Rating: T, but maybe M for swearing?

Warnings: Nothing too raunchy unfortunately. Sad times.

Disclaimer: If I owned Fox, the UK would get Glee first *cackles madly*

Notes: Why oh why are these chapters getting so long? This is the most exhausting fic I've ever written! XD I hope you're all enjoying it, I'm having so much fun messing with Glee, though it does mean having to watch the episodes three million times! Also, see if you can guess which musical I was listening to while writing this! XD

Oh yeah, and if anyone's interested, I'll also probably be posting more random doodles from this fic on deviantart (link in profile) since I'm on a bit of an art fix right now, even though I don't really draw, haha :D

Here we go!

The Rhodes Not Taken

Sometimes in life, awesome things happen.

Like last week: I was half-expecting Hudson to flake out, even after winning the game and all. But the guy really pulls through, and not only does he turn up, he brings Puckerman with him. I have no idea how the fuck he managed to get him in here, but I'm not going to complain.

This, along with the sneaky post-game recruitment I did of Mike Chang, who I noticed learned the Single Ladies routine faster than anyone in there, and Matt Rutherford, who just sort of followed him, means we officially have enough people to compete at Sectionals. Woop, woop!

I mean, I'm not going to kid myself that this is going to change shit. It's awesome that we have some of the 'cool kids,' but as I myself lost that title shortly after joining Glee, I have little hope that everything will be all rainbows and sparkles. Still, it can't hurt to have five of us jocks in the club, right?

But, wait, it's not possible for life to be that awesome, right? Of course it's not.

So, today, when Rachel comes to me looking like she's about to cry, I know that something's about to go very, very wrong.

'Dave, I need your help.' She says, way too seriously. I'm panicking already and I have this feeling, like you get when you're standing on the top of somewhere really high and…um, vertigo?

'It's Finn. We…we went on a date last night.' Okay, that wasn't what I was expecting. Huh.

Wait, what?

'You went on a date with Finn?'

'Yes…I mean, we've been meeting up all week, after I offered to give him vocal training. And the date was wonderful and romantic and he took me bowling! And then we kissed, Dave! It was perfect!' She sighs, 'But I just don't know how I'm going to break him up with Quinn!'

I never really know whether to like Rachel or despise her. Sometimes she's lovely, and I can't deny that she's got reasons to be arrogant, but really, she's talking about stealing a guy from his pregnant girlfriend! Even if my suspicions are correct and Finn's not the father, Rachel is still being unspeakably awful.

'Rachel, you have to stop this.' I say, going into serious mode. 'You can't make a guy cheat on his girlfriend, his pregnant girlfriend!'

Then the penny drops, for both of us.

Rachel's face drops so quickly that it suddenly and painfully occurs to me that she didn't know.

…oops.

'Quinn is pregnant?' I sort of babble and wave my hands in response, temporarily forgetting how to speak.

And then she's gone and holy shit how can someone with such short legs run so fast? I jog after her into the corridor, just as she reaches Hudson.

'Finn!'

The resounding noise of hand-on-face fills the air and I wince, even though Hudson just seems to have adopted a look of utter bewilderment.

'You're a liar! Why didn't you tell me Quinn was pregnant?' Rachel hisses at him, and I think she may slap him again.

'Who told you?' Wrong response, Finn.

'Dave did!' Oh, and now he's looking at me like I just broke his COD disk and I am so going to get the blame for this, aren't I?

'Rachel, I really don't think you should-' I try to reason, but she cuts me off.

'I can't believe I thought you actually had feelings for me!' Ignoring me entirely, she continues yelling at Finn.

'B-but I do!' Finn replies, stuttering, and I give myself a mental high-five for figuring it out before realizing I need to focus.

'And you still lied to me?' She screeches. Now is the time to properly intervene, I realize, and put a hand on her shoulder.

'Rachel!' I shout. 'Look, while I appreciate you must be pretty mad at Finn right now, he's already got enough on his plate with Quinn and all the baby-daddy drama, so if you could just-'

'I'm quitting Glee Club.' Well, that shuts me up. I open and close my mouth for a second and so does Finn, so Rachel just looks pointedly at him and continues. 'Mr. Ryerson offered me the lead in the school play…and I'm going to take it. So I hope you have fun playing house with Quinn while you languish in your little ensemble, but my dreams are bigger than that. And they're bigger than you.'

And she strides off, leaving me face to face with Finn, who still looks bewildered.

'Well, shit.' I say, as Finn watches her leave. 'What do we do now?'

'Why don't you just back off?' His expression turns sour, and now he's storming off.

I'm left wondering which of the many things I've done wrong he's mad at me for.

~ Briiiing! ~

'I need to talk to you, man.' Azimio says as soon as I walk into the locker room for practice later that day. I'm already pissed because the hockey team ganged up on my on my way here just to tell me that I'm a fag and that if I don't quite Glee club, they're going to kill me next practice.

It's not the first time they've said it, but the way they did it this time just seems more…real. Like, maybe one of them would actually try something. Maybe I should quit, I mean, at least I still have football, unless Azimio and Strando (who seems to have filled Puck's void as resident wise-cracker,) pull something. Puckerman's less of an issue now, but only because he's suffering a little from Glee too. I still don't get why he joined in the first place, after his constant debasing of the club, but he's shut up pretty fast.

'Leave me alone, Az. I don't need this right now.' I say, my voice low. I walk over to my locker and open it, not looking at him.

'You don't need what? I just want to talk to you.' He stands a few paces behind me and I don't look back at him, just stare into my locker.

'Well, maybe I don't want to talk to you.'

'Dude, what's your problem?' He demands, shoving me in the shoulder. I whirl around so we're face to face, my eyebrows already furrowed into a frown.

'What's my problem? You've been acting like a total dick ever since I joined Glee Club!' I shout, a little louder than intended.

'You've been ignoring me ever since you joined that fucking club!' He counters, and I laugh spitefully.

'I've been ignoring you?' I'm so close I'm practically head butting him.

'Seriously, man, if you keep repeating everything I say, I'm going to hit you.'

'Oh, fuck you, Az!' I yell, but draw back anyway. 'If you have a problem with what I'm-'

'Who the hell said I had a problem?' He waves his hands as if there's something I'm not getting and it's driving me insane with anger.

'You made it pretty damn clear that you think Glee Club is for fags and losers!' I spit, and my hand motions to myself as if to say…well.

'And I don't care if you're either of those things, you're still my friend!'

Perhaps I should be touched by this. As far as I can gather, my best friend is telling me that he's willing to accept me for whoever I am, right? How sweet.

But, wait. If he's saying that, it means that he thinks there's something about me that requires accepting.

'What the fuck are you insin…in…' what the fuck is that fucking word anyway? 'saying?'

'I'm just trying to let you know that I'm here for you, man! I don't care if…if you want to sing showtunes and be best buddies with Hummel, okay? Just…let me in, Dave! If there's something bothering you, you can tell me!' Again with the assumption, what the hell does he think he knows anyway?

'What do you think is bothering me?' I try to calm down. I breath very slowly and count to ten in my head. It works, a little.

'God, Karofsky, please don't make me go all Avenue Q on you.' I don't know what the reference means but I do know that's a musical of some sort and Azimio hates musicals so- 'My sister made me watch it with her, okay?'

'I still have no idea what you're talking about.'

'Look, I've seen the way you are with him, okay? I've known your for, like, your whole life and the only other person I've seen you make that expression at is Freddy Macey, remember, the blond kid we used to swirly all the time.'

Yeah, I remember him. He was fucking gorgeous, with curly blond hair and tanned skin and bright green eyes. He was absolutely perfect. I hated his fucking guts. But what did that have to do with this?

'Your point being?'

'I went along with your totally baseless hatred of the guy because I didn't want to upset you, but…I mean, come on, you must know what I'm talking about!'

No, Azimio. No, I don't. 'The fuck?'

'Ever heard of pulling pigtails?'

Yeah, I've heard of it: they say that little boys pull the hair of girls they like. But I don't see how that relates to me unless he's suggesting that I like…

Oh.

On this note, I take a deep breath and react calmly.

Fine, fine, I'm lying. I grab Azimio by the collar, practically howling at him and slam him against a locker, hitting him square in the face.

But don't tell Figgins.

~ Ba-bam, baaaam-bam! ~

When I get home, I make sure to walk very quietly. I practically tiptoe to the doorstep and slip open the door, then very slowly click it back into place, gently flicking off my trainers. I head for the stairs, my socks preventing any squeaking on the tiled floor and, yes, nearly there, nearly to my room –

'David!' Oh, fuck.

'I just received a phone call from your school, David.' I think I'm going to throw up.

'They tell me you got into a fight today.'

'I can explain.' I say, way too quickly. He raises his eyebrows in that way he always does.

'Really?' He clearly doesn't believe me, and I realize I'm not going to be able to lie my way out of this.

'Well…no, not really. Azimio and I were just…'

'You and Azimio got into a fight?'

'Well, it was me and him against one another, yeah.'

My father sighs and presses his hands to his temples. 'David, I thought you were over this stage. Don't tell me we're going to have to put in your in anger management again.'

And then he proceeds to grill me for the better part of an hour. I zone out because I've heard it all before, back when I was being rebellious. I mean, it's not like I don't get the grades, no, I've always been the model son, but these incidents… they're what got me sent to anger management in the first place.

It's not like I mean to be violent. I don't want to be the guy who throws a punch at every little thing, it's just…I just can't help it. As soon as someone pisses me off it's like I can't stop myself from reacting with my fists.

The counselor said that the reason I lash out is because I have internal issues or something. I'm angry at myself, so I attack others. She said that if I calm down and learn to love myself, I'll be fine.

But how am I supposed to love myself when I hate myself so much? They say every teenager goes through a stage of self-loathing, but mine has lasted pretty much my whole life. When I told her this, she said that I needed to understand that other people loved me, that I was worthy of love.

I told her I thought she was full of shit, and I still stand by that.

Who the hell would want to love me, anyway?

~ Ba-bam, baaaam-bam! ~

I manage to get the whole day without hitting anyone, which I think is pretty impressive considering my mood today. We don't have Glee today, but I do have football, which is great because I can vent my frustrations and let off a little steam.

Speaking of steam…

I know something bad is happening as soon as April Rhodes, our brand new (or rather, kind of old) member of Glee Club comes barging into the showers with a yell of, 'Hello, boys!'

What I didn't foresee is that she would waltz right into my shower, grinning widely and asking if I want a little somethin' somethin'. Now I know what somethin' is and I'm not sure I really want it, especially not twice over.

'Uhh…I…' I just sort of splutter at her while she starts to remove her dress and oh dear God, she's not wearing underwear today, and my eyes are drifting somewhere that I know I should want to look, but I don't want to see. 'I…can't.' My back is now firm against the shower wall, as far as I can get from the petite, semi-naked blonde.

'Why not?' She asks, and she's stopped stripping, thank god, but is now looking at me very oddly. I'm very aware of my nudity, and I need an excuse, fast.

'I'm celibate.' I reply, before I even think properly.

Fuck, I did it again. Seriously, why does my brain seem to think that's a good excuse? Especially with how badly it went last time.

April Rhodes is about as deterred as Rachel was, but at least Rachel had the decency to respect my fake celibacy, unlike April, who reaches for my dick with a big grin and says, 'I can fix that.'

'Ahhh, no!' My voice comes out as far too much of a squeak, and loud enough that Puckerman, who I didn't even notice leering at April from another cubicle, barks out a laugh and leans casually against the tiles.

'What's up, Karofsky? Or rather…' he snickers, eyes flicking downwards, 'not up?'

The only reason I don't hit him is because I remember my dad's warning not to get into any more fights.

'Shut the fuck up, Puckerman!' I yell instead, even though I know it won't help in the slightest.

'Well if you're not man enough to handle her, I'll be happy to take her off your hands.'

April, who has been watching this conversation like it's prime-time TV, grins widely at Puck and sends him a wink, which is quickly returned.

'Come over here and the Fury will prove how man I am!' I growl, then realize how that probably sounds and groan to myself.

'Dude, the Fury, really? Mine's Puckasaurus.' He gives a smarmy grin that I desperately want to punch off him, but I roll my eyes instead.

'I was talking about my fist, Puck. And you can have her, I'm not interested.'

'I can see that. The question is why?' His hands circle April's curved hips and he raises an eyebrow. 'Seems like you'd need a pretty good reason…wait, dude, you're not –'

'I have a girlfriend.' I blurt out, cutting him off. See, now, that's a better excuse! For a moment, I think I've gotten away with it and he won't ask any more questions, but there it is, the kicker:

'Who?'

And how am I supposed to answer that? If I say something like 'you won't know her' or 'she lives in Canada' it will be completely obvious I'm making her up

So I say 'Rachel Berry.'

Which, I realize almost immediately after, was a very stupid thing to do.

I practically run out of the shower after that, leaving April with Puck and Matt, who had walked in just after I announced my fake girlfriend.

I am so utterly screwed, and not in a good way.

Okay, Rachel's probably gone home by now. Better text instead. Or…spontaneous visit? This might be easier in person.

I'm so glad she invited me over for a movie last week, because at least I know where she lives now, even if I did have to sit through 'A Chorus Line,' and listen to a half-hour monologue about the Life Aspirations Of Rachel Berry.

Twenty minutes and two skipped red-lights later (I panicked, okay?) I arrive at Rachel's house, park, practically run to her door, ring the doorbell and fidget.

'Dave?' Thankfully she answers, because I didn't meet her parents last time and, hello, awkward?

'Hi, Rachel. I… I need to talk to you.'

'Um. Sure? Come on in.' I enter la casa de Berry and try not to freak out at the insane amount of Rachel worship. Her parents must be a little odd, I think.

'You remember your plan about Finn?' I ask, while she fixes me a drink. I sit in her kitchen and try not to look awkward.

She cocks her head to the side and surveys me. 'Where we pretend to date? Of course.'

'I think we should do it.' I blurt out. Rachel looks at me like I'm mad.

'But Dave, Quinn is pregnant. You said yourself –'

I cut her off, 'I don't mean that we should break them up…just…okay.' Taking a deep breath, I recognize that I'm going to have to tell her the truth or this is never going to work. 'I might have accidently lied to Puck and told him we're dating.'

The look on her face is priceless, somewhere between shock and amusement.

'Why?'

My hand seems to automatically reach out to scratch the back of my head, and I'm sure I'm flicking my tongue out nervously. 'I…can't really say. I mean…I don't really know. It's…complicated.'

'Is this one of those times where I shouldn't inquire any further to avoid potential awkwardness?' I nod, with an appreciative and hopeful smile. 'Fine. How long do you and I have to pretend to date?'

'I dunno. Long enough to make it seem realistic, then we can break up, I guess. You can cry and shit and dump me if you want. It'll be dramatic, I mean, you like dramatic, right?'

'It will be an excellent opportunity to practice my acting skills.' She muses, and I can't help but laugh gently, then pull her into a quick hug.

'Thanks, Rachel. You're awesome.'

'I know. Don't be surprised if you fall for me while we pretend to date, though. As I said, I'm still waiting for the crescendo.'

At least I know what a crescendo is now. Yeah, I looked it up. Hey, we have the Internet for a reason.

I'll let her dream for a little bit longer about musical duets and epic love stories. After all, I don't have the heart to tell her that this particular piece of music is less Mozart and more 'nails on chalkboard.'

~ Briiiing! ~

The next morning, I bump into you in the hallway.

No, literally, bump into, almost sending you flying. You stumble and sway and I catch you by the elbow. 'Shit! Are you okay?' I ask, and your eyes are fixed on the floor. 'Kurt?'

'M'fine.' You say, eyes still down. I notice that you look…weird today. Your clothes are all crumpled, your tie is tied wrong and your normally immaculate hair is unbrushed, flopped over your face in quite an adorable, but totally un-Kurtish manner.

'Kurt.' I say, realization dawning. 'Are you drunk?'

You look up, and I see that your eyes are red and glazed and you have a sort of dopey smile on your face. Fuck. You're drunk. In school. I very quickly drag you into the nearest empty classroom and pray that it's not being used this period.

'Drunk? Maybe. I…I had some…some drink. From a flask.' You burst into laughter and I stare with wide eyes, confused as hell. 'Flask! That's a funny word. Flaaask.'

Oh my God.

'You…you should have some too. It's nice and warming and now I feel like I'm full of confi…confi…dence!'

'Yeah, that's alcohol for you.'

'You need to be more confident. Because you look scared a lot. You should be more confident because you're amazing, you know? Amazing!' You giggle lightly and sway slightly.

'Uh, thanks Kurt.'

'Yer amazing! And sweet and funny and…I…' Your face drops and your skin seems to turn almost bluey-grey. 'I…don't feel…good…'

'Ku-' I start to say, as you throw up on my shoes.

Oh, just fucking great.

~ Briiiing! ~

Miss Pillsbury probably wasn't the best person to go to, in retrospect, but she is nice enough to drive us to the hospital. Well, she meant to take only you but you wouldn't let go of my arm.

She's also useful because she carries enough cleaning products that I managed not to reek too much of sick, plus a brand new toothbrush and mouthwash for you.

I would have thought that ralphing would have made you less drunk, but somehow you're more, and you've gotten past the sick stage and won't stop talking. Plus, you're kind of sprawled on my lap, which is uncomfortable for more than one reason.

By the time we reach the hospital, you're almost continuously giggling and I wonder if you're going to throw up again because you're swaying as we walk. Inside, they shove us into as waiting room that seems somehow dedicated to alcohol incidents. Funnily enough, at 9am, the room is empty, and Miss Pillsbury runs off to talk to the doctor.

And you're babbling again.

'You're…you're like the Beast!'

'What?' I'm not sure I want to know what you're talking about, but I feel obliged to ask anyway.

'Frr…from Beast…the Beauty and the Beast! You're like the beast because you get angry and break stuff but really you're cuddly and fluffy like clouds. I wonder what a cloud would feel like. Can I cuddle you?' Without even letting me answer, you throw your arms around my waist and bury your face into my chest. Meanwhile, my heart explodes.

'All I want is a prince, you know? Izzat…is that too much to ask? Y-you could be my prince!' You laugh again, leaning against me. 'I'll be Belle and you be the Beast. B-but I don't want you to change into the prince at the end, 'cause he wasn't even that cute and it was such a disappointment.' You shake your head angrily into my shirt, then look up. 'You're cute.'

Your arm is moving and suddenly your thumb is tracing my lips and holy fuck you're leaning up to kiss me and what do I do what do I do what do I –

I shove you away as gently as I can and feel a pang as your face falls. I don't know why I did it, other than the fact that clearly that would be taking advantage of you and I'm sure you'd get upset about losing your first kiss to someone like me.

But…I didn't want to stop you. Which is really saying something, because you've just been sick and oh yeah, you're a guy and I'm not gay.

I think back to April and the way my stomach had turned when she tried to touch me. This hurt, but not in the same way, not in the 'ugh, I don't want to be anywhere near that,' way, but the 'why are you torturing me by being so close' kind of way. Which scares me.

Do I want to kiss you? Do I, god forbid, want to be your prince?

Fuck, no. That's so fucking gay.

'Daviiiiiid!' You draw out the world and grin, leaning towards me again and I think, fuck, maybe I should let you kiss me even though you probably taste like vomit and mouthwash. I allow you to wrap your arms around my waist and press yourself against me, letting me support your whole weight. For a few minutes, we just stand there like this, my heart beating way too fast and I'm breathing way too hard and…hey, you're breathing really hard too…

You're asleep.

You're actually asleep, standing up, resting in my arms.

Miss Pillsbury comes back in and regards us with a light smile. I shrug and smile back, and she points to another room. With a sigh, I grab your legs and carry you princess-style, smiling to myself at how much of a fuss you'd make if I did this while you were conscious.

'Mr. Schuester's going to come and pick you up.' She whispers. 'The doctor's going to check if he has alcohol poisoning, then we're going to have a little chat.' I nod, laying Kurt down on the bed. Then I bid my farewells to Emma and the doctor and go to meet up with Mr Scheue.

The blush doesn't leave my face the whole way back to school.

~ Ba-bam, baaaam-bam! ~

It's later that day that it hits me that Azimio was right. There's nothing in particular that leads me to this conclusion, I've just seen him in the locker room, and it gets me thinking. I'm just mulling it over in my head and bam! I realize that I've been an absolute fuckwit.

He hasn't been ignoring me for the last few weeks. He hasn't even said anything bad against me, at least, nothing that couldn't be taken as a joke. In fact, he's been trying to talk to me again and again and I've just shoved him aside because…

Because I was too afraid to face rejection? Azimio's a semi-good person, most of the time, anyway. Sure, he sometimes takes things too far, and he's far too content to let an insult slip as a joke, but he's always stood by me.

I should probably apologize, shouldn't I?

'Hey, Az.' I call, my voice betraying me and coming out all quiet and kind of scared.

'Karofsky.' Oh, great, we've lost first name basis. That isn't good.

'I just wanted to say sorry.' I mumble, shoving my hands in my pockets. I can't quite bring myself to look him in the eye, not because I'm not sincere, but because I feel ashamed.

He, however, looks right at me, surveys me for a little while, then lets out a sigh. I can see the remnants of his black-eye as I glance up and guilt wells up in my stomach.

'Like I could ever stay mad at you, man.' He sighs and pulls me into a hug, which I tentatively return.

But I still need to make sure. 'And about that conversation...'

'Never happened.' He says, very calmly. 'But if you ever need to talk…' He's watching me very carefully, as if afraid I'll snap any minute. Not that he hasn't any reason to think I won't.

'Yeah.' I answer, glancing around. 'Thanks. I mean, there's nothing I need to…but, yeah.'

And just like that, everything is solved.

God, I wish all relationships could be as easy as this.

~ Briiiing! ~

'Dave!' You call to me in the hall and I drop everything I'm holding like an idiot.

'Uh. Kurt. Hi.' Very eloquent, Dave.

'I…um, I wanted to apologize for the other day. Miss Pillsbury said you stayed with me the whole time, even in the emergency room.'

'Erm…yeah, yeah I did. Well, you needed someone to help you. No worries…' I trail off, and try and think of a halfway subtle way of putting this. But thankfully you answer it before I have to ask:

'I don't really remember anything past throwing up on you…sorry for that too.'

'Nothing at all?' Maybe I sound a little too hopeful, because your eyes widen in panic.

'Oh, no. You sound worried. Did I do something stupid? Or inappropriate? I am so, so sor –'

'No! No, you didn't, you were just funny. Wouldn't stop talking about Disney characters.' You look confused. 'Never mind.'

'Are you sure I didn't…say anything?' You're not looking at me now, and I wonder if you're telling the truth or whether you do remember something else.

'I'm sure.' I reassure you. Your shoulders relax, but it could also be an I'm upset shoulder drop, I don't know. Then you kind of clear your throat as if to say 'Let's move on and not talk about that ever again.'

'So…you and Rachel, huh? I heard Puck talking about it earlier.' I try with all my might to ignore the choked sound of your voice. When that doesn't work, I pretend that it's just embarrassment from the rest of the conversation.

But there's no denying that there's a tear in your eyes. And maybe I have just a little more awareness of why.

~ Briiiing! ~

So much happens in the next week or so I can't even begin to tell you. Rachel nearly comes back, and then Finn is a douchebag to her and she leaves again. Then we perform our Invitationals (and damn, so many Brokeback Mountain jokes I had to resist at your cowboy outfit,) then she leaves then Rachel comes back… I think it's all solved at the end of things, but there's still one massive problem.

I appear to be dating Rachel Berry.

I mean, I'm sure she doesn't actually think we're dating but the girl is a damn good actress and I nearly believe it myself. It kind of leads me into thinking that maybe I should consider dating her.

Why not? She's a girl, I'm a guy. We're both single. And…does there need to be more reason than that?

I don't think it matters that I'm not attracted to her, because isn't that something that comes with time? Maybe if I just try and get into this, like she is, I really will fall for her and she can have her fucking crescendo.

This is my train of thought when Puckerman is teasing us about our relationship. Perhaps it's because the guy is practically a sex-addict, but he seems to be able to tell there's something off about us. So when he tells me to prove that I'm dating Rachel, I think about crescendos and musical babies, and I kiss her square on the lips.

I am now aware of three things: firstly, Rachel Berry does literally taste of berries. She must be wearing flavored chapstick.

Secondly, when a guy (you) pops into my head when I'm kissing a girl (Rachel) it's probably not a good thing.

And thirdly…if kissing a girl makes me feel nauseous, there may be a slight chance that I'm gay.

Thanks, Rachel, for clearing that up for me.

~ Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo... ~