AN: Thank you again for holding out and waiting so long. I hope you enjoy this chapter. We're in the last quarter of the story, so be expecting things to pick up! I will do my very best to have the story updated at least once a week (probably fridays).

*Warning: Brief mentions of potential triggering situations (Karofsky's kiss). If you had trouble with it in the show- it will make a reappearance here.*

On a side note- I do not hate Karofsky- and he may yet have a redeeming moment in this fic. However- this is just a repeat of cannon events, altered to fit this AU.

Disclaimer: I do not own glee.

19. Never Been Kissed

Kurt stood outside the door listening to the Warblers harmonizing, and with his eyes closed he could almost pretend that he's in there with them; that he's one of them. He can imagine that he'd never left Dalton, and he was still happy and healthy and with his two best friends in the world.

They sounded like a dream. They really did, and Kurt thinks that maybe it's the most beautiful sound he's heard in a long while. Blaine's voice stood out above the others. Even when they were kids Blaine's voice had been awe-inspiring and whether he was singing or speaking or yelling or whispering, Kurt had loved it. It had made him feel loved. Now it made his heart flutter.

He knows he shouldn't be here. Knows that he probably should leave. But upon being pushed to the brink, his flight instinct had sent him flying straight to Dalton and his friends. There wasn't anything they could do though…about this. So really, he should just suck it up and leave.

He convinced himself that he just needed a minute to get his shaking limbs under control and fight the pressure building in his throat. After he regained control he could leave. He'd just pretend he'd never come. He'll buy some new concealer on the way home, because there was no way he could just walk into the house without Finn or his Dad noticing.

He'll pretend it never happened.

"Kurt?" a familiar and comforting voice shatters any pretence of control that he had and he jerked away and stiffened as pain erupted through his spine. He knows it's Wes. He had to snap out an arm and grab the wall to keep himself from spinning around. Suddenly he was supremely aware of what reaction Wes would have if he saw.

"Oh Cheezus, Wes," he gasped, trying to get his breathing back under control, "you scared me."

Wes' hand is still on his shoulder, warm and steady and Kurt thought it was probably the only thing holding him upright at the moment.

"Sorry, sorry!" Wes said from behind him, sounding truly apologetic. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to say hi, and see why you were here. Also- what is a cheezus?"

He can't be sure if his friend is actually oblivious to his internal panicking or not. They've known each other for a long time, and if anyone could see through one of facades it would be Wes or Blaine.

"Long story," he said quickly, "and no reason. Do I need a reason to see my friends?"

Wes released his shoulder and shifted to try and get face to face with him, and Kurt twisted away from him.

"No," Wes said slowly, "you don't. But we already have plans to catch up tomorrow…Kurt what's going on?

"Nothing's going on," he shrugged. "Maybe I'm spying on the Warblers again. I thought you'd be in there."

"I was running late because my English teacher held me back after class…you're avoiding the question Kurt. Why are you here right now?"

There was a slight, awkward, pause where they both avoided the irony of the insinuation before Wes opened his mouth again and tried to make light of the situation.

"You are totally not spying again. And if you are- you are still the worst spy ever. Blaine could be a better spy than you."

"I told you I-"

"Kurt," Wes said pointedly.

Kurt knew at this moment that Wes hadn't bought into his weak lie, and prepared himself for the fallout. He didn't need to see him to know that he was standing behind him with his arms folded across his chest, eyes narrowed.

"I just," he swallowed thickly, it was hard to breathe with the pressure there, "I wanted to see you. I needed to get out, get away. It wasn't… it's not… I'm not… I shouldn't have come. I should go."

He turned to do just that, making sure his face was tilted down and away from Wes' line of view.

"Kurt, you can come see us anytime you need to, you know we'll…"

His lips were quivering and his eyes stung as he finally met the eyes of his old friend, who had stopped talking to him and was just staring.

Slowly, as the seconds passed, Wes' facial expression went from surprised to confused to angry. Wes looked furious, and he'd only been looking at Kurt's face for like 20 seconds. His grip on Kurt's arm tightened in an attempt to hold him in place and he winces openly.

Wes jerked his hand awy. His brown eyes were dark and his mouth contorted into a thin line.

"What. The. Hell?" are the first words he manages to get out.

"What the hell?" he repeats, and then demands: "Who did this?"

Kurt refused to pull his eyes from the floor and the trembling returned full force. He was not okay. Not even close.

He opened his mouth to try and calm Wes down, but finds that the only thing that left his lips was a strangled whine. He knew what Wes was seeing. He was seeing Kurt's stupid white skin even paler than normal so that his coral colored lips stood out frighteningly, and the blood from where his lip was painfully split tainted the perfection he normally strove for. A purpling bruise would be blooming across his right cheekbone and he knew that it likely resembled a splatter painting where the artist just decided to let loose.

It was ugly.

He couldn't fight back the tears anymore and that pressure in his throat explodes and suddenly before Wes could interrogate him any further, Kurt threw himself at his friend and sobbed into his perfectly pressed Dalton blazer.

He'd forgotten what a hug from ones best friend felt like. It wasn't anything like the hugs he got from his friends in Lima. It wasn't stiff or quick or embarrassed. Wes reacted instinctively, the way only someone who had plenty of practice comforting his best friends could, and looped his arms around Kurt's smaller shaking frame and just let him cry. He rubbed a hand soothingly up his back and all Kurt knew was that this felt safe. He'd missed this feeling of acceptance and love and ability to hug or touch his friends without being admonished afterward.

He felt so stupid, so weak. Such a cry baby. He hated crying.

"Blaine!" Wes shouted, and Kurt thought he heard something akin to panic in his voice. He tried to pull away because he was sure he'd heard that tone before. God he was a freak. He was weak and a freak, and he freaked people out. He- Wes held him place, stopping his frantic call to their friend and tried to tell Kurt it was okay.

He cried harder.

The singing had stopped, Kurt realized, and now there were a bunch of boys gathering at the door. He stiffened and tried to hide away inside Wes' shoulder.

"What is it, what's going on?" Blaine's angelic voice asked as it got closer, pushing through the crowd of boys. "Wes? …Kurt? What's going on?"

The sobs had let up, and he was now hiccupping off and on, but he still can't get a handle on his breathing.

He could feel Blaine at his side, a warm gentle hand splaying out over his back, fingers tight with concern.

"What's going on, Wes?" he repeated.

He was addressing Wes, Kurt assumed, because no answers would probably be leaving him at the moment.

"Something's wrong," Wes growled. "His face…"

A ragged and outraged hiccup tore from his throat, and Wes seemed to understand. Kurt was a proud person, and even though he was already making a spectacle of himself. He didn't need the whole world knowing his secrets.

Blaine understood too, because he did not question further or shift around to look at his face, but instead wrapped his arms without hesitation around Kurt from behind, forming an awkward and probably embarrassing looking group hug. He let it pass because Blaine would have insisted and anyway he could use the comfort anyway.

"Everything okay out here?" a newer, still familiar but less dear, voice asked from just beyond his little bubble.

His eyes flickered over to the boy standing tersely to the side of him and he felt even worse. He squeezed his eyes shut again and he chocked on a breath.

God, David already hated him and instead of just waiting to meet up with Wes and Blaine tomorrow he just had to show up now, upset and distraught and looking all the world like he was trying to steal them back from him. He hated himself for that right then. He hated himself for a lot of things.

He didn't see the concerned and slightly frightened expression on David's face when he caught a glimpse of the harsh condition of Kurt's face. Kurt just tried again to pull away.

Blaine and Wes ignored this action and held him firmly in place. Kurt knew he was safe, but felt a little panicky with all of this not letting him move, and he began to struggle blindly.

"Let's get him away from here," Blaine said.

"We'll take him to mine and David's," Wes replied firmly, before twisting a little and looking at his friend and roommate. "Can you and Thad handle the rest of the meeting?"

He must have said yes, because Blaine was shifting him gently, gently, and keeping a protective arm around his waist, while Wes kept a hand around his shoulders and they half held him up and half guided him forward.

"I'm sorry," he croaked as they led him up a flight of stairs. "Sorry, sorry. I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry."

"Hush, you," Blaine murmured as they stopped briefly between flights so that he could breathe.

He'd seen their rooms a few times since back in freshman year before they'd stopped talking, and he'd always been very jealous. The freedom to decorate their rooms any way they wanted without their parents lording over them, and the nice furniture and expensive looking duvets. This time though, as he was ushered into Wes' room, his eyes were clouded with tears and he was struggling to just breathe so he took no notice of the furnishings. Blaine let go of him momentarily to shut the door and Wes gently pushed him down into one of the desk chairs, his hand never leaving Kurt's shoulder.

Blaine returned and knelt before him, taking one of his hands and caressing it gently. He pulled Kurt's chin up so he could get a look at Kurt's face. Kurt could just make out Blaine's angry expression. He expected Blaine to demand answers too, but instead he told Wes to get the first aid kit.

"Breathe Kurt," he murmured, all gentleness and deep concern when he turned back to Kurt.

God Kurt had missed this; missed his friends. He had said it before and thought it often, but it hadn't hit him just how much until this moment, when he was hurt and upset and without question they took care of him. No one at McKinley had ever done that for him. No one. He reflected on this as he took deep breathes, head pounding, and finally the tears began to recede.

He wiped at his eyes furiously when he had control again, and smiled blearily at Blaine, who was staring up at him with such concern and worry that Kurt felt his heart swell.

Wes returned with the kit and stood on the side that Blaine wasn't kneeling next to, and held up a wet cloth that Blaine accepted. He wiped Kurt's face gently, taking extra care to clean the cut on his lip and wipe away the remaining tracks of wetness running down his cheeks. Kurt felt slightly embarrassed, but stayed silent anyway.

Wes produced an icepack for his swollen lip and Kurt took it gratefully, finally looking his friend in the eyes. Wes was silently fuming, and so was Blaine.

"I-"he rasped.

"Seriously, please stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for. I don't even know why you're apologizing in the first place," Wes said.

"I shouldn't have come," he said again, "I just… I needed something. I don't know. I was upset and I just ran, well drove really, but yeah…"

Blaine sighed and sat down on the bed and looked at him.

"Kurt," he started, and Kurt was suddenly afraid that this was where they told him to stop coming. That they couldn't be friends with a cry baby like him and that he needed to put on his big boy pants and just learn how to take care of himself.

Listen dude, I can't be there to defend you all the time.

Kurtie, you just have to learn how to avoid Karofsky and the other jocks. You won't get hurt that way.

Listen, Kurt, I know we're friends, but I can't be seen with you… Glee club already does enough harm to my reputation.

"I know that we're just getting to know each other again and there are lots of things that we don't know about each other. And maybe we've sort of lost each other somewhere. But, Kurt, that doesn't mean that we ever ever stopped caring about you. We were best friends, the three of us, since we were five. That's a long time. Whatever happened two years ago that made us drift apart? That's not enough to discount 11 years of friendship. Never think you can't come to us when you need us, okay?"

Kurt stared, eyes wide and glistening. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He didn't know what to say.

"What have they done to you at that public school of yours?" Wes joked when he didn't say anything.

All three of them winced at the dark irony of the statement. Kurt's eyes found the floor again.

"What happened Kurt?" Blaine asked quietly from the bed, hands clasped together as he leaned down on his knees, watching Kurt carefully.

"Don't get us wrong," Wes added quickly. "We're glad you came to us, but there has to be a reason."

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, and a single tear escaped the captivity of his lids.

"I haven't been completely honest with you about how bad the bullying is," Kurt whispered.

He heard an intake of breath and then silence prompting him to continue.

"But this, this wasn't just bullying. This was…I don't even know what to call it. I never thought it would happen to me. It was…"

"You are nothing but a scared little boy who can't handle how extraordinarily ordinary you are!"

Kurt let out a squeak of protest as he was shoved back into the lockers, hard. A fist connected with his face and his head slammed back into the cold metal. He was in shock for a moment and they both stared at each other. Then Kurt tried to leave, and he felt two hands shoving firmly back into the locker and then… a pair of lips connected with his.

This wasn't his first kiss, but it was the first one he hadn't wanted to give; the first one stolen from him. He lifted his hands and shoved at Karofsky as hard as he could so that he could get the hell away from here, but Karofsky responded by bringing his arms up to hold Kurt in place.

"Come on, Hummel, lets just do this. No one has to know."

Kurt began to panic as the lips latched onto his again. Oh god, stop stop stop… Hands roamed- almost gently, and God that made it even worse, because he still couldn't fight against it- coming down to clutch his hips

And then for a single moment Kurt's head cleared and he heard his father's voice in his ear.

"You are never defenseless. If some asshole thinks he can manhandle you, you gotta fight back with everything you have. Kick, bite, scream…"

He then brought his knee up in between the boy's legs and then shoved him off with all of his might, lashing out with his leg and kicking out again to make sure he was down for the count.

Then he took off.

"Hummel!"

"It was what?" Wes' voice brought him back from his memory, and he felt nausea building up.

"He tried to…he just grabbed me and he k-kissed me and … oh, I'm going to be sick," he broke off and clapped a hand over his mouth.

A trash basket was shoved into his hands and Kurt didn't have time to be embarrassed as he emptied the contents of his stomach into it. A hand found his back and rubbed soothing circles until his stomach muscles unclenched and he sat there breathing heavily, leaning over the basket between his legs, bile dripping from his clammy lips.

Being so focused on not being sick again, Kurt did not see the frightened exchange between his friends, nor did he notice David standing at the doorway.

It was hours later that Kurt woke up in a room not his own. He began to panic before he recognized the blue blazer lying across a desk chair across the room. He was with Wes or Blaine, at Dalton.

The fuzzy memories flooded back to him and he nearly buried himself back under the undeniably warm covers that he was ensconced in. He'd made such an idiot of himself. His friends probably thought he was a pathetic idiot.

Where were his friends? Did they have class to go to, or dinner? He sat up slightly, propping up a pillow so that he could sit up against the headboard.

Glancing briefly at the bedside table he noticed two things. First was a note that had his name declared in bold black letters and the second was his phone. He reached for the letter first.

Kurt- We ran down to the dining hall to get dinner for all of us. We'll be back by 7 : )

Ps. Called your dad and told him you had come to visit, but weren't feeling well. He said to just stay put and come home tomorrow.

Blaine

Dinner? But… hadn't it just been 3 p.m.? He picked up his phone next. 6:50. They must have only recently left the note. He was hungry, so he would be grateful when they came back.

There were also five new texts on his phone.

From: Dad
-Blaine called and said you weren't feeling well. Everything okay? Call me when you wake up.

Finn: Dude, where are you! You missed glee club.

Rachel: KURT HUMMEL. You are not allowed to miss Glee practice! Sectionals are next week! I am severely disappointed.

Mercedes: Where are you?

Tina: Kurt, you missed Western Civ and Glee. I got the homework for you. Where are you anyway?

He sighed and quickly typed out a mass text letting everyone know that he was all right but not feeling the greatest. He then sunk back down into the bed, allowing himself to momentarily pretend that none of this afternoon had happened. He only vaguely wondering as an afterthought whose bed he was in? He wondered if it was Blaine's, and then quickly pushed that thought away. There was nothing going on there. It was completely platonic. He pulled a pillow over his face.

"You're going to have to come out sometime," Wes said from the doorway with a small smile as he, Blaine, and David poured back into the room, laden with dinner trays and various bags and containers.

"We raided the kitchen after we went to the dining hall. I come bearing mint chocolate chip ice cream," Blaine said with a knowing grin.

I love you is what he thought.

"My hips!" is what left his lips.

"Oh please," David said with a good-natured roll of his eyes. "You are so skinny that you could eat three pints and probably not gain a pound."

"He's always had a fast metabolism," Blaine observed and smirked when Kurt stuck his tongue out.

They placed the ice cream and other novelties in their mini-fridge and set down a tray of food on the table beside Kurt. He looked it over; Pasta Alfredo, Green Bean Casserole, a dinner roll, Cheese fries and milk. Holy cow, what kind of cafeteria did this place have? McKinley would never have anything this delicious or fresh looking.

"Thank you," he said with a smile. "Listen, guys, I just wanted to say that I am so sorry for freaking out on you back there."

"What did I say about apologizing?" Wes said with a sigh. "Besides, it sounds like you had good reason."

"Kurt, I… you don't have to, but I really think you should tell us what's going on. When you told us it was a bit jumbled."

Kurt was picking his way through the casserole and refused to meet their eyes.

"I don't really know where the breakdown came from. Well, okay, I do. It probably came from all of the stress I've been putting myself under for classes, and the bullying, and Glee Club, and worrying about Dad, and then this… I wasn't even expecting something like this. Did I think that Karofsky was a homophobic bigot who might possibly beat the crap out of me if provoked? Yes, I did. Did I think he would… kiss me? Not in a million years. I just feel so… violated."

"Did he rape you?"

Kurt squeaked and nearly dropped the fork he was holding.

"No, no. I mean…. I don't know if he would have or not. He…" he swallowed. "He kissed me and was holding me in place and touching me… and I told him to stop. He didn't. So I did what any freaked out person would do. I kneed him in the nads and took off."

There was a collective sigh of relief.

"It's so weird, because even though he's a total jerk and he just kissed me against my will and I've just found out he's a closeted idiot…I don't want to see him as the bad guy here."

"WHAT?"

"What I mean is that he's afraid of who he is. It doesn't excuse what he did, but it makes it easier to… let go? I don't know. I'm alternating here. One minute I feel upset and weird and dirty and the next I feel sorry for him."

"Do not feel sorry for him. Kurt, what he did was wrong, so very wrong. You are the wronged party here, and you are allowed to be mad. I'm mad. I'm furious."

And it was true, Kurt didn't remember ever seeing Blaine this angry.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I know. Thanks for taking care of me, and for not telling my Dad."

"What are friends for?" Wes asked.

"David, I just… thank you for being here too. It means a lot. I'd like to think that maybe we're friends now."

"Friends," David agreed. "I look forward to getting to know you more. I apologize for my behavior before."

"No problem, I'm sure I deserved some of it. Now… can I have that ice cream?"

"I thought you were worried about your hips," Blaine teased from his spot where he'd settled on the bed at the end of Kurt's feet.

Kurt growled and shoved his food tray aside.

"I'll show you worry for my hips!" he declared as he tackled the blazered boy.

"That… doesn't… even make sense," Blaine gasped as he struggled to take control of the impromptu wrestling match.

It was this moment that Kurt became supremely aware of his position. Oh. Shit. He was layed out across Blaine, hips touching hips, chests pressed together, knees firmly planted on either side of the other boy's.

"Say Uncle," he breathed.

Their eyes locked and he was momentarily displaced. They were like one massive being, breaths coming and going in cycles, limbs entangled, hearts beating at an accelerated rate.

"I vote that Kurt wins," Wes declared, and the spell was broken.

"Uncle," Blaine agreed softly.

Kurt rolled off of him with lightning speed and nearly fell off the bed as he reached for the mini-fridge and pulled the ice cream out triumphantly.

"I win," he added unnecessarily as they all laughed.

He could feel Wes' eyes burning into his shoulder without looking. The jerk was too perceptive for his own good.

"Movie?" Kurt suggested as a distraction.

"No, not tonight," Blaine said gently from the spot where he was still sprawled, feet resting against his thigh now. "You have to drive all the way back to Lima tomorrow for school. We probably shouldn't stay up late. Wouldn't want you falling asleep at the wheel."

"Burt would so kill us."

He rolled his eyes.

"Well what do you suggest then?"

"Weeeellll," Wes said with a grin, "there are some old friends of your who are dying to see you."

That was how Kurt ended up being the center of attention for the rest of the night as Jeff and Nick and the other boys he'd previously gone to school with flooded the room.

It felt right.