Warnings: Hold true from previous chapters.
Chapter 5
Lance was thankful that the tournament had finally come and gone. It was nice to get rid of the jitters that always accompanied a first performance. Like ripping a Band-aid off. He didn't place or even come close, but it was still pretty fun to show off the bit he had learned and to cheer on the rest of the team.
Training with Mark and Kurt again was also a pretty big plus. Lance never would admit it, but he was actually a bit hurt when Kurt first avoided him during the past week. The resulting explanation of Trieg's insistence and the tournament helped, but Lance still couldn't shake his stupid feelings.
Tired of waiting for Mark and Kurt to emerge from the locker room, Lance decided he'd go over to the floor area and practice some new skills. He was having some difficulty with his front handspring. Each time, he was short on his landing, ending up halfway on the ground.
"What new move is this?" Kurt was walking over to Lance, an amused expression crossing his face.
"It's called the 'Suck It Flop.'" Lance tried to perform a kick up from his back straight to his feet, but ended up only flopping like a fish on land. He let out a frustrated groan. "This is just not my day."
Kurt had been fiddling around with his handgrips but dropped them aside to lend a hand to pull Lance up.
"Thanks," Lance said as he took Kurt's offered hand. For a second, Lance was slightly taken aback. Whenever Kurt had helped him practice before, he had always had his handgrips on or had just verbally directed him. He guess he'd never really had much physical contact with Kurt outside of one of their fights. It was strange but not in a bad way. Kind of soft. It was more discombobulating to feel fur and yet see skin.
Lance thought about it and realized he was probably the only one on the team that Kurt would help like this without handgrips on. It kinda made him feel special. A fact that would have to be pried from his cold, dead hands.
Kurt helped him out a bit with his front handspring. Guiding Lance slowly through it with his hands strategically placed to show where his body should be. After a few tries with Kurt hovering just in case Lance needed support, Lance felt like he was ready to try again on his own.
"Ok. Back up. I got this."
It wasn't the prettiest or the most perfect front handspring, but he landed on his feet.
"Hey, not bad," Kurt complimented as he bent down to retrieve his handgrips.
"Yeah, thanks. I couldn't have done it without the most decorated gymnast here." Lance was pretty impressed at the inducer's ability to show the rising blush of Kurt's embarrassment.
"Next time, you'll probably be winning tons of medals along with everyone else."
"Maybe." Lance twisted his back in a stretch to work out the kinks from his workout. "Man, it's weird, though."
"What?"
"Feeling your fur but not seeing it."
"Oh…"
"Yeah. I haven't seen you without your inducer on in ages. Made me forget that you were a freak." Lance knew that was the wrong thing to say, but his brain was too slow to stop his mouth.
He could see Kurt just shut down. Pain quickly flittered across his face only to be hidden by anger. "I'll be sure to avoid touching you in the future so my freakishness doesn't contaminate you."
Lance looked down, ashamed at what he said and even moreso at his inability to apologize. He stammered but nothing came out.
Kurt turned to walk away and Lance was ready to let him go, feeling like such an insensitive clod. Mark, however, was already approaching them both, preventing Kurt from leaving. Taking a look at both their faces, he sighed.
"Alright, what happened?"
"Nothing," Kurt replied.
"Right. That's why you both look like you've just stepped on a Lego."
They stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, until Lance sighed in resignation. He had messed up and should just admit it. It'd be just like his first tournament. Get it over and done with and they could move on.
Right before he was ready to forge ahead into his apology, Trieg called for everyone to gather around him in the center of the gym near the parallel bars.
Seeing his confusion reflected in Mark's and Kurt's faces, Lance shrugged and walked over to Trieg. He noticed that Kurt made sure that Mark was standing between them as they joined the others.
Once the team had gathered around the coach, Trieg made his announcement.
"Sorry that I'm late to practice. Just had to get this approved by the principal." He held a piece of paper in his hand that meant nothing to Lance. "I'm so proud of all of you. Last weekend, everyone performed amazingly. I couldn't have asked more from you. Your medals and trophies will be displayed in the cabinet in main hallway.
"Woo!" Jose pumped his fist. He'd placed a solid second on the pommel horse, and had been bragging about showing it off to his girlfriend as soon as he could.
"Woo indeed. To celebrate, I'm going to cut practice short and have us all go out to Tom's Pizza Bistro. I got it approved so we can get a ton of pizza. You'll have to talk it out what types to order. Got it?"
"Yeah, thanks Coach!" Trey said. The rest soon followed him with various thanks and signs of appreciation.
"We'll car pool together, so be sure to grab your stuff first. Since there's just 10 of us in total, we'll need no more than 3 cars. I can take 3 people."
Everyone began turning to each other, some debating who was going to drive and others looking for rides.
"I'll drive," Mark said as he turned towards Lance and Kurt. "You two have to tell me what's going on."
"Hey, can I ride with you guys?" Miguel popped up next to Lance, looking excited for the excursion out for pizza.
Mark had started to shake his head no, but Kurt cut him off. "Of course. Mark's driving. If that's ok?"
"Sure," Miguel said a little less enthused. He looked warily to Mark, as if afraid his glare was going to rip him to shreds.
Mark nodded gruffly. "Fine. Just don't mess with the radio."
As they started towards the locker room to change back into their regular clothes, Lance heard Kurt whisper to Mark about Miguel being a nice guy and to not be so rude. Lance, though, thought Kurt's rush to have Miguel ride with them might have partially been connected to him.
Lance dragged behind the others, disappointed that he probably wouldn't be able to apologize until after dinner. It was from this position that he was able to witness Trieg pull Kurt aside – his hand placed low on Kurt's back - to have some type of hushed conversation. He thought it strange. He wouldn't like that familiar of a touch from the coach, but he didn't have the same close relationship with him like Kurt did.
Lance dawdled a bit so that when Kurt pulled away from Trieg, he was able to catch up to him.
"What did he want?" Lance asked casually.
Kurt's expression didn't hold any clues for Lance to read, but at least he didn't completely snub him. "Just to see if I needed a ride."
"Hey, um." Lance raised a hand behind his head, a little embarrassed about what he had to say. "About earlier…"
"It doesn't matter. We're going to hold up Mark and Miguel if we don't hurry." Kurt rushed off to the lockers, leaving Lance standing there like a fool.
"Just couldn't make this easy on me," Lance grumbled to himself before running to catch up.
Kurt sat in the back of Mark's car with Miguel. While there was a steady flow of conversation, the car ride still felt awkward. What Lance had said had really hurt. He had begun to see Lance as a friend almost, but if Lance still felt that he was some sort of freak….
He had often wondered what it would be like to reveal himself to what he considered his school friends. Usually his daydreams turned more into day nightmares with lots of screaming, vitriol and violence. But Lance already knew, and it just somehow made it worse.
He could see Mark's glances back in the rearview mirror as if he could somehow divine the reason behind Lance's and his turmoil through telepathy. Kurt was very glad Mark was not a mutant.
Mark, however, was a bit of an overly cautious driver and that, paired with their delay to the locker room, put them as the last arrivals. Kurt hopped out quickly, glad to escape the stifling confines of the car.
Tom's Pizza Bistro had that atmosphere that fit perfectly for groups of high school students wanting a place to hang out late after school. Pictures of enticing pizza hung crooked on the offwhite walls. The carpeted floor was caked from years of dropped food and foot traffic that the original color had all but faded to a dingy red. Booths lined the perimeter of the room while square tables covered in a plastic, checkered table cloth filled the center.
The team had already had a few tables arranged in a long, rectangular formation and all of the middle seats were occupied. Miguel took the spare seat on the end next to Reese, leaving only three seats at the far end available. Two to the right of Coach Trieg and one directly across from those, beside Jose.
Mark moved to sit next to Jose while Lance made a beeline to take the end seat, leaving Kurt stuck right between Trieg and Lance.
This was just not his day.
Sighing, he sat down, expecting some type of pat or comment from Trieg, but he seemed engrossed in conversation with Hudson and Martin. Relieved, doing his best to ignore Lance, Kurt turned his attention to Jose directly across.
"You order yet?"
"Just drinks. Figured we'd wait on you slowpokes." Jose took a long, slow sip from his Coke. "To the winners goes the soda."
"Mark here just drives like a grandma," Lance teased.
"I drive how I want," Mark said. "If you don't like, find a different ride."
"Just saying." Lance propped open a menu and began perusing the options. The others followed his lead.
"What do you think you want?" Lance directed to Kurt.
Kurt just shrugged his shoulders, doing the minimal to not be completely rude while also snubbing Lance.
Lance scowled and propped his menu higher to provide a partial screen of privacy.
"Come on, I didn't mean it that way."
Kurt stared icily back. "Can we just not talk about it."
"Not when you're being all pissy."
"Maybe I'll stop being pissy when you stop being an asshole."
Lance's look was thunderous but the waitress arrived just before things could escalate anymore.
After they had placed their order – several cheese, pepperoni and bacon with pineapple pies – and received their drinks, Mark started the conversation back up.
"So I saw Jackhammer 3."
"What?" Kurt asked incredulously. "I thought you didn't ever want to see it."
"Yeah, that you're too much of a wuss for horror," Lance added.
Kurt gave Lance a withering look and kicked him under the table. It wasn't cool to reveal Mark's weakness in front of Jose. Lance in turn gave a questioning look, but Kurt had already turned back to Mark. He just really wasn't in the mood to deal with Lance.
"Shelly wanted to see it."
"Shelly?" Kurt asked.
"You know Shelly. Senior, long, black hair. Big tits," Jose described with a leer and a crude gesture.
Kurt and Lance both nodded. Of course, everyone knew Shelly, if not by name at least by chest size.
"She has other attributes, you know." Mark tried to defend.
"Yeah, like what?" Jose retorted.
"She has a nice laugh. Like a chortle. But cute." Mark smiled slightly.
"And how would you know?"
"She wanted to see Jackhammer 3. She thought it was funny. It wasn't. It was gross."
"So you're telling me that you took Shelly of Titular Twin Peaks out on a date?"
Mark shrugged and took a sip of his coke.
Jose shook his head in disbelief. "Too cool, man."
"Give us all the details," Lance said.
Whatever Mark was willing to divulge, Kurt missed out because suddenly he felt a hand sliding up over his left leg. He froze and glanced over from the corner of his eyes to look at Trieg. Trieg hadn't changed positions much. He was still faced mostly towards Reese and Hudson and his facial expression didn't give away anything that was happening under the table.
The hand rested there for a bit. Kurt looked down at the table cloth, studying the red and white checkered pattern, unsure of what to do. As if taking his inaction as acquiesce, the hand began to slowly caress up and down his inner thigh. The hand would linger along its route, stopping to lightly trace a design before continuing along. Paralysis had taken hold of Kurt. He wanted to desperately teleport out of the situation, but all he could do was hope that Trieg would grow bored or just… stop.
It felt like an eternity, but when the pizza arrived Trieg removed his hand. Kurt mentally breathed a sigh of relief, wanting to do nothing more than take a shower and cleanse himself from Trieg's touch.
However, his relief didn't last long. As soon as Trieg had doled the pizza out, he immediately replaced his hand. Now emboldened, he would glide his hand higher along Kurt's leg. In front of Kurt, the tablecloth had been replaced with a slice of pepperoni pizza. It looked disgusting. Grease formed pools in the stretched-out cheese, which glistened sickingly under the cheap lighting. Any appetite he'd had had been completely eradicated. All that he could concentrate on was Trieg's touch and a rising, burning shame.
Suddenly, Trieg escalated things when his hand went past his thigh and began stroking his crotch.
Kurt's breath hitched, almost in disbelief at how far Trieg was willing to carry on right in front of the rest of the teammates, concealed only by the tablecloth. It was enough to spur Kurt into to taking some form of action, however small. He shakily put his hand under the table and grabbed Trieg's arm over his sleeve to try and remove it from himself.
Trieg, though, wasn't to be dissuaded. He broke free from Kurt's light grasp and reversed the situation. He grabbed a hold of Kurt's wrist just at the end of his sleeve, narrowly avoiding discovering any fur.
Trieg's hold was tight, and he forced Kurt's hand closer to him, until he placed it on his own erection that bulged through his pants. Kurt tried to pull away but Trieg's grip was like a vise. Trieg started moving Kurt's hand in a rubbing sensation over his erection, slowly at first before picking up pace.
"Hey, you okay? You haven't touched your pizza or said anything in awhile." Mark asked Kurt. This was enough to force Trieg to let go. Kurt quickly brought his hand back to his side, trying to suppress the desperate need to throw up.
Kurt shook his head, maybe a bit too vehemently. Trying to hide any shaking in his voice, he replied, "I'm fine. I'll just be right back."
There was no way he could've stayed and chatted like everything was fine without breaking apart. He wanted nothing more than to just teleport right out but that wasn't an option. The scraping of his chair seemed inexplicitly loud, and the four sets of eyes watching him leave felt like having daggers tracing down his back.
He headed straight to the bathroom. Tom's Pizza Bistro had spared all the expense they could on it. The floor was covered in a myriad of dingy, yellowed tiles while the two stalls were that brown-beige that seemed ubiquitous of all subpar bathrooms everywhere. A couple of urinals were the only fixtures gracing the far side of the room while one, cracked basin served as the room's sink. A glob of bluish gunk stained one side of the sink having slowly dripped like a festering wound from the soap dispenser. There were no paper towels.
Ignoring all of this, Kurt leaned against the sink, head bowed and hands braced on either side as his thoughts reeled in his mind.
All of his rationales couldn't explain this. It was obviously not just friendly touches. He knew before that he was being illogical but he just didn't want to deal with it. He had hoped that maybe it would just all go away. He had wanted so badly to trust Trieg, to have his respect…
As he turned on the water to the sink, he let that thought spin around in his mind like a coin slowly descending to the bottom of a charity vortex funnel. He began to vigorously wash his hands, as if to scour off Trieg's touch.
He was so stupid. Why did he let Trieg do this? Why didn't he try to stop him or say anything? He was disgusted with himself for his passivity and felt a creeping guilt rise up his throat. His fault. Letting Trieg do this. He shouldn't have let him get away with all those touches. Acting as if this was all normal. It was almost like he had just said to Trieg that he was fine with it.
And now how could he tell Trieg to stop after pretty much giving him so much latitude? Trieg might react badly; and despite his actions, Kurt still couldn't shake that yearning for respect from Trieg.
There was no way he could tell anyone else. His guilt alone was enough to consume him, but to have someone else know about his culpability. It would feel like his whole world was slowly being swallowed by a black hole. Just the thought of having to confess what was going on made him feel sick and dizzy. What if no one believed him? If Trieg convinced them he was deluded? Or what if nothing happened to Trieg and everything stayed the same?
He shut off the tap as that last fearful thought filled him with a mild panic. Acting in auto, he briefly turned the water back on to cup some in his hand and threw it at a few stray blue furs that had escaped and attached themselves to the side of the sink. He watched as the water carried them away towards the inevitable fall. The habitual action let him slowly get back under control. This time he turned the water off for good. As he listened to the old pipes complain, he began to think about things logically.
Was it really such a big deal? It's not like it was. It's not like Trieg was taking it any further. If he did, Kurt could always teleport away. And he would. It was fine.
As he tried to delude himself into thinking that nothing was amiss, everything was fine, the bathroom door swung hard against the wall. The loud bash of the door hitting the wall jarred Kurt out of his thoughts, and he swiftly straightened up to meet the gaze of a fuming Lance.
"What-" Lance shouted but stopped himself when he realized how loud he was. He waited for the door to slowly swing close before starting again. "What the fuck?" He repeated while stepping forward. Kurt took a wary step back, uncomfortable with Lance's proximity. Trepidation filled him. Had Lance somehow seen what he let Trieg do?
"What do you mean?" Kurt found it difficult to look Lance in the eyes. He placed a shaky hand on the sink's edge to prevent it from revealing his nervousness.
"What do you mean what do I mean? First, you blow me off. Then, you fucking ignore the whole table, like somehow I've tainted everyone with my presence, and now you run off in a huff to hide in the bathroom simply because I called you a freak."
Kurt stared at Lance in bafflement. Thoughts of Lance's earlier insult having been completely taken over by Trieg. He had forgotten entirely about the earlier incident. It seemed so insignificant in comparison.
Lance must've read the confusion on Kurt's face. His anger deflated without a source of contention. "Shit." Lance ran a hand through his hair. "I must look really fucking stupid."
Kurt shook his head. "No. It's just that…" This was the moment that Kurt could confess to someone what was going on, but he just couldn't do it. His mind scrambled for a plausible excuse. "…just that I…don't feel well."
"Oh. Did you throw up?" Lance looked concerned and took another step closer to Kurt, eyes searching for signs of sickness.
"No. I just felt like I needed to." Which wasn't actually a lie.
"Do you still need to?"
"A bit."
"Like right now?" Lance asked nervously.
"I'm not going to throw up on you," Kurt said with exasperation.
"Yeah, ok. Do you want to go home?"
That was the best suggestion Kurt had heard all day. "Ja."
"I'm sure Mark won't mind leaving early. And if Miguel wants to stay, he can grab a ride with someone else."
"No, don't worry about that. I'll just teleport home." There was no way that Kurt wanted to be stuck in such close quarters when he just wanted to be alone.
"Will you be ok doing that?"
"I'll be fine." He started heading towards the door, readying himself to face the others.
"Wait," Lance said as he grabbed Kurt's arm just before he passed by. It took all of Kurt's willpower not to rip his arm from Lance. He did not want to be grabbed right now, but luckily Lance let go relatively quickly preventing any histrionics.
Lance looked like he was struggling with what he wanted to say. "I came in here because that is…. I didn't like you ignoring me and I wanted to say that…." Lance sighed heavily. "Look, I'm fucking sorry. I don't think you're a freak. Goddamnit, I think-"
Taking pity on him, Kurt interrupted Lance. "No need to beat yourself up." It still hurt that Lance had called him a freak but at least he apologized. And maybe he was right. Maybe he was a freak, letting Trieg touch and – no. He couldn't think about that now. Shoving his dark thoughts to a small corner of his mind, he concentrated fully on the conversation at hand.
"Besides, you're not that bad, even though you can be a big jerk."
Lance seemed to be slightly abashed by the sentiment, a slight blush gracing his cheeks. "Yeah, I know. It's my thing. And you're not as annoying as I once thought you were."
Kurt couldn't help but smile in amusement at Lance's bluntness.
His smile lasted until they returned back to the dining area, and Kurt spotted Trieg. It was almost like his lie was coming true. A sickness started rolling in his stomach as he caught Trieg's stare. Instead of retaking his seat, he stood with Lance at the head of the table next to Mark.
"Hey, so you guys work it out?" Mark asked.
"Actually, Kurt's not feeling very well, so he's gonna head out," Lance explained.
"Oh." Mark looked over Kurt with concern. "Let me take a few more sips and we can go."
"Nonsense, Mark," Trieg butted in. "There's no need for you to miss out. I'd be happy to take Kurt home early if he needs to go."
Kurt felt his heart speed up, almost feeling cornered by Trieg's suggestion. His mind worked double-time to find an excuse. "I,um, I have a ride. I called already. They're already on their way now. I'm just going to go wait outside for them. The pizza smell is a little gross right now." Kurt pulled a sickly face to add credence to his lie.
"I'll wait with you. Be back in a bit," Lance said. They hurriedly exited so that no one else could offer to join. and Kurt could teleport without an audience.
Kurt led them around the building where only a solitary dumpster awaited their arrival.
"Thanks. I thought for a second we'd have the whole team waiting out here," Kurt said.
Lance looked back towards the entrance of the restaurant. "Yeah…I don't really feel like going back in now."
"Why?" Kurt was a little surprised. He figured Lance would enjoy hanging out with the rest of the team a bit longer.
Lance shrugged. "I dunno. Just not in the mood."
"Well, do you want a lift?" Kurt figured it couldn't hurt to ask.
"Man, whenever you've teleported me, I feel like I'm gonna throw up."
"That's because I wanted you to. Otherwise, I can make sidealong teleportation not so bad of a ride."
Lance still looked skeptical but seemed willing to try.
"And you won't throw up on me either, right?" Lance asked warily.
"No guarantees." Lance balked a second before Kurt continued. "Don't worry. I'm feeling a bit better. If I throw up, I'll be sure to lean away from you."
"Alright. Just don't let me forget to text Mark in a bit so he's not wondering where I am."
"Sure." Kurt was relieved that he'd be able to escape without having to face Trieg again. That is until the next practice. He'd worry about that when it arrived. With that, the two teleported in a cloud of purple smoke.
Unbeknownst to Kurt and Lance, Trieg had waited a few minutes before following them outside the restaurant. Their voices floating from the alley clued him in to their location. But when he walked behind the building, they were nowhere in sight.