This is a Very Special Episode. Please forgive me.


Mr. Schuester's Spanish classroom was only two doors down from Dave and Kurt's French class, so Dave fully expected they would be the first to arrive to (as Rachel's flyers plastered around the school declared in 48 point font) Thursday's inaugural meeting of the McKinley High School Gay-Straight Alliance after the bell rang to let them out for lunch. It was a bit startling, though pleasantly so, to discover that Finn was already inside helping Mr. Schuester shift the tables and chairs around to create a longer table up toward the front of the room.

"Oh, hey," Finn greeted them as he shoved his table up against the end of the one Mr. Schuester was bracing, the bottoms of the legs screeching loudly as they scooted across the linoleum. "Wanna lend a hand, or what?"

"Yeah, no problem," Dave said, taking Kurt's book bag from him and dropping it behind the teacher's desk along with his backpack. "What do you need?"

"More chairs over on this side," Mr. Schuester said. "Eight should do it. Dave, could you duck under the table and start passing chairs up?"

"I'll do it," Kurt said, ignoring Mr. Schuester's look of poorly hidden disbelief. He planted one hand on the table top and jumped, swinging his body across in what Dave was pretty certain was a picture-perfect pike, and landed neatly on the other side. At the surprised sound that escaped Finn, he rolled his eyes. "Honestly. It's like you all forget that football isn't the only competitive sport on campus. Coach Sylvester expects us to be in peak athletic condition or there is hell to pay."

"Dude," Finn said, "Were you, like, a ninja in a past life or something?"

"I'm an atheist, Finn, remember?" Kurt said. "And for the thousand and first time, don't call me dude." He grabbed a nearby chair and passed it across the table into Dave's waiting hands and Dave set it down on his side before ducking under the table like Schuester had suggested to provide Kurt with an extra pair of hands.

Between the four of them, they made short work of setting up the classroom for the meeting, and no sooner than they had taken seats at the table than Rachel arrived with Santana and Brittany in tow, arms overflowing with giant bags of snack foods and a large bottle of 7-Up. A tote bag bounced against her leg as she tottered into the room. "A little help, please?" she asked, her voice somewhat muffled by the bag of chips in front of her face.

Finn jumped up with alacrity to relieve her of the soda bottle and a bag of chips. "Sure – looks like you brought good stuff, Rach."

"Yes," Kurt said. "Very nutritious."

"I know that not everyone has made the ethical choice to switch to a vegan lifestyle," Rachel said, setting the rest of her burden down on the table, "So despite your obvious moral failings in that area I've decided that it would simply be prudent to bring food that the majority of you would want to eat." At Kurt's disdainful glare at the chips and soda, she added, "I have celery and peanut butter in my bag, if you want to share it with me."

"That sounds much better," Kurt said. He looked over at Santana and Brittany, who had taken seats near the end of the table and were busy cuddling and whispering together. "Is anyone else coming?"

"We saw those two kids from Challenge Day over in the science hall," Santana said, not looking up. "But I don't think they'll show. Underclassmen," she said dismissively. "They scare so easily."

"Did you scare 'em off?" Dave asked, amused.

Brittany giggled. "No. But Rachel did."

"I was merely attempting to explain how important the GSA is, and how enthusiastic they should be about joining," Rachel said, crossing her arms huffily. "I can't help it if some people just don't want to step out of the confines of the claustrophobia-inducing boxes that society forces us into."

"In other words, you scared them half out of their wits," Kurt said, "and those poor children will never look at the junior class the same way again."

"Bang on the money," Santana said, slapping the table lightly to underscore her words.

"It's their loss, and I'm sure they will come to regret it eventually," Rachel sniffed. She took a stack of Dixie cups from her tote bag and put them on the table, sliding the soda and chip bags into the middle so that everyone could reach them. "If that's all of us," she said, "Why don't we get started?"

"I thought we were just going to eat junk food and hang out," Santana said. "But if you have something else in mind I'll play along."

"She didn't bring any board games, though," Brittany said, puzzled. "What are we supposed to play?"

"I thought we might discuss your experiences as LGBT students since coming out last week at Challenge Day," Rachel said.

"That's a great idea," Mr. Schuester said. "Dave? Do you want to start us off?"

"Okay," he said. He looked around at all of them. "Uh – do any of you not know how things went for me?" No one spoke up. "Right. So, that happened. And, uhm, it's been pretty decent, actually. Weird not being at home, and I miss my parents, but it seems like it's for the best right now. Kurt's dad is really cool. So's Finn's mom."

"I know it must be difficult," Rachel said, looking at him from across the table with big, sad eyes. "But I have faith that you will ultimately triumph and find yourself a better person for the trials you are facing now."

"Thank you, I think," Dave replied uncertainly. Desperate to get away from her far-too-intense focus on him, he quickly said, "Santana! Anything interesting happen with you?"

She shrugged. "Not really. Mom told me I still had to provide her with grandkids, and Dad asked me if I was going to join the softball team. They don't get the whole 'bisexual' thing, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

"My mom asked me if I wanted to move to Iowa," Brittany said, "But I don't get why she thought I wanted to move away from Santana."

Rachel clapped happily. "That's fantastic! I'm so happy for both of you."

"Yeah," Dave echoed, trying and failing to beat back the envy that was nearly choking him. They deserved to have supportive parents, and he wouldn't wish his experience on anyone, but – shouldn't his parents have done the same? He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Yeah," he said again, more sincerely this time. "That's really great news." He saw Kurt giving him a sidelong look, concern written across his face, and moved his hand a few inches closer to Kurt's under the table, hoping that Kurt might take it to give him support like he had on Friday night. Kurt smiled slightly, as if he knew what Dave was doing, and set his own hand on top of Dave's for a moment.

Rachel turned her attention to Kurt. "I know you've been out for a while," she said, "But would you be willing to share your experience of coming out to your father with us?"

"Sure," Kurt said. "It was – " He broke off as a shadow fell across the open door, and someone knocked. They all looked up at the sound to see Azimio standing right outside the door with a slice of pizza on a paper plate in his hand.

"Are we late?" Azimio asked, poking his head inside. He grinned at Dave, and Dave couldn't help but grin widely back at his best friend, happy to see another friendly face. "We all went to pick up lunch first."

Who's 'we all'? Dave wondered, craning his neck to see who was behind Azimio.

"Not at all!" Mr. Schuester said. "Come on in."

"Right on," Azimio said, and he sauntered into the room. When Dave saw how many people were following him in, he nearly forgot how to breathe.

First came Rashad and Mercedes, who blew a kiss at Kurt. Then Quinn Fabray and Evans, Chang and Tina, and – and Puckerman and Abrams. I am hallucinating, Dave thought with a tinge of hysteria, stunned into disbelief. The whole goddamn Glee club is here.

"What are you all doing here?" Kurt asked as they all crowded around the table, taking seats and grabbing at Rachel's snacks.

"Personally, I just hate feeling left out," Rashad said jokingly.

"Because you're our friends," Quinn told him. She cast a half-serious glance at Rachel and added, "Well, most of you are."

"Let's get this party started, yo," Puckerman said, spinning a chair around to straddle it backwards. "Pass the soda over here."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Rachel exclaimed. "It's so encouraging to see such an enormous turnout of straight allies to our very first meeting."

"I was told there would be snacks," Abrams said as he shifted the remaining chair out of the way and wheeled himself in. At Rachel's dark look, he said hastily, "Just kidding. The food had no influence on my decision to come."

"So what did we miss?" Mercedes asked.

"We were discussing the experiences that some of our club members have had with coming out to their parents," Mr. Schuester told them. "Dave, Santana and Brittany have all shared their stories, and Kurt was about to tell us his. Kurt?"

Kurt nodded and looked around the table at everyone. "Well," he said, "After we won our only football game last year –"

Azimio, Finn, Chang and Rashad burst into a short, spontaneous round of applause, and Kurt doffed an imaginary cap in acknowledgment.

"As I was saying, when I came home after the game, my dad came down to my room and told me he was proud of me. And I told him I was gay." Kurt smiled. "He said he'd known since I was three, but he was glad I'd told him anyway."

Puckerman and Abrams began snickering quietly, and Kurt turned in his seat to face them. "Something amusing you?" he asked evenly.

"It's just kind of surprising he didn't figure it out even earlier. Like in infancy," Abrams said.

"Yeah," Puck added. "I'd always thought you popped out of the womb wearing ruby slippers and a tiara."

"I mean, did you really think you were ever in the closet?" Abrams asked, chortling. "Come on, Kurt. Get real. You're like a walking stereotype."

For a fleeting moment Kurt looked like he was about to fire back with an angry retort, but the expression faded quickly from his face and he went still, color high in his cheeks and a sheen to his eyes that seemed to have more to do with suppressed anger than hurt feelings.

Rachel spoke up, an outraged look on her face. "Mr. Schuester, before we go any further I'd like to take a moment to address a problem we have. Namely, the homophobic behavior that some of my fellow Glee-mates have been displaying." She gave Abrams and Puckerman a telling look.

"I agree," Mr. Schuester said. He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table, and frowned thoughtfully. "Artie? Puck? What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"That's totally bogus," Puckerman said. "I got no problem with gay dudes. Karofsky's cool, even though he used to be a total jerk. And Berry would be annoying no matter who her parents were, so no issue there."

"And it's kind of hot that Santana and Brittany are together," Abrams added.

Rachel stared at them for a long moment, and when neither of them said anything further, she snapped, "That's it? What about Kurt?" Kurt sat up straighter at that.

"What about him?" Puckerman asked.

"You didn't mention him in your less than impressive list of reasons why you aren't homophobic," Rachel said. "Why?"

Puckerman and Abrams traded a strange look. It took Dave a moment to recognize it as discomfort. "Kurt is, um," Abrams started awkwardly.

"Hummel is Hummel," Puckerman said. "Like I said, I got no problem with gay dudes. But – "

"But Kurt doesn't even seem like a dude sometimes," Abrams aid. "It's like, we get that you're gay, Kurt. We don't need to be reminded of it twenty-four seven."

Under the table, Dave clenched his fists, ready to spring to Kurt's defense at the next word. Kurt's hand came down onto his again, and Dave shot him a look of helpless fury. Kurt shook his head subtly at him, and Dave took another deep breath, forcing himself to relax.

"You see!" Rachel said shrilly, pointing at Abrams and Puckerman. "That! That is what I'm talking about! It's like Challenge Day didn't even matter to you! And you're saying these horrible things in a GSA meeting, of all places!"

They both started protesting immediately.

"It's not like that!"

"C'mon, Rachel. Of course it mattered!"

Kurt's voice cut across their protests. "Shut up." He stood and smiled warmly at Rachel. She nodded back, the two of them in complete accord. "Thank you, Rachel."

"My pleasure."

"Kurt, we don't mean – " Abrams started to say.

"No, really," Kurt said. "Shut up. It's my turn to talk." He glanced at Schuester as if confirming that he had the floor. "Since you clearly find it utterly impossible to put yourselves in my shoes and muster up any empathy whatsoever like rational human beings, it's apparent that I'm going to have to actually explain why the things you say aren't the slightest bit funny. And you two are going to shut up and not interrupt me while I say my piece.

"I expect it from people outside Glee," he started. "It's pretty much par for the course: I come to school and someone calls me a fairy, a fag, a girl, a cross-dresser – that's my average school day. But when it comes from people who don't know me, who I've never once considered my friends, it hurts less than when it comes from within the circle of people I let get close to me. And you two are in that circle, and let me tell you. It hurts.

"Artie, I doubt you'd like it if able-bodied people said to you, 'We get that you can't walk. You don't need to shove it in our faces all the time with that enormous wheelchair of yours. Can't you go be disabled somewhere else? Couldn't you try to use a cane like other disabled people? At least with them it's not as obvious – why, they're almost normal compared to you.'"

Abrams flushed. The parallels between Kurt's example and how Kurt and Dave were treated at school were hit-you-over-the-head obvious.

"And Puck, you're a tough, good looking guy, but what if you looked like Jacob Ben Israel, and half the school thought your name was Jewfro? And everywhere you went, people gave you crap for your religion, your hair, your nose, your dietary needs – and you weren't big enough or strong enough to intimidate people into not saying things like 'I got totally jewed on that deal,' or 'Puck's got his head down, he must be looking for pennies.'"

This time it was Puckerman's turn to look away uncomfortably, and Dave felt the back of his neck heat up in embarrassment. He'd never bothered to learn Ben Israel's name, either.

He sighed and leaned against the table. "Look. I like fashion. I like musical theatre. This does not make me any less of a guy than you are. It just makes me a guy who likes fashion and musical theatre. I have a high voice. That doesn't make me a girl either. It makes me a guy who can hit notes that you will never be able to reach naturally. And then there's the fact that I'm gay. Guess what? That still. Does not. Make me a girl. I'm offended that even after all this time you still act like treating me with respect and dignity will somehow irreparably damage your precious sense of masculine pride. It also offends me that you seem to think that the worst insult in the world is to imply that a guy is a girl. There's nothing wrong with girls. Girls are just as smart, talented, and capable as guys. I would think that you would recognize this after being in Glee with so many smart, talented, and capable girls for so long. You think I try to join the girls' team because I want to be one? No. It's because they actually want me to work with them."

The girls all smiled at that, and Kurt smiled back briefly before turning his attention back to Abrams and Puckerman. "I can't make you like me or respect me," he said, sitting back down. "But the insults have to stop."

A heavy silence followed that no one remotely willing to break. Puckerman and Abrams looked taken aback, and didn't seem able to take their eyes off of Kurt. Dave took a second, closer look at their faces and realized that he was mistaken. They weren't taken aback. They looked ashamed - incredibly ashamed. When he couldn't stand the silence any longer, Dave said quietly to the back of Kurt's head, "I wish I had half as much courage as you do."

When Kurt turned to face him, he looked tired and serious, but there was a warm smile in his eyes that, to Dave, seemed like it was meant just for him. "You do," he said. "Or do you not consider coming out an act of bravery?"

"Kurt," Abrams said hesitantly, "Are we – are we really that bad?"

"Do you want me to be kind or honest?" Kurt replied.

"Just tell us," Puckerman said, holding on to the edge of the table with a white-knuckled grip. "Please."

"In some ways," Kurt said slowly, "You're worse. You're unpredictable. With bullies, there's a pattern. They see me, I get insulted or body-checked into lockers pretty much without fail." He shot Dave a quelling look at that. "Don't apologize. You've already been forgiven."

Dave bit back the apology already on his lips. "Fair enough."

"As I was saying," Kurt continued, "Bullies are predictable. You aren't. I can go for days, even a week or two, without you saying something homophobic, and I start to relax and let my guard down. Then you'll make some remark insinuating that I wear women's clothing, or that I was born wearing a tiara and ruby slippers, and I'm not braced for it. It shocks me every time without fail, because whenever you lay off for a while I start hoping that you've grown up and decided to stop being so – so casually cruel. And it feels like a betrayal every time." He met their eyes steadily. "I'm a person. Not a punch line."

Puckerman dropped his head into his hands and Abrams leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, looking pained.

"Well," Mr. Schuester said, looking a bit shamefaced as well, "I think Kurt has given us all a lot to think about. That was very well put, Kurt. Thank you for being willing to be so candid."

"I'm among friends, Mr. Schue," Kurt said politely. "There's no reason for me not to be." Abrams made a small unhappy noise at that, and Dave had a sneaking suspicion that Kurt was taking just the slightest bit of pleasure twisting the knife.

Rachel raised her hand as if she were sitting in class, but didn't wait to be called on before she started talking. "If everyone is alright with me using this serious topic to segue into something lighter, yet still important, then I would like to share with all of you the goal that I came up with for the GSA."

"Yes, please," Kurt said immediately, and the tension in the room broke as several people laughed in relief at his desperate tone.

"Go for it," Santana said. "But make it snappy. Passing period starts in ten minutes."

"Alright," Rachel said, squaring her shoulders. "Well, when it comes to diversity, there's always a lot of talk about 'tolerance,' but tolerance is the wrong way to go about achieving equality. We tolerate bad traffic and seasonal colds – tolerance just means that we put up with what we don't like because we have to. What we need to work on instead is promoting acceptance. We need to get our peers to accept that we all have our differences, whether it's sexual orientation, race, physical ability, or religion, and that there is nothing wrong with any of us for simply being who we are."

Around the table, heads nodded in agreement.

"I like it," Tina said. "It's simple, yet profound."

"I'll say it again. You're a gem," Kurt told her.

"Works for me," Mercedes agreed. "But what can we do?"

Rachel perked up at the positive reception. "I thought we could discuss some bigger steps we could take in our next meeting –"

"Assuming this one hasn't ruined GSA meetings for you forever," Kurt interjected wryly.

"– But for right now, I have a few things in my bag that we could start with," she finished, reaching into her tote to pull out an overstuffed gallon-sized Ziploc bag full of what looked like little pins and rainbow ribbons. She opened the mouth of the bag and spilled its contents across the table. "I thought we might put some of these on our backpacks, and distribute the rest to the other students later."

Dave leaned in, curious. There were several dozen rainbow ribbons attached to small safety pins, folded over like the yellow "Support Our Troops" ribbons he saw on car bumpers all the time, and scattered amongst them were at least as many small, colorful buttons with text across the front. Azimio grabbed a handful and began to read them out loud.

"'Straight but Not Narrow,'" he read, holding the button up.

"I want it," Chang said, and Azimio tossed into his outstretched hands.

"'I Kiss Girls,'" he said.

"Mine!" Santana said.

Azimio passed it down the table and held up a third. "'Live and Let Love.'"

Mercedes made a beckoning gesture. "Fork it over," she ordered, and affixed it to her shirt with a pleased smile.

"Made with Pride" was claimed by Rachel, and Finn, Evans and Rashad all took "Straight but Not Narrow" buttons. Quinn picked out a "Celebrate Diversity" button, and Brittany took "It's Okay to be Gay." Azimio, after much deliberation, chose a pin with little gay stick figures that read, "It's Okay, It's Only Love." Puckerman and Abrams looked hesitantly at Kurt, as if they were checking to see that it was alright for them to participate. At his encouraging nod, Puckerman took a fifth "Straight but Not Narrow" button, and Abrams selected a pin that said, "All You Need Is Love."

Kurt grinned. "That leaves us with the fun ones," he told Dave, standing to get a better look at the selection. "Ooh, hey! 'Got Pride?'" He showed Dave the black button with the rainbow lettering. "And look at this one," he said, laughing. "'Two Pair Beats a Straight!' Rachel, I'm taking both of these."

"Be my guest," she said happily. "Dave? Do you not want a button?"

"It's not that," he said, feeling that hated anxiety rising within him as he looked at the buttons. "It's – it just doesn't seem possible. I feel like it's okay to talk about it in here, and it's great to look at buttons and rainbow ribbons and think about ways to, God, establish a new world order or something, but – I know what's waiting out there, and it's not some utopia where people like me 'n Kurt never get bashed, or where every parent loves their kid no matter what." He looked down, afraid to see the disappointed look on Kurt's face.

"Dave," Kurt said softly. "Look around you."

He reluctantly raised his eyes to take in the entire group all holding up their pins and looking at him with – God, with kindness. Why the hell are they so nice to me?

"It's not just you against the world," Kurt told him. "It's all of us together against McKinley – us, and Mr. Schuester, and Miss Pillsbury, and Dad, and Carole. You don't have to go it alone. And honestly, I think we can make that 'new world order' happen here if we try hard enough."

"How many times do I need to tell you I got your back before you believe me?" Azimio asked, tapping his button pointedly.

"Go on," Rachel said, smiling. "Pick one."

Plucking up his nerve, Dave leaned across the table and scanned the buttons, dismissing some as too treacle-y sweet and others as too in-your-face. He finally picked up one with a striped rainbow background and white lettering, and when he brought it closer to his face to read what it said, he had to smile. "'Not a White Flag,'" he said quietly.

Kurt smiled as well, taking Dave's hand and folding it closed around the button. "I think it's perfect for you," he said. He let go, and Dave immediately missed the feeling of Kurt's hand on his.

Brrriiiing!

The bell for passing period rang, and Dave jerked, startled by the sudden noise. He was reluctant to leave the camaraderie of GSA behind in exchange for crowded halls and another boring chapter review in Chemistry, and judging by the way the rest of the group was lingering, they all felt the same way. Eventually, though, they began to pick up their backpacks and trickle out the door in twos and threes.

"Kurt?" Abrams said apprehensively, Puckerman standing at his side with shoulders hunched and his hands jammed into his pockets nervously. "Could we talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course," Kurt said, leading them to the back of the classroom.

Dave's class was all the way on the other side of the campus, but he couldn't bring himself to leave without making sure that Kurt would be alright. He fetched his backpack from behind Mr. Schuester's desk and sat on the table instead, helping Rachel put all the buttons and ribbons back into her tote while keeping his ears open for sounds of trouble. When the table was cleared and Rachel's bag fully repacked, she took a seat on the table beside him.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked.

"Kurt didn't eat lunch," she told him. "I'm going to make him eat my celery and peanut butter on the way to our gym class." She looked up at him with a look in her eye that said she already knew the answer to the question she was about to ask. "And what are you waiting for?"

"Just – Kurt," Dave said. He pinned his button onto his backpack and shrugged. "I want to make sure nothing happens."

"It's strange," she mused. "Not even two weeks ago it would have been one of us keeping an eye on you." She smiled and shook her head. "I'm very pleased to have the chance to get to know the real Dave Karofsky."

"We can go now," Kurt said as he, Puckerman and Abrams came back to the front of the room. His eyes were slightly red, and Puckerman was roughly dragging the back of his hand across his eyes, but all three were smiling. The knot of tension in Dave's stomach disappeared at the sight. "Thanks for waiting."

"It's in my best interest to see you fed on a regular basis," Rachel said tartly, willfully misinterpreting the meaning of his words. "When you skip lunch you turn into a nightmarish doppelganger of yourself whose only method of communication is biting sarcasm." She pressed the container of celery and peanut butter into his hands. "Eat on the way. We're going to be late if we linger."

"Then by all means, let's get moving," Kurt said. He retrieved his bag and smiled at Dave. "I'll see you in the parking lot."

"Count on it," Dave said, standing up. He, Abrams, and Puckerman left together, all walking or rolling as fast as they could toward the science hall.

Back to reality. He smiled. Pinned to his backpack was a tangible reminder that even though reality often sucked beyond description, he wasn't nearly as alone as he felt. That Blaine kid might give terrible advice, but he was right about at least two things. It took courage - and he was not alone.


Believable? Overdone? Feedback is very much appreciated.