I'm writing this for a prompt on the angst meme, and I don't usually post stuff online but it turns out getting comments is really addictive, so I thought I'd throw it out here too! But this is NOT a fun story and PLEASE read the warnings before you read the actual story.

Warnings: This is a story about Karofsky blackmailing Kurt into being his boyfriend. It's not happy. Kurt isn't kicking and screaming, but he doesn't like what's happening. It scares him and makes him unhappy and uncomfortable. Karofsky isn't the spawn of Satan in this story, but he's doing something that's wrong and damaging. It gets kind of intense and nasty. There is sexual stuff going on that upsets Kurt, to say the least.

Disclaimer: Glee is not mine, it's Fox's and Ryan Murphy's.

There are a lot of things Dave Karofsky doesn't like about himself. He doesn't like his grades or his need to fit in, he doesn't like that he's short with his parents or that he can't concentrate at practice. And he doesn't like himself around Kurt Hummel – what he thinks, what he feels, what he does.

There are also a lot of things Dave Karofsky does like about himself. He likes that he's smart when he applies himself and he likes that he's a good friend, he likes that he's a loving son (deep down, okay) and that he's a good hockey and football player. And that he's a really good boyfriend.

Which is where the plan comes in, because everything that's wrong with him is Kurt's fault. He could have it all back, have things the way they were, if he could have Kurt.

The idea comes to him in pieces, and once he has it, it seems so simple and brilliant he can't believe he never thought of it before.

This is one piece: He gets back a French exam with a C, which actually isn't the worst he's done lately, and sees the date at the top – Tuesday last week – and knows exactly what Kurt was wearing that day (a blue scarf, gray shirt, tight black pants, and he smelled like citrus which he usually doesn't). He thinks he could have done better on the exam if Kurt weren't distracting him by being so pretty and impossible.

This is one piece: Azimio comes into the locker rooms chortling and holds up his hand for a high-five. "Hey man, guess who just scored a double-pointer? Knocked Asian chick right into the fag, they both went down," and Dave high fives him back. He wouldn't be in this position if he didn't knock Hummel around more than anyone, didn't encourage smacking the glee club down, but he can't stop thinking about the dude. He can't show the kind of interest he feels, so this is what he's got, and the others follow, and he's reduced to high-fiving his friend over doing stupid shit to the guy Dave wants to date.

This is one piece: "David," his father says when Dave walks into the living room and drops his backpack on the couch. "How was school?"

"Okay," Dave grunts, already heading for the kitchen.

"How did that French test go? Did you get it back today?"

"It was fine, alright? I gotta head back out, told Azimio I'd meet him." He pulls out sandwich fixings.

"Oh, good. Well, have fun." Dad stands in the doorway. "What will you boys be doing?"

"Nothing. Hanging out."

"David…"

"God, Dad, give me some space, will you? I'm not doing drugs, okay, so just…" He leaves the sandwich. And he wouldn't be this angry if he hadn't done so bad in French, and he wouldn't be in this mood if he hadn't spent the drive over trying not to get a boner at the way his hand still smelled like Hummel's shampoo from the way he'd grabbed his hair and shoved him on the way out. He loves his dad, he does, it's just that Hummel's driving him insane. If he didn't have to try so hard to not think about him all the time…

And this is one piece: "The hell was that?" Hudson yells at him halfway through practice, when Franklin, whom he's meant to be guarding, races right past him.

"Got distracted," he says, sneering.

"Yeah, that and you're a dumbass," Puckerman says. Evans – fucking Evans! – smirks. Even Chang is glaring at him. Wheels is probably making a face too.

"Whatever, you homos," he says. And they wouldn't hate him if he hadn't gotten expelled over Kurt, and he wouldn't have let Franklin by if he hadn't been staring at Hudson and then tried to distract himself by picturing Hummel and then realized that he was trying to take his mind off a dude by picturing another dude.

Hummel is the root of all his problems. He knows that. Not having Hummel, specifically, is the root of all his problems.

It's his ex-girlfriend Lilah who puts says it, though, the thing that make the pieces click together. He sees on her Facebook profile that she's broken up with whatever douche she was going out with and calls her. She sobs for a half an hour and he makes sympathetic noises because that shit is boring as hell but what's important is that he make an effort so she'll feel better. At the end, just when they're saying goodbye, she sniffles and says, "You know, Dave, you were my best boyfriend."

"Yeah, tell that to the kids at my school," he says.

"Well," she says, "maybe you should date there. You always date girls from Westerville. They just never get to see your soft side at school – I've seen you around your friends, Dave, and you're kind of a dick with them. The people there would love you just as much as I do if they had a chance to see what a sweetie you are deep down."

And that's the solution, right there, to all of his problems. He needs to get back on his game, to not be so frustrated all the time, he needs Kurt to not hate him. Well. He's a good boyfriend. He'll just prove that to Kurt and everything else will fall in line. It'll be like some stupid romantic comedy only for real. They're already in the Tragic Misunderstanding part. Kurt doesn't understand what a great guy Dave is. Dave needs to date him in order to prove it. Dating someone before they like you is admittedly sort of out-of-order, but he figures he can work with this. It's not like making Hummel do things has been hard lately.

Because of this realization, these are things that happen within a month of each other:

One: "Fuckin' fag," Dave hisses on his way past Hummel in the hall. He makes sure to do it when he's coming up from behind, just to see Kurt flinch so hard his shoulders jerk. He deserves it.

Two: "Hey, babe," Dave whispers, tugging Kurt inside and closing the door behind him. "C'mere." He presses a kiss to Kurt's forehead with his eyes closed so that he misses the initial wince. No one deserves to see that.

The day before he puts his plan into action, Dave runs down in his head what he's done to Hummel lately, Hummel who's been looking strained and skinnier and paler every week. It's harder now that the guys from Homo Explosion try to mob around the little fuck, and now that Dave has a reversed expulsion on his record over just this issue, but he can be crafty when the need arises. He knows when Kurt has to be alone, and if he can't be there to say hi he can always have someone else do it. Shoves, slushies, threats, occasional dumpster tosses, and sometimes just dark looks – none of them are that big a deal. On their own. But they're wearing him down, anyone can see that. Maybe it won't even take that much.

Right after fourth period, there's no one to hang around Hummel like a body guard; all the glee kids have classes too far away, and who else would stick up for him? Dave's favorite thing to do about then is to just stare and watch him come undone. He overreacts, but it's kind of not the end of the world to have someone that affected by Dave's mere presence. It's heady. He feels shitty afterward, but beforehand all he can think about is how bad he wants it and when it's happening it just feels good, like a buzz.

Today, though, he takes it up a notch. Kurt walks out, already tense, watching for him. He glares. Kurt squares his shoulders and heads toward his locker. And Dave follows. He walks behind Hummel for a ways, watching his back stiffen and his gait go from smooth to jerky with the knowledge that Dave is there, just out of sight.

Dave lets him get almost there before he puts a hand on his shoulder and shoves him against the wall, splaying a hand on his chest.

Hummel presses back against the wall, eyes darting. "What do you want," he says, and almost sounds normal, the nervous-normal that used to be how he talked to Dave anyway. It's the glassy eyes and trembling lips that give him away.

Dave steps closer. Hummel smells like vanilla. He wants to get close enough to smell his hair, see if it's because of shampoo. God, his lips.

"I haven't told anyone," Hummel whispers. "I won't. Just… leave me alone, Karofsky. I will tell my dad you're still harassing me."

His eyes are beautiful. They're so pale, with those dark lashes. "You just shut up," Dave says. "About everything." He lets his hand drag a little when he walks away.

Yeah. This is gonna work.

Kurt folds in on himself, taking deep breaths and trying not to shake. Okay. Okay. He didn't really do anything. He never really does anything. It's fine. He's all talk.

And hands.

And oh God.

Kurt walks very slowly and deliberately toward Mr. Schue's office.

"Kurt," Mr. Schue says when he knocks on the doorframe. "What's up?" He glances at the clock and frowns. "Don't you have class?"

"Study hall."

Mr. Schue looks at his face more closely. "Whoa." He stands. "Are you – Kurt. We have to go to Figgins."

Kurt walks in and drops into one of the seats in front of Mr. Schue's desk. "Coach Sylvester couldn't get it done, and she actually likes me. I think. And she's scarier than Figgins." He takes a deep breath. "He didn't do anything. Not really."

Mr. Schue comes around to sit against his desk, putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "You can stay here as long as you need to."

"Thank you."

"But we do have to keep reporting this. He's harassing you and eventually someone's going to pay attention; we want a record for when that happens."

Kurt shrugs the shoulder that's not being held, tugging a binder out of his bag. "What were you doing before I interrupted you?"

Mr. Schue sighs but takes the hint, walking back around to his chair. "Grading some essays. You'd be surprised at how many ways kids think of to spell irregular verbs without hitting on the right way."

"In this school? Please, if it's less than ninety-nine point eight percent of the time I'll redecorate your entire house for free. Actually, regardless of the percentage –"

"Thanks, but I wouldn't want to put you out." Mr. Schue actually looks mildly alarmed.

Kurt manages a smile. "I'd even let you pick the palette."

Mr. Schue hesitates, then catches on. Grinning back, he says, "Really? Because I was thinking orange and pink."

"That's entrapment. I remember that sweater perfectly well, and I stand by it. On me. Not on your walls."

Finn leans toward the heater on the ride home and says, "So, dude. Karofsky got to you today?"

Kurt would roll his eyes if he weren't driving. As it is, he sighs heavily. "Mr. Schue is plainly not trustworthy."

"He's totally… that, that's why he told me. We can't help if you don't tell us, dude."

"You can't help if I do, Finn. Look, I… I'm grateful. I really am. You guys are all a huge help. But none of you have classes near me after fourth period. Karofsky does. There's nothing any of us can do about that."

"Dude. Give us a chance, we'll figure something out – even having one of the girls with you –"

"Oh, yes, because it's not like Karofsky or Azimio ever shoved me around when Tina was standing right next to me, or shoved her around for, apparently, being near me while wearing champagne bubbles."

"Kurt, come on, we can think of something."

Kurt scoffs, and then feels sick. He looks away and please don't let Finn have gotten that – "You shouldn't have to," he says.

They get home and Finn's looking kind of upset, which Kurt is afraid means he got the thinking crack, or what would have been a crack if he hadn't stopped himself at a nasty laugh – anyway Finn didn't offer to help anymore and he goes inside without saying anything.

Kurt drops his satchel on the couch and slides in between Carole and his dad.

"How was school, kiddo?" Burt pats his knee, eyes still on the game.

"Fine." He slumps over, head his dad's shoulder, taking Carole's hand. "I'm just worn out. Mr. Schuester thinks pink and orange are valid decorating choices."

"Pink and orange like that sweater you got?"

"That's different."

The phone rings; Finn's the first one to it, probably hoping for Rachel. "Hudson-Hummel residence, who's calling please," he says, as Kurt had drilled him to. And then he doesn't say anything for a few seconds before hanging up. Hard.

Kurt tenses. "Finn –"

"Nothing," he says.

"Oh, sweetie. Another one?" Carole beckons him over.

Burt swears and stands up to star sixty-nine it. It'll be a pay phone again.

"I think it was Azimio," Finn murmurs on his way past Kurt.

"Never mind them," Carole says, tight-lipped, putting an arm around each of the boys. "They're proving their own idiocy, is all."

They're proving they can get to us, Kurt thinks, moving closer to her. Whenever they want to.

"Karofsky put him up to it, you know," Finn says later when Kurt tries to get past his room to brush his teeth.

"Put him up to it? Suggested it at some point, maybe. They're both ridiculous, juvenile homophobes. Nobody needs to put them up to anything."

"I'm just saying. This is all down to Karofsky. You've got to let us help and not be a dick about it."

"..I know. I'm sorry. I just… Finn, you know how bad you feel when you can't protect me? Think about how it feels for me not to be able to protect myself. I don't want to need help in the first place."

"The President," Finn blurts.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The President of the U.S. has bodyguards. Having protection isn't about not being strong, it's about playing your strengths."

Kurt stares, slack-jawed. "Wow, Finn."

"Rachel helped me put it into words," he admits.

Kurt dives forward into a hug. "You're pretty amazing, Finn Hudson."

Finn is amazing. But he's seventeen and he's not all-powerful, and he's not actually part of a crack security team, and he's not a licensed psychologist. He can make Kurt feel safer, but not all the time. He can make Kurt feel better about life in general, but only for a few seconds running.

And not when he's being kidnapped.

Karofsky didn't just give him the evil eye this time. He'd grabbed the collar of his shirt, shoved him into an empty classroom, and closed the door behind them.

This fact is still catching up with him. He knows better than to expect help from random passers-by in McKinley by now, but surely someone saw that, any second now they'll open the door, this cannot be happening.

"People saw you," he says out loud, edging away from the other boy. "People saw – they know we're alone –"

"Chill, Hummel. I just want to talk to you."

"Normal people don't accost others at random in order to have civil conversations, so forgive me if I find that very difficult to believe."

"Screw you," Karofsky spits, and then stops. He takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders and… relaxes. His entire stance goes from threatening and predatory to open.

This flips Kurt out more.

Kurt keeps backing up, getting the teacher's desk between them.

"Hummel. You want the bullying to stop, right? Locker slams, regular phone calls, slushies, all that? I can do that. I mean, not one hundred percent, but I can make a big difference."

Kurt counts to ten in his head. Nothing that just happened makes sense, even when he's done. "Can we please discuss this somewhere else? This is not normal, Karofsky, you can't keep doing things like this."

"Answer the question."

"Yes. Please can I go."

"I'll do it. I can call it off. I just want you to do something, too."

"Karofsky – okay. Just… stand farther away from me." To his surprise, Karofsky does back off a few steps. And he wasn't that close to begin with. But he's still, oh God, between Kurt and the door. "What did you want me to do."

Karofsky sits down at one of the student desks. "I can't come out. About, you know. But I want a – I want to date. I'll trade you: full weeks of no harassment, Sunday nights as my date."

"Sunday. Sunday nights – me. Your date – what do you mean date?"

"You know." Karofsky flushes and looks like he's working to spit something out. "Boyfriend. Okay? I want you to be my boyfriend. One night a week."

"…I, no. I'm not – I've never – God, just… go to Columbus and hire a –"

"That's not what I meant, Hummel, and you know it."

No, actually he doesn't. "Then what, what do you, what do you mean?"

"Real dates. Dinner and movies. A real boyfriend. We can, you know, we can go as slow as you want. That's not what this is about." He stands back up. "I'm a good boyfriend. Facebook-stalk me, you'll see. It's just always with girls, and I want… something real."

"Someone you've blackmailed and intimidated into playing house once a week," Kurt says faintly. "I… please don't get angry. I can't. I literally cannot do that. Look at me, Karofsky, I'm shaking just being in a room alone with you."

"That's just because I'm kind of an ass around you. I'm nice as a boyfriend."

Kurt shakes his head mutely. "You… no. I can't. And it wouldn't be fair to either of us. I am not going to start my romantic life with a psychopathic bully, and I'm not going to – to help you start yours with someone you don't even like. Can I please go now." He realizes he's crying and wipes his cheeks.

"Sure." Karofsky shrugs and stands up. "I'm gonna keep asking, though, Hummel. Give you time to get used to the idea. You check Facebook." He walks out.

Kurt backs up until he hits a wall and slides down it, hugging his knees to his chest.

He does, out of morbid fascination and a gut-deep fear that Karofsky will know if he doesn't, check Karofsky's Facebook. He has three exes, all from Westerville, all moderately pretty girls. One of them graduated last year, one the year before that. He keeps in obvious contact with all of them, and they all seem to like him and have fond memories and not to have noticed that he keeps picking girls who'll only be around for a year.

Kurt erases his history before closing the window.

"Hey Hudson," Kurt hears Azimio holler from down the hallway. "Pass this on to your boyfriend for me!" There is riotous laughter from his and his cronies and they swan away. Finn's tall enough that, even from down here, Kurt can see the slushy dripping from his face.

Sam rushes over and gestures to a bathroom, putting a hand on Finn's shoulder. Finn shrugs it off on his way in. Sam sighs but follows him.

Kurt flees.

That night, after Finn was testy in class and glee, on the outs with Sam, and short with everyone at dinner; and after Rachel was so worried about both of them that she almost let Tina have a solo without a fight; and after Dad was silent at dinner and kept glaring at the phone; and after a huge hockey player whose name Kurt doesn't even know tries to lock him in a janitor's closet, Kurt messages Karofsky on Facebook.

If, hypothetically – purely hypothetically – I were to agree to your insane and degrading plan, would you make them lay off Finn and the phone calls as well as getting them to leave me alone?

He gets a response a half an hour later, and finally reads it three nerve-wracking hours after that.

Yeah, no prob. I mean don't expect it all to just magically disappear, I'm one dude. But I can make it go down for sure. There are no threats. He doesn't bring up the deal.

Kurt has horrible dreams that night. But he's been having those for months anyway.

He's started throwing up in the morning before school. The only reason he walks through those doors every morning is because he knows that if he lets himself off once, it won't stop. And he needs this education, needs these grades. He needs to get out. He has a year and a half left, and then he'll be gone. He can do a year and a half.

But he's tired of it. The throwing up and the fear, the headaches and bruises and irritation, the worry for his father and Finn and Carole, texting Blaine eighteen times a day just to make it through. He can do it, but if he doesn't have to…

Karofsky only pushes him once that day, and uses the opportunity to lean in close and ask if he's changed his mind. Kurt's been thinking about it but when it comes down to it, he can only mutely shake his head and hope Karofsky leaves him alone. He gets slushied three times, which is kind of a record for one day. Finn knows about two of them and gets upset.

His dad and Carole seem happier today, though. No phone calls, he guesses. He could give them this more, almost all the time. How often were the calls before Karofsky zeroed in on him? Bi-monthly, if that, probably. He could have that back.

The next morning, he messages Karofsky again. Let's talk, he says.

There's no response before he has to log off to get to school, and he starts to hope that it didn't go through, or Karofsky didn't get it and won't see it until he gets back and Kurt won't have to deal with it until tomorrow. Instead, Karofsky is there after fourth period like always. He heads into the empty math classroom with a jerk of his head at Kurt.

Kurt swallows hard and follows him in. Follows Karofsky. Into an empty room. Where they'll be alone. Oh shit, he thinks, over and over. Oh shit.

"Changed your mind?" Karofsky says. He sounds hopeful, and he looks non-threatening.

"No. Not… absolutely. I wanted to further discuss your expectations of what would happen if I did change my mind."

Karofsky narrows his eyes. "I didn't come in here to get jerked around by you, Hummel."

"I didn't come in here to jerk you around. I want to know… what you want. Exactly. I'm not going to agree to this without knowing what it is I'm getting into."

"I told you. To date someone that I actually – look, it's not like you're gonna find anyone else in this school either, so don't pretend like you're so much better."

Kurt shakes his head. "This is precisely why we need to talk first, to avoid misunderstandings that could end in you rearranging my face. I'm not trying to taunt you into saying something you don't want to, or make you feel inferior. I am asking what 'dating' even means for you. I've never done it, so I have no base for expectations here, and I have no idea at all what yours is. I'm asking you to explain it to me. That's all."

Karofsky stares at him suspiciously. "Okay."

"Okay. Then…?"

"My parents have date night every Sunday. You come over and I'll have stuff, like I said, movies and dinner and stuff. I'm not cheap, I'd take you out, but someone would see us. I mean, if you want, we could go a few towns over or something – maybe we'll do that. Do homework, hang out. Couple stuff, man, whatever. If you wanna do other things, we can."

Kurt pulls a chair out from behind a desk and sits down. "Okay," he breathes. "Wow. Okay. What about… physical intimacy?"

"Yeah, that too."

"I'm asking for detail. You said before – you said we could go slowly."

Karofsky shrugs, expression doing funny things and settling on discomfort. "If you want. Like as slow as you'd take it with a boyfriend. And I know I kind of… I know you have to get used to me."

Kurt laughs and makes a physical effort not to let it turn into a sob. "We need to talk specifics, here. I don't want you to get pissed off and start shoving me into lockers again in a month because you thought slow meant waiting two weeks before we get to third base."

Karofsky frowns. "What, I'm supposed to give you deadlines?"

"Ballpark figures of what you think is acceptable in a relationship. When you'd start to get impatient."

"I don't get impatient about that stuff."

"Karofsky. You've never dated anyone you were actually compatible with, and you got impatient enough to grab my face and kiss me weeks ago. Don't you think this might be different?"

"Oh." Karofsky screws up his face. "I guess. Jesus, Hummel."

"I suggest that we outline our mutual expectations in writing, so that we have something to refer back to should disagreements arise."

"Does this mean you're saying yes?"

Kurt looks down. "If we can agree on everything. Yes."

Karofsky steps over. Kurt jerks slightly in his seat, but Karofsky just drops into the one next to him. "Cool. You got paper?"

Kurt pulls a pen and notebook out of his bag and sets up. "Sundays at your house. I assume we do both have the option to cancel a given Sunday – if your parents decide to stay home, for example, or my dad makes family plans."

"I guess." Karofsky frowns. "Not a lot, though, Hummel. No fast ones."

"You're going to have to trust me for this to work, Karofsky. Mutual trust, actually. I have to trust you not to kill me once you get me in an isolated house, you have to trust me not to cancel on you because there's a Vampire Diaries marathon. We'll deal." He waits for Karofsky to nod before continuing. "Activities will include but not be limited to dinner and movies… When do your parents get home?"

"Eleven, maybe twelve."

Kurt shakes his head. "My curfew is ten o'clock on school nights. When do they leave?"

"Like three in the afternoon." When Kurt stares, Karofsky elaborates, "They go to late mass and then out to dinner and a show or something."

"Alright then. I'll come over at… seven?"

"Six," Karofsky counters. "It's a half an hour between our houses. You're gonna have to leave at nine-thirty."

"Six," Kurt agrees, and doesn't ask how he knows the distance between their houses. "I don't think I can have sex with you."

"What?"

"You physically frighten me, Karofsky. I don't think I could do it. I'd flip out. I'll do… I'll do other things, but not that. I wasn't planning on sex before college anyway."

"You're scared of me now," Karofsky objects. "You won't be once you've spent some time with me, Hummel. Not even you can be that much of a girl."

Kurt glares. "No sex."

"…Unless you stop being scared," Karofsky insists.

"Fine." Not happening.

"I want to get up to blow jobs and shit, though. Like, you know..." He makes an obscene gesture.

"Dry humping?" Kurt says, wincing.

"Yeah."

"Acceptable." He makes a loose list of sexual stages – kissing, making out, cuddling, frotting, hand jobs, blow jobs, dry-humping – and says, "Give me two or three weeks between each one, alright?" That gives him two to four months before he's blowing Dave Karofsky. Oh God.

"Sure. Put cuddling before making out, though, Hummel. You got a weird sense of sexual progression."

"My mistake." It's more intimate, though.

"You've got to be nice, too."

"Excuse me? I have to be nice? I'm not the one who pushes you around all day!"

"Yeah, well, you can't insult me. I want a boyfriend, not a bitch who happens to have to make out with me. I want you to, you know, be like you would with a boyfriend. Make it real."

Kurt bites his lip and nods. He notes it down. Acting practice, he tells himself. You're going to have a long and healthy career and you will win an Oscar with this kind of practice. "Speaking of being nice," he says, "the same goes for you. No slurs, no calling me a girl, and no hitting. The next time you touch me with intent to cause pain, this is off, Karofsky. I am serious. Not even in school to impress your friends."

"Yeah," Karofsky says sullenly. "I wouldn't, okay? God."

"Okay. Just one more thing, then: I keep veto power. If I ask you to stop something, you do. Naturally I'll return the favor, but of the two of us…" he gestures between them. He's almost as tall as Karofsky now, but other than that… only one of them is in danger of being overpowered, and it's not Karofsky. "Don't assume I'm being a bitch for no reason. Just stop and we'll talk it out."

Karofsky nods, face set and unhappy. Kurt sighs and adds this to the list. "Alright. Unless you can think of anything else…"

"No."

"Then I'll see you at six on Sunday, provided you keep your word about the bullying – and the protection extending to Finn."

Karofsky nods again, jerkily, and stands up. Kurt looks down and busies himself putting the paper away, tidying his bag for whatever of study hall he has left, and pretends he doesn't notice that Karofsky is still standing there. Finally he's forced to stand himself, and says, "Yes?"

Karofsky puts a hand out, and Kurt flinches automatically. Karofsky stops, glaring, oddly awkward, and Kurt forces an apologetic smile. He reaches over and takes Karofsky's hand, holding tightly enough to hide some of the shaking. Everything in his experience has taught him that taking this boy's hand is going to lead to pain. And he's right, just not in the way he would have been a few months ago.

Karofsky smiles back, sweet and boyish, and leans in slowly. His lips barely touch Kurt's. "See you Sunday, babe," he says. He squeezes Kurt's hand, then lets go and leaves the room.

Kurt realizes that was his second kiss. His first time holding hands with a boy who wants him. He realizes all his kisses, maybe for the rest of high school, are going to Karofsky, along with so many of his firsts. He pictures Blaine and it's like a fist to his gut. He realizes then, in a rush, that he's done the wrong thing, not just something stupid but necessary, but really wrong. Because he can't tell Blaine about this. He's going to have to lie to Blaine. He's shut himself out with no support system again and if what he's done is so bad that he can't even tell Blaine, then… it's wrong. It was a mistake.

And he's already too terrified to take it back.

Dave hadn't expected this – he wants to take it back. On some level, he'd thought it wouldn't work. It doesn't sound sane, and Kurt's always been very… sane. Well, except for his clothes. He likes his plan, he thinks it'll work, but he hadn't thought Kurt would.

But no, he must have believed it would work, or he wouldn't have humiliated himself like that. Be my boyfriend. What kind of pansy-ass crap is that. He wouldn't have done that without some kind of… Well, of course Kurt was going to say yes. Where else was he going to get a boyfriend? That Ladyboy from the private school? Yes. No way. Pathetic. So this is cool, it's great. Only… only.

He's never had to do this before. He's panicking a little. He's planned dates, he's good at dates, but for… people. Girlfriends. This is Kurt. This has to be really fucking great. …But he doesn't really know what Kurt likes.

He messages Kurt on Facebook as soon as he gets home to ask what kind of foods he can eat; he's pretty damn sure the dude diets. Kurt mentioned that whacky-ass Vampire Diaries show, so he goes in his sister's room (she's in college, but half her stuff is always home) and ransacks her DVD collection. She has all that CW-type crap. He finds season one on DVD under a pile of DVDs with two dudes on them over and over. He considers himself a genius until he realizes he wants to light candles but that it would be completely gay. Or maybe Kurt would be into it, maybe that's the kind of thing Kurt just expects on a date. Maybe if he shows and there are no candles he'll think Dave is a moron. He could finally have Kurt Hummel sitting on his couch, right next to him, and he'd be there thinking about what a crappy date Dave had set up.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Four days seems like a long time until it's over, Kurt discovers. He's convinced himself he has forever until Sunday, but then it is Sunday. Then he convinces himself he has forever until it's five-thirty, right up until it's five-twenty and he has yet to tell his dad that he's spending the evening elsewhere.

"Dad?" He hovers behind the couch, already pulling his coat on. "I'm going out with Blaine, okay? I'll be back by ten."

"Oh, yeah?" Burt turns and sees the coat. "You leaving now?"

"I… yeah, I just forgot."

His dad grunts. "What're you boys doing tonight?"

"Dinner and a movie." He mimes a wince. "In Westerville. I'll have my phone on."

"Text me after dinner. Don't like it, don't pull this last-minute stuff on a school night."

"Okay. Don't eat any salt!" He pats his dad's shoulder and dashes off before Finn or Carole catch wind of this, because if he doesn't actually lie to their faces then… something.

He's five minutes early, and checks three times to be sure he has the right address. It's a big house, a nice one. And it is a little bit isolated; it has a big yard and a long driveway. That's not really what has him checking; he just doesn't want to pull in.

He's thirty seconds late when he knocks on the door. Karofsky opens it almost instantly, and ushers him in hurriedly, either because he doesn't want any neighbors who can see through the bushes to catch him hanging with the local gay kid or because he wants to get right to Kurt's gruesome death. The fact that he locks the door behind Kurt doesn't do a lot for Kurt's confidence.

"Hey," Karofsky says, though, when this is done, grinning like everything's normal. "So I ended up ordering sushi, because the stuff you can eat is kind of weird, and I didn't want to screw up making anything. Hope that's okay."

"You cook?"

"Yeah, when I can read the list of ingredients. Your shit'll take some getting used to." He frowns faintly, reaching for Kurt's coat. "This stays between us."

"I think I can manage not to let it slip." He hands it over, and clenches his fingers together to hide the shaking. "Maybe we could cook together for one of these. Dates. It might be easier to get used to 'my shit' with some guidance." There's an actual coat rack in the Karofsky hallway, upon which Kurt's coat is now hanging. This is distracting.

"Sure," Karofsky says, brightening. He looks so… hopeful, relieved, that Kurt actually starts to calm down a little. Someone that into having a normal date in the future is not going to drug and kill him on this one. Hopefully. "Come on in the living room, I have it set up there."

"Oh, delightful." Kurt follows him, wondering vaguely where he ordered sushi from. There aren't really any standout restaurants for raw fish in town.

"I thought we could have a Vampire Diaries marathon," Karofsky says, and Kurt realizes, deep down, that they have a problem.

But for right then, things are fine. The "date" is nice, as far as fake dates with terrifying homophobic bullies go, at least in Kurt's opinion. There's sealed, bottled water and he risks it with the sushi but does not end up passing out. Karofsky doesn't mind Kurt texting his dad. He puts an arm along the back of the couch, and Kurt is uncomfortably aware of its proximity to his neck, but he doesn't actually touch him. Until it's time for him to go.

They haven't spoken much all evening, and when they have it's generally been about the show, which Karofsky plainly does not appreciate as an artistic vehicle but is making an effort to understand. The terror and awkwardness have worn off a little, though, by the time Kurt's letting Karofsky help him into his coat, and thinking that if he can make it through one he can make it through a few more. Then Karofsky's hand lingers on his lapel, and it's so huge, and Kurt can't…

Karofsky starts to lean in, and Kurt can feel that finger on his chest, those hands on his face, those lips on his, the helplessness of it. He jerks back.

Karofsky backs off, but frowns, hurt and not quite glaring yet but it's close.

"Sorry," Kurt says breathlessly. "Okay. Sorry." He forces a smile and takes both Karofsky's hands in his, swinging them a little before tilting his face up. Karofsky hesitates, but leans in again.

It's not a peck this time. It's not a violent assault that happens to take place on his mouth, like in the locker room, either, and Karofsky doesn't try to get his hands away, which Kurt latches onto as an assurance that everything is fine. It goes on for a while and Kurt doesn't really know how to kiss all that well, Brittany and Karofsky had always done all the work, but he does try to kiss back. He tries not to back off, either, but he still ends up pressed against the wall because he just can't push as hard. It's wet and tastes odd, like… tongue. And sushi.

Kurt had always thought he'd like kissing boys.

When Karofsky's done, Kurt holds his hands tighter to keep him there and drops his forehead against the other boy's shoulder for a second, blinking fast. Improvise. He can do this. He sniffs once and the tears are subdued. He straightens and lets go. Karofsky backs off.

"Well," Kurt says brightly. "Thank you for the lovely evening."

Karofsky smiles. "Sure. See you Sunday."

Dave isn't sure if he's more pleased with himself or pissed at Kurt.

He did it, finally. He just got a date with Kurt Hummel. And it went well, and it was a lovely evening and everything is going according to plan. Except what was that.

He's never had a problem giving girlfriends their space. And since he's been a little bit paranoid maybe about them picking up on how he's not into boobs, he's gotten good at reading signals, like when they actually want to kiss you and will think you're a total fag if you don't and when they just sort of feel like they should offer and when they're going to bite your head off for trying even though you have to prove your stuff in front of your boys.

But with Kurt, he doesn't know. He wasn't paying attention. He could only concentrate on two things: getting as much out of that kiss as possible, and not taking his hands out of Kurt's and grabbing the dude because that was good and he wanted so much more and he wanted it now. It wasn't even like it was a spectacular kiss, Kurt was kind of a sucky kisser, but just having his mouth on Kurt's – that was – that was good. And then that little drop onto his shoulder when all Karofsky wanted was to be able to step away before he ruined their next date and it was so fucking cute and it makes him such a pansy that he thinks that. But he's already worried about dinner for next time.

Kurt thought, when Karofsky said it, that he was experiencing a psychotic break, because yeah, Kurt would see him next Sunday – but also every other day of the week until then, including Monday.

It had turned out that Karofsky wasn't wrong in his phrasing, really. When he wasn't seeking Kurt out to torment him, they barely saw each other outside of French class. If Kurt's body weren't hardwired to flinch away from letterman's jackets in the halls, he would never have noticed the boy.

And it's working. The whole thing is working.

On Thursday, Finn pulls Kurt aside after glee and says seriously, "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Wh-what? No? Did you have some specific secret of mine in mind, something of which you need urgently to be made aware?"

"It's just, I haven't been slushied more than like twice this week. And Sam hasn't gotten it at all. We were afraid they were just… switching back to paying more attention to you."

"Oh," Kurt says hollowly, and then smiles. "Well, no. Rest assured, I've had a remarkably easy time of it. I think Donahue's the only one who's done anything all week. Maybe Killroy. I – I think they're finally moving on. I mean, it's early to get too hopeful, but maybe they finally realized that you, Sam, Mike, Artie and Puck all together – it's not worth it, right? Maybe you beat them back."

Finn brightens. "Yeah, maybe – uh, unless they're planning something worse for all of us."

"We'll be ready for them," Kurt says.