Rating: T to M. Please don't read if you have issues regarding consent.
Pandora's Box
Chapter Three
He really should get out of bed, he thought to himself.
But it was hard to even move since he got home. It was hard to walk down the stairs into his room. Hard to avoid his father's innocuous questions. Hard to shirk off all those responsibilities of his. The only thing that seemed easy was taking off those clothes and taking a shower. A nice, long, hot, burning shower. A real one. Much different than the one before.
Even in the safety of his own house, he was still afraid Karofsky would come up behind him again and clamp that hand around his mouth. Pushing his body against him. Making him terrified, aroused, and confused. Gaga knows what was going to happen next in that scenario if he didn't run away then.
He hated those fears; when did he become so afraid? Was it always there since Karofsky or was it since that night? He felt like a ghost, so lifeless and see-through... a transparent apparition that could float away with the wind. The only evidence that he wasn't was the fact that his body hurt all over, inside and out.
He lazily stirred under the covers, holding a pillow to his stomach like how he used to when he was younger. Before his mother died, they would sit on the couch and hold pillows together, watching old Grace Kelly movies and eat ice cream out of the carton until it was all gone. It was something they did on those blue days, and it grew into a special ritual they shared. And now he did it by himself. Holding the pillow was as close to any comfort as he was going to get. In the background was Katy Perry's reassuring that he was not a waste of space and that he could not be replaced.
He turned to his side, sighing as he held the pillow to his chest, letting more tears come out. His phone was on the nightstand, vibrating incessantly with messages. Where are you, they said. What happened. Are you okay. I miss you. Call me, text me, me-me-me. He put his face into the pillow, letting out a sob. He couldn't talk to them right now; he couldn't talk to anyone. What could he say? Anything close to the truth would open a can of worms so big he wasn't sure it was worth it. He could just imagine their faces - would they think what he feared... what Karofsky maintained? That he deserved it; that he asked for it? Who would believe him? No one was helping him when he was being tormented during the day... how could they help him at night? He shuddered, happy he was safe (was he?) in his room away from The Fury. No one could touch him here.
"Kurt?" He stayed still as he heard his father from up the stairs. "Want some dinner?"
He didn't give a response. A response meant he was open to having a conversation and that wasn't happening anytime soon, especially not with his father of all people. He felt so guilty. His dad was still recovering, barely walking around on his own, and Kurt couldn't even put aside his own problems to take care of him. Even so, Kurt laid in bed, not wanting any human contact for at least now. He wanted to stay isolated, in a little bubble, until he figured out what to do in his unique situation.
"Guess not, huh?" His father replied for him. Kurt gave a small smile and that smile disappeared. His father was respecting his boundaries but that wouldn't last forever, and Gaga help him if he ever discovered what got his son so down. If he could raise hell over Finn's outburst to him, then who knows what would happen if he found out about Karofsky. About... last night. He held the pillow tighter, not wanting to think about it even though every second he did. What was there to think about? He could barely remember what happened, let alone vividly recall a detail (something he was thankful for.)
"Well, if you change your mind, it's by your door." He heard his dad give a sympathy pat to the door and closed his eyes, sighing. He wished for the upteenth time that this wasn't happening to him. A part of him felt he deserved this (no, he didn't-no one deserved this!) by wanting sex, wanting a boyfriend, wanting to be accepted. He wondered if this wouldn't have happened if he stayed closeted or even if he didn't want to be with another boy. If there was a God, he really had a screwed up notion of a first date. Kurt rolled his eyes, peeking out the covers. He picked up his phone and retreated into the duvet, looking over his messages.
Several texts from Mercedes who covered for him at Glee club. Thanks girlfriend, he thought, but not wanting to respond to any of her questions. Two texts from Tina asking how he was and what the assignment was for Glee. Great. Inner feelings. ...And one from Blaine: "Thinking about you tonight."
He gave a bitter smile. Was it stupid that he wanted both his first kiss and first time to be with Blaine? The guy was sexy, could sing his boots off, and had a heart of platinum gold. No, it wasn't stupid; just terrible that his firsts come from a guy who could burp the entire alphabet and bench a 320. He came back to the thought it was his fault which was insane - both times, Karofsky came at him first. What did that say about him? What if he thought Kurt was playing hard to get?
That thought made Kurt sit up from his covers in a panic. What sort of person was he dealing with? It really was like dealing with a neanderthal, except totally and utterly gay. 'Me smash you over the head, me do sexy sexy with you' - he gave a shudder. Karofsky was absolutely primal, that was for certain. No amount of house-training could break him of being utterly revolting. The fact that he actually thought Kurt enjoyed any attention from him was ludicrous.
Wasn't it?
Maybe he should leave that school. Start fresh. Transfer to someplace better, more accepting - like the Dalton Academy. A place that wouldn't judge him; certainly wouldn't expose him to predators like... Kurt bit his lip lightly, anxious. He looked at past texts until he reached a sentimental old one: Courage -Blaine.
Blaine's words came back to him about his regret of running away and not facing his fears. That if he could do it over, he would in a different way... a stronger way. Kurt bit his lip as he mulled it over.
"Men are so stupid," he said outloud, getting pissed (at himself? No!) No matter what he did or was going to do, Karofsky wasn't going to win - not this time. He had been bruised, beaten, thrown, slushied, and insulted enough - he wasn't going to take it, not when he had so much going for him. And the more Kurt thought about it, the more riled up he got.
What was he doing hiding in his room like a scared little boy?
Was he going to stay here the rest of his life afraid of one thing or another? If it wasn't Karofsky, it'd be someone else, something else that would try to push him down and tell him he wasn't beautiful or worth it.
He wasn't going to let this meathead push him around, was he?
"Fuck no," he said. That's right, fuck no! He threw the pillow at the wall, pretending it was Karofsky's dumb meaty fat face.
"I'm not going to take this anymore." Damn straight, not anymore! He looked at himself in the mirror at his vanity, nodding his head at his declaration. He was going to go out, and more importantly, he was going to do something he should've a long time ago: ask Blaine out on a date.
"Yeah!" he said to himself with more certainty than socially appropriate. He got out of bed and went to his closet to pick out his outfit. He was going to dress fabulous to feel fabulous. Getting out his phone, he looked at Blaine's text and then impulsively dialed. When he heard a savory voice answer with a butter-melting 'Hello, Kurt' he about melted himself. Despite this, he kept his ground. "Blaine," he said with much bravado, "I'm taking you out. No questions asked. Meet me at the diner in thirty minutes. Ciao."
And then hung up, throwing the phone to the bed to concentrate on getting ready. He was giddy with the rush at bossing his crush around, and even giddier at the fact that he was going on his first date tonight.
He would forget about Karofsky.
He would put it behind him.
And he wouldn't think about it ever again.
Dave wished he could do the same. He shoved his hands in his black sweatshirt, wishing he had his Letterman's jacket but the last time he had it, he was busy seducing the school's only out gay boy. He groaned, a hand sliding down his face as he tried not to look too suspicious to his friends who were at the other side of the arcade. A thousand times he asked himself since that morning, "Why did you do it? You could've walked away. You could've pretended you never saw him there and left it at that." But no, he had to do the stupid thing, the impulsive thing, the thing he wanted to do increasingly since he first saw Kurt - that he had to go back for more and more.
He still wanted more. What was wrong with him?
He pursed his lips and sighed, walking over to Azimio and the rest of his 'friends.' Everything, he supposed silently, as he pasted on a self-assured smirk. Everytime he approached them, he was nervous that they knew something was wrong with him. Like they could smell the difference on him. See through his lies. And everytime nothing happened... just like now. They gave him a respective nod of welcome, and Azimio slapped his buddy on the back, grinning.
"What took you so long?"
"Couldn't find my jacket," he lied. He was good at it. He'd done it for this long, why not keep going? As long as Kurt kept his mouth shut, he felt safe. Still, it made him uneasy knowing that Kurt knew more than he should... and uneasier yet to know that he could flip Dave's world upside down if he chose to. He had the real power; he just didn't realize it yet (or maybe he was that stupid. It was worth hoping for.) It made him feel better to know he had so much respect, he could deny it even if Kurt said anything... but the power of a rumor was a difficult one to quell. Especially one that was true.
"Wild party last night, huh?"
"Yeah," he forced a laugh. "It was okay." Better than okay; it was exhilarating, wonderful, numbing, incredible - and more if he knew enough words to describe it. It unleashed something in him that felt freeing and frightening at the same time. It inspired something that Dave Karofsky never felt before in his life: passion. And he wasn't sure (for once in his life) if he was ready to let go of this new feeling.
"You must've had a good time." His best friend was more astute than given credit for. Azimio's eyes slitted as he looked over his friend, focusing on his face, and once more, Dave got nervous. What if Kurt did say something? Moments seemed to gasp into years; what exactly did Azimio know? "How was she?"
"Huh?" He blurted out, not realizing he was holding his breath. He blinked and shuffled, trying not to seem like he was tense. Relax, he told himself. They don't know anything. Kurt didn't say anything. Despite his (shaky) faith in the boy, he couldn't help the trembling in his body. He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and tried to calm himself. Azimio looked from the game to him, not seeming to notice his dilemma.
"Come on, Karfosky, I know what you did last night."
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
The absolute panic hadn't yet set in but Dave couldn't help but take one small step back in surprise. He imagined being discovered many ways and the varied reaction from his friends: from absolute retribution to mild acceptance... even indifference. And in all of those ways, he never thought his lynching would precede with a friendly conversation about what exactly led up to his crimes. It was odd and he didn't understand the point. But now he was found out. He looked at Azimio's face who had this self-loving grin that mocked everything Dave felt that moment: the pain at being like how he was, his despair, his own self-hatred.
So this was it. His face fell slightly as he molded the mask into place, prepared at any moment for them to grab him and take him outside to give him his just desserts. He closed his eyes and swallowed his spit. Any minute now.
...Any minute.
He opened his eyes tentatively to see Azimio talking while watching the game intently.
"I mean, come off it - we know you didn't go off to get wasted til you puked. There was some prime real estate at that crib."
Another guy who was racing against himself chimed in. "Yeah man! Details." Soon they were all chorusing the same tune: "Who was she!" "Yeah!" "Don't be such a prude!"
"Uh," he sheepishly laughed, shrugging his shoulders like he was the man now that he was surrounded by requests and questions. He shifted into his Asshole Jock mode, still reeling from his brush with fate. While his heart was racing he managed to look arrogant as he carefully snubbed his nose with his thumb, getting the look of a confident masculine archetype down. "I don't know, man. Got so wasted, can barely remember what she looked like."
They booed. "Come on, you gotta remember something."
Azimio grinned, his game lost. All of his attention was on Dave now. "Was she tight?" He asked in his vulgar way.
Dave fought a blush as he unwittingly remembered the exact feeling of entering Kurt. "Y-yeah." He gulped. "Really tight." So tight, he emphasized in his mind as he fought arousal. It was humiliating possibly getting a boner in front of these straight guys talking about this. He rubbed his neck, hoping that was the end of it. Azimio kept it going though.
"Nice," he said. "What else, what else!" He was hungry for the details and Dave felt pressured to provide them. He looked around at all their faces, feeling like they were seeing through him with every passing second, with every lie or admission he ever told them. There was a heat coming up his body and he didn't know what to do except to keep talking.
"Uhh... She... was really fucking soft. She had an amazing butt."
Azimio motioned for more. "And, and... she, uh, did this thing with her... tongue." Karofsky went red in the face as he motioned to his neck. He never got embarrassed telling his conquest stories before (usually they were really detailed, just in case anyone doubted his sexuality.) But somehow, talking about Kurt as if he were a woman, and remembering the things they did last night on top of telling his homophobic friends the details - it was all at once tantalizing, erotic, dangerous, and really fucking cool.
"Oh shit, is that a hickey?" All the guys turned their heads to look at the mark. "The bitch bit you!"
"Yeah," he said a bit smugly, proud of the passion he inspired in Kurt that night (even if he chose to deny he took part in it.) "It was pretty fucking awesome." Whistles, clapping and sounds of society's approval were his reward for his lie. Half-lie. It really was fucking awesome.
"Yeah?" Azimio said, grinning, unknowing at what he was approving. "Fuck yeah! That's what I'm talking about! Tapping that ass."
"Oh yeah," Dave said, enjoying the irony at telling the complete truth: "I totally tapped that ass."
Azimio held out his fist for a bump and Dave obliged, letting out another breath. He made sure his face was as neutral as it could be but he felt like it was burning for all the world to see. It felt stifling in the arcade with all the noises in the background and the heat from being interrogated. The more he stayed there, the more uncomfortable he felt. Finally after playing a few games, he felt like it was safe to leave without seeming too shady. "Man, I'm starving. I'm gonna bounce."
"For reals?" Azimio clicked his tongue in disapproval, and for a moment, Dave was sure he was going to say something more but didn't. He shrugged but didn't make a move to make the obligatory handshake. Instead, he went back to his game. "Aiight. Hit me up when your fat ass is stuffed."
Dave waved him off, trying not to look too suspicious as he nearly ran out of the Arcade. He walked out the doors and breathed in the cooler night air, relieved to get out of there. He could usually withstand a grilling about sex but then again, he never had to lie about that before. It was only girls; never a boy. Never Kurt until last night.
And being with the guys just then, it reminded him that it was getting harder and harder to keep up his image in more ways than one. He couldn't remember the last time he didn't tell a lie about something that mattered to him. They didn't actually want to hear his real opinions - who would want to? He didn't even want to listen to himself.
It was another brush with the fate that he feared: being found out. More lies on top of lies; he felt like such a phony, like when he read Catcher in the Rye, that kid hating all the phonies.
Dave jammed in his hands further into his pockets, kicking a can on the sidewalk as he walked slowly down the street by himself. He wondered like many other times what it would be like if he were gay (since he felt it wasn't beyond his control... yet. He could still be straight.) He was a bit afraid to turn as showtune-happy as Kurt seemed to be. He liked sports. He was into action movies and video games as much as the next (straight) guy. He loved going fishing and hunting with his father. Hell, he even hated the word "moisturizer" (it sounded creepy.)
And most of all, he didn't want to start dressing up like a girl, like Kurt was so fond of. He was a man and proud of it.
Even so, he was curious at what it would be like to walk down a hall, hand in hand with another boy. To have everyone know and... possibly not care.
It was bizarre. It was weird.
It was curiously... desirable.
That is, if Dave was even remotely gay. Which he wasn't. It was a one-time (okay, three-time, his brain subconsciously counted) thing that was never, never, ever going to happen ever again. Ever.
He paused as he watched a figure get out of a big black SUV and walk nimbly into the Main Street Diner. He gravitated toward him, his eyes tied to that body in a way that he wished he could switch on and off. It was Kurt, looking amazing as usual. Talk about timing. In spite of himself (and his earlier seconds-old conviction), a smile crept up to his face as he walked to the diner. He never planned these things out - and if he did, it never went exactly how he liked. It was like his brain went temporarily blank and his body started to do stuff on its own - very bad (good) things.
And now was such a moment as he walked slowly into the diner, looking around to see if anyone he knew was around. There wasn't and he felt safe enough to continue on. He shook a head to a waitress as he seated himself across from Kurt in a plush booth.
Kurt sat up straighter, his eyes going wide. "What are you doing here?"
"Evening to you too, ladyface," Dave pretended to peruse the menu, staying cool as Kurt got hot.
"What are you doing here." Kurt repeated, hissing through his teeth.
"What else? I'm hungry." He made sure to look Kurt in the eye when he said that. Kurt went a little pink and looked away.
"Well go eat someplace else. I'm meeting somebody."
"Oh really," Dave said, not really buying it. He had a sideways smirk as he turned the page to look at some burgers. Kurt would say anything to ditch him at this point, he figured. May as well make it entertaining. "Who? Your boyfriend?"
"As a matter of fact," a new voice interrupted smoothly. Both boys looked up, surprised. Blaine gave a wide smile, winking at Kurt. He was dressed more casually than Kurt expected - yet it didn't distract from how devastatingly handsome he was. Karofsky seemed to have a problem processing his presence as he stared at him like he was unreal... until he leaned in and gave a chaste kiss on Kurt's cheek. "Hello, Pumpkin. Hope I didn't keep you waiting."
"I-... uhh, no." He blushed and self-consciously adjusted his scarf around his neck. He fought from smiling too big before he remembered his unwelcome guest. He looked across from him at Karofsky who was red for entirely different reasons than embarrassment. "Um, Blaine. You know... Karofsky."
"Yes," Blaine said with grace, as he turned his body to him. "We've met before, right?" He pretended to look at Karofsky and mentally place him in his mind.
Karofsky didn't say anything. The menu pages were beginning to curl up from his grip.
"Karofsky was just leaving," Kurt said, relieved Blaine got here in the nick of time. He glared at the boy across from him. "Right?"
Dave still didn't move from his seat. He kept staring at Blaine. A muscle twitched on his neck.
Blaine cleared his throat and made a motion with his body. "Well, it's now or never, Karofsky."
Dave slapped the menu down on the table with enough force to make Kurt's eyelids flutter. He slowly got up and for a moment it seemed like The Fury would be unleashed. But nothing happened. He mockingly motioned with his hands to the seat, and as Blaine came near, brushed against him angrily and walked away.
"Wow," Blaine said, rolling his eyes. "That's a winner, huh?"
Kurt let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding. He gripped the tabletop edges as he leaned in to whisper, "Thank Gaga you got here. I didn't know what I was going to do if he was going to make me eat dinner with him."
Blaine arched an eyebrow at that statement, setting his things down beside him. "Well, I would've gotten here sooner if I knew which diner to go to."
Instantly, Kurt's eyes widened and he clamped a hand over his mouth. "Omigod, I'm so sorry!"
"Yeah, it would've helped if you actually answered my calls or texts."
He squirmed in his seat, heat coming up on his cheeks and neck. He loosened the scarf, letting it hang loosely on his chest. "Sorry... I wanted to be cool and keeping communication to a minimum."
"Oh no, it was cool. So cool," he cooed. "It got me here, no questions asked, right?"
Kurt laughed out, surprised. He put a hand over his mouth and smiled. "Right," he said, looking down at his menu in an effort to hide his deepening blush.
"So what's the story with Karofsky?" Blaine looked up and couldn't help but be amused that the bigger boy took a booth at an angle from theirs to watch them from behind a menu. Karofsky glared at Blaine harder when the suave boy smirked at him. He punched the table and broke his straw, blowing out the paper case and shoving it into his drink, slurping with such a violence as if to tell Blaine, "You're lucky you're not this milkshake."
"Ugh, don't even mention his name to me. I want to forget he exists."
Blaine turned his eyes back on Kurt who seemed much more subdued since Blaine brought up Karofsky. "That bad, huh?"
Kurt quietly sipped his water, his eyes shifting from Blaine's to the table. "You have no idea."
"Everything okay?"
Kurt quickly nodded and then stopped, looking at a spot on the table, let out a shuddering sigh. Blaine saw the tears at the corner of his eyes that the boy tried to blink away. He quickly took out a handkerchief and handed it to him.
"Thanks," Kurt said, trying to sound composed as he dabbed his eyes.
"What's so funny?" Blaine asked.
"Even your handkerchiefs are as good as I thought they would be."
Blaine smiled, laughing a little too. Then they sobered up, letting a silence fall between them. Blaine broke it. "Is it really getting to you, Kurt?" He was referring to the bullying but somehow felt there was something more under the surface. After all, the last time Kurt got like this was after Karofsky kissed the poor kid out of the blue during a yelling match. Blaine wondered what exactly went on this time, especially since Karofsky was so riled up, watching murderously from across the diner. Kurt still wasn't looking him in the eyes.
"I wish..." Kurt covered his mouth with the white silk, monogrammed with his friend's initials. "I wish it was all that it used to be. It was easier before. Now I don't know what to think." Blaine's eyebrows knotted together at the cryptic answer, but decided not to press. At least, not right away. So he acted on instinct, touching being his form of comfort.
"Hey," he reached out and held Kurt's hand. "It's okay. You can talk to me."
Dave was going slowly insane. What he thought was going to be a fun night turned into (rather quickly, too) a terrible, terrible decision. And yet, he couldn't make himself get up and leave as much as he wanted to. His eyes were glued as he watched the emotions on Prettyboy's face and then they just about bugged out of his skull when Prettyboy just casually laid a hand on Hummel's.
Oh no, he didn't just do that.
He let out a growl. It was like this 'Blaine' was seeking out retribution in the form of The Fury. It was madness. Sheer madness! Why was he even caring about this! It wasn't even his problem.
It wasn't even his boyfriend. (He knew, he just KNEW that guy was with him.)
So. Kurt lied to him after all. If he lied to him about that, what else did he lie about? Keeping his secret? Not outing him? Not wanting him back? Actually liking the attention he'd been getting? Being a virgin? That he was, in fact, very much Kurt's type? There was a variety of potential untruths for Dave to weed out and such precious time to do it in. Hell, he was already on his second milkshake and feeling just a wee bit sick from taking his anger out on it. The waitress even stopped coming back to check up on him.
That only made him angrier.
He focused on that hand that had yet to move from Kurt's small, pale, soft one. Ooooh, this was asking for trouble. He knew it. Why the fuck did he walk into this diner? (Dave was unsure if he meant that for Blaine or himself. It made sense either way.)
"Wow." Was all Blaine said.
Kurt picked at his salad, his appetite suddenly lost. He was worried that this would change how Blaine saw him. That he would no longer view Kurt as alluring as he once (maybe) did. Once more he hated Karofsky. He had terrible timing; just as Kurt finally met a cute, well-adjusted gay guy who was just his type, that idiot swoops in and starts demolishing everything in his world. He felt incredibly vulnerable in front of Blaine; exposed in a way he hadn't felt in a while. Even when he confessed his preference to his father, he didn't feel this nervous. Everything he felt hinged on what Blaine would say... how he would look at Kurt... the tone of his voice. It would confirm whether or not that Kurt deserved this. That he was not a victim. That he was asking for it, just like how Karofsky alleged and how he secretly felt.
Blaine, on the other hand, was still digesting every detail Kurt divulged. He had a feeling his friend didn't tell him the whole story, and Blaine couldn't really blame him. It was hard enough coming to grips with something like that. He looked across the diner again at Karofsky who was still intently gazing at the booth like he wanted to invade and conquer. What made someone act like that?
Blaine knew the answer: fear. Karofsky was afraid of something... whether it was his own sexuality or someone who told him to be disgusted by it. But he could tell even without knowing for sure that his walls were crumbling down and as a consequence, he was taking out years of pent up sexual energy that he'd been holding back on the only one he could give it to: Kurt.
He decided to word his opinion carefully. Kurt was in a delicate place and had entrusted knowledge in him that was neither easy to bear nor easy to share. "I don't know what I would do if that happened to me," he admitted, realizing he'd be in more of a panic than Kurt is now (something that piqued his interest.) "I think I'd be in a worse state than you are." Kurt scoffed and Blaine had a sideways smile as he squeezed the boy's hand that he never really let go of. "No, I mean it. You're braver than me. If I saw the guy who did that to me even a year after, I'd probably flip out."
"Really?" Kurt breathed, feeling some relief. He knew that Blaine was only comforting him but the fact that he was admitting a weakness made him all the more endearing to Kurt.
"Really." It was an encouraging smile and the hand left his to touch his cheek and wipe away some of the wetness. "I'd be a mess. I'm not a tough guy like you." Kurt let out a short laugh, choking a bit on the thickness in his throat, and smiled, holding the hand to his face.
"Thank you."
It was obvious Karofsky liked Kurt. Blaine could smell it a mile away the way Karofsky's eyes followed Kurt as the boy got up to use the restroom. Blaine couldn't blame the guy; he was in a confusing place. He'd been there with the same self-loathing and even the denial before one day the lying became unbearable, even to himself. Especially to himself, he thought as he remembered those angst-ridden years. Blaine decided to slip out of his booth and intercept Karofsky before the boy could follow Kurt into the bathroom. Lord knows what he was planning, but it obviously wasn't good (but at least it wasn't bad, either.)
"Hey there," Blaine gave a bright smile as he sat down across from Karofsky who slapped down the menu and gave him a look.
"What the hell are you doing here, homo?" He looked around, stabbing what was left of his milkshake repeatedly.
"Relax, I don't think anyone's taking notes let alone watching us. I just wanted to talk and maybe give you a little advice."
"I don't take tips from fags."
"Funny, considering you're one yourself."
Blaine didn't even bat an eye when Karofsky slammed the tabletop in spontaneous fury, causing all the patrons in the diner to give a glance. Karofsky noticed and cleared his throat, looking down at the surface and then at Blaine. "I'm not gay," he hissed.
"Whatever." Blaine held up a hand. "Hear me out, though. I know you like Kurt. I can see it. And attraction's not something that someone can just hide. It's going to come out, one way or another. Which," he gave an odd smile, "explains a lot of your behavior to me. You want Kurt. Bad. That's why you did what you did last night."
Karofsky didn't say anything at first. He stayed still, staring at Blaine. His breaths were coming out a little uneven through his nostrils as he tried to restrain himself. And then he leaned back. Slowly. The creak of the booth was the only indication he really moved.
"...He told you that."
"Yeah. He did." Blaine watched him carefully but he didn't seem to be reacting... yet. "And I just wanted to talk to you before you rushed into the bathroom to do god knows what."
The other boy went even redder, his grip on his milkshake glass growing precariously tight. He broke the eye contact to look away at where Kurt disappeared off to.
"See, I like Kurt, too. I like him a lot." Blaine leaned in, whispering in a low tone. He knew that despite what it looked like, Karofsky was hanging on his every word. He also never let go of the milkshake glass. "I like him so much that I would fight for him, if I had to. I'd fight to help him. I think what you did was shitty. I understand why you did it, and more importantly, I get that it had to probably happen to make you realize something about yourself. But it was still shitty. And it happened to Kurt. You hurt someone that I care about, and from the looks of it, you're going to keep on hurting him... aren't you?"
Karofsky didn't say anything in his defense. But at least his eyes shifted a little to look at the floor. That was some indication of shame. Blaine felt a little relieved. So Karofsky wasn't entirely remorseless. "It gets under your skin, huh?"
Karofsky looked him in the eyes. The anger still there but also a variety of other emotions, all too fleeting and fast moving to catch. Blaine stared back for a few seconds before nodding. "You've got a taste for it. Once you start, you can't stop you know. You know what you are." He got up from the booth. "So stop taking it out on Kurt."
And then he settled back into his seat, calm and steady as Kurt walked back out. "Hey," he said, an easy smile coming onto his features as he looked up at his date. "Feeling better?"
"As much as I can, yeah," Kurt said, even though he felt a little uneasy. He had spent the first three minutes freaking out that Karofsky was going to come in lumbering after him, and he wasn't sure he liked that or not. So it was difficult to process his disappointment when Karofsky didn't come barging through the bathroom door, dragging him into a stall, and touching him in forbidden places.
He actually spent a minute afraid to open the door, in case Karofsky was on the other side, about to come in and teach him a lesson for being out and about without him... for dismissing his company earlier. It disturbed Kurt that he was secretly eager for this punishment. And it also disgusted him.
He had told Blaine what happened that night and what happened earlier that day... but he neglected to mention his conflicted feelings on the subject. That while he was scared, he was also in anticipation. That when he thought about it, there was a jolt that went directly to his loins - and he didn't want to know what that said about him... whether he was a masochist that wanted a bully as a lover or that he was so desperate, he'd take even Karofsky in lieu of having no one.
It didn't paint him in a very good light and Kurt wanted to look impressive in front of Blaine. It was already a blow to the ego to admit how weak he was against Karofsky... but it was better to be a total victim than to acknowledge that maybe, that the experience wasn't entirely too bad. He wondered, like so many things this issue was bringing up, what this meant and if this was normal to feel after an attack. He wanted to think it was like Stockholm's Syndrome - totally inevitable if captivated for too long; just a psychological fuck-up that he couldn't help.
But he could help it... couldn't he?
Even as they got up to pay their bill and Blaine's hand slid down his back to rest right above his bottom, Kurt's eyes wandered over to the booth he saw Karofsky sit at. It was empty.
Kurt ignored the unsatisfied feeling in his gut that was starting to seep upwards into his chest.
"I had a good time tonight," Blaine said, playing with Kurt's scarf flirtatiously. They walked hand in hand down the steps of the diner.
"Yeah, I did, too." Why did it feel like he was lying when he did have a good time? Kurt looked up into Blaine's dark eyes and willed himself to melt. This is what he wanted. This is what was right. This was what love was; it was clean, it was pretty. It didn't give more questions. It didn't make you question yourself. It was self-assured and smooth and perfect. Like Blaine.
So when Blaine leaned down to give a chaste kiss on Kurt's lips, it didn't make sense to Kurt as to why he was working so hard to feel something. It was a nice kiss... sweet... beautiful... something he dreamed about his whole life - a real romantic kiss.
But it felt boring.
Kurt smiled nevertheless after it ended. "So you're okay for getting home."
"Yeah, I've got a midterm to study for," Blaine rolled his eyes as he played with Kurt's lapel, and then put his hand to Kurt's hair. For a split second, he tensed, wondering if he was going to pull it. He held his breath and exhaled softly when Blaine rearranged some locks into place instead. He wished that he had at least tugged them, and that line of thinking bugged him.
"Yeah, I need to work on stuff, too..." He looked down at Blaine's chest and on impulse, hugged him. Blaine's arms went around him and Kurt breathed in his smell: he smelled as good as he looked. That aftershave always did send chills up his spine. He wanted to feel some of the old jitteryness he anticipated he'd feel in this moment. Instead, Kurt wished for a clean, generic soap smell.
He withdrew, feeling a fake smile on his face take place. Thankfully Blaine was the one to say goodbye. "You'll be alright by yourself, right?"
He would be. If Karofsky didn't come after him then, there was no point now. It was late and they were out in the open. Besides, he was going home. All he had to do was get in his car and drive. After another of Blaine's sweet and perfect kisses, Kurt walked over to his car and automatically got in, not conscious that the alarm didn't go off. He stared at the steering wheel and let out a sigh, wondering what was wrong with him. He should've be on Cloud 9 - hell, given how much he wanted this moment, he should be on Cloud 9 Squared.
Even so, nothing in him really stirred. The butterflies were missing.
He put the keys in the ignition, starting the car, and looked in the rearview mirror. He gasped.
Looking back at him was Dave Karofsky.
I know some of the Klaine lovers enjoyed the earlier interaction before it dissolved into full on KURTOFSKY DEBAUCHERY (oh hells yeah). But I decided to reserve that for the next chapter... otherwise it would've been way too long and ended the chapter on the wrong sort of note. I originally wanted Blaine to be more manipulative because he's utterly stainless in the show so far... but when I write, it doesn't come out that way. It's sort of funny how I plan one thing and then another happens. I also put in a song in the background of this chapter that I thought sums up Kurt's feelings a lot of the time - brownie points to someone who guesses it!
Thanks for all the comments and alerts! They made me laugh, smile, nod in understanding, and in general, squeel like a total fangirl. A thing I like to do to keep inspiration fresh since my attention span is really short is to go through the archives and read updated stories about Kurtofsky pairings. A REALLY good one to check out is "In Which Dave Karofsky Doesn't Come Out" by Saltwatergarden. If I had to rank top top top favorite, this would be it, hands down. I highly encourage everyone to mosey on down and read it; you will NOT regret it. And if you do, well, I guess I'll just have to eat my hat then.
(To my anonymous reviewers who I could not pm: It is a bit of rape fantasy, but it also deals with Dominance and Submission, on giving power up and taking control of another being and how that's erotic. And it's also Dave Karofsky being totally inappropriate and creepy, but also learning what's acceptable and what isn't... as well as defining what love can be [since Kurt's so convinced it's nice and pretty and has bows on it]. I don't expect everyone to like it or even tolerate it; I'm pretty freaking surprised that I even got 5% of the positive feedback I've been getting. It's mindblowing that other people feel the same way, and again, I've never ever written anything like this ever before. This is my first time writing something this dark sexually that has to do with men/boys. I totally expect at anytime for the support to drop, however.)
I'm a little nervous because I'm not sure I'll have the next chapter up before the next episode of Glee pops up and I'm anxious about what sort of things will influence me. On one hand, I'm hoping they start to give Karofsky chances to redeem himself (I mean, that wink, come on people) but on the other hand, I want it paced nicely, in a real way. None of that rushed stuff. And the only way I see him really redeeming himself in Kurt's eyes to make him boyfriend material is SINGING A SONNNNNNNNG. This has got to happen. I have spoken.