Fic Search: I need my readers' help again (you guys helped me find a fic before). I'm trying to find a fic I used to love (but apparently didn't save). The glee guys figure out Dave was gay and they have a locker room orgy (no Kurt involved). Dave's a total cockwhore and wants it any way he can get it. Sound familiar to anyone? It was written sometime during season two-ish.

xoxoxo

David came to a stop at the front steps of McKinley. He buckled in the center, placing his hands on his knees to support himself. His lungs burned and it was physically painful to pull the oxygen into his chest. His legs weren't too bothered by the lengthy jog, but his lungs felt angry. He allowed himself a few minutes of huffing and puffing before he straightened himself back out. Between labored breaths, David was able to force out, "Phew…I figured I could probably do that, but I've never actually tried."

Whittaker was still jogging in place, wearing black nylon shorts with the slayer shield on the side, and a black cotton t-shirt with the slayer shield over the left breast. He had a nondescript black bookbag strapped to his back. "You never know what you can do until you actually try." David was wearing grey sweatpants and a grey hooded sweatshirt with cut off sleeves. His book bag was buckled across his chest and his waist to keep it high and tight. Back at home, at the start of their jog, the weight of the book bag had been completely unnoticeable; now, David felt like he had a ton of bricks clinging to him. "Meet you here after school?"

Whittaker was still jogging in place. David kind of wanted to see him trip…just because. It annoyed him that a sixty-some-odd-year-old dead guy had more stamina than him. "Are we going to jog back?"

Whittaker shrugged. "I figured we could do some strength training. The school gym has weights, right?"

"I…uh, the locker room does…but I don't think I'm very welcome in there anymore."

Whittaker blew air out between his pursed lips, making a "pfft" sound. "They can deal with it. I'll be with you. I'd love to see them try and mess with a slayer. So…you have classes to prepare for and I have some meetings to deal with. I'll meet you here after school and glee, we'll do some stretches out here, a light jog, and then some weight training in the locker room."

David's muscles whimpered in fear at the thought, but he wasn't going to show any weakness to Whittaker. "Yep. School's out about 2:15. Glee's out around three. I'll meet you then." Whittaker nodded and took off jogging around the side of the school, heading out towards the football field. Once David was certain Whittaker was out of sight, he grabbed the stitch in his side and began limping sorely up the front steps of McKinley.

xoxoxo

His lungs and sides no longer hurt, but the moment he became consciously aware of this fact, he became equally aware of the fact that his feet were now nothing more than blisters on top of blisters. A five mile jog wasn't exactly his idea of a "fun time" under the best of circumstances, but seeing as he was out of shape from the lack of sports for the past few months, it was all the worse.

There had been more than a few jokes about David's subsequent limping, but, in all honesty, they were the tamest "jokes" he had been the butt of in months. Finn joined David as the class ended and they walked together to their next class. "I can't believe Whittaker made you jog to school."

"He's a cruel, cruel bitch."

"Ha. Yeah. Do you know why he's been hanging in Figgins' office all morning?"

"No, not rea – wait, what?"

"Puck says he saw him in there during first period and I walked by the office last period and it looked like he'd set up some kind of temporary base. He had a desk and everything…one of those crappy desks they give us, not a teacher desk or anything, but he was working on some paperwork."

David pivoted on his heel (probably popping a blister in the process) as he turned and headed off towards the main office. Finn waffled for a moment, trying to decide whether to stand by his "bro" or to actually get to class on time, before deciding to follow David. True to Finn's word, Whittaker sat on the couch in the office, a metal school desk pulled in front of him. He was no longer dressed in his jogging outfit, but had his regular slayer suit on. Whittaker seemed to sense David's presence and looked up, quickly waving him in. "When you said you had meetings today, I assumed they were somewhere, you know, not here."

"I needed a fax," Whittaker picked up the stack of papers in front of himself and straightened them out by tapping the bottoms on the desk, "I needed to have a meeting with your principal, and I need to protect the 'gubbnent's' investment."

"Ummm…"

"Your eloquence astounds me." Whittaker handed the stack of papers to David. "This is your contract with the FBI. Take a seat and we can look it over, together."

David looked at the front page and took note of how thick the packet was – probably a good forty pages. He was, after all, a 'special case.' "You've read it?"

"Yep."

"It's what I was promised? No tricks? I'm not getting fucked over in anyway?"

Whittaker shook his head. "In my experience, it's usually in poor taste to 'fuck over' a werewolf. Unless you're suicidal, of course."

"Of course." David flicked through the pages, not really looking at anything, but seeing if anything jumped out at him. "Could we just sign it? I trust you."

Whittaker nodded. "If that's what you want." Whittaker took the packet from David and shuffled through it, showing David all the places to sign, date and initial. When they were done signing, Whittaker stood, running his hands down his legs to straighten out his trousers; Whittaker had apparently brought his own change of clothes to McKinley. "All right, raise your right hand." David frowned, but followed along. "Traditionally, this is done by the Assistant Director of the FBI at the start of training, but he's not here right now and you'll be training under me until you go off to Quantico this summer, so whatever. Repeat after me… 'I, David Theodore Karofsky-'"

"How do you, uh, know my middle name? Kurt doesn't even know my middle name." It occurred to him as he was speaking that Whittaker had been his own personal stalker for about eight years; of course he knew his middle name. "Ah, never mind. I, David Karofsky,"

"…do solemnly swear…that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States…against all enemies, foreign and domestic; …that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; …that I take this obligation freely, …without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; …and that I will well and faithfully…discharge the duties of the office…on which I am about to enter.…So help me God." David parroted his lines back to Whittaker during every pause. Where once, this would have been viewed as the most solemn moment in David's life, he found himself, at the moment, having trouble keeping a straight face, he was so giddy. "Congratulations. You've been sworn into the FBI. I'll have your paperwork sent back to DC later and then we'll get you fitted for your suit…with the understanding that it is only to be worn for official business."

"Official business, of course." And taking Kurt out on nice dates, putting the fear of god into a few of the meatheads at this school, looking like a general badass. "That goes without saying."

"All right, so I had a meeting with your principal earlier. We had a nice long talk about how some of your teachers were treating you and grading you. I…reminded Principal Figgins that discrimination against you would be a violation of Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973."

David glanced over at Figgins' secretary to see if she was paying attention to what they were talking about. She didn't appear to be, but you could never be certain. "Unhumans have legal protection?"

"Not as such, but it has been successfully argued in certain circuit courts that some unhuman designations qualify for protection under existing laws that protect the handicapped and otherwise differently-abled."

David raised an eyebrow as he pondered that. "Seriously?"

Whittaker shrugged. "Yeah, sure, why not?" Whittaker's expression left David doubting the veracity of his statement. "So, as it stands, you'll take all your regular courses, but because your teachers will probably find any excuse not to give you the grades you justly deserve, your grades will be pass/fail."

"And what's to keep them from just failing me?"

"It'll be a lot harder for them to fudge grades. So…if you don't want to give them an excuse to fail you, I advise you stop skipping and get back to class."

David jogged off down the hall (his aching feet long forgotten), headed for his social studies class, Finn just behind him getting debriefed on what had happened. They slowed just as they came to the door of the classroom. Finn was the first to enter the classroom. He got an unintelligible grunt from the teacher, acknowledging his tardy presence. David came in a second behind and garnered their teacher's full attention. "You're late, Mr. Karofsky."

"Yeah, sorry. I was in Figgins' office getting sworn into the FBI." If David had taken a picture of his teacher's face, it would have been enough to keep him feeling smug the rest of his life.

xoxoxo

It was the same trousers, blouse and tie he had worn to junior prom. He was rather partial to it; it reminded him that the student body of McKinley thought he and Kurt belonged together – even if they had meant it in a cruel manner. "You are such a dork." David glanced at the reflection of a half-dressed Kurt in the vanity as he straightened his tie. "Just because Whittaker swore you into the FBI a week ago doesn't mean you need to dress up like you're going to funeral everyday. At least wait until you get your official suit and patches."

David quirked a lop-sided smile as he turned around to kiss his boyfriend. "I'm an agent-in-training, now. I need to put forth a good image."

"I only see the image of a dork."

David cupped his hand under Kurt's cheek as he kissed him a second time. "Well, why don't you go start breakfast, while I go get dork-junior?"

xoxoxo

David rolled the sleeves on his blouse up around his elbows as he walked next door to the nursery. The door was closed and David could faintly make out Moo-Cow's shadow pacing underneath the door. A paw slipped under the door and attempted to pull the door inward. A plaintive "mew" could be heard. David grasped the doorknob and slowly opened the door, sidestepping Cow as she darted passed him. The room was a wreck. Alex's bedtime-toys (lovies and stuffed animals) were strewn across the floor. The baby-monitor, usually perched on the changing table beside the crib, lay on the floor, the battery cover a few inches away. Most alarming of all was Alex, himself.

At least David assumed it was Alex.

Alex was lying in his crib, on his back, with part of his blanket being chewed in his mouth. A chubby little fist gripped another part of the blanket.

A fist.

A chubby, pink, furless fist.

Alex turned his head to the side and smiled when he spotted his daddy. It took him a moment of wobbling back and forth, but he was able to roll himself onto his stomach. He made a throwing motion with the fist the clutched the blanket and giggled to himself when it didn't get very far.

He giggled. His son giggled. It was the most perfectly melodious sound David had ever heard.

Alex pushed himself up to his knees and crawled forward in his crib until he was against the bars. Gripping the bars, he attempted to pull himself into a sitting position. He succeeded for a moment but then began to totter back and forth before falling forward and smacking his head against one of the bars. There was a moment of ear-splitting silence that seemed to last an eternity before Alex began wailing at the top of his lungs. David was frozen in his stupor. The sound of his son's crying seemed to run through him like an electric shock. Alex craned his neck upwards, staring at his father through a scrunched up face. That look was all David needed to act. David rushed forward and grabbed Alex up in his arms, scooping the blanket around him as he did so. "Hush, sh-sh-sh. It's ok. It's ok." David bounced Alex in his arms, trying to settle him. "Kurt! Kurt! Kurt!"

Carol, Finn, Burt, and Kurt all shoved their way into the nursery. Kurt didn't even seemed phased by Alex's change. He took Alex from David, cradling him in his arms, tight against his chest. Over the sounds of Alex's crying (which was slowly dying into a whimper), David could hear the sound of Kurt humming.

Alex let out a small hiccough that signaled the end of his tears. His lower lip stuck out, causing his chin to dimple. Digging his fingers into Kurt's shirt, he turned to look at everyone in the room. He reached one of his hands towards David, but when he felt his body leaning backwards he collapsed against Kurt's chest, burying his head against Kurt's neck. David stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and son. As he felt Alex's fingers grabbing at his sleeve, David realized that this moment would be forever ingrained upon his heart.