking you to forgive me, I just want you to know that I am sorry, and I will be saying something to Finn and anyone I see bullying you."

Mereceds' hands fell to her hips. "Just me? What about all the other kids who get thrown in dumpsters and smashed into lockers?"

Kurt thought for a moment, then said, "Big changes don't happen all at once. They start with little steps, and little voices, and they build over time. That's what I'm trying to do. Glee is, basically, and don't get mad, a collaboration of losers. We're all losers, Mercedes, in one way or another, and it's becoming startling clear to me that no one is better than anyone else. Finn's noticing too. Things are changing, and it won't all happen all at once, but it is happening. What I'm asking for is patience."

She looked a little like she still wanted to smack him over the back of his head for his stupidity, but eventually a smile emerged and she said, "My momma would have my hide if I didn't give you a second chance, boy. Everyone deserves a second chance, regardless of the situation."

Mercedes reached out for a tentative hug and Kurt met her halfway.

"Are you eating alone?" he asked.

She picked her bag up from the floor. "I usually eat with Tina and Artie, but Tina's out sick, and Artie has something to work on with the A/V club. It's no big deal." But he could see the hint of sadness in her eyes.

Kurt thumbed towards Sam who was watching them. "Come sit with us? Tomorrow, too? You can bring Tina and whoever you want."

She didn't hesitate, which spoke volumes. "Since when do you and Evans sit together? I thought you always ate with your brother."

Kurt hummed happily, feeling a burst of something suspiciously akin to pride in his chest. Self pride. "Things change. Priorities change."

"Hey, Mercedes," Sam greeted when she sat down with them.

Kurt followed after and wished more than anything that the lunch hour could last a little longer.

April 18, 2009

It took Kurt a moment to realize where he was.

And then a moment later he registered the intense pressure in his chest, the near unbearable ache running through his body and the groggy feeling he couldn't shake, making him think sluggishly, and forego all attempt to move.

He was in the hospital.

It was Lima General. Kurt remembered the gray tinted walls from when Finn had sprained his ankle a year precious and the fall Kurt had taken from a Cheerio pyramid one day during practice had resulted in him needed stitches. But it was also a private room, and Kurt had never had one of those before, he had never needed one. It was a scary and sudden thought that he'd done something to end up in one. But he couldn't recall what.

He remembered that morning, waking up late and rushing his pre-school ritual. He hadn't had time to check the messages that had appeared on his phone over night and had even chosen his school outfit in less than fifteen minutes.

He'd demanded from Finn, who'd been stuffing his face in the kitchen when Kurt had skidded in, "Why didn't you wake me?" and had hardly waited for an answer before rushing out to the car.

Kurt recalled classes, but nothing specific from any of them, and towards the afternoon things were hazy. Looking at the nearby window Kurt could see it was dark, and wondered how long he'd been in the hospital. Had he taken another fall during practice?

A beeping caught Kurt's attention, and a strange grip on his finger. There was something clipped to his finger, something he didn't have the strength to shake off. And the beeping was a heart monitor, situated amidst several IV bags. It was then Kurt noticed the line into his arm. There was also a nasal cannula fitted to his upper lip, and he realized suddenly how much it was helping him breathe.

He was more scared than ever.

Kurt cleared his throat, but it was hard to swallow, and he was so tired he was sure he was going to fall asleep once more.

But then he saw his father, curled up in a nearby chair, too big to properly fit the plastic seat, and sleeping fitfully. His father was more pale than Kurt had ever seen, looking unshaven with more than a day's worth of growth, and that, more than anything else, had Kurt's heart racing, because his father had been in the kitchen earlier that morning, sipping on coffee and going through paperwork for the shop. He'd been clean shaven.

The spike in Kurt's pulse was indicated immediately by the monitor right away, and Kurt struggled to turn himself in the bed closer to his father. He wanted to reach out desperately, the man was within touching distance, but Kurt could barely lift his arm, and he found it tangled in wires when he tried.

"Dad," he tried, but his voice was a whisper, rough and painful and impossible. He didn't even sound like himself.

Kurt felt tears prick his eyes and he was so confused, so alone and so scared. He wanted his father to wake up, he wanted to see his mother, and more than anything else, he had to know what had happened.

There was a call button near his left hand, just out of reach, and Kurt struggled towards it, exerting himself as much as he could, desperate to have the attention of anyone who had any kind of information. And he'd nearly reached it, the button seemingly mocking him and his plight, when the door to his room opened and Kurt saw his brother.

"Finn," Kurt breathed out, and realized how close he was to crying.

His brother looked completely startled, as if he hadn't expected to see Kurt, and it made Kurt wonder even more how long he'd been out. Finn had two styrofoam cups in hand, steaming and probably filled with coffee. Finn hated coffee, he told Kurt as much nearly every morning when a fresh pot as brewed.

And then Kurt thought Finn might drop the cups, because his brother was scrambling to set them to the side and reach Kurt all at the same time.

"Kurt," Finn mumbled, and Kurt realized there were honest tears in his brother's eyes. "Kurt. Kurt. Kurt."

"I'm Kurt," Kurt tried to break the tension that had suddenly developed between them.

"Kurt," Finn said one more time, then he leaned forward and did something that Kurt hadn't expected in the least. Finn's lips were warm and chapped against Kurt's forehead when he kissed him gently. "You're awake." Kurt hadn't been kissed by his brother in a very long time. They hugged all the time, touched almost constantly, but rarely kissed. Kisses had fallen away with adolescence. But now Finn was kissing him, and so desperately that Kurt had to shift towards him.

"Finn. It's okay."

Finn gave a loud sob and leaned forward completely to burry his face in Kurt's shoulder. Kurt could feel the wetness almost immediately.

"Finn."

Finn pulled back a minute later to scrub at the tears on his face. Kurt thought it was a miracle their father hadn't woken.

"What happened?" Kurt asked, blinking back any drowsiness that might have been lurking. "What happened to me?"

Finn was too big for the hospital bed, they wouldn't both fit, but he felt Finn's hand close around his own, and then his big hulk of a brother was heaving himself up at the foot of the bed. Kurt was thankful, and he tried to squeeze Finn's hand to relay as much.

"You …" Finn said, and truly seemed speechless, or at least unsure of how to begin.

Kurt tried instead, "What's wrong with me?"

It seemed that Finn found his footing and he blurted out, "We were at school."

Slowly, Kurt nodded. "I remember class. I was … I was feeling sick, wasn't I?" Bits and pieces more were starting to come back. Some things were starting to make more sense, and even more questions were arising. "I was sick?"

Finn replied right away, "You were dizzy and tired. Mom thought you were coming down with something and she wanted to keep you home. Dad was totally going to back her up on it, but then you said you had that math test and you had to go. They made me … Kurt, they made me swear to look out for you."

Kurt made a face. "This is not your fault, whatever this is. And it's not like I'm your little puppy. You can't look-"

"You collapsed in the parking lot," Finn interrupted. "You were fine. I mean, okay, you weren't fine, you looked horrible, but it wasn't like I thought you were going to drop. But then you grabbed onto me and you couldn't stand up straight and then you passed out. I couldn't … I didn't know what to do."

"So I passed out." Kurt had assumed as much, obviously, considering he'd woken up in the hospital and hadn't remembered going to sleep. What had caused him to pass out was the bigger question. "From what?"

Finn insisted, "It wasn't just that. Kurt. You didn't just pass out."

Kurt took a deep breath in through the cannula and wondered what could have made it any worse. "I didn't just pass out?"

Finn choked out, "You stopped breathing."

That made Kurt sit up a bit more. Shocked, he asked, "I wasn't breathing?"

"I didn't know what to do," Finn confessed, his grip on Kurt's hand painful. "You weren't breathing and I couldn't remember that stupid health class we took last year at the YMCA where they taught us CPR. And your heart was doing this weird thing. It was beating really fast, and then it would stop and skip and keep going and I checked your pulse and that's all it was doing."

"Finn, Finn, slow down." Kurt's mind raced to keep up with Finn's mouth. "I wasn't breathing and my heart was racing?"

"It kept stopping and then starting again." Finn concluded, "Struggling. It was struggling to beat."

Kurt gestured to his nasal cannula. "Is that why I have this?"

Finn shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. Mom and dad … they haven't really let me in the room when the doctor was talking. They don't want to tell me anything. That means it must be bad. God, Kurt, don't be dying."

It seemed finally they'd been loud enough to wake their father, because he snorted a little as he woke, shaking himself awake and alert. He was silent a moment, taking in the sight of Finn's appearance and Kurt's open eyes, and then he leapt forward, embracing Kurt.

"Kurt," he heard his father mutter against the skin at his neck as he was hugged. "My baby. Kurt."

"Dad." Kurt couldn't hug him back, Finn didn't seem to be any more likely to give up the grip he had on Kurt's hand than he had before. Instead he promised, "Dad, I'm right here. Finn's talking to me. It's okay."

"Not okay," his dad said, openly weeping in a way that Kurt hadn't seen since his mother had been dead and buried. "Kurt. They called me at the shop. And I had to call your mother. I had to tell her … they told me … you …"

"Could someone just be straight with me?" Kurt asked. "What happened?"

Burt cleared his throat, taking a moment to kiss Kurt in nearly the same way Finn had, on his forehead, chastely and like he'd thought he'd never have the opportunity to do it again.

"Dad?"

"A major case of arrhythmia," his father told him finally. "It was so severe that the doctors are still debating whether they're going to officially call it as a minor heart attack."

"I had a heart attack?" Kurt asked suddenly and with disbelief. "That's … dad, I'm sixteen. I'm sixteen. How could I have had a heart attack?"

Finn struggled for a moment before releasing Kurt's hand and getting to his feet. He declared, "I'm going to get mom."

Kurt's eyes closed as he felt his father kiss his forehead once more, lingering far longer than Kurt felt comfortable with, feeling ever like a little boy with the way his father handled him with such care.

"I've been asleep for a while, haven't?" Kurt asked quietly. He could feel the scratch of his father's beard every time they brushed together. It was a foreign feeling. His mother preferred cleanly shaven men, and for that, he knew his father kept himself groomed.

"You were admitted on Wednesday," Burt said, fingers carding through Kurt's hair, pushing it around fondly. "They stabilized you by that night, and you've been recovering for the past two days."

Eyebrows furrowed, Kurt said, "I remember feeling sick. I felt horrible. I had been feeling that way for a while. Tired, I guess. Am I sick then?"

"Kurt," his father said with a struggle, "when the doctor talked to us this afternoon he said you were anemic. Your kidney is damaged, and there's an electrolyte imbalance. Now, I don't know what half of that means, but you are very sick. They weren't … until this morning they weren't sure if you'd permanently damaged your heart."

Kurt had to asked, "Then what do I have?" But all he could think was that he couldn't die. He couldn't leave his father and hurt him in that way. He couldn't, not after his father had had to loose his first wife. Kurt liked to pretend that he couldn't remember the night they'd shared the same bed, his father crying himself to sleep, begging for Kurt to never leave him. Kurt had done the same.

An odd look settled on his father's face and Kurt didn't like it one bit.

"I feel like such a failure," Burt said so suddenly Kurt nearly missed it. His father hid his face in his hands and Kurt hated the sight so much.

"Dad. You're really … you're scaring me. What's going on?"

Burt blurted out, "Your mom and I had to sit with a lady from child protective services that first morning for about an hour. She asked us all these questions that we didn't understand. We thought she thought we were abusing you, or maybe Finn, and that they were going to take you both from us. We didn't understand until we talked to the doctor."

Kurt was distracted by his heart monitor. It was still racing, but skipping about as well, and Kurt wondered if it was a bit like what Finn had said he'd felt. It was nothing, really, only a short pause every couple of beats, but he could see the way his father's eyes tracked the lines across the screen, the same as Kurt.

"You're just a handful of pounds under a hundred, Kurt."

"So?" Kurt nearly shrieked, feeling a flush of panic. "I'm five-seven-barely, and small. I have mom's body type."

"They said," Burt struggled, "it looked like you'd just stopped eating. Or like someone had withheld food from you for a very long time." Which, Kurt's mind reeled, had the woman from social services seeming a lot more realistic in her appearance. "You're just … you're so tiny now, Kurt, and I didn't even see it happen."

His father was sobbing, and Kurt could do little more than put a hand on his shoulder and let him lean against him.

Kurt tried to say, "I've just, I've been on a diet. Dad. I'm fine. Really."

"You're severely under weight," Burt argued. "The doctors had such a hard time getting you to a place where they felt comfortable being optimistic. They told us, Kurt, they had to tell me and your mom that they thought your heart might give out. And it's because you've been starving yourself."

"I have not!" Because he hadn't, and he refused to let his father believe he was. Kurt had eaten plenty, but he'd also been watching his weight. He'd lost his baby fat, toned up, and he looked good. His clothes fit. The Cheerios uniform was perfect on him now. This was the way he was supposed to look. It wasn't bad. "I eat."

Burt shook his head. "I started thinking about it, Kurt. I started thinking about everything I could remember from the past couple years, every breakfast, every lunch and every dinner. You never … I never noticed … don't lie, Kurt, you stopped eating."

Kurt still argued, "I eat more than enough."

"It's just that Finn eats so much," Burt said, and Kurt wasn't sure his father was speaking to him any longer. "Finn takes seconds, sometimes thirds, and it's hard to judge what's left over. And I'm not always paying attention, and sometimes I don't make it home for dinner."

"Dad!"

"Why didn't I see it? Your mom is a nurse. Why didn't she?"

Kurt felt destroyed. He felt wretched, and not because he was laying in a hospital bed, but because his father, the strongest man Kurt knew, was in tears in front of him, tearing himself up over something that Kurt thought was so wonderful.

"I don't know what the doctors told you," Kurt said, hands shaking as he settled them on his father's shoulders, "but they're wrong. They're wrong, okay? I eat. I'd die if I didn't eat. I just diet. I needed to loose the weight that I did, dad, to stay on the Cheerios, and to look like all the other popular kids. This is good, dad. The way I look now is not a bad thing." Sure, his face had gone thin, and he always looked a little too pale, but he had made up for that, and when he could slide his thighs into jeans for teen girls, everything was worth it.

"No," his father denied. "There's something wrong here."

Kurt continued, "And I'm a flier, dad. Only the tiniest girls fly, and I'm the only boy. We're supposed to be small-compact, even-we get thrown up in the air and caught when we come back down. You can't be heavy for that. Jason tells me all the time now how much easier it is to catch me, and just to get me up there in the first place."

There was a near roar to his father's voice as he ground out, "You're borderline frail, Kurt. Your bones are turning brittle. How long have you been doing this? Years, right? It's showing in the tests they run on you. You're so fragile and you don't even see it. You think this is okay, and that's the worst of it. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" Kurt snapped, voice rising to a shout. "And if there is a problem, it's you. You keep pushing and pushing and all you want to do is get me back to where I was. You want me to say it was better then, and it wasn't. I can't go back there. I won't."

"You nearly died!"

"Burt Hummel!"

Kurt had never been so relieved to see his mother in his life. His arms opened up to her immediately and he found her taking his father's place within seconds, wrapping him up in gentleness and love.

"Baby," she breathed out. "My Kurt. You're okay. I knew you were strong. I kept telling your father, you're the strongest person I know. I knew you're be okay."

"Okay?" Kurt heard his father mumble darkly.

"What's going on?" Finn asked.

Carole bristled. "That's what I'd like to know."

"You can't," Burt said, hands flying wildly, "expect me to sit here and listen to my son tell me he's okay with what he's been doing to himself. Carole, for the love of god, our son had a heart attack because he refused to eat. He starved himself, and is proud of it?"

Suddenly Kurt couldn't help himself. His eyes were burning and his chest heaving, then he was crying.

"Kurt," his mother tried to sooth, hugging him once more, her breath warm near his eat. "Baby, please don't cry. Burt, keep your voice down! Look what you've done."

"It's not wrong," Kurt said, desperate to be believed. "I look good. It's not wrong. All the girls do it. Some of the boys do it. I'm not alone. We all diet. Mom, you diet."

"I do, sweetheart," she agreed, "but what the doctors think you've been limiting yourself to …"

Fuming, Burt said, "It's all starting to make sense, all the dizzy spells, the tiredness, the lack of interest, the moodiness."

Finn frowned, then asked, "That time at practice when you passed you, Kurt …"

"What?" Burt demanded.

"Mom," Kurt cried out, clinging to her before the accusations could fly. "Mom, mom please, just listen to me."

"I'm here baby, I'm here," Carole said fiercely.

"She said I was doing so good," Kurt said, throat seizing up on him. "So said I needed to loose fifteen pounds, and when I lost even more, she was proud. She was more proud of me than she was of Quinn."

"She?" Carole asked.

Kurt closed his eyes, against the outrage on his father's face, the confusion in Finn's eyes and the pure heartbreak he felt form his mother. He just wanted to go back to sleep. He wished he hadn't woken up in the first place. "It's not bad. She said I could be perfect. I could look perfect, and all I had to do was what she said."

Voice tight and unforgiving, Kurt heard his father asked, "Who, Kurt? Who told you it was okay to starve yourself. Who encouraged you to do this?"

"I just wanted to stay on the Cheerios."

"Sylvester?" Finn broached.

"Burt!" his mother shouted, and Kurt felt her try to pull away. He tightened his hold in response.

"I need some air!" After that there was only the sound of the hospital room slamming, at least for what felt like an eternity to Kurt.

September 17, 2009

Santana's party was already in full swing by the time Kurt and Finn parked. Like Kurt had expected, there were people spilling out onto the lawn of the house, and the music could clearly be heard as Kurt sat in the car and primped himself.

"Can we go in already?"

For the party Finn had slipped into his letterman jacket before leaving the house, and it was something unexpected. It wasn't as if Kurt thought, Finn had been avoiding the jacket. In comparison to people like Sam and Dave who trended to wear their's every day, it was a little out of character, especially considering how Finn's participation in the football team had taken a serious hit. Kurt had been expecting for a while, though hoping not, that Finn might quit altogether.

Kurt fluffed his hair a bit more and huffed, "Seriously, Finn. Your idea of getting ready to throwing on some deodorant and maybe, if we're all very lucky, using a little mouth wash. And Quinn, bless her compromising little heart, actually deals with that. I require a bit more finesse."

"But you're dating a dude," Finn said dully, fingers inching towards the door handle to the Navigator. "He doesn't care. Dudes don't care."

Kurt held up a sharp finger. "Contrary to what you might believe, my boyfriend appreciates it when I look and smell nice. It has nothing to do with his gender. Now, if you'll stop complaining, I'm ready to go. And we're going to cover a few rules as we go up there."

"You're not going to tell me not to drink, right?"

Kurt gave him a deplorable look. "You're a seventeen year old boy, you'll be eighteen before you graduate Finn, I'm hopeful, not stupid. You already told dad you're staying at Puck's for the weekend, right?"

Finn rubbed at the back of his head. "Yeah, but I don't think he believed me. He gave me that look, you know, the one that says he knows I'm lying."

Kurt laughed a little and said, "I'm sure he'll call later tonight and ask if you and Puck ordered pizza, or something mundane like that."

Finn continued, "But only because he wants to snoop."

"Right." Kurt nodded. "So I'm certainly not telling you not to drink, but I am telling you not to get so completely wasted that you can't field a phone call from him."

Kurt felt better when Finn promised to watch himself. Kurt had seen Finn drunk before, out of control and completely wasted. His brother had a tendency to stumble around even more than usual when he had too much to drink, and drape himself on people without a care to who it was. And once he passed out, which was something inevitable, he was unmovable.

"What about you?"

Kurt fluffed his hair one last time before flipping his mirror closed. "What about me?"

"Where did you tell dad you were going?"

Kurt felt far too smug as he said, "I'm having a bonding night with Mercedes and Tina. We're apparently gossiping about boys and practicing for glee. I won't be in until late."

Confused, Finn asked, "I didn't know you and Mercedes were friends. And Tina? I've never even seen you talk to her before, at least not outside of glee."

"We're having the real bonding night next week, they're just my cover for this party. I assume I'll go back to Dave's with him right before the cops are called out, at least for a little while. And maybe you should think about talking with Tina and Mercedes. They're worth getting to know. And far less annoying than Rachel."

It was cold when Kurt stepped out of the car, and he dragged his coat closer to his body, breath puffing out in front of him as he rounded the rear of the vehicle.

"Ready to do some damage?" Finn asked.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Try your very best to keep Noah in his clothing this time. I've seen entirely too much of his very much not exaggerated nether regions."

Finn frowned, then asked, "You mean his dick?"

Kurt refused to answer.

There was an atmosphere to Santana's parties that Kurt had never seen rivaled, and he went to a great deal of parties hosted by Cheerios and jocks. She, for as abrasive and cutthroat as she could be, threw the absolute best ones, and Kurt usually looked forward to them. Most parties were a social chore, one that he went about because Finn did, and because his friends did and he wanted to be seen. But Santana's were fun, mostly because Kurt, who thrived on blackmail material, could usually obtain all he'd need for the year in a few short hours.

"Kurt! Kurt!"

Kurt barely had time to brace himself before his much later boyfriend was rushing to him, and Kurt laughed, because his feet left the ground and he was spinning. It was one of his favorite things, he could admit, to be held so tightly in Dave's arms, especially when they went for a whirl.

"I'm happy to see you too," Kurt said, then kissed Dave. Kurt pulled back and made a face. "You've been drinking already." There was the sour taste of beer on his tongue now, and the sour bite of something much stronger. "Not too much, I hope."

Dave waved him off. "Just a couple." Kurt highly doubted that.

"Keg?" he asked his boyfriend, and a moment later Kurt saw Finn, impossible to miss with his height, making his way towards the very object in question, a cup in hand. "Who brought the keg? I thought we decided against kegs last year when Kowalski had to be taken to the hospital with alcohol poisoning. That was the end of all parties that year, if you'll recall, and both Finn and I were subjected to a series of lectures from our parents about the dangers of drinking."

Dave kissed his cheek sloppily and said, "You're so hot, you know."

"Puckerman," Kurt decided. "Noah Puckerman." Puck was the only one of them with a halfway decent fake ID and the patience to drive forty miles to the nearest convenience store that wouldn't look too closely at it.

"Come on, Come on, Kurt." Dave's hands were big and firm on Kurt's waist, dragging him towards the kitchen. "Let's get you a drink."

"One," Kurt countered quickly. "I'll have one, because god knows I'll be driving us tonight, and not you."

Dave held up his keys, retrieved from his pocket and decaled, "No way, babe. I'm fine to drive."

Kurt snatched them easily away, settling them in his pocket with his own set. Snidely, he said, "David, dear, I thought we decided I'm the smart one of the pair."

Dave only shrugged, the hand he had on Kurt's hip dipping dangerously and obscenely low, and continued to maneuver them towards the kitchen.

Like Kurt had said, he had one drink, a mixture of something that he was sure barely passed for a martini, and then congregated in the living room with a great number of the other Cheerios to dance for a bit. Though really Kurt thought dancing was an inappropriate word, considering the deplorable acts of sexual behavior that were going on around him, and the way he felt his own hardness digging into his thigh as Dave mouthed at his ear.

"Want to make out?" Dave asked with a laugh, and Kurt could feel just how excited his boyfriend was.

Kurt leaned up and kissed him, his tongue stroking its way into Dave's mouth, his hands clutching at Dave's biceps. Then, when he was short of breath and painfully hard, he said, "You know I don't like it when you're drunk." It didn't happen often, Dave was usually very good at holding his liquor, but when it happened, when Kurt's boyfriend drank too much, he was always unusually rough and in a way Kurt hated. "And it won't just be kissing."

Contrary to whatever Finn thought, or his parents, or whatever Dave told his friends on the hockey and football team, Kurt most certainly had not put out for Dave. They had never had sex, at least not penetrative sex. And it wasn't because Kurt was prudish, even if he was, or because of nerves. The had, additionally, spoke on the topic several times, and always reached the right conclusion. They were seventeen, and as much as they cared about each other, sex was a direction in which neither was ready to go.

That still meant, however, that Kurt was a firm believer in absolutely everything else. He was young and he was male, and his hormones were demanding. He and Dave shared wet, wicked kisses all the time, some of which evolved into Kurt's hand trailing his zipper down, and some which didn't. Once in a while Kurt found himself clutching Dave close as they moved together, friction burning between the two of them, bringing them close to mutual release. And once, not that Kurt would think to tell even his closest friend, or Blaine, the only other gay guy that Kurt knew, Kurt had gone down on Dave, and had the favor returned.

That was where Kurt was certain the night was going to go if Dave kept kissing him, body saturated with drink. And Kurt, for as hard as he way, and in want of release, did not enjoy the rough grabbing of Dave's hands, or the chaffing that was sure to follow. Dave was never properly attentive when he drank, and Kurt couldn't bring himself to allow vulnerability when Dave was not in full control of himself.

"Kurt," Dave ground out, but resigned. "Fine. I need another drink."

Kurt tried to palm discreetly at his pants as Dave moved off towards the keg.

"Yo, princess!" Puck came hurtling into view, a red, plastic cup in each hand. He passed the cup in his left hand off to Kurt and said, "Special sale on tequila today. Drink up!"

"Noah." Kurt settled for raising an eyebrow at him.

Puck laughed loudly and knocked back the aforementioned tequila in his own cup, stumbling a little into a nearby dancing Santana. He was gone in a blink of an eye, disappearing into a maze of people.

Kurt looked down at the clear liquid in his cup, and then over to the other side of the room where Finn was bent over Quinn, kissing her in a mixture of teenage awkwardness and loving tenderness. And further back Kurt could see Dave had been caught up, and was now talking to another jock about something adamantly, hands moving rapidly as he talked.

Kurt let himself indulge, and swallowed down the tequila, face scrunching up at the taste.

"Well, you're not supposed to keep it in your mouth long enough to know what it tastes like."

Kurt spun towards the voice, breath catching at the sight of Sam, hair still damp from a probable shower, dressed in a regular pair of jeans but with a tight, pale shirt stretching across his chest. Oddly enough, the letterman jacket that Kurt almost always saw him wearing was missing. He looked handsome and desirable and Kurt felt immediately shameful, he could still see Dave from the corner of his eye.

A bit shakily, Kurt said, "You don't drink, Sam Evans, so how would you know?"

"I said it wasn't my thing, Kurt Hummel, not that I didn't know how to do it."

Kurt set his empty cup down on a nearby table. "So you know how to drink, do you? That's no claim to fame. Look around. Everyone in this room knows how to drink, thought admittedly, some of them are better at it than others. Don't tell Santana, but I saw someone getting sick in the hallway already. There will be plenty more before the night is done."

"You look good," Sam observed, and Kurt blushed, aware that his erection hadn't faded completely. It probably wasn't overtly noticeable, but his pants were still incredibly tight. "And for the record, what we have here is a bunch of hicks who had nothing better to do than make beer runs and pretend like being able to take shots of alcohol makes them adults."

Kurt tried to be offended, in part Sam was talking about everyone that Kurt knew and had grown up with, but there was no malice in the words, and it was hard, especially when Sam smiled.

So Kurt said instead, "You're part of that now, Sam. Welcome to being a hick."

"Feels great."

It occurred to Kurt that he didn't know exactly where Sam had lived before Lima. Dave looked like he'd be a while yet, so Kurt asked Sam, "Where exactly did you come from with your obviously superior knowledge of alcohol?"

"Would you believe," Sam said, mouth widening into an impossibly bright grin, "New Jersey? And let me tell you, that's the scene half these kids want to be a part of."

"New Jersey?" Kurt asked. "Like, Jersey Shore?" He tried to imagine Sam with his fair hair and pale complexion fist pumping to techno music. It was impossible.

Sam shook his head. "About an hour away, but still, close enough that most of the people my age started drinking early on. Where I went to school, a lot of us were military brats. Parents were almost always gone, which meant we really did whatever we wanted. After I got into some trouble for it, I made the decision to stop. I don't drink now, and I don't like to be places were alcohol is going around."

Kurt wanted to apologize, at least for implying that Sam had to be at the party, but then too nearby a couple of boys who'd had too much to drink wrestled each other to the floor, taking out a nearby lamp and starting a surge of panic from people who were too close to the vicious fight developing.

Kurt caught a foot to his knee as people pressed against him and he might have fallen to the ground if Sam's hand hadn't folded around his waist, dragging him to safety. The taller of the two of them was silent as he propelled Kurt away from the unfolding mess. Behind them Santana erupted into an angry tirade as more people joined in.

"Wow," Sam remarked when they were out on the back porch. Kurt remained pressed close. They'd gone from such a warm house to the cold outdoors and Kurt shivered at the change, letting his fingers hook onto Sam's jeans. "Are you okay? Kurt?"

"Fine," Kurt said with a bit of a sniffle.

"No one got you or anything?"

Kurt shook his head, stepping back to Sam could see him properly. "I may have a bruise on my shin, but that's fine. I bruise easily."

Sam mumbled quickly, "Sorry for just kind of grabbing you, but I thought we should get out of there."

Kurt glanced back at the door. He could only hear the music, not even Santana's shrill voice was able to reach them through the shut door. "No, I mean, thank you. It probably would have gotten very claustrophobic quickly. I wouldn't have thought to come out here."

"Oh. No problem."

The porch light flickered a bit and Kurt, head feeling clearer, remembered Sam's words from moments earlier. Kurt broached carefully, "Sam, about what you said … if I'm being improper, just let me know. I don't mean to be presumptuous or make you uncomfortable."

"You're kind of weird," Sam said abruptly, peering at him in a way Kurt had never seen before. "I mean, well, you're so proper. The way you talk …"

With a bit of a laugh, Kurt said, "You should meet Blaine and the other Warblers."

Sam shrugged. "You just kind of talk like you're older than you are. Especially when you seem nervous."

"I don't know," Kurt answered. "It's just how I talk. I've never had a complaint before. Well, maybe from Finn, but he thinks Sesame Street is advanced curriculum."

"Not a complaint." Sam held his hands up. "It's kind of attractive, actually." Sam headed over to the nearby banister and hopped up on it, feet dangling. "Go ahead and ask whatever you want. We're guys, Kurt. We're supposed to say things that offend each other, and then use our friendship as a way to get over it."

"There is no need," Kurt said primly, "to be offensive unnecessarily."

"Only getting more attractive."

Kurt wandered over to where Sam had seated himself. "You said you'd gotten into trouble with drinking?"

Slowly, deliberately, Sam nodded. He patted the spot next to him and Kurt refused right away, pointing out the delicate material of his pants and the roughness of the wooden railing.

"So," Sam said, "I spent the past few years resenting my parents for moving us around so much. When we got to Jersey it was easy to find an outlet for that anger. I guess I got caught up in the scene, and I had a couple of friends who encouraged me to be especially difficult. Kurt, can I trust you not to say anything?"

Kurt nodded quickly, eyes wide. "I would never."

"The reason I moved here," Sam revealed, "isn't really because my dad got a transfer. The truth is he asked for it, or maybe begged. I'm not sure. All I know is we had to leave. My parents bargained with the judge involved with my case. They got the charges dropped, but I had to agree to community service, and leave the area."

"The charges?" Kurt squeaked out.

"Minor stuff." Sam's feet swung back and for and Kurt sunk into the nearby patio chair. "Well, not minor stuff, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. I wasn't driving the car, Kurt. I was only a passenger. But I was intoxicated, and there was property damage."

"Was it bad?" Kurt asked in a timid voice.

"In a lot of different ways." Sam's expression was so open and so hurt that Kurt wished he'd never brought the topic back up. He felt so horrible. The memories were obviously bad for Sam, and Kurt was only making it worse. "The main point is that I forced my family to uproot, and when I saw how it almost cost my parents their marriage, I decided it all had to stop."

Kurt struggled to say, "I wouldn't have known, Sam. I mean, you seem so far from that now."

"That's a pretty big compliment." Sam slid down from the railing and moved to sit next to Kurt, settling on the arm rest of the chair, his leg bumping Kurt. And it felt so natural for them to share the same space. It felt comfortable. Comforting. "I guess it's why I don't care if people at McKinley accept me. I don't care if they like me. I don't care about being popular, or fitting in, or doing whatever it takes to stay on top. I've been there, Kurt. I've sacrificed a part of me like that before, and I've seen it destroy everything I care about. So you call me stupid and think I'm ridiculous, and don't pretend like you don't, but I have my reasons."

Kurt looked away, shamed.

"I'm not trying to call you out, Kurt. I'm just trying to make you understand, everything that I did in Jersey, all of it started out to get back at my parents, but ended up being about looking cool to my friends. I wanted them to like me. I wanted people to respect me, and I thought I could get that respect by doing what your brother and your friends do to people. I let myself get talked into things I knew better, and worse, I let other things happen that I knew were wrong, all because I couldn't give up the people who made me feel powerful."

And that, Kurt knew emphatically, everything in a nutshell. It was so hauntingly accurate he couldn't breathe for a moment.

Sam's fingers trailed across Kurt's forehead, catching his attention. "I was scared, Kurt, just like you are. I see myself when I look at you, and that's why I'm so patient with you. You're much smarter than I am. You're more clever and more capable, and if I was able to figure it out, you will too. I think you already are."

Kurt turned into his hand, feeling the pads of Sam's fingers brush down to his cheeks. Dave never touched him like this. Dave had known him too long to touch him like this.

"I can't give it up," Kurt admitted.

"Not yet."

Kurt turned to Sam, watching the fingers fall away. "Why are you so sure?"

"Intuition?" Sam asked, unsure himself.

"Why'd you join the football team?" Kurt asked, desperate to get away from the topic of his own inabilities. "If you don't care about other people, and you won't let them influence you, why did you join?"

"Mostly," Sam said, "because I wanted something to take my mind off what had happened. Football takes a lot. You have to put your body and your mind into it. It means concentrating hard, memorizing the playbook, working out, and dedicating yourself to something wholly. I knew football could be a welcomed distraction. Plus, Kurt, I said I didn't care about what other people thought of me. That doesn't mean I don't want friends again. Just because I had a bad bunch for a while doesn't mean friendship is completely ruined for me. I'm willing to give it another try eventually. You were a good way to ease into that, actually."

"The other guys were so mean to you."

"I understood why." Sam brought his hand back up, this time to rest on the nape of Kurt's neck. "I never held anything against them. Plus, you didn't shun me like they did."

Kurt chortled, "You keep say that, like I was such a good friend, but I really wasn't. I was horrible in the beginning."

"We were getting our footing. I expected you to stumble a little bit, and I did too, I just never let you see how scraped my knees were getting."

Dragging in a particularly deep breath of cold air, Kurt confessed, "I've never met anyone like you before, Sam. You … you're so …" Kurt scrambled for the right words, Sam's hand so hot against his skin. "You're patient with me. I'm really very messed up, and you're patient with me. Only my parents are this patient, and Finn, and still, not like this."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "but they're not patient with you because of the same reason I am."

"Huh?"

Kurt felt the barest hint of Sam's nails and then the boy asked him, "Why are you so careful about what you eat?"

Kurt was out of his seat a second later, backing away from Sam. "We're not talking about that."

Sam's eyes narrowed a little. "You portion everything out, and you count everything before you eat it, Kurt. Why do you count it?"

"We are not talking about this," Kurt said firmly.

Sam stood. "When I started working out, right after middle school when I got serious about it, I went overboard. I got a little crazy with the idea of looking perfect. I wanted to get rid of all the body fat I could and build only muscle. I guess I was obsessed. Any my mom was worried, so she took me to a doctor and he gave me some pamphlets. I also went and saw a nutritionist. Did you know that people who suffer from anorexia often count their food? They break it into tiny portions, and then count it."

"Shut up!" Kurt snapped, his back hitting the railing. "You don't know anything."

"I know I used to break my celery into tiny pieces and then count them obsessively before eating anything. I had to count and recount every pretzel, every noodle, everything. When I got on a meal program I drank a lot of supplement shakes to get my weight back up. I put mine in this colored water bottle so no one would know what it was. I think you use your Cheerios thermos."

Heart racing painfully, thumping so hard that Kurt wondered if he might faint, he begged, "Why can't you stop talking? This is none of your business. Why are you asking?"

"I thought we were opening up to each other," Sam said, looking honestly confused. "And I want you to know that you're not alone. There are plenty of people who understand what you're going through."

Mind racing, Kurt turned from Sam and rushed down the back porch steps, the two hundred dollar boots he'd had to have for his birthday sunk into dirt that was wet enough to cake on, and he couldn't bring himself to care. He just had to get away. He couldn't be there with Sam who's seen through him. It was too painful to know that Sam understood, that Sam could relate, and more, Sam wouldn't judge him. Kurt couldn't handle it. He couldn't comprehend that Sam, who'd always been a little perfect to Kurt, was just as broken as he was.

"Kurt! Wait!"

Sam caught him easily and swung him around, pressing them flush against each other in an unyielding grip.

"Let go of me!"

"I'm not trying to hurt you!"

Fiercely, Kurt spat, "That's exactly what you're doing. If you were my friend you wouldn't push me to talk about what nearly killed me, Sam. You would leave well enough alone. You would know better!"

Sam's grip only tightened, and he shouted at Kurt, "Then stop being so fake! Stop acting like you're perfect, when you know you're not. Stop acting like you're okay, because you're breaking apart into little pieces in front of me and there isn't going to be enough glue in the world to put you back together, or hold you that way. Just stop! I'll stop if you'll stop."

Kurt struggled on.

And Sam continued, "You're the only person I know who can simultaneously be so fake and so real at the same time. You walk through school with his fake mask on and pretend like you're so much better than everyone else and sure, you care that people are being slushied, but you don't do anything to stop the bullying. You let it go on because you're fake, and you're scared of being found out."

"You don't know me," Kurt ground out. "You don't know me and you don't know anything."

The sound of music, the same music that had been playing inside the house suddenly doubled in sound, much louder than a closer door would have allowed.

"But when you're with me," Sam gasped out as Kurt managed a knee very near his groin, "you laugh and it's so real. You laugh and you joke and I believe it-I believe you. You're a big nerd, Kurt, who likes musical theater, can sit up in his room for hours sewing his future clothing line, and desperately wants to be accepted for who he is. That's the truth of it, Kurt. You're a scared little boy, and all I want you to recognize is that there are people in this world who will love you regardless. You don't have to conform. You don't need to give up a part of yourself. You're not happy Kurt, but you could be, and I'm offering that to you. So man up and decide what you want, because you can't have it both ways, and you can't do this to yourself much longer."

Kurt heaved himself up to his full height, just short of Sam's. Then, with a burst of anger and adrenaline, and with more emotion then he'd let himself feel in ages, he swore, "I hate you, Sam."

"And I love you." As Kurt shook his head, Sam rattled off, "I love everything about you. I love the good, the bad and the ugly, which I've come to see can be really ugly. I love that you're not perfect, and that never will be, and I will continue to love you whether or not you accept that."

They had kissed before. They'd had a mind numbing, perfect, fireworks exploding kind of kiss. And now they were having a kiss that made the previous one feel insignificant, as if it had never happened.

Sam, using his height advantage, tipped Kurt back a bit, gaining complete control of the situation. He anchored an arm around Kurt's waist and used his free hand to cup the back of his head, fingers sinking into soft, brown hair. Then he worked Kurt's mouth open, searching desperately for any hint of resistance.

What he found instead was a pushing pressure as Kurt met him in the kiss, moaning into it, clutching frantically at his shirt.

"Kurt," Sam shuddered out, stumbling a little and catching Kurt's face between his two palms, adjusting position.

"I, Sam, I know." Kurt had lost all control, and leaned up to be kissed again, wanting nothing but the moment.

"I meant it," Sam swore, ducking in to fit his mouth over Kurt's. And Kurt believed him.

"Get off him now!"

Kurt spun away, falling to his hands and knees as he failed to keep his balance, looking up just in time to see Dave and Sam rolling around on the ground, throwing punches and viciously attacking each other. Finn was there too, Quinn standing just behind them.

"Stop it!" Kurt scrambled to his feet. "Finn, stop them!" Finn, Kurt thought honestly, was probably the only one who stood a decent chance of splitting the two boys up.

"Dude," Puck said, taking the porch stairs two at a time. "What's going on?"

"Noah!" Kurt pointed. "Finn is an idiot. Break them up."

That seemed to spur Finn into action and together he and Puck were able to get the two boys apart.

Kurt pressed a hand to his mouth as he realized Sam was bleeding, using his arm to wipe at his nose, smearing blood along his forearm. Dave seemed only slightly better off, with am arm around his waist, favoring his ribs. But together the both of them looked a wreck.

"What's going on?" Finn demanded, and he still had a good arm around Dave, holding him back from Sam.

"Kurt?" Quinn asked, looking from boy to boy.

"I …" Kurt didn't know what he could say. He'd been kissing Sam, and it had been perfect. It was everything he wanted from Dave and never felt, all wrapped up into one boy he'd known for mere weeks. Kurt had said horrible things to Sam, and Sam had yelled right back at him, but all Kurt could think was that he felt more free and relieved than he ever had.

"They were kissing."

Kurt's eyes snapped to Dave who looked equal parts mad and hurt.

"You were kissing him?" Finn asked. "Kissing Sam?"

"Dude," Puck remarked. "Get it."

"Noah. You're not helping. It was … it was an …"

Dave supplied, "This is where you tell me it was an accident and it didn't mean anything."

Kurt could see Sam stiffen and he refused to meet Kurt's eyes.

"Well?" Finn demanded, shrugging a little like he wanted Kurt to fulfill Dave's expectation. Kurt knew exactly where Finn stood in that moment, or rather, Kurt knew how little he'd told his brother about his feelings for Sam. Finn knew nothing about how Kurt had fallen for the new quarterback and it was because Kurt hadn't really been able to cope with the idea himself yet.

"I was," Kurt tried.

Dave broke free of Finn's grip and stormed up to Kurt. "Go ahead. Say it."

Kurt shrank back a bit, feeling dizzy and uncoordinated. "Can you all just give me some space for a moment. Please. I just … I can't …"

"Kurt." Sam's voice was calm and even, and it made Kurt look over to him. "Whatever you decide."

The problem was, he really couldn't. As much as he wanted Sam, and as much as he knew Sam was the right choice, he couldn't bring himself to give up Dave and everything dating Dave entailed.

Dave's voice was low and dripping with disgust as he said, "You just let me know when you can come up with a good lie, okay? How about that? Until then I'll give you that space you need. In fact I'll leave you alone completely."

"No," Kurt breathed out, "Dave."

Kurt reached out for him and Dave barked, "Don't touch me. You've got Evans all over you. Go clean yourself up. You look like a cheating whore."

"That's my brother," Finn announced, bounding towards Dave.

Kurt held up a hand. "It's okay. It's fine, Finn. He's upset. He has a right to be upset. And he's had a couple of drinks. It's really okay."

Dave took off towards the house and Kurt wanted to fold in on himself, or curl up and never move again. Anything would be better, in Kurt opinion, than the looks coming his way from everyone still out in the yard.

"I guess the party is over?" Quinn asked. She pulled her hands deeper into her pockets. "Come on, Puckerman. Help me start to clear the place out. If I know Karofsky he'll be in there causing a ruckus, and another fight is probably breaking out as we speak. This is a complete bust."

Kurt watched Quinn and Finn share a quick kiss, then she and Puck were gone.

"Did you want it?" Finn asked quietly, leaning over Kurt in a way that made Kurt feel very young. "He didn't, you know, make you kiss him or anything?"

"No." At least that much Kurt could admit. "I wanted it. I kissed him back."

"Really?"

"Really."

Sam cleared his throat, then said. "I think I should go. There is a very good possibility that Dave is going in there to round up his buddies and they plan to come back out here and beat the ever living daylight out of me."

"I doubt it. He'll just stew," Kurt said confidently. "Dave … I hurt him. He'll want to be alone now."

Finn interrupted, "I think you should go."

Sam nodded, and headed around to the side gate, pausing only to turn back and asked, "Are either of you okay to drive?"

"Yes," Kurt answered quietly. "I'll be fine."

He watched Sam leave and rubbed a hand over his face.

"I think," Finn said, "We're going to have a nice, long talk on the way home, right?"

Kurt reached for his eyes, pulling out both his, and keys he'd taken from Dave. He held them up for Finn to see and said, "I didn't want Dave driving home. I was going to drive him home."

Finn reached for the keys. "How about you go to the car, and I'll take these back to him. Something tells me he isn't going to be drinking anymore tonight. He'll sober up, I know Dave. He'll start pounding the coffee, and in about an hour, when the cops show up to break this party up, he'll be okay to drive. Deal?"

Kurt couldn't bear to see Dave so soon, and could only nod and head off towards the Navigator.

Kurt spent the next several moments hunched over in the vehicle, frantically wiping at his eyes, desperate to pull himself together.

The great thing about their parents, aside from a million other things, was that they retired early into the night. Their mother usually worked early in the morning, and their dad liked to get up with them in the morning, and have his coffee while Finn shoveled cereal into his mouth and Kurt over styled his hair.

This all meant, of course, that the house was silent and dark when Kurt pulled up on the street, and wisely avoided the driveway and garage.

"I think they're still asleep," Finn said as they approached the front door, voice low and quiet. "Lucky us?"

Kurt slip his shoes off once they were in the door, and nodded to Finn. "See you in the morning?" He watched his brother disappear up the stairs and glanced at the clock barely visible from where he was. It was past midnight, and for as weary as Kurt felt, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. He detoured the kitchen instead, hoping to find a glass of water and a new sense of calm.

He'd managed a glass and a half when his father's voice sounded from behind him, "The thing about alcohol is it dehydrates you."

Kurt nearly dropped the glass still in his hand. "Dad!"

"Your brother is sound asleep upstairs. He didn't even make it onto the bed. I take it he'll need some Tylenol in the morning?"

Kurt set the glass of water down on the countertop and asked, "All those times Finn and I have full proof, air tight cover stories, do you just assume we're lying to you, even if you can't prove it? Is that what parents do?"

"What parents do," Burt said roughly, dressed in his favorite blue robe, "is know their children better than their children know their parents. Follow? I was also sixteen once, Kurt. And Lima is a very boring town."

"But you still let us go?" Kurt asked.

"You're responsible," his father announced. "I trust you to make sure your brother doesn't do anything overly stupid. After all, you've always been the brains of the operation. Your mother and I know that. As long as you're with him, we're willing to let you be teenagers."

Kurt pressed his palms flat against the island countertop. "But I did something really stupid tonight, dad."

"Tequila is a stupid thing, son." When Kurt turned to look at him, Burt said easily, "You reek of it, which is unusual for you."

"I had a shot," Kurt confessed. "So I guess I did two stupid things."

Burt gestured to the nearby kitchen table. "I'm not as good at this as your mom, but I'm willing to listen if you want to talk."

"Okay," Kurt agreed, a little breathless. "If you want to listen."

"Any day of the week."

They settled in at the table and Kurt realized he'd brought the glass with him. He reached awkwardly for a coaster and set the glass on it. "I kissed a boy."

He'd always been open with his father about his sexuality. It had grown more blunt over the years, more casual and certainly more graphic, but he'd never hidden himself from his father, and Kurt had a good feeling that Burt had known about Dave long before Kurt had been ready to tell anyone.

"I think you do that quite often."

Shuddering at the memory, Kurt clarified, " I kissed a boy who isn't my boyfriend. And it wasn't the first time. He said he's in love with me. I might be getting there with him. I don't know."

"That Sam kid?"

Kurt knew his father had seen Sam plenty of times, and had spoken with him on occasion, but he hadn't guessed that it would be so obvious. "How did you know?"

"The last time he was here," Burt said with a resounded tone, "he was falling over himself with you."

Kurt nodded. "He's been very honest with me with his intentions from the beginning."

"So he's liked you a long time?"

"Yes," Kurt answered. "I suppose it would have to be a long time if he loves me by now. People don't fall in love right away, no matter what the movies would want you and I to believe. Dad, I've never been loved before, at last not by someone who isn't my family."

"Well, how do you feel about him?"

"I don't know." Kurt set his chin in his palm. "No. That's a lie."

His father's eyes were kind as the narrowed in actualization. "I though as much. I hate to break it to you, buddy, but I've never seen you so attentive and infatuated with a boy before. I could see it clear as day each and every time Sam came over. I didn't' say anything because I wasn't sure if you knew."

"I like Sam," Kurt said, eyes closed as he spoke. "I like him a lot, dad. And he makes me feel like … I don't know exactly, but it's a good feeling. I don't feel that good with Dave." Kurt rushed out, "I still care about Dave a lot. Dad, I really do. But Sam is … I see fireworks. When we kiss."

"Your mother is so much better at this."

Kurt made to get to his feet. "We don't have to talk about this at all."

"No. No. Sit down." Burt insisted, "I want us to always be able to talk about anything."

Kurt yawned. "We can, dad. I promise. But it's late and I think I want to go to bed. I'll … I guess I'll figure this out tomorrow, when the whole school knows that my boyfriend witnessed me making out with another guy at Santana's party."

Kurt passed by his father, glass of water forgotten, and had nearly reached the threshold of the room when his father called out, "Kurt, it comes down to one thing."

"One thing?"

His father nodded. "It's what I asked myself before you were born, when your mom and I were going through some rough times. There was another girl, you know. Your mom wasn't my childhood sweetheart. I didn't meet your mom still senior year, and she blew into my life and I was torn between the two of them. So I'm going to give you the advice that my father gave me."

Kurt stood still, listening attentively. It was rare that his father spoke of his biological mother, the memories associated were usually too painful.

Burt stood from the table and said, "I want you to close your eyes, okay? Now picture yourself ten years from now. Maybe you're living in New York, maybe you went to California instead. That's not the important part. Just imagine that you're living out your dreams, doing whatever you want, and you're with the person you love the most."

"Okay."

"Now, when you get up in the morning, and you roll over to look at who you went to bed with at night, who do you see? Who's there? Who offers to make you breakfast before you go? Who do you pick up the dry cleaning for? Who is there, in that bed, and who is the first person you see when you wake up in the morning?"

"You saw mom?"

"I saw mom," Burt confirmed. "Now, who do you see?"

The thing was, Kurt hadn't even needed to think about it twice before he had his answer.

"Goodnight, kid," Burt said.

Mau 8, 2009

"I got my first solo."

"Hmm?" Kurt's hand stilled, pencil in hand. He'd been working on a particularly challenging algebra problem when Blaine had spoken, interrupting the silence that had existed between them for close to twenty minutes.

Blaine, song book in hand, nodded. "And I wanted to thank you, Kurt. I probably never would have worked up the courage to audition against Charlie. I thought for sure he was going to get it, he gets all the solos, but then they told me I won it. And all I had to do was sell my soul by performing a Miley Syrus song. Who'd have thought it."

Kurt tried to focus back on his homework. He'd been working on the same assignment for two days, constantly distracted by visitors and the knowledge that most, if not all of his teachers had basically given him a pass for the year, based on his earlier performance. In fact Kurt had it on good authority that his yearly finals were tucked away by his father, ready to be brought out when everyone was convinced enough that he wasn't about to go around the bend.

Blaine turned a page in the book. "It's only a symposium performance, but the school alumni will be there, and I think my parents might show. I told them, my mom said she might be able to push back her bridge meeting, and my dad, well, who knows about him."

Curiously, Kurt asked, "Do you like being a Warbler?"

"Most of the time," Blaine answered honestly. "I like Dalton more. It just took some getting used to. Dalton is very different."

"You haven't been beaten up yet," Kurt pointed out.

Blaine straightened up. "Dalton breeds gentlemen. Gentlemen do not attack each other physically, Kurt. They do it covertly, methodically, and thoroughly. It's all psychological warfare for the most part, but even then it's not … no one has ever deliberately hurt me at Dalton, Kurt."

"They made you change who you are."

Tapping his chin, Blaine said thoughtfully, "McKinley made you, Kurt."

"That's not the same."

Blaine turned another page. "The Warblers are about unity. They're one, single, cohesive unit. Solos are only a way to showcase the harmony supporting the outstanding voice being presented. It took me a while to understand that. The Warblers never suppress, they only want a collective group. I had to learn how to blend in. And yes, it meant compromising some things, but I gained a brotherhood. These boys watch out for me, Kurt. They support me. They're proud to have me. I've never had the acceptance that I have from them."

Kurt completed the problem he'd been working on. "I'm happy for you."

"I wish you'd look at me."

So Kurt did, asking, "Why are you upset with me?"

Blaine sighed. "I've come to see you twice this week, Kurt, and three times last week. I come every chance I get, and you talk to me less and less. You barely look at me, can't focus on what I'm saying, and I'm starting to think you don't want me here."

"I'm just distracted," Kurt justified. "My teachers issued me out all the homework I'd have for the rest of the year. I'm taking the opportunity to complete it on time."

"No one expects that."

Kurt's grip on his pencil tightened dangerously. "I expect that. If I'm stuck here, then I am. But I'm not going to slack in my schoolwork. I plan to turn everything in by its due date. I'll take my finals just like everyone else, and I've already applied for next year's AP classes. I'll work on the course load for those classes as soon as I'm approved."

Blaine's eyes moved across the hospital room, and he dared to say, "You don't have to stay here, Kurt. Your … Finn told me."

"I'm sure they told you the stipulations as well."

Brows knitting together, Blaine said, "I don't think what they're asking from you is so unreasonable."

Kurt snapped, "Did you come to lecture me, too?"

Frustrated, Blaine rose to his feet, his hand curling around Kurt's, carefully extracting the pencil from his grasp. He leaned forward, letting his cheek press against Kurt's, not kissing him like Kurt might have expected. He and Blaine had never been romantically involved, and they had never really attempted it, even if the chemistry was there.

"They're only asking you to eat, Kurt," Blaine whispered in his ear, still resting against him.

"They're asking me," Kurt clarified, "to give up everything I've spent two years working for." Kurt shook loose of Blaine. "You don't understand what that means."

"That they want you to be healthy? That they want you to get out of this hospital and accept help? Kurt, Finn told me you won't even admit you have a problem. How can't you at least look at this situation objectively and try and see what everyone is telling you?"

"All I see is a lot of accusing."

Blaine flopped a bit back into his chair. "You know they won't release you until you start making progress, Kurt. Your dad told me that. You have to gain some weight and get out of the danger zone you're in. You have to commit to a program, you have to show some control over your actions, and most importantly, they won't let you go until you admit to having an eating disorder."

Kurt sunk down in his hospital bed, feet and legs sliding against starchy sheets. His father had promised to come by later that day, and he would be bringing some of Kurt's personal sheets. Kurt couldn't wait to be more comfortable, and he was certain his mood would improve a bit, especially since his mother had let on that she'd be willing to smuggle his phone and laptop in.

"I won't admit what I don't have."

"You say you diet, but all you do is starve yourself and drink those Cheerio smoothies, or whatever they are. You're not fooling anyone, Kurt. You're just hurting yourself and you're hurting the people around you. Can't you see that? Even if you aren't willing to change for yourself, won't you change for them?"

"Change like you did?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Blaine asked with a frown.

"Well, Blaine, the day you started at Dalton is the day you changed completely. Don't pretend like you're the same person. You've got your pretentious friends now, with their money and their connections, and god knows you don't have time for a hick like me."

"You get grumpy when you don't eat," Blaine told him fiercely, "which I suppose accounts for the nasty attitude you've had for several years. But I didn't think being perpetually hungry made you jealous. I guess I learned something new today."

Kurt's eyes widened for a moment, then he ordered, "I want you to leave, Blaine Warbler. Go back to your friends and your school and stop pretending like you care about anything other than being a big hero by fixing me."

Blaine collected his things and said sadly, "As soon as you stop pretending that your inability to cope with high school peer pressure almost got you killed." He drifted to the nearby, open door where he paused, then called out, "I have Warbler practice after school tomorrow, and then my mom's charity function the day after that, but I'll be here Wednesday."

"Don't bother," Kurt snapped.

"I'll come anyway," Blaine said with a shrug, and as he looked out into the hallway he could see Finn headed his way. "You can throw me out, but I'll still be here. I'll sit in the hallway if I have to, but you won't push me away. You won't get rid of me that easily. Don't even waste your breath trying." He gave Kurt a parting wave and headed out, passing Finn with only a nod.

"Why did Blaine leave so early?" Finn asked as he entered the room, tipping the stack of books he'd been carrying onto the foot of Kurt's bed. "Dad usually has to run him out of here."

Kurt ground his teeth. "He had his Warblers to get back to."

Finn shrugged and sat down in the empty chair. "Whatever. I got all the books you wanted. I had to go to three different places, but I got them all."

Kurt leaned forwards to thumb at the titles, growing more pleased with each passing moment. Some were library books, but others look like they'd been purchased, and Kurt had the overwhelming urge to hug his brother.

"I don't know why you need them all," Finn complained, "school is almost over and it's going to be summer, but I got them."

"Thanks," Kurt breathed out, "you're a lifesaver."

Finn stretched out, feet sprawled in different directions, his posture horrible, and his hands gripping the rest of the chair. He commented, "At least you look better today."

Kurt nodded. "They thought I was coming down with something yesterday. They say my white blood cell count is low. I'm susceptible to infections at the moment, but it was a false alarm. I'm fine today."

Kurt knew Finn wanted to say something. His brother wanted to be like everyone else who said he was resisting, who lectured him on eating, chastised him on not putting out enough effort, and practically tried to force him to do things he wasn't ready for. But Finn didn't, because he knew him best out of everyone, and even if he didn't know why, understood that Kurt couldn't be pushed at the moment. Kurt needed patience and space and most of all, an environment free of judgment. Kurt loved his parents, but they seemed incapable of providing that for him, unlike Finn who did it subconsciously.

"So, um, Kurt," Finn said, an in a way that Kurt knew he wasn't going to like whatever came next. "You're getting some company."

"Company?" Kurt asked. After Blaine, he wasn't sure he could take anymore. He'd even asked Noah and Quinn and the others not to visit after he'd been cleared for the general public. "How so?"

Finn's hands twisted nervously. "I guess when it came out about you, you know, that you had some problems." Finn also never used the phrase, eating disorder, though it seemed that was all their parents could say. "Well, there was, like, a complete crackdown at the school. Figgins suspended all the teams. All of them, dude. They're finished. Shut down."

"Great, so when I go back to school next year I can expect to be stoned to death for disrupting the sports teams?"

Finn scooted forward on his chair and said, "It was only for a couple of days. Everything is back to normal now. No one even missed a game. But, uh, Figgings ordered an investigation, but not like the kind that's on CSI, or NCIS, or-"

"Finn."

"It took forever," Finn moaned out. "We all had to talk to these people who came in and they asked us all these funny questions, about how much we eat, what we eat, what we think of when we look in the mirror, and stuff like that. Dude, I don't know what happened, but the Cheerios got shut down. Indefinitely."

Kurt felt his eyes stretch impossibly wide. "What?"

"Figgins disbanded them yesterday after school. There were girls crying in the hallway, dude. Just crying."

"We just won Nationals," Kurt protested, memories of holding the trophy high still fresh in his mind. It was one of the few times he'd heard Sylvester say how proud she was of them, and they'd soaked it up in a way that they'd been starving for. "No offense, Finn, but the Cheerios are more successful in a single season than the Titans are in ten."

"Just rub it in, why don't you."

Still awed, Kurt said, "I can't believe the Cheerios would go down without a fight. What was Figgins thinking?"

"He had to," Finn supposed. "After those people talked to us, half of the Cheerios got phone calls home to their parents. Some of their parents pulled them off the team, and some of them are here."

"Here?"

Kurt glanced about. "In the hospital, here?"

"I guess," Finn said carefully, "a lot of them were on the same diet you were."

"Oh."

"I think they're going to try and put you all into some kind of group meeting, that's what Miss Pillsbury was saying the other day. Like, group therapy, I guess. Don't really know. Do you … do you think you'd do that? Would you?"

"Maybe," Kurt answered, not wanting to ruin the hopeful expression on Finn's face. "But Finn, there's no way Sylvester gave up the Cheerios like that. She has more blackmail material on Figgins than she knows what to do with. She likely owns his soul."

"Not dad's."

Kurt quieted immediately.

Slowly, Finn nodded, then said, "I came to bring you your books, and to sit with you and keep you company, but I also gotta tell you something, and you have to promise not to get too worked up, because the doctors said you need to keep your heart rate normal. I was in the room when they said that, so don't try and deny it."

"What did dad do, Finn?" Because Kurt knew his father. He knew that his father could be passive aggressive, and let things roll off his back. His father could hold his temper, and ignore a lot of things that Kurt couldn't. They weren't alike in a lot of ways, and Kurt had continuously asked for the type of patience his father had with people and situations and trouble. But then there was another side of his father that Kurt knew, too, even if he saw it rarely. It scared the living daylights out of him, at times, to know that his father, Burt Hummel, could be so fiercely protective and so infinitely defensive that anyone who posed a threat to his family, risked serious bodily harm.

Kurt had been witness to the possibilities a few times in his life, and they were enough to chill him to the bone. And once, only once, Kurt had been mind numbing frightened by the possibility that his father might actually kill someone. Kurt tried to put the incident from his mind, but at night, when he was particularly stressed, he could so clearly remember the way he'd been pressed back against the wall, a hand covering his mouth to keep him quiet and another working down his pants. Memories could be darkly fuzzy and simultaneously startlingly clear when Kurt recalled the appearance of his father, the rage on his face, and then the blood everywhere, on Kurt's clothing, on his father's fists, on the stranger's face.

"He won't be here today," Finn said. "Mom had to … she had to take off work to go down to the police station. Both of them won't be here."

Kurt paled. "God, Finn, tell me what he did."

"Remember when mom caught him building that flamethrower at the shop, and she made him promise to get rid of it? But then he didn't and he bribed us each to keep quiet about it when we found out?"

Flatly, Kurt asked, "Did dad burn down the school?"

Finn shook his head, "No, but it was about that crazy. Dude, what did you say to him this morning that set him off like that? He's …. there might be assault charges. He tried to strangle Sylvester."

He'd tried to open up that morning. His father had been more patient and more understanding than Kurt had dared to hope for, and in return, Kurt had tried to give his father the answers he desperately wanted. Kurt had said, "Sylvester said all the Cheerios were on special diets. It was nothing special. All I had to do was watch what I ate, go running, and take off some weight. Dad, she told me it was okay. She said suck it up and god run laps. She told me you'd be proud of me."

Instead, Kurt told Finn, "Not enough to make him go down to the school and try and strangle her."

"Coach had to pull dad off her," Finn said, a bit of awe in his voice. "It took Coach Beiste and a couple of teaches to do it. I only got there at the end of it, Kurt. But dad was yelling, screaming. I've never seen him so out of control. He said she was so obsessed with winning, and competition, that she'd almost killed you, and that she was the one who told you it was okay to starve yourself. He said she's responsible, and he said he was going to kill her. He was serious. He wanted to. He was really trying to."

"She didn't make us, Finn." She'd only told Kurt to his face that he'd loose his spot on the team if he couldn't keep the weight off.

"She kind of did."

Kurt wanted to argue some more, but he was already feeling tired, and a look towards the clock on the far wall told him a nurse would be around with his dinner tray, and the awkwardness would only grow as she stood by, watching him pick at the food. They'd threatened him with a feeding tube twice. Kurt wasn't sure they'd follow through with it.

"Is dad going to be okay?"

Finn answered, "I talked to mom on my way over here, she was already at the police station. She told me it all depends on whether Sylvester presses charges or not, but they are going to hold him over night. The good news is-"

"Uncle Andy," Kurt agreed without waiting for Finn's answer. Their Uncle Andy, their father's only brother, had been an absolute menace in his teenage years, and as a result, most of the Lima police department was familiar with the Hummel family. And on good terms, despite their Uncle Andy's childhood antics, and mostly because Burt took care of their cars in the shop on a frequent basis.

"They didn't even put dad in handcuffs," Finn reported. "I think that's a good sign."

Kurt nodded.

Finn cleared his throat. "Also, don't expect to see Quinn around here anytime soon. I kind of … I blew up at her."

"You blew up at her?" The idea seemed ludicrous. Kurt had never so much as heard Finn raise his voice to her. "Why?"

Finn gestured a bit wildly at Kurt in the hospital bed. "She knew, Kurt. She knew you were struggling and what you were doing. Man, I know all the Cheerios were doing it, and Quinn's been doing it for years, but you're my brother, Kurt and the fact that she didn't tell me you were hurting yourself … I can't deal with that."

"Oh, no," Kurt managed, chest painfully tight. "Finn, don't do this to yourself. Don't do this to Quinn. She's always looked out for me on the Cheerios. Don't let this happen."

Finn accused, "She knew what was in that thing all you Cheerios drink. She knew it had that thing that makes you throw up, and not be hungry. She knew, Kurt, and she didn't say anything."

"Maybe you've noticed, Finn, but Sylvester didn't exactly want us broadcasting our secrets. We win national titles for a reason."

Fin shook his head. "I told her to stay away from me, and to stay away from you."

"Finn."

Kurt scrambled for a solution, desperate to not be the reason another person was being hurt.

Finn stood, leaning over the bed to kiss Kurt's forehead. It was something he'd started doing more frequently since Kurt's admittance. "I'm not breaking up wit her, Kurt. I love Quinn. But I can't look at her right now without getting so mad. We're going to give each other some space. That's all. At least while you're stuck in here and she's figuring out if she needs to spend some time in here, too."

Shakily, Kurt said, "I am trying. I'm trying, Finn."

"Try harder," Finn said, voice thick. "I miss you. I hate going home to an empty house. I hate not being able to talk to you whenever I want to, or need to. I hate coming here, I hate seeing you here, I hate that you are here. I hate it so much."

Kurt reached up, fingers digging into Finn's shirt, pulling him close. "I swear I will, Finn. I'll try so hard. I promise you."

Finn's nose pressed into Kurt's hair and he held him tighter.

September 20, 2009

The problem was, Finn never saw it coming. Kurt did, but by the time he opened his mouth to warn his brother, part of him unable to comprehend what was about to happen, it was already too late. The damage was done, and Kurt was horrified.

"Surprisingly," Finn said, cringing outwardly, hand coming up to wipe at his face, "the grape flavor doesn't taste anything like grape." A bit of liquid dribbled from his lips as he spoke, expelling the slush.

"Finn," Kurt said, at his side a moment later, hesitant to touch Finn. "That is not funny."

Finn continued, "Maybe a little bit more like blackberry, like when mom goes away and bakes us a pie, then dad tries to reheat it a couple of days later."

There was very little of Finn that wasn't tainted by the slushie which had been thrown on him, and his attacker, Kevin Toothy, was long gone, off celebrating with other members of the soccer team.

"Come on," Kurt said, biting down feelings of disgust to take Finn by the arm and lead him to the nearby men's restroom. "Out," he ordered to a boy lingering near the sink, and another smoking up by the high window in the corner. Once they were gone Kurt stood Finn next to the sink and reached for a paper towel.

"So this," Finn observed, "is what it feels like."

Kurt pushed at Finn's jacket and gingerly set it to the side. "Exciting?"

"Painful." Finn ran a hand across his eyes, ridding himself of the residual slushie. "Cold as all hell. And kind of grainy. I'm starting to realize why we throw these things on people, and we don't drink them."

Kurt turned the faucet on, wetting the paper towel and having to move up to his tiptoes to properly begin cleaning Finn's face. "You're a mess."

"And now it's burning my eyes."

Finn ducked forward in pain, but Kurt couldn't help thinking how much it helped, having Finn closer to his level.

"You know, this really sucks."

"That's very astute of you." Kurt wiped carefully, but methodically, being sure to get as much as he could, face pulled tight in concentration. "Close your eyes, I think it's caked in your eyelashes."

When Kurt turned back to the sink with a fresh paper towel, Finn said, "Thanks, dude." Finn beamed at him. "I know how fussy you are about touching dirty things. Thanks for doing this."

"You're my brother," Kurt said a bit snappishly. "You'll have to go home at lunch for a change of clothes. If dad is there, make something up. We're not telling him this happened." Kurt paused, deflating as each moment passed. "I can't believe this happened." To Kurt, the idea of Finn being on the receiving end of a slushie was an impossibly thing. Finn threw them, or let his friends throw them, and stood by dutifully while Kurt bitched about the entire process, but he didn't get them thrown on him. It just didn't happen.

"I kind of expected it. Have been for a while."

Kurt peered at him. "Why would you say that?"

Finn flailed for a moment before saying, "Dude, I lost my spot at the quarterback. There went like, half my status. And then I joined glee. Who wouldn't want to take a shot at me now?"

"Finn," Kurt muttered, "this is just horribly unacceptable."

Looking wet, but much cleaner than he had been five minutes earlier, Finn said, "It's no big deal. I mean, it totally sucks, but it's not the end of the world."

Kurt stared for a moment. He took a moment to just stare. Then he told Finn, "You just had an icy cold, foul tasting drink thrown in your face. And it was done by someone that you had a drink with last week, who had you over to your birthday party last year, and who's sister is friends with Quinn."

Finn only shrugged. "Guess he's not my friend anymore."

"How can you be so nonchalant about this, Finn? This is the beginning of the end."

Finn laughed. "Kurt, it really isn't the end of the world. Calm down."

"No," Kurt insisted, "this is it, Finn. This is the moment when people in this school start to turn. This is when they realize they can hurt you, and humiliate you. Don't look at me like that. Don't look at me like I'm being so overdramatic."

"Okay." Finn stepped over to the hand drier and turned it on, holding his shirt out in front of him in an effort to dry it. "But you are, you know, being that."

"It starts with one person, Finn, and they'll be coming for us constantly after that."

Finn seemed to startle at the words, and Kurt thought for a moment he was getting through to Finn. Then his brother leaned over to him and tapped at the Cheerio logo on Kurt's uniform. "Some asshole threw a slushie on me, Kurt, not you. This right here, this means it'll never happen to you."

Kurt shook his head. "What happens to you, happens to me. We're a pair. Everyone knows that."

With a scoff, Finn said, "This time next year people will be trying so hard to remember what I looked like, and maybe even what my name was. You'll still be Kurt Hummel, star Cheerio and mega popular."

Tossing a wet paper towel in the garbage can, Kurt asked, "Why doesn't this bother you, Finn? Why doesn't any of it bother you. You spent so long, so many years, believing in and telling me how important it is to be on top. Since the beginning it's been about being popular, being important, and not being a victim. You seem to be … you're just so okay with going against that. I don't get it. Is being untouchable not a priority for you anymore?" And more importantly, how much of a tool did that make Kurt look like, if what he suspected turned out to be true.

Distantly, the air drier shut off, and Finn didn't push the button to restart it. Instead, he said, "It's always been the most important thing, Kurt. It's not like I spent years lying to you. And this year, I really thought being quarterback, and probably prom king, and like, the most popular guy in school, was what I really wanted. I really believed that. It seemed so important, especially after you got out of the hospital, and people were gossiping about you and making up some really horrible stuff. I knew if I was top dog, if I was in charge of McKinley, I could make that stop."

Quietly, Kurt asked, "What changed?"

"I guess," Finn said awkwardly, "there's this moment. Like, a light bulb moment. It's crazy trying to explain it. But there's this moment when you take a look around you, and everything is different from what you expected it to be."

"Different?" Kurt asked, confused. "What does that mean?"

"I realized that football made me happy, no doubt about that, but singing made me happier. It pissed a lot of people off, you included, don't pretend like you weren't mad, but I figured I had to make a choice. Everyone has to make a choice eventually, I guess some people are just better at seeing the choice."

Kurt steadied himself against the sink, trying to follow Finn's logic. "You made a choice? A choice between what? And for the record, I wasn't mad. I was confused, and annoyed and I disapproved, but I wasn't mad."

"A choice," Finn stressed, "between doing what makes other people happy, and doing what makes me happy. Then I realized, I'm eighteen. I'm supposed to be selfish. So that's what I was. I decided I liked glee better, and that's how we got here."

"And what's my choice?" Kurt asked anxiously. "Standing by and letting my brother get slushied, or joining him?"

Finn let his elbow graze the drier's button to start it back up. With noise covering most of their conversation, he said, "You choice is between Sam and Dave, Kurt. You know that, you just don't want to think about it, mostly because you've done a really good job balancing the two of them and putting that choice off. But it kind of blew up in your face this weekend. I don't think you can avoid it anymore."

"Sam," Kurt mentioned darkly. He'd done his absolutely best to try and forget what had gone down at Santana's party.

"You got it bad for him." Finn rubbed at the material of his shirt. "And he's got it just the same for you. Plus, I'm pretty sure what I walked in on at Santana's, that's kind how Brokeback started, right? You and Sam were headed for the tent."

"You think that's funny?"

"No," Finn denied, right away. "It's not, because I can see how messed up about this you are."

"It's not that simple," Kurt argued. "You make it sound like it is, but it isn't. I'm not like you, Finn. I can't get slushies thrown on me. I won't be called names, or degraded, or bullied. I won't give up what I have."

"What you have? Kurt, I promise you, no one is ever going to let anything happen to you." Finn let his hands rest on Kurt's shoulders. "You can't control every asshole in McKinley who wants to throw a slushie on you, but you have friends, and friends watch out for each other."

"I'm not that brave," Kurt said finally. "I'm just not."

"No?" Finn asked. "But you're kind of the smartest guy I've ever met in my life. I don't think you have to be brave, Kurt. Let other people be brave for you. You worry about being happy."

Finn just made it all sound so simple, and Kurt knew it wasn't. And yet, he also knew he couldn't let things stay as they were. He knew Finn was ultimately right, and a choice had to be made, and the debacle at the party had forced his hand. He'd see both Dave and Sam before the day was through, and one way or another, Kurt knew things would be decided.

"The way I figure it," Finn said lazily, "is that it all comes down to the here and now, and being true to yourself. I'm not saying other people don't matter. What I am saying is that if you're not happy with you, then what's the point? I'm happy right now, Kurt, and I don't care if it cost me my popularity. Can you say the same thing? What's more important to you?"

He thought about everything in that moment, everything he could. Kurt thought back to that first day he'd met Dave, and that first kiss they'd shared, then every kiss after that. He thought through all of his days as a Cheerio, and sacrificing everything to support what he truly believed was the right way to be. And then he thought of Sam, who could make his knees feel week with one smile, who didn't care if Kurt knew the difference between a goal and a touchdown, and sure as hell couldn't bring himself to want Kurt as anything but the way he truly was.

"If I choose Sam," Kurt confessed, "what I'm giving up with Dave is incredible."

"And if you stay with Dave?"

Honestly, Kurt said, "Well, then I don't know what I'm giving up with Sam, but something tells me it's just as incredible."

"Tough choice," Finn mused. "But I get why you're stuck. I do listen, you know. Dave makes you feel safe."

Kurt corrected, "He keeps me safe."

"Maybe that's the bigger question then," Finn pondered.

Kurt took a deep breath. "What if I choose wrong? I mean, what if I pick the wrong boy and this year is a complete waste? I'm already in glee club, Finn. I could get my slushie before the day is done. What if Sam is never popular enough? What if Dave can't keep everyone in check? What if I pick the wrong boy?"

Finn poked him in his chest. "I'd be more worried about picking the right boy for the wrong reason."

"Huh?"

Finn shot Kurt a sour look. "You spend all this time wondering who can get you what, or who can take you the furthest. But you're not stopping to ask who's going to make you the happiest. When I said it was okay to be selfish, this isn't what I meant."

"So basically," Kurt grumbled out, "you're asking me to have a Titanic moment and pick Jack."

"Who's Jack?" Finn asked curiously. "Dave, or Sam?"

Kurt pursed his lips. "I'm going to hurt him. Maybe badly."

"Now I think I'm confused."

Kurt reached for a final, dry towel and handed it to Finn. "You shouldn't let people call you stupid," Kurt told him, "myself included. Thanks for helping me decide, Finn."

"So you did decide, then?" Finn called after him. "Which one?"

Kurt waved back wordlessly to him as he left the restroom.

Sam was sporting a black eye when Kurt caught up with him. There was additional puffiness near his lips, making them look even larger than they normally were, almost comical, though Kurt didn't dare say as much. Instead he found himself professing, "Sam, we need to talk. It's important. I've decided something."

Hands deep in his pockets, Sam said, "I don't really have anything to say to you, Kurt."

Something caught in Kurt's throat and he felt crushing panic, barely managing to squeak out, "That's okay. You just listen. I'll talk."

"I think," Sam said quickly, "you've done enough talking. All we ever do is talk. I plead my case to you, basically offer my heart up to you on a silver platter, and you always manage to talk me into taking it back, or pretending like what I said was as important as it was."

"Sam, I-"

"I meant what I said," Sam said, boldly and uncaring of their open position in the hall. "I love you, Kurt, and in that super serious way that I've never loved anyone before. I know I said I could wait, but that was a lie. I can't. It's too painful, and since you obviously can't make up your mind, I'm doing it for you. Don't worry, I can cut the strings for you."

"Just wait," Kurt tried to get in.

Sam continued, "I'm done with you. I can't make my feelings go away, at least not as fast as I'd like, but I am done. I'm not going to try and help you anymore, I don't care if you prance around this school like a porcelain doll, and if you want to be as fake as all of your fake friends, and pretend like everything is perfectly fine, then go right ahead. I'm not going to get in your way."

"You," Kurt breathed out, "you're giving up?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "I bet you liked being perused. It's kind of an ego boost. It's always flattering when more than one person wants you, and they're willing to do almost anything to have you. But it doesn't last forever, Kurt. I wanted you to choose between me and Dave, and you couldn't, so now you don't have to. Don't feel guilty. Just go back your boyfriend, ignore everything there is between us, and I'll try my best to stay out of your way."

"You're not giving me a chance to speak," Kurt said angrily. "You think you know what's best for me, and for you and for us, but really, you're just talking out of your ass."

Sam scoffed.

"Don't walk away from me," Kurt said, feeling faint as Sam's foot lifted. "Just stay. I'm begging. Let me explain. Let me … Sam, let me have one last chance."

Sam gave him a soft smile. "You're a good person, Kurt, but I was wrong. You're not the person for me. Please respect that, like I respected you all of those weeks you strung me along."

"Sam!" Kurt called out, voice sounding strangled. "Sam!"

Sam kept walking, and Kurt felt light headed, leaning against a row of nearby lockers to keep himself on his feet. He sucked in deep breaths of air and tried to understand how Sam had left him. But he couldn't comprehend the thought, the paralyzing notion that Sam, who'd always been so interested, was now denying him. It felt like the worst reality check ever.

"Kurt. Are you alright? Do you need me to get you to the nurse's office?"

Dave Karofsky was not the person Kurt expected to find hovering at his shoulder, looking worried and genuinely attentive. Especially not after he'd been witness to Kurt kissing Sam.

"I'm fine," Kurt denied.

"Nah." Dave shook his head. "Come with me. We'll get you sitting down."

"Dave." Kurt felt the strength in the arms that wrapped around him, and the love behind them. Regardless of the rocky status of their relationship, Kurt had known he could count on Dave to be there for him. Dave was reliable in those sorts of ways. "I can't-"

"Just breathe," Dave coached. "You know if you get all worked up the nurse will freak and call your dad, or worse, an ambulance. They're not kidding around with you. And neither am I."

Kurt had thought in that moment that he couldn't bear to be around Dave. It was too painful. He looked into the kind and caring face of his boyfriend and wondered how he could possibly tell Dave that there was someone else, and Kurt had chosen Sam.

May 21 2009

"Do I even want to know what you're doing here?"

Jason beamed at him. "Getting educated. How about you?"

Kurt crossed his arms. "Sulking. Also, don't talk to me."

Eyebrows high, Jason shifted in his chair, sliding closer to Kurt. "Don't talk to you? You realized if I don't talk to you, you're cutting the amount of people that interact with you down to just a couple? Your brother has been pretty forthcoming with information. I know exactly how many people you're pretending don't exist. Never thought I was one of them."

Kurt glared, "You know why I'm not talking to you."

The chatter in the room was growing with every moment, distracting Kurt, making this thoughts stray. There were so many familiar faces, so many people Kurt didn't want to see, especially with the medical bracelet around his wrist and the pajamas on his body.

"Are you serious going to be mad about that?" Jason leaned an elbow on his knee. "Of all the things?"

Kurt continued to glare. "I know it was you. You told my parents. You told my dad, Jason. You told him everything."

There were a good forty people in the room, all seated on chairs arranged in a circle. Some of them wore attire similar to Kurt, but more were dressed in regular clothes. Almost all of them looked happy enough to be there, unlike Kurt.

"Because he asked me to."

Kurt could see Finn across the room, Quinn next to him. He supposed they were talking again, after weeks of coming and going separately, neither speaking of the other, or acknowledging each other. Kurt thought they were pretty perfect for each other, and it showed when they actually communicated.

Kurt told Jason, "My dad asks me things all the time. I don't tell him everything. I had trusted that you would-"

Jason scoffed loudly. "Kurt, you don't really understand the situation."

There was an odd inflection in Jason's voice, and Kurt had known him years long enough to know it was a lead into a question. So diligently, Kurt asked, "What's the situation?"

Jason cleared his throat. "While you were … when you were bad off, before they knew you were going to recover completely, and just after they started letting visitors come in for a few hours a day, I came down here. I just wanted to sit with you. You're my flier, Kurt, but you're also my kid brother, as far as I'm concerned. I only have older brothers, so having you following me around like a wayward duckling was always kind of funny to me."

Kurt huffed, "Why does that sound like an insult?"

"It's not. Ducklings are cute."

"Keep going," Kurt insisted.

"Well," Jason said, "You dad was there, one of the times I came to visit. I guess you were being exceptionally difficult that day. He was going out to blow off some steam, and I could hear you arguing with your mom, so I decided to lay low for a while until you calmed down, and that's when your dad saw me. He asked to talk, and it's not like I could say no."

Kurt wished he could say for certain what day Jason was talking about, but the past few weeks had been nothing but a series of bad days.

Jason leaned an arm against the back of his chair. "I don't think I ever mentioned it to you, Kurt, but when you joined Cheerios, and when you started tumbling, andthen flying, I had to promise your parents something. I take it your parents never told you how much they didn't want you to join the Cheerios?"

Slowly, Kurt shook his head. "No. Mom always seemed excited. She liked helping me work on my choreography. And dad, well, he was always supportive. They didn't want me on Cheerios?"

"I guess they were worried you'd get hurt," Jason supplied. "Most parents are. So when you and I were officially assigned to each other, your dad came to me and he asked me to do absolutely everything I could to keep you safe. He asked me to always catch you, and never let you fall on your face, or get hurt. You and I know that's not realistic in the sport we're in, and I have dropped you before, you have been hurt, but I got what he was saying. He just wanted me to look out for you. He wanted me to make sure nothing happened-that you were as safe as you could be. And I always tried to honor that, Kurt."

"Okay." Kurt nodded. "Fair enough. But how does that relate?"

Jason sighed. "Because, at the hospital, he asked me to be honest with him. He wanted to know how I'd let this happen. He demanded to know why I hadn't done my job and kept you safe. He just asked for the truth, and I had to tell him."

Kurt grumbled, "You know none of this was your fault."

"Maybe," Jason reasoned, "maybe not. Because I knew what kind of diet you were on. I was on one, too. We all were. But I also knew that you were on a much more restrictive diet, and Kurt, I'm not stupid, I throw you up in the air and catch you when you come back down. I know exactly when you've gained weight or lost it. I can feel it every time I put my hands on you. And I knew you were getting thin. I was worried, but I never said anything, and regardless of what you think, that is my fault. I told your dad as much, and then I told him everything about those things you were drinking, how Sylvester pushed and pushed, and how this has been going on with the Cheerios forever."

Kurt gnawed down on his bottom lip, then said quietly, "Finn told me the Cheerios are disbanded." Kurt gave a bit of a gesture to the people in the room, all Cheerios, sprinkled in with a few football players.

"Officially," Jason confirmed. "Figgins was pretty quick to do it, too. But just because we're not running off to competitions anymore, doesn't mean we're not Cheerios. We still spend a good deal of time together, and believe it or not, we're been having unofficially practices. We're keeping in shape for next year."

"For what next year?" Kurt questioned. He couldn't imagine not having the red and white to wear next year, or flying to California for Nationals like he had for the past two years.

Jason was practically shaking with happiness as he said, "Figgins gave us a little hope, I guess after some of the parents threatened to sue for their booster money. That's why we're here. All of us. The entire team."

And it was everyone. When Kurt took a closer look around, he could account for every single face. "What's going on?"

"Some of the Cheerios are here because they have to be, like you," Jason said, kindness lacing his voice, "because they have to complete these classes to be released into a rehab facility, but the rest of us are here to be supportive, and to learn healthy eating habits. We swore to Principal Figgins that we wouldn't let this happen again, to any of us. We said we'd take the class, and we're proving to him that things had changed, and in return all he had to do was reinstate the Cheerios next year. That's why all of us are here, and some of the football players are here for support, too."

Disbelieving, Kurt asked, "There is no way they're letting Sylvester have the Cheerios back. Where is she now?"

"Taking a sabbatical," Jason said with a laugh. "That's code for her going off to Borneo to terrify some locals and deal with the fact that she nearly killed you, your dad wants to kill her, and she's going to be ostracized by the very boosters who spent years supporting her. Figgins said we'll see about her when the new school year starts up. If she isn't allowed to come back, there are enough senior members of the Cheerios to keep us going, and then we'll get a new coach."

Kurt thought morosely, "My dad will never let me rejoin the Cheerios next year."

"Hmm," Jason said.

"Hmm what?"

"Hmm," Jason explained, "I have a feeling that if you show some progress, you may be surprised about what your parents will agree to."

"And by progress, you mean I need to go to all these classes, and stand up and say I have a problem, and get fat, and let people coddle me."

Jason rolled his eyes. "No, by progress I mean stop being such a pain in the ass. No one here is trying to pretend like this isn't a big deal, and that you're not struggling, or that it isn't hard for you. But you have to at least make it seem like you want to get better. You have to start to believe that. Everyone is here because they need help, or they want to help. Being here and getting help doesn't make you weak, if that's what you think."

"I don't think it makes me weak," Kurt said stubbornly.

"Look, do you want to go home?" Jason asked. "Do you want to do that, and then get to wear your own clothes, and come back to school, and rejoin the Cheerios? Or do you want to sit here, and be stubborn, and pretend like everyone else is wrong, and not you? You decide, Kurt, which one you want more. But you don't get to keep hurting the people who just want you to get better, and love you. You don't get to be that selfish asshole."

Kurt blinked wide eyes at him.

"Yeah, that's right, Kurt. You don't want coddling, then don't worry, I'm not going to give it to you. Welcome to tough love. Because I want you better, and if I have to be mean, and bully you into it, then I will. I'm not training another flier next year. I'm not abandoning my kid brother to his own insecurities and fears. And I'm certainly not going to come back day after day to sit through these stupid meetings about the dangers of starving yourself, if I have to sit next to you in a pissy mood."

Carefully, Kurt asked, "You're not going to coddle me?"

"I'll give it to you straight," Jason agreed.

With trepidation and hesitation, Kurt admitted, "I want to go home. I want that more than I want anything else."

"And you can go home."

Kurt nodded. "But every time I think about eating something, I just get so anxious. I start to think about getting fat, and how people will make fun of me. I won't be able to fit into my uniform anymore, or my skinny jeans, and you won't be able to lift me up. Dave won't want to date me anymore, I'll be nothing more than a Lima looser, and who knows what else. I'm scared, and I can't deal with that right now. People keep pushing me, but I'm just not ready. They don't understand, it and makes me upset and them frustrated and I think my parents are loosing their mind."

Jason let his knee bump into Kurt's. "You could start by telling them what you told me. And we'll go from there. Okay?"

Kurt took a shaky breath, then agreed, "Okay."

And he could honestly say, months later when the idea of getting back to normal began to sink in as a very real possibility, that the moment with Jason was probably the turning point.

September 20, 2009

"The thing is, I always knew I would loose you. From the very beginning."

Kurt seated himself carefully on the locker room bench in front of him, thankful that the room was empty. Kurt had half expected Dave to drag him to the nurse, regardless of Kurt's protests that he was fine. Or maybe back to Finn, who'd fret over him and hover and generally be a pain in Kurt's ass. He hadn't expected Dave to push him towards the locker room and take up a pace near the showers.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Dave raised an eyebrow. "What I said. Kurt, I always knew. I'd be stupid not to know that."

The locker room smelled horrible, and Kurt did his best to ignore the stench. This locker room was used predominately by the gym classes, and the sports teams. The Cheerios, both male and female, had separate locker rooms, and Kurt had dutifully worked years to improve the smell of it. Twice now some of the boys had taken down the fragrances he'd hung in the windows, and Kurt was ever more determined to attempt it again, and where his efforts couldn't be reached.

His heart rate back to normal, Kurt said once more, "I still don't understand what you mean."

Dave gave a small, sad smile to Kurt. "I knew from the start, that very day that I kissed you for the first time, and every time after that, that you had to be all kinds of crazy, Kurt Hummel, to go for someone like me."

"Hey," Kurt said a bit angrily, "don't you dare sell yourself short."

Dave shrugged. "It's always been clear to me. You have a lot of faults, Kurt, I'm not too blind to see that, but they're easily outweighed by everything that is good about you. You're just as beautiful inside, as you are out. You're kind of the total package. And there's a reason your brother spends most of his free time trying to hoard you away from people, and be overprotective."

"And what's that?" Kurt asked. "Also, Finn is a notoriously poor sharer."

"Because," Dave said, "someone like you doesn't happen every day, and the people who are lucky enough to have you in their lives, realize that."

Kurt's face felt hot. "Don't make me sound so wonderful."

Bluntly, Dave said, "You look out for other people, Kurt, a whole lot more than you look out for yourself. You're always taking care of someone: your parents, Finn, me, and you hardly ever put yourself first. You're caring and kind and compassionate and really, really patient. You're a good friend, a better brother, and an awesome boyfriend. You're so smart and so beautiful, and you have all these plans and dreams and I believe in you-that you'll get everything you wanted."

"Stop," Kurt mumbled, desperate for the praise to end. It was terribly uncomfortable.

"What I'm saying," Dave concluded, "is that some mornings I get up and all I can think about is how little I deserve to have you. I'm just this dope, Kurt. I'm this guy who makes decide grades, gets smashed around on a football team, and throws slushies on people who don't deserve it. In fact I'm really kind of an asshole, when I stop to think about it."

Kurt's foot tapped erratically. "That's ridiculous. We all have good and bad parts. And you have never been anything but wonderful to me. You're the kind of boyfriend that makes most girls jealous to have, because you actually listen to me when I talk. And you know I tend to ramble on at times. I make you carry all my bags when I go shopping, and you never push me for sex and you give me all the space I need without making a big deal of it. That is not being an asshole, David."

"You only call me David when you're annoyed with me."

Kurt nodded. "Consider me annoyed. Stop trashing yourself."

Hands thrown out, Dave said, "After I graduate high school I'm probably going to go to OSU, or somewhere close. That's if I'm lucky and I get my scholarship, because I can't afford it without one. Then I'll come back to Lima. I'm never going to go out there like you are. I'm not going to make a name for myself. I'm going to be this cow town hick you see right here for the rest of my life. And I know that's not you. I'll be hearing about you having your name up in lights in less than ten years and I'll be shopping down at the Piggly-Wiggly."

"And so?" Kurt demanded. "There's nothing wrong with not wanting to move to New York. Most people don't."

"But you're destined for bigger things. I'm not."

Restlessly, Kurt shifted. "We were just kids when we started whatever we have now. You couldn't have been thinking this back then." And he was horrified to think that Dave might have been carrying such a heavy burden for so long.

"No," Dave agreed. "But I was always thinking that you were so pretty. That's not the word now, but it was all I could think back then. You were pretty, and had such good manners, and were so fucking perfect. I just knew that it was only a matter of time until something better came along. We're not compatible, we're just both gay in a small town without many options."

Fiercely, Kurt snapped, "I haven't been with you all these years because you're convenient. I care so much for you. You're my boyfriend because I chose it. Not because I don't have any options. Get that through your thick head right now."

"That's nice of you to say. And I'm not claiming that you don't care about me, but we don't look at each other in the same way."

"Don't look at each other the same way?" Kurt asked suspiciously. "How do we look at each other differently?"

Dave sat in front of him. "Well, I look at you like I love you. That's because I do. I've loved you for so long I don't even remember when I started."

"And," Kurt supposed, "I don't look at you like I love you?"

"No." Dave sat with one leg on either side of the bench. "You look at me with this kind of warmth and kindness in your eyes that makes me feel so loved, but it isn't actual love. I know I'm important to you, you remind me all the time, but you're not in love with me. Not like I'm in love with you. That's a simple fact."

"Dave." Kurt's mouth felt heavy with cotton. And his heart hurt, but in way that had nothing to do with the damage he'd done it in the past few years.

"And I'm really okay with that."

"I care so much for you," Kurt struggled to say.

"I know." Dave scooted forward and let his knee bump Kurt. "That's why I'm not angry anymore. It's why I'm okay with loosing you. Because you've been here for me for so many years, and cared about me like no one ever has. I'm ready to give you up now. I mean, I may hate Sam Evans, but I'm not trying to deny the way you look at him."

Kurt could only shake his head wordlessly.

"Yes," Dave insisted. "I've been aware of it for a while now, a couple of weeks. I didn't want to believe it at first, but there's no denying it now. You look at him like I've always wanted you to look at me. Like you'd give your soul to be with him. Like you'd be anything, do anything, say anything. You look at him like you love him."

Desperately, Kurt pressed his hand over his mouth, willing himself to remain silent.

"I don't think you do," Dave said humorously, "but you will, and it'll be soon. You're halfway there now, judging by that kiss I saw."

"I'm so sorry," Kurt choked out.

"Hey, now," Dave said, flailing a bit. "Don't be sorry for feeling that way about him. I can't help how much I love you, and you can't help your feelings for him any more than I can. It's just the way things are."

Blinking back tears, Kurt asked, "How can you be so okay with this?"

And it was only when Dave said, "You think I'm not dying inside?" that Kurt realized his boyfriend's eyes were similarly wet. "I started hurting so bad the moment I realized you were pulling away, and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it."

"I didn't do it on purpose," Kurt pleaded, reaching out to hold onto Dave's hands. "I never would have done this to us on purpose. Not to us. Not when we're so good together."

When Dave leaned forward, Kurt could smell his after shave, still lingering from the morning, and one of Kurt's favorite smells in the world.

Dave soothed, "I know you didn't. It's not your fault."

"But he is," Kurt found himself blurting out. "He's the one for me."

Dave's forehead knocked against Kurt's gently. "I don't want you to feel guilty over that."

"That's all I feel."

"No way," Dave said, "we don't get to feel guilty over this. Any of it. I just had the misfortune of falling in love with someone who's meant for someone else."

"And you're just going to let me go?" Kurt asked. "Just like that? And to Sam Evans?"

There was the barest hint of stubble on Dave's chin as he pressed closer to Kurt. "I know you pretty well, Kurt Hummel. I don't let you do anything. You only do what you want, and I know that if this is what you choose, then I can't stand in your way. I'm not letting you go. I'm letting you choose."

Kurt huffed. "What's with people wanting me to choose things?"

"I want," Dave clarified, "for you to be happy."

"That's what my dad says all the time," Kurt mumbled.

"And your dad, aside from being a massive cock block, is incredibly intelligent. That must be where you get it from."

"Flatterer," Kurt said, but couldn't help the smile for the first time.

Dave leaned in slowly, and Kurt realized he was being given enough time to resist the oncoming kiss. But he couldn't bring himself to do anything but lean up into it. This was it, he realized, the end of everything with Dave. This was the last kiss they'd share, and Kurt couldn't begrudge him wanting it. He had to give it. He wanted to.

"So," Kurt asked, once the kiss had passed, and Dave's hand finally fell away from where it had been cupping his jaw, "where do we go from here?"

"Simple," Dave said, leaning back on a hand. "We go on like we always have, just without the kissing. I'm not like, going to abandon you or anything. I hope that wasn't what you were thinking?"

Kurt's guilt only built and he admitted, "I thought you might not be as enthusiastic when it comes to …"

"To looking out for you?" Dave demanded. "Having your back? Keeping the bullies away? Kurt, I take back everything I said about you being smart."

"Hey!"

"Regardless," Dave said, with a firm shake of his head, "of what we are, or what type of relationship we have, I will always keep the idiots of this school in line when it comes to you. How could you think anything else?"

"How?" Kurt asked. "I was imagining that first day, Dave, that you see me with Sam. Maybe we're in the hallway, or just after practice. You're taking this so well, but it's going to be so painful. You'll see me and it won't be with you. I thought it might inspire a desire to throw something cold and flavored on me." Kurt thought suddenly of how Sam had walked away from him, and had said he wanted nothing to do with Kurt. There was a good chance that Sam would never want him again, and that they wouldn't be together. Dave would never have to see Kurt walking down the hallway with Sam in hand.

"I'll probably be pissed," Dave said. "But being pissed at Sam for being the one for you, has nothing to do with me loving the person you are. That love is always going to trump everything else. You should try and understand that right now. I won't ever throw a slushie on you."

"On Sam?"

"Or," Dave said, but Kurt could see it was much more of a strain, "on Sam. I would never do anything to hurt you, and I know doing that would."

"Dave," Kurt breathed out, unable to help himself, brushing his lips against Dave's jaw. "You have no idea how wrong you've been all these years."

"Wrong?" Dave asked curiously. "About what?"

"You're so convinced," Kurt laughed a bit, "that you're the one who doesn't deserve me. But you're so wrong. You're just so wrong."

"Hmm?"

"You," Kurt said confidently, "are the far better man, David Karofsky. And all along, it was me who didn't deserve you."

August 4, 2009

There was, for one brief moment of panic, doubt that Kurt might not be able to leave the center before the new school year started. The woman who ran the program that Kurt had been admitted into had never particularly taken to him, and Kurt thought she harbored some kind of deep seeded homophobia. He couldn't be sure, only that she'd glared even darker the first and only time Dave had come to visit and had embraced him tightly, and the kissed him fiercely in plain view.

However, by the beginning of August, Kurt supposed he'd appeased them all enough, packed on enough pounds and promised the enough times that he truly believed food was not the enemy. And they decided to let him go.

There were still group meetings to attend every other weekend, workshops he had to sign up for occasionally, and the school councilor he'd had to agree to meet with nearly every day, but it was a small price to pay in Kurt's mind. He'd spent ten long weeks away from his parents, his brother, his boyfriend, and everyone that he cared about, residing in Columbus, and hardly allowed visitors on the weekends.

The program had been intense, that was the most Kurt could say. And he was glad to leave. He was nearly frantic to get away from the half starved kids surrounding him, reminding him of what he'd probably looked like, even if he'd never really been able to see it. They called it body dimorphic disorder. Kurt called it idealizing.

But finally, finally, the director of the program said to his parents, "We think Kurt has come a long way, and shown the kind of progress we always hope for. He's ready to go home by our standards." Kurt couldn't pack fast enough.

Because of the distance between Columbus and Lima, it was dark out before Kurt was released, and more than once he'd sent text messages to Finn on his newly returned phone, anxious in nature, seeking reassurance that their parents had left to get him, and were on route.

When Kurt did see them all pretenses fell away, and abandoning his very expensive bags, he rushed forward, catching himself in his mother's tight grip. He could feel his father holding the both of them, and Kurt breathed in deep the mixture of perfume and cologne that he'd missed.

The center had kept them on a tight schedule, from eating, to when they were supposed to be in bed, and when the dash of the car said it was near midnight, Kurt was more than feeling the effects of his usual routine.

Slipping his shoulder strap off Kurt dipped to the side, pillowing himself in his mother's lap as she sat next to him. "You can go to sleep," she said quietly, fingers threading through his hair soothingly.

"Don't want to," Kurt protested, eyes already falling closed.

"Get some rest," his dad said, and Kurt gave in.

He slept forever. Or at least it felt like as much when he finally did wake up. Everything was achy, his eyes were difficult to get open, and he was stiff from being in the same position for so long. But it was morning, maybe late morning by the strength of the light coming through the window, and Kurt realized he wasn't in the car, and neither was he in his room. It took a moment, but he recognized the wallpaper of the room, and the arched ceiling of the room. He was in his parent's bedroom. He'd slept in the room, and that was something he hadn't done in years. And there was an arm around his waist. He had a big spoon, and he was currently playing the part of the little spoon.

Shifting a bit, Kurt was able to maneuver mostly onto his back, and he was surprised to find hit was his mom behind him, snoring softly, dead to the world. She was a heavy sleeper, and Kurt was grateful for it. He just wanted to snuggle down into her embrace and be with her. He needed her.

There was someone humming, and across the room Kurt could just barely see into the adjacent master bedroom's bathroom. The light was on and his father was there, standing in front of the sink, shaving. The picture he made, standing in his flannel, diligently performing the domestic task, was enough to have Kurt bursting into tears of happiness.

Kurt was happy enough to simply lay there, wrapped in his mother's embrace, and watch his father shave. He could smell the foam, and the way it mixed in with the fresh flowers his mother kept in a vase in the corner of the room. The room smelled of comfort and warmth and love, and it was all Kurt could have asked for after such a lengthy separation. The only thing missing was Finn, but Kurt doubted he could have fit on the bed with their mother as well, so it was probably best if he wasn't present.

"You awake, kiddo?"

When Kurt looked up from his musing he could see a clean shaven man, and he wondered how long he'd been lying there, thinking, daydreaming, nodding back off to a light nap.

"Yeah," Kurt answered, careful to keep his voice low. "What happened? How'd I get here?" He made no attempt to move from the arms wrapped around him.

Burt sat on the edge of his bed, and Kurt made a point not to flinch or pull away as his father's worn fingers brushed at his fringe. "You were so tired, kid. You fell asleep in the car. You were out the whole way home."

Kurt hummed a little. He'd known that much.

Then his father added, "When we finally got home your mom and I didn't have the heart to wake you. But your brother was still up. He carried you in. I would have, but my back is still acting up. We asked him to put you up here." His father looked bashful and then admitted, "We didn't want to give you up, even for the night. You kick in your sleep, by the way."

A wide smile broke onto Kurt's face. "Why do you think Finn sleeps on the ground when he crashes in my room? I didn't hurt you or mom, did I?"

Burt slapped his knee playfully. "Nothing I can't handle. Your old man can take a few kicks to the shin, especially if it means getting to have his kid back with him."

Kurt's hand snuck out from under the blanket and inched towards his father's. He was met halfway and squeezed as hard as he could. "It's so good to be home."

Then suddenly his father was on his knees, folded over the bed, and Kurt felt his father's forehead press against their joined hands.

"Dad?" Kurt asked, a little nervous over the sudden change. "What's wrong?"

His father's face was pinched up tight when his head lifted. "Nothing. Everything is good. Everything is great, actually."

Kurt migrated back to his own room shortly before Finn attempted to cook them all an early lunch, and managed to catch the microwave on fire. Everything was exactly as Kurt left it, aside from a few misplaces items, evidence that his room had been cleaned regularly while he'd been gone.

"Kurt?"

Finn's head popped in the door before Kurt could respond, and he realized he'd left it open. In the past, before he'd left for the center, Kurt had never failed to make sure the door to his room was firmly closed at all times, except for when Dave was over and it was mandatory that it remain open. Kurt loved his family, but they had a tendency to be very nosey, and he knew an open door was an open invitation. But at the center some of the rooms hadn't even had doors, and very of them were ever allowed to close. Fresh in Kurt's mind were the random bed checks, the locked bathrooms to stop the purgers, and such a distinct loss of privacy that Kurt had almost forgotten what it meant to have it. He'd just left his bedroom door open out of habit, more than anything else.

"Finn," Kurt greeted, and wasn't surprised when his bothered eyed him assuredly with a large hug obviously in mind. They'd already shared several and it wasn't even noon yet. Kurt had a feeling his brother would be hugging and simply touching him as much as he could. Finn had always been tactile, and aside from their parents, he'd been the one to visit him most frequently at the center. He'd spent hours with Kurt, shoulders pressed together, hugging him without shame, and pushing at Kurt's hair just to annoy him. Finn was going to be hard to shake in the coming months, and Kurt looked forward to the challenge. "Come on in."

Finn traipsed into the room as fast as he could, throwing himself into the chair at Kurt's desk and promptly asking, "How does it feel to be back?"

"Good," Kurt answered. "And a little weird. But mostly good."

"Well, mom says I shouldn't push you, but I want you to know, there's a party being planned to welcome you back. Quinn is hosting, and I kind of promised her that I'd get the actual guest of honor there. It's tomorrow. Everyone is going to be there."

Mouth pulled tight, Kurt asked, "Be honest, how bad is the talk about me?"

Finn gave him an uneasy look. "Well, I guess it's more like everyone is talking about the Cheerios in general. And Sylvester. It's not just you. Some of the Cheerios were in treatment with you, Kurt. It was a big thing. No one is being singled out. Not really."

"I just …" Kurt took a deep breath. "When we go back to school, I just don't want to be known as that kid who starved himself into a heart attack, and then went around the bend."

"I will totally beat up anyone who says that," Finn vowed.

Kurt appreciated the sentiment. Then, on the topic of the party, he said, "I'll go to Quinn's. It's better to just rip the band aid off all at once, I suppose. If I'm there, people will be able to gawk at me, and stare, and they'll get it out of their system. Hopefully, then, by the time school starts up, things will be relatively back to normal."

"Oh!" Finn jumped up and rushed to Kurt's closet. It was one of their base rules of Kurt's room, and Finn was never to touch anything in Kurt's precious closet. Especially not after the Prada debacle of the past year and Finn having to work three months straight at the shop to replace the shirt he'd ruined. But this time Kurt kept quiet, watching as Finn slid the white door open. "I almost forgot. I have something to show you."

Kurt tried not to wince as Finn leafed through the clothing quickly, showing less care than Kurt appreciated. But finally his brother seemed to find what he was looking for, and then pulled hard on a hanger, retrieving Kurt's Cheerio uniform.

"Found it!"

"Finn," Kurt grumbled. It was the last thing he wanted to think about. And he wasn't sure where he stood with the team to begin with.

Finn frowned. "I got it dry cleaned for you and everything. Dude, try and look a little more appreciative."

Kurt explained, "I haven't talked to that about anyone yet. I'm pretty sure I'll have to turn it back in when school starts."

"No." Finn shook his head. "I'm telling you I got it dry cleaned so that you can wear it the first day back. Like all the other Cheerios."

Kurt hadn't spoken to Jason in almost six weeks, or anyone else on the Cheerios aside form Quinn. So he was still a bit lost over the situation with the team, and had to ask, "The Cheerios were reinstated?"

"They finished those classes Figgins said the had to take," Finn answered easily. "Quinn said so. Everyone even got these certificate things. I got one too." Mumbling a little, Finn said, "Mom put mine in a frame. It's in the den."

"What about Sylvester?"

Carefully, Finn set the uniform back into the closet. "She'll be back this year, from what I hear. Figgins reinstated her. I don't know what she had to do, or who she had to threaten, but they gave her the job back. She made Quinn Head Cheerio."

At that, Kurt smiled. He knew how long she'd been working for the distinction. "That's great. But Finn, dad will never let me be back on the squad if she's still the coach."

"They had this big meeting," Finn said, "all the parents and boosters and Figgins and Sylvester. They had this meeting at the school and I guess they talked about how things have to be different this time around. When dad and mom came back I asked them if I could get your uniform dry cleaned. They said yes. I think that means you're still on the team. And your name did come up at the meeting. Sylvester said she'd do right by you this year. That probably means she still thinks you're on the team, too."

"Oh." Kurt looked back towards the uniform again.

"Do you not want to be?"

"I do," Kurt answered quickly. "I really do. Thank you, Finn."

Finn smiled brightly. "Okay. And then I was thinking we could go out later today. Maybe do some shopping? You've been out all summer. I can't believe you haven't started complaining about having nothing to wear for this year."

"Shopping?" Kurt asked skeptically. But it had been weighing on his mind. To Kurt, his fashion was the primary was of expressing himself. It was his creative outlet, and he'd been paranoid for weeks that he'd have to recycle too much clothing. "You hate shopping, and you hate going shopping with me even more."

Finn pointed out, "But you love it. And we haven't gotten to spend any time together. We should totally go shopping. Dad won't want me to tell you, but he'd been hoarding the American Express for you."

Mouth a little dry, he asked, "The one with the extended credit line?"

"The very one."

"He's been hoarding it for me?" Kurt asked once more, just to be sure. "Because if this is a cruel joke, I will destroy you, Finnegan."

"No joke." Kurt hadn't thought it was possible, but now Finn seemed to be smiling even wider. "I was thinking we could go after lunch. And you should call up Blaine. He likes to shop, too. You're always saying he's the only one who appreciates it like you do. You guys can shop, and I'll carry your bags."

Kurt liked the idea, and added, "I should call Dave, too. You'll need someone to keep your company. You always get bored when we go shopping. The two of you can talk about manly things, or whatever." Kurt paused. "But are you sure that's what you want? We can go just the two of us, if you prefer that. Don't think that we have to invite other people. We've never had a problem with it just being the two of us."

"I want to," Finn assured.

"Finn! Kurt!"

Finn looked towards the hallway. He supposed, "I guess mom and dad finished cleaning up the microwave. Time for lunch?"

Kurt slid off his bed. "What did you even put in there to make it blow up like that?"

"I was just reheating some of mom's casserole. She bakes it with tin foil covering it. Why can't I microwave it that way?"

Kurt sighed. "You're going to electrocute yourself one of these days, or something similarly traumatic."

"You never know," Finn admitted.

When Kurt reached the kitchen's dinning room table he found a small bowl of soup set out for him and a half sandwich accompanying it. His mom was puttering back and forth in the kitchen, and quickly appeared to set a small plate of sliced apple pieces at Kurt's seat. He wondered if she wanted to spoon feed him as well, but took it in stride and sat carefully.

"Sorry it's not much," she said a bit breathlessly, nudging Burt to help her with the last of the soup bowls. "But your brother has effectively destroyed our kitchen. And a new microwave will be coming out of his paycheck."

Finn was always halfway through his soup and looked bashful at her words

"No," Kurt insisted. "It's nice. I feel like I've been on gruel for the past three months."

They were watching him. Kurt could feel it. They were waiting for some kind of hesitation from him, or traumatic reaction. They wanted to see if ten weeks and nearly five thousand dollars had done the job, and Kurt felt tremendous pressure as he picked up the nearby spoon.

The soup was good, and Kurt took small bites, savoring the rich taste, concentrating on looking anywhere but at his family. "It's really good, mom."

Carole glowed with pride.

"I want to talk to you all about something," Kurt said, finally looking up at his family. "Because I can't come to every meal like this."

"Huh?" Finn asked, chewing loudly.

Kurt confessed, "I'm not perfect, and I'm never going to be how I was. Everything to do with this, with food, is always going to be a struggle. And I know you spent a lot of time and money on getting me to a place where I don't freak out over a breath mint or something equally as small. But the truth is, I am making progress. I'm sitting here, aren't I? I'm eating, and I won't go purge afterwards, or stave myself for the rest of the night. So I need you all to stop looking at me like I'm going to have a serious break from reality, or start sobbing, or hurl my bowl at the wall in defiance. Just let me go at my pace. Everything will be okay."

Burt stirred his spoon in his soup. "You can't blame us for being cautious with you."

"No," Kurt agreed. "But I'm asking for a little trust. I think I've earned it so far."

"Sweetheart," his mom said, sitting down in her own seat. "That sounds pretty fair to us."

Kurt took another bite of the soup and swore it tasted better than before.

September 20, 2009

Kurt had thought about cornering Sam, probably somewhere between Bio and lunch, and had also thought of ambushing him just as school let out. Sam drove a notoriously unreliable car to school, one that he'd bought with his own savings, and loved regardless of its condition, and Kurt knew full well that Sam would have to spend quite a while in the parking lot, turning the engine over, before he was able to leave. But ultimately, after thinking the entire thing through, Kurt decided to wait until after Cheerio practice, which ran early that day, and even later after Titan practice which was an evening session.

And so, still in his uniform, though he'd rather be at home, showered, changed and working on his homework, Kurt found himself lurking on the edge of the football field, a few other Cheerios scattered around.

It was nice to see Finn back on the field. It had seemed almost inevitable that Finn would quit the football team to focus fully on glee, but as Kurt watched, it seemed Finn was running just as many plays as Sam was, and even some with Sam. Kurt couldn't pretend to know why, or what each was called, but the smile on his brother's face was healthy.

By the time practice was over it was late, and Kurt had already had several texts from his mom, asking him if he'd be missing dinner, and to make sure he didn't let Finn talk them into picking up something unhealthy instead.

And then Kurt saw Sam, helmet dangling from his fingers and shoulders broadened by practice pads, striding his way. Kurt felt frozen, at least until he realized that Sam was hardly paying attention, and likely hadn't even seen him. Kurt wanted to say he appreciated the small favors of life, because it bought him a few extra seconds to take several deep breaths, and then ready himself.

"Sam."

Kurt could tell he'd caught Sam off guard, but continued to move forward until he was at the football player's side.

"Kurt."

Bravely, Kurt said, "I would like it very much if I could speak to you."

Wearily, Sam shook his head. "I think I said everything I needed to earlier."

"I said I wanted to talk to you. You can just listen, Sam Evans."

"Kurt." Sweaty, Sam reached out to set a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Don't do this to yourself, and don't do this to me."

Kurt settled his hands on his hips. "I'm asking politely right now, Sam. Please, just give me fifteen minutes."

With a surprising burst of strength, Sam leveled his helmet up and handed it off to Kurt who caught it awkwardly. "You have until we get to my car. I'll shower at home. Deal?"

Nodding, Kurt tucked the helmet to his side. "Deal." He figured it would be a good ten minutes to get to the car, and if Kurt walked carefully, he could probably stretch it out a bit.

"So talk."

Aware of Finn eyes on them, Kurt gave himself a moment to breathe, then said, "You were right."

"Kurt," Sam said a bit humorously, "that almost sounded painful to admit. But please, go on, and specify how."

"Funny." Kurt tried not to glare. "And you know what. I was wrong about everything. And you were right."

"About?" Sam prompted.

Patiently, Kurt said. "I was wrong to be scared."

"Hey, now." Sam reached a hand out and stopped Kurt, making his heart rate jump up. "Kurt. That's not right."

"It's not?" Kurt asked slowly.

"No," Sam insisted. "It's never wrong to be scared."

Kurt looked down at the Titan helmet in his hands. "Being scared cost me everything. And I was scared over the stupidest thing ever."

"People at this school get shoved into lockers," Sam said, "and they get thrown into dumpsters, and slapped in the face with icy drinks, and verbally harassed on a daily basis, and usually because they don't conform for whatever reason. I don't think your fears of becoming a victim are unfounded."

"No." Kurt's feet felt so heavy, and he could hardly move, no matter how uncomfortable he felt. "Sam, you don't understand. Yes, I was scared of being tormented by people that could very easily ruin my life and my brother's life. But that's not what I'm talking about. I was scared of being myself. You were right. I've spent a good amount my high school years hiding exactly who I am, and I've just been so terrified that people would find out that I'm a huge musical theater geek, and that I don't really care who's dating who, what parties are happening, and what anyone is doing most of the time. I don't want them to know, Sam, that I sit up in my room and knit for fun, and bake to relieve stress, and I play piano whenever I'm feeling anxious. They'd ostracize me if they knew that I love the Cheerios, but I hate most of the people on the team, and I'm so sick and tired of drinking just to look cool."

Gently, Sam said, "But you've made some real progress, Kurt. You've started to open up. Since I've known you, you've really changed. And you joined glee. That's huge."

"I joined," Kurt scoffed, "because my Coach said she'd kick me off the squad if I didn't go spy on her arch nemesis. And what kind of progress have I made beside that? Don't try and make me sound better than I am, Sam, because I started this year determined to recover from …"

"From?"

"From last year," Kurt revealed slowly. "From when I broke down and nearly destroyed everything that Finn and I had worked to achieve."

They started up a slow walk once more, and Sam asked, "You go sick, didn't you?" And Kurt knew he wasn't talking about a cold.

Kurt cleared his throat, and admitted, to the first person outside of his family, "I had an eating disorder."

Quietly, Sam said, "I thought as much. A lot of the little things came together too easily."

"I joined the Cheerios," Kurt continued, "because Finn and my parents wanted me to belong to a group that would look out for me. And Quinn told me join because she said it would make me popular-untouchable. So I did, because that's what I'm good at doing, what other people say. I'm a people pleaser, whether I want to be or not, and it doesn't feel natural, it's just the way I've been for a while."

"I've heard people talk." Sam was choosing his words carefully, and Kurt was so thankful. "People talk around school all the time. They say you went around the bend, tried to starve yourself to death, and then ended up in a psych ward. I'm figuring about five percent of that is true. Want to tell me about the other ninety-five percent?"

Kurt nodded, then explained, "A good deal of being a Cheerios is looking the part. Coach Sylvester was always quick to tell me about my hips being too wide. I'm a flier, and we're supposed to be petite to a fault. I was that my freshman and sophomore year, before I got better and started hitting my last growth spurt. And Sylvester told me as bluntly as she could that if I wanted to keep my spot, I had to maintain the appearance she wanted. All the Cheerios did. I'm just the one who got caught. I didn't try and starve myself to death, but I pretty much stopped eating solid foods. I was living off this energy drink. It had ipecac in it."

"The vomiting agent?" Sam asked, startled.

"I was never bulimic," Kurt was quick to say, "which is probably pure luck, more than anything else. But I did have a real problem. I ended up having what some of my doctors wanted to call a mild heart attack. There's some disagreement. The point is, I passed out, my heart stopped, and it turned out I'd destroyed my body to the point of it not being able to go on. I was lucky to recover. I'm lucky every day, now, because there was some damage to my heart, and if I don't take care of myself, it could be life threatening when I'm older."

"And the psych ward?"

Kurt tossed the helmet back at Sam. "It was a treatment center in Columbus. I stayed there for ten weeks. They helped me learn how to eat again. But Finn has always been pretty tight lipped about it, and so has everyone else who really knows me, so without much actual evidence to go on, I'm not surprised about the rumors. Part of the reason Finn and I were so determined to rise to the top of the social ladder this year was to prevent those rumors from going rampant. I guess that's a fail, right?"

"I kind of figured," Sam said, "that you acted this way for a reason, and that reason was probably to protect yourself."

Sighing, Kurt admitted, "When you're popular, people still talk about you, the still say horrible things, but they don't say it in front of you. They don't dare to. That's all I wanted. I wanted control over the situation. It's why I started the Cheerios, why I'm involved in student body, and why I stayed with Dave so long."

They were off the grass in record time, and rounding the back of the auditorium before Sam said, "Did you ever stop to consider that your friends might still be your friends, even if you let your guard down?"

"This is high school," Kurt said skeptically. "Most of them would turn on me in an instance. They wouldn't be my friends anymore, Sam. Don't act like you don't know how it is in the world of high school teenagers. Our loyalties are never fixed, and hardly ever authentic. I always knew that if I wasn't strong, and in control, and popular, I'd end up just another geek being tossed in the dumpster. Only it would be worse, because I'd be dragging Finn down with me."

"So what changed?"

Kurt felt a little startled, and said dumbly, "You did."

"Huh?"

Shaking his head a bit, Kurt clarified, "You just showed up out of nowhere, and you didn't care about the rules here. You ignored everything people said, and refused to care what they thought of you. You showed me that you can be an individual, and be yourself, and still be strong. I guess I'd never seen that before. Plus, you kept encouraging me to do things for me, and be happy, and let loose. Most people are quick to tell me to find the line and say in it. You were pushing me over."

"I never meant to push too far," Sam said woefully.

"You didn't!" Kurt gave a hop step in front of Sam. "I didn't realize it then, but I do now. You were steadily pushing me, from the very beginning, to unlearn everything that I spent a lifetime instilling in myself. And you did it so gradually, so wonderfully slow, that I became accustomed to letting pretenses fall away, even if only for a short while. Sam, you made me comfortable in my own skin for the first time in years. That's more than anything anyone has ever done for me. You never pushed too hard or to fast, but you always pushed. My parents and Finn, they're scared to push me. They think I'll break, and that's what holds them back. You never thought I'd break."

"Never," Sam agreed.

Voice shaking a bit, Kurt said, "I think that's why I was attracted to you right away."

"Kurt-"

"You stood out to me from the very start," Kurt rushed to say. "I saw you there, in that hallway, and we hadn't even touched, hadn't even spoken, and I was done in for."

"We have," Sam said simply, "amazing chemistry."

Kurt felt a bit shy. "I never have to hide who I am around you. We're really good friends, before anything else. We always end up making each other laugh, and you're really very good at dealing with me when I go off on a tangent. There's never this awkwardness between us that I expect there to be, because we haven't known each other very long. Everything feels natural and easy and when we touch …"

It seemed like Sam wasn't able to help himself, and moments later Kurt's hand was being held as the blond finished, "When we touch, it feels like it's meant to be, right?"

"Like I could touch you forever and never get tired of it."

Suddenly, Sam made a frustrated sound. "But I made a play for you, Kurt. I was open and honest about my feelings, and you couldn't even bring yourself to admit that there's something special here, let alone act on it, aside from when you tried to blackmail me."

"I couldn't admit it out loud," Kurt corrected.

"You chose Dave Karofsky over me, even though I was offering you exactly the same thing, or maybe more."

"I met Dave," Kurt said feet taking him ever closer to Sam's car, "when I was just a kid. He was the only other gay person I knew, and someone who wanted me just for being me. He didn't care about how fussy I was, or how much I complained, or the fact that I was constantly trying to change him to shape how I wanted him to look. And he was never ashamed of me. He protected me from the bullies at school. He was my everything, Sam. And more than that, he was my ticket to staying popular at McKinley. You weren't offering me everything, Sam. To this day, you're still getting slushied in the hallway. No one would ever do that to Dave."

"Yeah," Sam said, voice a bit ruthless, "heaven forbid you get cherry slushie on your shoes. Kurt, you're right, being with me would increase the potential of that happening. I know that. And I know I would do anything to try and stop it, but I don't make promises I know I can't keep. And I can't control the other people at this school."

Kurt proposed, "I think Dave was my safety blanket."

Sam stared wordlessly.

"My safety blanket," Kurt repeated, "because with him, I always had an excuse. I always had a way out. I could go the easy route, and avoid you, and avoid what this feeling is, and avoid knowing that every day a piece of me was dying because I was trying to be someone I'm really not."

"I really think-"

"Which is why," Kurt said daringly, "I let him go this morning."

Sam paused. "Let him go?"

"Broke it off," Kurt tried. "We broke up. It's over."

"You broke up with your boyfriend," Sam reiterated. "Why?"

Kurt felt utterly foolish. "Because I realized that if it came down to it, and I took out the other people of my life, and what they thought, and everything else that doesn't matter, and just chose for myself, it really wasn't a choice after all. My dad asked me to close my eyes and take a look at who I'd want to wake up next to every morning for the rest of my life. Finn asked me to think about who makes me happier as a person, you, or Dave. And the answer was staring me right in the face, as plain as day, and just as relenting. Because you say you love me, Sam, and I can't say that I return those feelings, only that the day is coming when I will, and it's going to be here sooner than I'm ready for."

"You really broke up with your boyfriend?"

"Broken record, Sam?" Throat impossibly dry, Kurt said, "Yes, dummy. I let Dave down as gently as I could, and I told him that I was so sorry, but there was this guy that I was falling hard for, and I had to try and make him see that I'm a total and complete screw up, but he's made me such a better person, and I think I could do even better if he'd just give me a chance."

"You realize," Sam asked carefully, "that you just gave up the one person who helped give you power couple status? You were right up there with Quinn and Finn."

His heart was pounding even harder now, making him feel a little lightheaded, but so drunk on adrenaline he couldn't pay it any mind.

"None of that matters, Sam. Well, I mean, it matters, and I'd very much like to have that status and all that it entails, but I'd rather have you. I'd rather have the person who makes me smile, and encourages me to be a giant dork. I'm not saying I'm not insecure, or vain, or a million other things that should turn you off to me immediately, but I am saying that I'm ready to commit. I choose you, Sam. I want you. I'm sorry I couldn't say that before. I'm sorry I strung you along. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry that it took me longer to fall for you, than it did for you to fall for me. I'm just sorry."

"Forgiveness is a funny thing."

Sam's car was in sight.

"Yes?" Kurt asked anxiously.

Digging into his bag for his keys, Sam said, "It's so easy to forgive strangers who mean nothing to you, but the people you love, the ones who are a mess and need to work themselves out, are much harder."

"I know," Kurt said darkly, "that I am a total mess. You don't have to say it. I have all these thoughts and ideas in my head, and they're all contradictory. I feel like I've regressed mentally, and I'm fighting myself. I don't want to be like Rachel Berry, at the bottom of the Totem Pole, bullied and slushied for being unique and ultimately exquisite, but I also can't give you up."

"I'm not ready to forgive you," Sam said bluntly. "I can't. I gave you so many opportunities. I was so patient. I think I loved you from the start, from the very moment I say you, and I just let you bounce back and forth between me and your boyfriend, and make fools out of the both of us, and all because I just wanted to keep kissing you. You broke my heart that night at the party, Kurt, when you couldn't be honest with me, and you couldn't withstand the pressure. You broke us."

Kurt's hand was freezing as he pressed it over his lips, trying to hold back a sob.

There had never been much hope for Kurt with Sam, not after the party and Sam's words earlier that morning, but a part of Kurt had been hoping. A part of him had been clinging to the barest shred of idea that Sam could forgive him, and take him into his arms and kiss him and ask him to be his boyfriend. It was unrealistic, but the possibility had still been real to Kurt.

It was gone now. And Kurt realized he had no one. He couldn't go back to Dave, and he couldn't go forward with Sam.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, sliding his key into the lock of his car door. "I'm sorry it took you so long to realize what I knew from the start."

"It's not fair," Kurt bit out. "I'm trying so hard."

"I'm sorry," Sam repeated.

Kurt spun from him then, unable to hold back the sob that had built so quickly in his throat, his shoulders shaking. He felt as if he'd risked himself, and everything he'd thought he'd wanted, and everything he'd ever dreamed of having, and all for nothing.

His legs took him quickly across the parking lot and towards the Navigator. The keys felt heavy in his pocket and Kurt fumbled horribly for them, trying to sort out the keys as he walked, hands shaking. He wasn't sure he was fir to drive home.

Then something hard caught his elbow and spun him around.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, sounding broken, "I'm so sorry."

"Leave me alone," Kurt wailed, trying to drag his arm free. "I'll do the same for you. Just leave me alone."

Speaking frantically, Sam said, "All I could think about was hurting you like you hurt me. It was stupid and petty and childish and I'm so sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry I did it. I'm so sorry I almost let you walk out of my life because I wanted you to feel as bad as I did."

"What?"

Sam wrenched him up then, and let go of Kurt's elbow to wrap his large hands around the shorter boy's hips. His mouth covered Kurt's tightly, sucking him into a deep kiss, lips moving quickly as he coaxed Kurt further into it. Kurt felt himself go up onto his tip toes to level his height out with Sam's, and his fingers fisted into Sam's practice jersey. Whatever was happening, whatever the kiss meant, Kurt couldn't bring himself to care. There were tears in his eyes and an ache in his chest, and all he could do was kiss deeper.

"I love you," Sam announced loudly when he managed to break the kiss, face flushed an embarrassing red. "I love you, Kurt Hummel. You are probably the single most messed up person I've ever met in my life, and I love you more than you will ever know or understand or be able to comprehend. That's how much."

"Sam?" Kurt asked, fingers still tight in the jersey.

"Love had nothing to do with forgiveness. Love is above forgiveness. I don't need to forgive you just yet, to love you."

Kurt's cheeks were wet as he kissed Sam once more, moaning into it, letting it escalate into something more hot and more dirty than he'd ever dreamed of indulging in. Sam was hard against him, rutting a bit, constantly dragging up at Kurt, trying to keep him unbalanced. It was so spectacular Kurt wondered if he'd melt on the spot.

From behind them, Finn said, "I'm glad you guys have like, worked out all your angst and whatever, but Kurt, we should probably go home before mom sends out the search dogs. And I doubt dad would appreciate knowing that you were late for dinner because you spent time sucking face with your new boyfriend."

Wretchedly, Kurt swore at Finn. "You are absolutely the worst cock block in the history of them, Finnegan."

Finn's chest puffed out a bit. "I'm your older brother. That's probably the first thing the handbook says to do."

Sam laughed, forehead pressing against Kurt's temple, lips ghosting across the smooth skin of Kurt's cheek.

"It's not funny," Kurt whispered, wondering where his voice had gone.

When Sam laughed again, Kurt joined in, sagging happily against the boy who'd kissed him proper.

"Good choice, Rose," Finn remarked, snatching the keys from Kurt. "Sam is definitely Jack."

A bit confused, Sam asked, "Is your brother making Titanic references? I assume there is a reason for that?"

Kurt turned in for another full kiss, promising, "I'll tell you everything."

September 30, 2009

"Sam, stop it. Really. You're being a child. You're being worst than Finn. Just calm down and hold still.

"My eyes are burning, I'm completely soaked, and there is something suspiciously sticky running down into my underwear as we speak, Kurt, so don't tell me to calm down."

Flatly, Kurt said, "That's just heartbreaking. Now bend down a little more. I'm wearing my flats today, and you are not."

Sam mumbled, "I should just go take a shower."

Blotting at the mess of blue liquid on his boyfriend's face, Kurt remarked "We have glee in fifteen minutes. You won't have time and you know it. Now, let me do the best I can to get you cleaned up, and this will all be a lot less painful if you stop complaining."

"This," Sam ventured, "is probably what being married to you is going to be like."

Kurt's hand paused, towel in hand. He wondered if he'd heard incorrectly, or if Sam had meant something completely different. But Sam caught his wrist in a strong grip as Kurt asked, "Married?"

And Sam said, "Yes, dork. Unless you get tired of my face, or we fall out of love. I mean, it's not even legal here in Ohio, and we still have to go to college, and a million things could happen in between then, but I'd like to marry you some day. That's what people who love each other do."

"Okay," Kurt said a bit numbly, then added, "and next time, don't throw yourself in front of me again. It was chivalrous in nature, but ultimately unneeded."

Sam huffed out, "I wasn't just going to stand there and let that asshole throw a slushie on you. At not while you're wearing those Dolce and Gabana pants. I know how much they cost. I was there when you bought them. I'd never hear the end of it."

Kurt pressed hard at Sam's forehead. "Glad to know your heart was in the right place."

"No, seriously." Sam dipped down for a quick kiss. "I won't let anyone do this to you."

Kurt smiled into a second kiss, then said, "That's very sweet of you, but for the record, Harris wasn't aiming for me. He wouldn't dare. You got in the way of a slushie that was all yours to begin with, and probably made it worse."

"Why would Harris exclude you?"

Exasperatedly, Kurt answered, "The last time he did, the first and only time he did, Finn broke his nose about half an hour later when word got around. But he had terrible aim, and he really only ruined my shoes. Finn ruined his face. Finn has this tendency to break noses for some reason. Of all the ways to inflict bodily harm, he always goes for the nose. He also was suspended for several days, following that incident. Our parents, once they found out why, pretended like they didn't see me sneaking him out of the house the following Saturday night."

Sam reached for a dry paper towel and wiped his face clean. He asked Kurt, "How do I look?"

"Like a blond blueberry." Kurt had to shake his head. "But it's all we can do at the moment. Maybe you should start brining a change of clothes to school. I know yours is an absolute mess, so you could keep them in my locker if you promised to make sure they were clean and fresh."

Sam hoisted up his bag and then snuck an arm around Kurt's shoulders, leading him from the boy's bathroom. "That's kind of like you offering up your first born, Kurt. I'm really proud of you."

"Then next time you get a slushie to the face, I'm not going to be sympathetic."

Sam sighed. "Noted."

They were nearly as the choir room, the halls of McKinley nearly cleared out at fifteen past three, when Kurt heard Puck calling his name, and turned to see the tan boy jogging in his direction.

"Need something?" Sam asked, and Kurt could feel the arm around his shoulders tighten a little. Kurt understood the insecurity right away and wanted to tell Sam that Puck was no threat, but he knew how fresh their relationship was. They were sort of walking on egg shells with each other, afraid to say the wrong thing, or have a fight over anything. They needed to build up their trust, and work on feeling comfortable with the direction of their relationship. It was certainly a work in progress.

"So," Puck said a little awkwardly, "this glee club thing."

"Noah?" Kurt asked with a frown.

"Mike and Matt joined," Puck blurted out.

Kurt could only nod. It was true, they'd had a serious influx of new glee club members over the past few days, especially from the football team and the Cheerios. "Mr. Schue said we finally have enough people to compete, now that they joined. But I can tell, you're not sure why."

Puck nodded. "I mean, I guess Finn joined because he's repressed or something. But them?"

Kurt reached up to deliver a sound smack to the back of Puck's head. "Don't talk about your best friend that way. Now, Mike joined because, and the thinks he's being so subtle about it, he's crushing pretty hard to Tina. She's a cute girl, I understand that. And Matt? He and Mike tend to do a lot of things together. I wouldn't be surprised if Matt just tagged along. The point is, glee club is actually pretty decent when it comes to not judging people, and not caring why they joined."

Puck shifted back and forth on his feet, then inquired, "You think I'm a really shitty person for not backing Finn up when he joined, right?"

"I think," Kurt corrected, "that you're only human. And you were trying to protect yourself." Kurt could feel Sam's gaze heavy on him.

Kindly, Sam said, "There's no time limit when it comes to joining, you know. You could just come with us. Mr. Schue would probably be thrilled. I know you can play the guitar. We've been thinking of incorporating actual live, instruments into our songs. I play the guitar, too, and so does Artie. Kurt plays piano, and I've heard Finn on the drums, he's not half bad."

Puck winced a little. "Won't it look like, kind of shady?"

"Why do you want to join?" Kurt asked, giving no room for debate that it was what they were discussing.

Begrudgingly, Puck admitted, "I like to sing. I mostly do it in the shower, but I think I have a decent voice. And, well, I'd like my balls back, please."

Sam asked Kurt, "When did you get those?"

"Probably when I chewed him out over not joining glee with Finn. But I don't remember it being so bad that I took your balls."

"I miss him, okay?" Puck said abruptly. "Finn's been my best friend since we were kids. Now, I barely see him. And when I do, all he wants to talk about is that club. Plus, I got this, so there's kind of no going back." Puck pointed at his cheek where the skin was barely starting to discolor. Kurt thought it would be bright and hard to miss by the following morning.

"Who hit you?" Sam asked.

"More importantly," Kurt added, "did you hit back? You know Figgins has it out for you. Don't give him a reason to get you kicked out."

Still gesturing at his face, Puck revealed, "From Jake Harris, with love."

"Oh?" Sam snorted. "I got a piece of his love today, too. I'm wearing it. It's dripping into my boxers."

Knowingly, Kurt demanded, "What did he say?"

Defensively, Puck crossed his arms. "Call Finn a fag. Said he's nothing but a looser, now that he's in glee. I might or might not have snapped, told him to fuck off, and that if he said it again, he'd be facing down another glee fag."

"Noah Puckerman," Kurt breathed out. "You have officially earned your balls back."

"Thanks," Puck said, cracking a smile. "And you really think Mr. Schue will mind if I join up?

"Come on." Kurt reached out to snag the sleeve of Puck's shirt, pulling him forward a bit. "We're already late. And don't be surprised if Mr. Schue starts to fan boy over you. He may even sing you a song. That's how happy he'll be. Mr. Schue likes to sing wildly inappropriate songs to his male students."

Puck made a face. "Not cool, dude."

"It's not that bad," Sam laughed. "Kurt's just messing with you."

There was a serious lift to Puck's shoulders, and the anxiety that had been stretched across his face seemed gone. Kurt thought he looked the most relaxed he had in a very long time. It was a nice look.

"Okay," Puck agreed, "but I have a strict rule about representing my Hebrews. I'm only singing sons from Jewish artists. Capiche?"

"Rachel is Jewish, too," Kurt pointed out. "I'm sure she'll be thrilled at the idea of doing a Jewish themed duet with you. She's weird like that."

Puck paled a little and Kurt continued to pull him along.

Like Kurt had expected, nearly the entirety of glee club was excited to have Puck, and when Finn threw him a questioning look, Kurt did his best to silently promise an explanation later. Still, he was pretty sure Finn could work it all out on his own, especially from the way Puck had slapped him on the back and apologized quite loudly for being an unsupportive prick.

"Now," Rachel announced, just as Kurt sank into his seat and set his bag down. Sam was still pulling his chair closer to Kurt's as she said, "I think we need to entertain the very real suggestion, one that I made weeks in advance, if you'll all recall, that we consider a duet number for this year's Winter Concert."

"We have a winter concert?" Finn asked, looking around the room to some of the older glee members.

Mr. Shue stepped in. "The Winter pep rally, Finn. I talked to Principal Figgins and he's allowing the Glee Club to perform this year, as a way for us to gauge our audience before we try our hand at any kind of competition."

Rachel continued on, shoes clacking loudly as she moved the front of the room, "Naturally, because my voice is the strongest and let's face it, the purest sounding, it's only expected that I'll take the female lead. I think Finn should take the lead."

"I think you're crazy," Quinn snapped.

"What's with them?" Sam asked Kurt quietly, breath tickling Kurt's ear. It wasn't unnoticed to anyone in glee club how far apart Quinn, Finn and Rachel were still from each other.

Careful not to overstep any boundaries, or say something that Finn wouldn't want him to, Kurt replied simply, "The three of them are working out some issues right now. Quinn and Finn are taking a break. Apparently Finn's even more sure he's having feelings for Rachel, god knows why, and he's trying to figure just how deep those feelings run right now."

Sam looked sympathetic. "You must empathize."

Kurt nodded. "I'll be bringing him warm milk every night until he works the problem out. I hope he does it faster and less painfully, than I did."

Sam's hand curled around Kurt's.

"I work harder on my voice than the lot of you put together!"

Kurt turned sharply back to Rachel, then stood and announced, "Mr. Schue, Sam and I would like to issue a formal challenge to Rachel and Finn. We want a sing off, and best duet gets the spot."

Kurt risked a glance back to Sam, and was happy to find he looked surprised, but not against the idea. They'd sung together a few times already, and Kurt knew their voices were complimentary. He was certain they could take Rachel and Finn.

Mr. Schue seemed to smile as if it had been his idea, and he announced, "Kurt, I think that's an amazing idea, and not just for you. For everyone here. We'll make an event of it. Everyone will partner up and we'll have a duet competition. Everyone will have a fair chance."

Rachel looked crestfallen, and Sam mumbled to Kurt, "We have this in the bag." The rest of the time in glee was spent with Sam and Kurt pressed in close together, heads nearly touching as they scrolled through Kurt's ipod, searching for the perfect song.

When glee was over, Finn cornered Sam and Kurt and demanded of his brother, "Why'd you go and do that? She's going to be horrible to deal with until we perform. She always gets uptight before a performance, and she thinks she has something to prove this time."

"She does," Kurt said with a shrug. "No one is debating the fact that Rachel has a voice great enough for Broadway. And if you ever tell her that, I'll kill you. But the fact remains, she can't work well with others. She seems incapable of it. So that's your job, Finn. Mellow her out. Make her see reason. Give her a Xanax. Whatever it takes."

"Who says I'm going to be Rachel's partner?" Finn's eyes drifted to where Quinn was packing her things up.

Kurt's head tilted and he stared at Finn hard.

"You're the perfect man for the job," Sam said, patting Finn on the back. "Rachel just needs to be socialized."

Slowly, Finn agreed, "Okay. We going home right away, Kurt?"

Kurt let Sam help him into his jacket, stomach rolling and tumbling with pleasure at the gentlemanly gesture Sam had made. "Yes. Mom and I found a new recipe in her vegan cookbook. Dad's cholesterol numbers came back way too high, so we're going to do our best to bring them down."

"Whether he likes it or not?"

"Whether he likes it or not," Kurt laughed.

Finn snapped his fingers. "Oh and don't remember to invite Sam."

"Coward," Kurt said darkly as Finn walked quickly to the door where Rachel was waiting for him, still blabbering on about their duet.

"Invite me to what?" Sam asked.

Feeling a bit nervous, Kurt said, "My dad wants you to come to dinner. Not tonight, but I was thinking this weekend. He wants to meet you."

Frowning, Sam pointed out, "He's met me plenty of times."

Kurt held up a finger. "But you weren't my boyfriend then. Dad wants to meet my boyfriend."

"Your dad is scary."

Doing up the buttons on his jacket, Kurt said, "This is just a formality. He wants to grill you a bit, and afterwards you'll be more than welcome at the house. Trust me, okay."

The force behind the kiss Sam gave him unexpectedly started Kurt, and it took him a moment to respond, and even longer to gather his wits. And by that time Sam was ending it, looking a bit bashful.

"I do."

"Do?" Kurt's eyebrows went high.

The next kiss was light and chaste, just on the corner of Kurt's mouth.

"I trust you."

Kurt slid their fingers together. "Come walk me to the car. We can talk about what you'll be wearing when you meet my father. You only get one first second impression."

Sam laughed loudly and followed along obediently. Kurt was even more sure that the day in which he'd be completely in love with Sam Evans, was just around the corner.