June, 2008

Summer before Freshman year.

If there was one positive thing to come out of moving, it was definitely the opportunity to redecorate. Kurt tried to remind himself of this as he unpacked one more box of carefully wrapped items, taking his time to arrange them just so on the wonderfully built-in bookcase in his room. 

His room was definitely different, but a lot of things were different now. It had been just him and his dad for six years, but then Burt had met Carole at eighth grade parent night and six months later, here they were. Kurt had a new room, in a new house, with a new stepmom.

"Hey, Kurt."

And a new stepbrother.

Kurt looked up at the doorway, warily. He didn't know Finn very well, despite having gone to school with him for years. Kurt didn't really have a lot of friends; actually, lately he didn't have any friends. Kurt was a little different, he knew that, and teenagers in Lima were deathly allergic to ”different.”

"What are you up to?" Finn asked, looking a little awkward, just standing in the doorway.

"Unpacking, what does it look like?" Kurt responded, his tone a little short.

"Oh, yeah," Finn said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Puck's here and we're gonna play XBox, do you want to join us?"

Kurt spent a large portion of each day avoiding Noah Puckerman, the boy had a reputation for throwing kids into dumpsters, and Kurt wanted none of that.

"No, thank you," Kurt said, going back to his boxes.

"Oh no you don't, Hummel."

Kurt's eyes snapped up to where Puck had appeared next to Finn at the door to his room. Kurt hated to admit he was a little afraid of the boy, tall and broad, with his ever present Mohawk. Puck just wasn't someone you wanted to mess with. 

"See, this is how it is," Puck started, stepping across the threshold into Kurt's room. "Finn is my bro. And you're Finn's step-bro. So you're my bro now, too. See?"

Kurt stared at Puck with wide eyes. The boy was making absolutely no sense.

"Seriously, dude," Puck said, grinning at him, mirth in his eyes. "Come play XBox with us."

Kurt couldn't believe the next word that came out of his own mouth.

"OK."

--

August 2008

Summer before Freshman year.

"I am not auditioning for football."

"It's tryouts, dude," Puck laughed. "And come on, I've seen you with a football - you're a natural kicker."

Kurt scoffed, going back to the pile of jeans he was rooting through. He finally found a pair that seemed suitable, and he thrust them at Finn.

"Try these on," Kurt ordered.

Finn took the jeans and wandered over to the changing rooms. 

Kurt, Puck and Finn were at the mall; Burt had dropped them off so they could do some back-to-school clothes shopping. Kurt was using his excellent fashion sense to make sure all three of them were dressed in the coolest clothes for the first day of school. He wanted to make a statement - the old Kurt Hummel was gone, the new Kurt Hummel was here. 

Kurt glanced across at the women's side of the store, sparing a longing glance at the women's sweaters. 

No. The new Kurt Hummel didn't wear women's sweaters, or anything else so different or 'uncool.' Cool jeans, cool shoes, and tee shirts. That's what Kurt Hummel wore now. It wasn't that Kurt didn't love fashion, he did, he really did. He was just learning how to use it correctly, how to use it to protect himself.

"Dude, these jeans are awesome," Finn said, stepping out of the dressing room with the jeans in hand. "I'm gonna go buy them."

"Football tryouts, Hummel. You're going," Puck repeated.

“Just because you made me kick a football in my back yard does not mean I would make a good kicker.” Kurt thrust a pair of jeans at Puck, glaring at him. 

Puck just smirked and sauntered over to the dressing room.

Kurt nearly gagged at the thought of football, it was everything he hated. Dirt and sweat, and huge jocks in horrible shoulder pads. There was no way he was joining the football team. Kurt kept digging through the pile of jeans, finally finding a pair for himself.

"Dude."

Kurt looked up at Puck, who had stepped out of the changing room to model his jeans.

"These are totally badass," Puck said, grinning. They were just his style, dark wash, kinda rock and roll, and they clearly fit perfectly. 

"I know," Kurt responded, haughtily.

"The thing is, dude," Puck continued, walking back over, still in the new jeans with his old pair slung over his shoulder. "Finn and I will be at practice a lot, so if you don't get on the team, we won't get to hang as much."

Kurt stared at Puck, a strange feeling filling him as he realized that Puck wanted him to try out so that they could “hang” together.

"Yeah," Finn agreed, appearing with his purchased jeans in hand. "You should take weightlifting with us, too, bro. It'll be great!"

Kurt gaped at them both. He had really been expecting the two of them to ditch him on the first day of school. It was one thing to be friends with him over the summer, it was quite another to be willingly seen with him at school.

"Gotta keep the trio together, dude!" Puck said, grinning and clapping a hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Oh, O-OK," Kurt stammered. "Yeah, I'll try out. And take weightlifting, I guess. Sounds interesting."

It sounded awful. But Kurt had friends, real friends for the first time in his life, and he wasn't about to let that go.

--

April 2010

Sophomore year.

Kurt fiddled with the pull tab on his beer. He wasn't a fan of PBR, he usually gave Puck cash to get some better quality stuff, but tonight this was all they could get. He tried to hide his shaking hands as he cracked the top of the can. The taste made him wince, but he hoped it would give him some courage.

Finn laughed from where he was lounging on the couch next to Kurt. "Why do you even drink it? I know you hate PBR."

Kurt shrugged, taking a longer pull from the can. He didn't deny it, his brother knew him far too well.

"Because he knows that any form of booze is nectar of the gods, and he'll take what he can get." Puck raised a cocky eyebrow, shoving a beer at Finn and sprawling on the floor in front of the couch.

"That's right," Kurt said, voice a little distant as he stared across the room at nothing. 

The three of them were in Puck's basement, which was where they usually went when alcohol was involved. Not that they could get their hands on it very often. Puck's cousin would sometimes help them out, but he seemed to take an issue with buying beer for high school sophomores. Almost Juniors. It was April, after all.

Kurt stared at his feet and tried to distract himself by critiquing his own outfit. He liked to think he's clothes said 'I'm too cool for you' with a little 'fuck off, don't mess with me.' A little bad boy chic, if you will. Tonight he was wearing a black wife-beater, trendy bootcut jeans, and his black vans. His letterman's jacket was flung across the back of the couch.

Kurt’s skills as a kicker had earned him the jacket the year before, and he had been on the football team again this year. Finn had even convinced him to try out for baseball this year, and Kurt still wasn’t sure why he had agreed to it. But Kurt had found out he was actually rather good at it, and he was now McKinley’s new shortstop.

The one thing Kurt could appreciate about sports and weightlifting was the way that it had changed his build. He had been scrawny and small at the beginning of freshman year; now he was much broader and his latest growth spurt had been a particularly good one.

Somehow, Finn had suckered Kurt and Puck into joining him in Glee club that year, and since the other football guys seemed to follow their lead, several of them had joined up too. Kurt honestly loved being friends with them. He seriously hoped he wasn't about to screw it all up.

"Dude." Puck waved a hand in front of Kurt's face. "Why are you all mopey and shit?"

"Yeah, bro, what's up?" Finn elbowed him, and Kurt glared in return.

"I just..." Kurt took a deep breath. He tried to remember how well this conversation had gone with his Dad. He'd actually been surprisingly cool about it. "There's something I need to tell you guys."

"Oh my god, he's finally coming out to us, Finn!" Puck cackled. 

Kurt went white. He gripped the beer can so tight in his hand that it crunched. Puck was joking, Kurt knew he was joking. He said that to both him and Finn at least eight times a week, it was his favorite stupid joke. But Kurt still found that he couldn't speak or make eye contact with either of his friends. All he could do was stare at Puck's ratty 1970s rug.

"Kurt? Bro?" Finn reached out a hand and squeezed his shoulder. There was a long silence. "You know, if it were true, we would totally be cool with it. Right, Puck?"

"Huh?"

Finn kicked Puck, hard.

"Ow!" Puck's eyes were wide for a moment as his mind caught up with him, but he brushed it off. "Yeah, man. I don't give a shit who you want to get your rocks off with. Hell, more chicks for me, dude."

Kurt's laugh was high and thin, his nerves had a strangle hold on his throat. He glanced nervously between Puck and Finn, but found only acceptance in their eyes. He was pretty sure they already knew, had probably guessed ages ago. 

"Wait." Puck seemed to have a fresh thought in his head. "Are you going to come out at school?"

Kurt tried to breathe more evenly. "I'd like to," he said quietly. "I'm tired of hiding." He really was.

"Don't worry about it, bro, we got your back." At least Finn seemed confident.

"Abso-fuckin-lutely, dude, you're my boy! But just in case." Puck hauled himself off the floor and walked over to the closet, starting to dig through some boxes. After a minute, he chucked a pair of beat-up red boxing gloves onto Kurt's lap. "I'm teaching you how to fight," he informed him, before he cracked a grin at Finn. "And Finnessa, too. He hits like a girl."

"Hey!"

--

May 2011

Junior year.

Kurt glanced down the lunch table at Santana, where she was ranting at Brittany in Spanish. Brittany was holding her hand, eyes wide with concern and confusion as she listened to her girlfriend. 

The power table, as Kurt liked to think of it, was a block of red lettermen jackets and  Cheerio uniforms. Some days the Cheerios sat at one end of the lunch table and the jocks sat on the other end, while on other days, they sat mixed together.

Today, those of them who were in Glee were all clustered down at one end of the table. All of them except for Finn, who had been MIA all day long. 

Kurt had also noticed that Rachel was missing from the table where she usually ate with Mercedes and Tina.

"Dude, I never thought I'd actually give a shit, but I really do!" Puck griped, stabbing at his chicken with his fork. He ended up spearing the fillet and brought the whole piece to his mouth to take a bite. "Losing fucking sucks," Puck grumbled through a mouthful.

Kurt bit his tongue to keep from snapping at Puck for his atrocious table manners. Puck was allowed, they were all still quite disappointed for missing out on the top ten at nationals.

"I hear Homo-Explosion got its ass kicked!"

Puck's head shot around, and all the Glee member's eyes tracked towards the other side of the room. Rick was sitting with the other hockey boys, and they were all sneering in their direction, and Kurt was pretty sure he saw one of them mouth 'fag' at him. Great.

"Go to hell, asshole!" Puck shouted, waving his chicken as if he was considering flinging it at the other boy. 

The hockey boys all laughed and turned back to their table. Puck muttered about 'dumbass stick heads' and turned back to glower at his plate some more.

There had been quite the uproar when Kurt had come out at the beginning of the year, which had escalated when Dave had come out only weeks later. The football team had been divided at first, but in the end, most of the boys decided their friendships with the two boys were more important than their prejudices.

For the remainder, the hockey team had become the bastion of homophobia at McKinley High.  And with the football team being largely supportive of Dave and Kurt, the two groups of jocks had become bitter enemies. The hockey boys seemed to revel in their hatred, and they loved to sling nasty comments whenever given the chance. Kurt usually managed to let it roll off his shoulders, and it helped that his friends had his back.

It also helped that Kurt wasn’t afraid to take a swing if he had to. Between Puck’s personal street fight coaching and weight lifting class, Kurt was more than capable of defending himself. He’d even gotten into a fight or two in the last year. Nothing too major, just a fist or two in exchange for a cruel comment.

Kurt glanced around at the boys sitting with him, all in their jackets. Some of them were in Glee, many of them were not, but they had all chosen Kurt's side in the end. They had chosen to accept Kurt, and they chose often to defend him as well. There had been more than a few shouting matches between Kurt's boys and the hockey boys that year, and a handful of fights.

Before high school, Kurt never would have imagined landing where he was. Popular and surrounded by friends, all in spite of being gay and out. But there was one thing he wanted for his upcoming senior year. One thing that he had no idea how he was going to find, since he did still live in Lima, Ohio.

Kurt wanted a boyfriend.

--

May 2011

Summer after Junior year (the first time around).

Blaine bit his lip, hesitantly reaching out to knock on the open door of his mother’s office. He held his carefully organized printouts out in his hand, clutched tightly.

“Um, Mom?”

“Hm?” Eileen Anderson glanced up from her desk, only sparing a moment before her eyes were back on her computer. “Yes, dear?”

Blaine walked a little further into the room. He was moving better than he had been in months, now that his leg was finally free of his cast. 

Blaine had missed three whole months of school, and now he was facing repeating his Junior year. Facing a whole new year of torment and hell at the hands of the same kids who had put him in the hospital in the first place.

Well, Blaine hoped to change that fate.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Blaine said. His voice was soft and his posture made him look small. A year of hell had battered down his once bright and upbeat personality. These days Blaine was quiet, and when he wasn’t quiet, he was angry.

“About what?” Again, Mrs. Anderson only glanced up before looking back to her computer. Her tone and her expression were distant, it seemed quite clear she had higher priorities.

“I wanted you to look at these,” Blaine said, stepping forward to put the print outs on her desk. “They’re about this school, called Dalton.” Blaine cleared his throat. “It has a zero tolerance bullying policy.”

“Is that so,” Mrs. Anderson said, sounding skeptical. She thumbed through the pages, before landing on the tuition. “Oh, heavens. Honey, your father isn’t going to pay twelve grand a year just because you’ve been picked on a few times.” She sounded exasperated. 

“Picked on...” Blaine trailed off, shocked for a moment before anger and frustration took its place. “Mom, they put me in the hospital!”

“Because you went to a dance with a boy,” Mrs. Anderson said, getting irritated. She stood up and stepped closer to Blaine, with her arms crossed across her front. “Which I said was a bad idea, didn’t I? But they can’t hurt you like that during school hours, you’ll be fine.”

Blaine was speechless. Not surprised unfortunately, his parents had never been very quiet on their opinions of his sexuality. But it was still frustrating, and angry tears stung the back of his eyes.

For a moment, Mrs. Anderson seemed to consider reaching out to comfort Blaine; her hand even reached towards his shoulder. But her hand stopped before it reached him and pulled back. To Blaine the loss of that touch felt like a physical blow.

Blaine’s mother stopped touching him the day he came out to her, over two years ago. So did his father. Blaine could still remember his father’s words, screaming at his mother for coddling him and making him gay. It had apparently made a big impact on her, because she hadn’t even held his hand when he was laying bruised and beaten in the hospital bed.

“I can’t go back there, Mom,” Blaine said, voice quivering. “I just can’t.”

“Then we’ll send you to a different public school,” Mrs. Anderson said as she walked out of the room. Already out the door, she threw a suggestion over her shoulder.

“How about McKinley?”