Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. Surprised? No? Good.

WARNING: This chapter contains spoilers for the episode Born This Way. Do not read any further if you haven't seen the episode yet! You have been amply warned.

Note: No shout-out this chapter. Sorry, guys, but this chapter became too damn important and personal to me, lol. Born This Way was beautiful (too many people didn't like the Barbara Streisand dance scene, I thought it was epic), and I wanted to reflect the episode as well as possible in this chapter. Also, no dream sequences this chapter. :*(

READ & REVIEW ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:

RoseBelikov'at'Nyx(dot)Vamp – I love long reviews like this. I practically thrive on them, lol. Most important to me (or rather, most impacting to my ego) are comments on my characterization of the, well, characters. I try my hardest to keep them in character, no matter how badly I want to just have these two ravage each other, lol.

BattleAngel – You commented on chapter 5, in my chapter 6, but that's not why I'm individualizing this, lol. Actually, I found it hysterical when you were mentioning "Oral Intensity" and "Nude Erections", because I didn't actually notice either until season 2. And yes, that included the Nude Erections joke, it took me a whole season to get it. xD

Nini the Electrocuted Sheep, The Raisin Girl, Vellophone, LizzyPoodle, Lynn-at-home, Black-Luna, Ella Greggs, M, and KurtofskyoverKlaine (best screen name ever xD) – Thank you all so much for reading an reviewing! I love you all, and please continue to do so!

Chapter 7

It had been days since Dave had last been plagued by the annoying yet coy subconscious that seemed determined to forever torment his confused sexuality. He felt it should have been a relief. However, he felt oddly… disappointed by it. He kept thinking about the last thing Dream-Kurt had told him. "Don't fight it this week… he's at the end of his rope… you deserve to be happy…" Even while awake his voice seemed to haunt him. What did it mean?

He had tried to force the dream-boy to appear. Several times, he concentrated and willed his dream to manifest into the form of the young singer. But every time all he could summon was his haunting chuckle. The dream-clock even seemed to miss Dream-Kurt, running sluggishly slow and almost completely unresponsive, oft times simply flashing "TT:TT".

But now Dave was awake, walking down the halls covered in images of Quinn Fabray and Finn with crowns. What a joke. The football player wasn't anywhere near interested in prom, being as he obviously couldn't go with the one he really wanted to. And besides, Quinn wasn't a Cheerio anymore, meaning she didn't have the weight or pull to pull off something like-

Damn, Evans had a nice ass.

…what was he thinking about? Oh, right, Quinn, Prom Queen. Like he thought before, total joke.

()()()()()

"No way… no way…!"

Blaine sat on the couch in the common room, reading up on European history and watching his boyfriend pace around the room on his phone.

"Oh, that is just not fair! No no no, hold that thought! I want you to tell me the whole mess in person! …yeah, we'll meet you there, I'm so… ugh, okay! See you!"

As Kurt hung up and sighed, gazing at the ceiling with one of his already Dalton famous 'why me' drama queen looks, Blaine finally spoke up. "What's going on?"

The fashionable teen made a half-groaning, half-distressed sound and walked over to the couch, flopping down next to him with a pout. "They're doing Gaga!" he all but whined.

"Really? That's pretty cool, I mean, everyone loves Lady Gaga."

"Don't you get it?" Kurt's pout turned on his boyfriend. "They're doing it without me!"

"Aww, come on, baby," Blaine smiled, reaching an arm around his beau and pulling him in. "We can do Gaga here. You name the song, and we'll warble it as loud as you want."

Kurt forced a grateful look, but it wasn't very convincing. "That's sweet, Blaine, and I really appreciate it, but… it's just not the same. Last time we did Gaga it was just me and the girls."

"I think they'll draw the line at wearing dresses."

"Exactly! We got to dress up for ours, it was fantastic! I don't know, Dalton just isn't as… open about doing things theatrical and spectacular like that. We're not even allowed to perform outside the school without our uniforms."

"Okay, okay," the Dalton boy nodded patiently. "Then what do you want?"

Kurt looked at him and then away. What he wanted was something Blaine just couldn't give him. He wanted to be back at McKinley, with his friends and his old glee club. If it wasn't for the fact that Karofsky scared him so much he'd go back in a heartbeat, but he couldn't tell his boyfriend that. It'd break his heart to know that Kurt would do it without a second thought, and it was horribly selfish in itself to be so unconcerned with how it would affect his new friends at Dalton Academy. But he wanted so much to return to what it was before, and the nightmares…

The nightmares kept coming back, that headless Dalton student tormenting him, they almost scared him more than Karofsky did. He didn't know what to do to make them stop. The worst part was knowing who that voice was, though. It couldn't be Karofsky, it just couldn't. What in the world would that mean? Having Karofsky as the hero in his dreams was like having Blaine as the villain, farfetched and almost comical if it weren't so unnervingly frightening a concept.

"Baby?"

Kurt snapped out of his thoughts and looked back up at him. After a moment, he smiled. "Right now? I want to meet Santana and the girls. They promised they'd spill on everything that's going on."

Blaine nodded and kissed him reassuringly on the temple before they disentangled themselves and stood up. He knew what Kurt wanted, and he wished so badly he could make it safe at McKinley for him. But it seemed an impossible task, and as long as Kurt was there at Dalton he'd make him happy whenever he could. After all, they had all the time in the world together there.

()()()()()

"I know you're gay."

That sentence had nearly made Dave's heart stop right there as he was sitting at the table with the girl who not a week ago had been threatening bodily harm upon him. At first he tried denial, but it didn't take long before she fully convinced him of how sure she was. The worst part, though, was the fact that she was now blackmailing him.

"Okay, so here's the plan. First, we're going to deal with the others in the club."

Dave snorted. "Yeah, this is going to go over well. What do you want me to say? 'I'm sorry I slushied you all and caused your faerie to fly away'?"

Santana seemed to actually ponder this. "Actually, yeah. But I'd avoid the use of 'faerie', we're trying to lean away from homophobia, remember?"

"This is stupid, they'll never believe me," the football player muttered, taking a gulp of his soda. If it wasn't for the fact that she had the 'I'm gonna tell everyone in the school you're a gaybo and you'll never have another friend here again' thing, he'd tell her 'forget it' right then and there. But for now, she was holding the reigns. Didn't mean he had to like it, though. Or her, for that matter.

"So we have to do something to convince them," Santana said in her best 'duh' voice. "Due to your track record, though, it has to be something daring. Something superb. Something they'd never see coming."

"Like what? An anti-bullying league?"

Santana sat up straighter, breaking out into one of her most manipulative and conniving grins. "That's a perfect idea!"

Dave almost snorted coke up his nose. "Dude, I was joking!"

"First of all, don't call me 'dude'. And secondly, I don't care if it was a joke, it was brilliant. And, as an added bonus, if this works out we'll have the votes of all the losers who get bullied constantly for sure."

The hockey player groaned, almost slamming his head against the desk. "This is so stupid."

"Did I mention what the next part of the plan is yet?"

"Do I really care?"

"You do if you don't want me spouting your dirty little secret everywhere," the Latina said matter-of-factly. She leaned forward and lowered her voice, smirking. "You are going to apologize to Kurt."

"What?" Dave restrained from jumping out of his seat.

"Come on, I'm doing this so we can get him back, and this is our only chance! You don't have to mean it, just make him think you mean it!"

"No! I'm not apologizing to Hummel, that's where I'm drawing the line!"

"Do you want this to work or not? We don't get Kurt back, we're gonna get owned at Nationals!"

"I don't care about your stupid singing contest, I agreed to help you win prom queen! Do you really think bringing Ms. Lady-Face back is going to give you a winning shot?"

"Either you help me with this, or the entire school will be learning how much you love Broadway!"

"I don't even like Broadway!"

"You're missing the point!"

It was the Bully versus the Bitch in a no-holds-barred glaring contest.

Dave was faced with the same problem as back when they won that Championship Game. Face Kurt after everything he'd done to him? Admit that he was wrong? Sure, he knew what he did was wrong, and he did regret it. But above all else, he didn't want to see Kurt look at him like that again. Like when he'd seen them last week at their fundraiser concert. Defiant and spiteful and glary and pouty and…

And he forgot why he didn't want to see him again for a moment. Kurt, despite the hateful glare, had looked gorgeous and perfect as ever. The only thing that had really been wrong with that picture was the growth that had attached itself to him. Blaine. He had to give it to the other boy, he had balls. Not a lot of guys half his size had the courage to shove him. Oh, how he'd been looking forward to pounding his face in. Kurt would have hated him even more, but oh how satisfying that would have been.

But he didn't. He was tempted but deep inside he was glad Santana had stepped in to stop the fight. He couldn't stand it for Kurt to be even more afraid of him.

Dave finally broke eye-contact. "Fine. I'll apologize to Hummel," he muttered.

Santana smiled in satisfaction. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it? Now, let's go over what you're going to be saying to the club…"

()()()()()

Kurt hadn't meant for it to come out how it did. He was all for many types of manipulation, most of which he'd done in his first year and a half in the glee club to try and get closer to Finn. However, blackmail was something he simply never advocated. Now, however, he had done it. He threatened to out Karofsky if he didn't help him start a chapter of PFFLAG, right after having said he didn't believe in outing. So he sounded like a hypocrite too. Perfect.

But that wasn't what was on his mind now. All he could think of now was the fact that he was back. He was back. His goodbye with Blaine was bittersweet, and his welcome back to New Directions was met with standing ovation. But now… now he had work to do.

"Kurt!"

Said boy paused on his stride down the hall, refamiliarizing himself with the winding ways of McKinley High School. He turned to the voice, confused. "Puck?"

The former delinquent caught up with him, pulling him to the side of the busy hallway. "Hey, Kurt, it's great that you're back, because I'm gonna need your help."

Kurt stared at him a moment. "Really? I'm not really surprised as this Rachel thing has gotten quite out of hand, but I was thinking I'd probably have to do this myself after your attempt being as you've said maybe three sentences since we've known each other. Two of those had to do with involuntary dumpster diving, and the third was asking what perfume I use because you were going on a date and wanted to pick something 'feminine and chic' to give her as a present. While the last one was admittedly flattering, I'm still a bit sore about the whole being thrown in the trash thing."

"Hey, I've said I'm sorry about that, but… wait," Puck stopped a moment, scrunching his eyebrows together. "How'd you know I was going to ask about Rachel?"

"Please, your crusade to preserve her perfectly Jewish nose isn't exactly a secret, and it's all anyone's been talking about. Well, besides my return, of course, but as soon as the luster of that has passed I'm quite sure Rachel's nose job will still be the dew upon everyone's lips."

"Great, because I have the sneaky suspicion I'm not going to be able to do this on my own."

"Please," Kurt rolled his eyes, playing with one of the keys adorning his neck. "You have all the charm of that which you are: a heterosexual, sex-crazed jock. And I mean that in the best possible way."

"Which is why I need your help," Puck didn't even stop to consider the fact that he was probably just insulted. "We're running out of time for her appointment, and if she loses that hot Jew-nose I'm never going to forgive myself."

"Alright, calm down, Romeo," Kurt sighed, signaling for Puck to follow his saunter down the hall. "Tell me your plan."

Puck followed, explaining. "Well, I'm bringing her to the mall so I can convince her to not get the nose job."

"…And? How are you planning to do that?"

"Well, I didn't really think that far," the older teen admitted sheepishly. "I guess I could show her some hot Jews that didn't change their noses. You know, lead by example or some shit like that."

The other boy shook his head. "Please, this is Rachel. You have the right idea, wrong example. There's only one person that'll convince her."

"Who?"

"Barbara! Don't you pay attention?"

"You really expect me to remember every star mentioned since this club started? I think I'd get a nosebleed if I just tried."

"Forget it. Look, just get her there. Play this song." Kurt reached into his bag and pulled out a CD. "I'll do the rest."

"Wait, you were carrying this song around with you?"

"I'm a performer, and I was going to use this in my talk with her. If you're going to ask for my help, then I'll lend it to you."

Puck slapped him on the back, grinning. "Sweet, thanks, Kurt. What did we ever do without you?"

Kurt smiled and began walking away, satisfied. "Flailed. But don't worry, I'm here to set things straight again."

()()()()()

Dave sat down across from Santana at one of the tables on the outside campus of the school. She was wearing a shirt that read BITCH in large letters, but was staring at another one under her. "Well, that couldn't suit you any better if you tried."

"Shut it, Karofsky," she snapped, making a face at him.

"Ow, someone is a little tender today," he mocked. "What crawled up your size 3s?"

"I'm a size 2, you ass. And for your information, nothing has. Like the shirt says, I was born this way."

"Whatever," Dave muttered, rolling his eyes to the sky. "Anyway, shouldn't you be rehearsing that stupid dance number with your club?"

"It's not stupid, and no. I'm not dancing with them."

"Why not?"

Santana opened her mouth, likely to say something rude, but then closed it. She picked the shirt in front of her up. "Because Brittany would hate me if I didn't dance with her wearing this." Across the shirt was the word LEBANESE.

"…I thought you were Latina."

"I am. It's supposed to say…" the former Cheerio lowered her voice, "…lesbian."

Dave looked at her, then back at the shirt, then back at her. "Wow, she really is stupid, isn't she?"

"That's what the experts say."

After a moment, the football player came to a realization. "You're in love with her."

"Shhh!" Santana hit him with the shirt. "Not so loud, stupid!"

"You're not denying it. So you won't dance with them because you don't want everyone knowing you're…" he stifled a laugh, "…Lebanese?"

"It's not funny!"

"It's hilarious."

"Like you're one to talk. Why don't we just get you a big ol' shirt that says HOMO?"

"Shut up!"

"You started it!"

"Fine, I won't say anything else about it. But it's not right. You shouldn't be leading her on like that."

"Oh, like you're one to talk! When are you going to tell Kurt you probably fantasize about him in the shower?"

"I swear to God, I will sock you, I don't care if you're a girl."

"I'd like to see you try."

"And besides, that's different. She's a girl. You just… can't do that to a girl. It's wrong."

"If you haven't noticed, I'm a girl too. Yet you don't seem too inclined on being a gentleman with me."

"That's because you're less a girl and more a bobcat with makeup."

"That I actually take as a compliment."

"Good, that was actually meant to be one."

"Okay, look, Karofsky. If you want to be all closet-case, that's your biz. It's not my place to go screamin' it to the heavens until you cross me or I find you no longer of any use to me. But I want to get on thing straight, alright? Kurt's our best chance at winning Nationals. He's a way better singer than the beanpole, no matter what she thinks. So you do anything to upset him or disrupt whatever Zen he has to achieve to kick Vocal Adrenaline's asses, and CSI won't be able to put your pieces back together."

()()()()()

"Man, that was so cool!"

"And you look fabulous in that shirt."

"Thank you, I know." Mercedes struck a pose as they headed down the hall after hours. The only students left besides the leaving New Directions were other club members.

Kurt grinned. "Only you would emphasize yours with an exclamation point. Loud and proud, girl."

"Always," the dark skinned girl grinned back, elbowing him and searching through her bag, then jacket and jean pockets. "Ah, damn. I think I dropped my phone. I'm gonna go back and look for it."

"Sure, I'll meet you outside," Kurt nodded, winking at her as she left.

Things were going great. He was finally back in New Directions, in his old school with his closest friends, and he hadn't had one of those nightmares since he came back. Best of all, ever since his conversation in the principal's office, he had yet to run into…

"Whoa!"

Kurt and Karofsky both came to a dead stop as they rounded the same corner going opposite ways. For a moment they simply stood there, staring at each other, as if they had each came through the walls like wandering spirits.

"Karofsky," Kurt finally managed, regaining his composure. "Enjoy the show?" He decided that if the football player was going to play nice for the sake of his cover, then he'd be civil back.

The older boy cleared his throat, finally finding his voice. "Yeah. It was… cool."

The fashionisto nodded, deciding that was enough awkward conversation to last them the rest of the school year, and moved to go around him.

Dave could have punched himself, he felt so stupid. It was cool? Really? That was all? No, that wasn't going to be all. "You deserve to be happy." Dream-Kurt was right. He had to go for it, say something. Anything. That other gay kid wasn't anywhere around to ruin this moment, so he had to take it.

"You looked good up there," he blurted out. He then cringed, glad Kurt wasn't facing him when he did. That was way more forward than he'd intended.

Kurt stopped, eyes wide. He was just as glad his Karofsky could only see his back, because his face had turned beet red. Why had that affected him so much? It was just a shallow comment by an equally shallow individual, it didn't mean anything. So why the hell did his heart jump to his throat hearing Karofsky say that of all people? When he finally got control of the color of his face he turned back around.

"Um… thanks," he managed. When he looked at Dave, it was… weird. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but couldn't put it together.

"I, um… I like your shirt." Despite the fact that he didn't seem to have any control over what he was saying, Dave continued. "It really, you know, suits you."

Kurt looked down at the large print that read LIKES BOYS as if he never noticed it before, then back up at the football player. "That was kind of the point, you know." It was good that he could still at least manage dry wit.

"Yeah, I know, I'm just trying to say…" Dave stopped himself, shaking his head. What was he doing? Kurt was with someone else, and besides that, he hated Dave. The only reason he was humoring the hockey player was to be polite. "Never mind. Look, I've… gotta go."

"Yeah. Me, too." Kurt managed an awkward smile, backing away from the other teenager. He raised a hand in a wave. "Bye."

"Yeah, see ya," Dave smiled back, walking backwards as well.

Neither of them could really tell why, but they couldn't bring themselves to turn around and walk forward in their respective directions until they were out of each other's eyesight.

Kurt reflected on the feeling he had when Karofsky had stopped him. He remembered feeling something like it before. When he'd thought of what would have happened if the football player wasn't in the closet, if they had ever had a chance at being…

"Stop that, Kurt Hummel," he berated himself. "You're being ridiculous. Karofsky is a jerk, he was a jerk, and is still a jerk. He's just trying to play nice so no one will find out he's about as straight as Freddy Mercury's mustache."

Still… when Karofsky could have let him just leave, he'd stopped him. Painstakingly made sure he knew that he was watching him. No, no. When he'd kissed Kurt, it was a moment of necessity. Kurt was there, and he was gay, and he couldn't beat him up for it. There was nothing more to it. It was clear the older boy couldn't stand him.

"Why are you even thinking of any of this? You have Blaine now. Sure, you don't get to see him as much, but that doesn't mean you love him any less."

…right?