FIC: The Proposition: A (Slightly) Inappropriate Love Story (5/?)
TITLE: The Proposition: A (Slightly) Inappropriate Love Story
AUTHORS: Gleekilicious & Tessisamess
PAIRING: Kurtofsky
RATING: Will hit NC17
WORD COUNT: 5,256 // 15,903
SPOILERS: None; AU-fic
WARNINGS: Teacher/Student
SUMMARY: Kurt's pretty sure nothing sucks worse than being the only gay kid in the changing rooms. It's hell but he does a damn good job of skipping gym for three years before he's caught and forced back. Luckily, Coach Karofsky seems to be on his side, and when Kurt accidentally sees a lot more than he was supposed to, he starts to see his coach in a whole new light. After all, who better to lose your virginity to than a (slightly) older, experienced man with a thing for 'twinks'? There's only one problem: Coach Karofsky refuses to give in to the idea, namely because Kurt's not even legal. On the plus side, Kurt's birthday is only three months away...
AN: We realize that Glee canon has towels in the gym for their students but, well. The show's not really known for portraying high school realistically so we've changed that to reflect how it usually went in high school --since I can't ever recall a school supplying towels for their students' phys ed department.
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
◄ 5 ►
The first thing Kurt had done as soon as he was a safe distance from Coach Karofsky’s office was text Mercedes with a simple - yet oh-so telling - message.
‘Cedes. I need ice cream, love and romcoms. Stat.’
After telling his dad he was going to be spending the night with her, packing a bag of soft pajamas and fluffy slippers and some luxury face masks (as well as other necessities) Kurt drove straight to her house and knocked on the door.
As soon as the front door opened Mercedes was dragging Kurt inside. "What happened?" She whispered, even though her brothers were all but zombies since the TV was on. "Was it bad --of course it was bad. How bad?"
"Remember that time Strando Number One shoved my head down a toilet? Times that by about a billion and that’s how bad this was. I have never been so humiliated in my life," he groaned, clinging to her arms and slumping against her morosely.
"Do I have to beat anyone? 'Cause I totally will." Mercedes slipped her arm around Kurt's waist as she lead him upstairs to the quiet security of her room. Especially since the game would be over soon and that would mean a house full of rowdy boys screaming and causing a riot --whether it was a good one or a bad one depended on who won.
Kurt snorted weakly, leaning against her as they went up. "I’d pay good money to see you take on Coach Karofsky," Kurt murmured, collapsing down on her bed and covering his eyes with his forearm. "...oh, god. Why didn’t you --you read my mind and stop me...?"
"Stop you from wh-- oh my god, you did not. Please tell me you didn't do what I think you did." Mercedes hurried to close her door --locking it, too. She wasn't really supposed to, but no one ever yelled at her for it considering how her brothers never knocked and abused the "no locked doors" policy.
"I think I did what you think I did..." he groaned, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillow. "If you think that I might have... have propositioned him then I definitely did what you think I did..." Kurt mumbled.
"Kurt! I thought you were kidding the other day. Well, not about liking him but," Mercedes waved her hand vaguely. "The rest of it. Hold on," Mercedes turned and unlocked her door, jerking it open so that her youngest brother came stumbling into the room. "Go away, Thomas!" She snapped.
"Sorry!" Thomas bolted down the hall, the sound of him thundering back downstairs soon following the half-hearted apology.
"Anyway," she locked the door again. "So what happened? Are you in a lot of trouble?"
Kurt rolled himself back onto his back, blinking miserably at her. "Basically... I waited until after school and went to his office and... outlined the general idea, so to speak, and... well the fact that I’m here with three musicals and a bag of cookies tells you how well that went... but no, I’m not in trouble. That’s the worst bit!" He sat up, pointing in the general direction of the school.
"He was so nice about it! I can’t even feel... feel angry at him...!" Kurt slowly flopped back down.
Mercedes nodded sympathetically, sitting down on the edge of her bed. She smiled, but it was forced. "It could be worse?" she tried. "You could... have a restraining order now! That would be worse!"
Kurt glared halfheartedly at her. "Gee, thanks ‘Cedes... I just don’t know how I’m going to face him after this... ugh... and I’ll bet he stops being so tough on the other assholes just so he doesn’t encourage me by treating me nicely..."
"I dunno; I don't think he'd do that," Mercedes said doubtfully. "I mean, he's still your teacher, you know?"
"I know," Kurt sighed. "I’m just being dramatic..." he sat up again, head hanging a little. "...I made such a fool of myself... I tried to-- to sit on his desk, and I messed up my words and I knocked over his mug and... ugh... I’m an idiot..."
Mercedes stifled a giggle. "You sat on his desk? Like in all those bad teacher-student pornos where the girl is so obviously like twenty five and not seventeen or whate-- not that I watch stuff like that."
"Of course you don’t," Kurt said, patting her knee. "But... yup, that’s... basically what I did," he sighed, leaning his head on her shoulder. "I made a huge fool of myself and everything sucks..."
"I shouldn't be encouraging you, but it's not like he said there was no chance ever. I mean, you never know, after you graduate..." Mercedes shrugged. "Just try not to molest any more of his furniture and you might-- Thomas, I can see your feet. Get away from my door!-- have a shot."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "We’re talking about boys, Thomas, it’s not worth listening in to unless you want to hear me describing how amazing André looked the other day..." there was a clatter of footsteps, and once again Thomas was gone.
"Anyway," Kurt sighed, "after I graduate I’ll be off to college..."
"Well see then? It's a good thing he turned you down. I mean, what if you fell in love with him or something and then had to leave?"
"What if I fall in love with him and he won’t have anything to do with me and then I have to leave," he grumbled, reaching over to rummage in his bag and bring out the packet of cookies.
*
Dave was nursing the biggest hangover of his relatively short life. It made him feel... well, kind of fucking old. He used to go out and get plastered every weekend during college and he wouldn't feel any worse for it the next day. Of course, in college he wasn't having to give younger guys talks about why you shouldn't sleep with your teachers, but even so.
"Alright, guys," Dave muttered as he walked into the gym, a DVD case in his hand. A TV stand was already rolled out near one of the sets of bleachers, which had been unlocked and pulled down. "We're on the bleachers today 'cause I feel like crap. Sorry for making you all get changed for nothing. You'll get over it one day, I'm sure. Everyone sit down and shut up. We're gonna watch the '93 games since that was the last time our crap basketball team won and maybe you guys'll pick up some pointers. Reminder: Basketball tryouts are a little ways off, but I encourage anyone who's enjoying this segment to try out."
"Are you coaching basketball?" Michaels asked as he plopped down in one of the middle rows.
"I'm not, no. Mr. Barrows, the shop teacher, coaches basketball. I'm the hockey coach. I like my sports with a little brutal contact." Dave turned on the TV, wincing slightly at the bright blue screen as he popped open the DVD case. "...okay," he sighed. "Guess we're watching The Sandlot since that's what’s in the friggin' case for some reason."
Kurt huffed a short breath, leaning his chin in his hands. He’d seen it. Who hadn’t, after all? It was one of his favorite films, to the point where he’d seen it almost as many times as The Sound Of Music. He was sitting as far away from the rest of them as he possibly could. Their remarks and jeers had been a lot more brutal today, and a hip-check into a locker along with one of then sneering ‘cocksucker’ had put him on guard for whatever they were planning next.
But despite that, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Dave; gazing at him with a sort of... of pathetic longing, really. There wasn’t another way to describe it and instead of Dave’s rejection stamping out the flames, he’d only managed to fan them. Kurt was clearly some sort of masochist.
There was a general rumble of agreement, the guys all grinning and nudging each other.
Dave slid the movie into the tray, then waited for it to read as he picked up the remote. "Anyone talking too loud gets to go stand in the corner like a baby for the rest of the period, got it?"
"Asshole," Johnstone muttered.
"Except you," Dave smiled pleasantly. "Lucky you, you're already dressed for the twenty laps you're gonna give me. Must be your day. Get to it." He hit "play movie" on the menu as he walked to the bleachers and sat down on the far end, closer to Kurt than the rest of the class, but a couple of rows down.
Kurt could barely bite back the smirk as he watched Johnstone groan and get to his feet. The first highlight of an otherwise shit day. His eyes flicked back down to Dave, knowing he was staring, but... but he had his back to him - and besides, where was the harm in looking? Seeing as it was all he’d get to do, surely he could have that much, right?
Part of Dave really wanted to call Sylvester in to watch his class so he could take a nap or puke up the worst of his hangover, maybe both, but the truth was he was just as scared of her now as he was when he was a student --and he was pretty sure everyone else was too, so at least no one could make fun of him for that.
As the movie progressed, Dave slowly slumped further back, arms resting on the bleacher behind him as he tried not to completely zone out. "Keep running," he shouted, stifling a yawn, when he glanced up and noticed his wayward student slacking by the water fountain. "You're only at four. Movie's only been on ten minutes."
Kurt snorted just loud enough for a few of Johnstone’s friends to glare over at him, but they were ignored, Kurt pretending to watch the movie and keeping his gaze on Dave instead. He looked pretty rough, and Kurt guessed that he’d tried to drink away the memories of that proposition in the same manner Kurt had wallowed in calories and chick-flicks - and a very healthy amount of moaning and whining and ‘why me’ing. When he’d got home, he’d put a lovely hat on order for Mercedes as a thank you present for putting up with him being miserable and self-pitying for a whole night.
"Hey!"
Dave jumped at the sound of Johnstone's sharp voice, one hand moving to the side of his head. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep, but it was obvious he had fallen asleep. "Don' yell," he muttered. "What?"
"I'm done."
"And you needed to yell at me to tell me that? Sit down and watch the movie if you're done, moron."
Kurt shot the boy a glare. The way Dave had been reclining had given him a perfect view of his (very much asleep) face for the last half an hour or so, and now... now he’d moved and the view was ruined. Asshole. He couldn’t even be left to idly fantasize in peace. Johnstone rolled his eyes, moving past Dave and giving Kurt an equally dangerous glare as he sat back down with his friends.
Kurt uncrossed his legs, swapping their positions and leaning back with a small sigh.
Dave yawned, stretching to try and crack his back. Bleachers weren't really the best place to pass out. They hadn't been in high school and they still weren't now. He glanced behind him, reaching back to tap Kurt's shoe with his knuckles.
"He actually do twenty?" He murmured, thankful that the distance between them and the rest of the class was enough to mute the proof of his own inadequate teaching.
Kurt only just managed not to blush guiltily as Dave turned to talk to him. He shifted, crooking a small smile. "He did twenty-two. The idiot lost count at thirteen," he said casually, as if he hadn’t spent that time just... staring. Probably really creepily.
Dave snorted quietly, shaking his head.
That restraining order was looking more and more plausible. Oh, god. He was turning into Suzie Pepper. He didn’t want to be a Suzie Pepper...
"Are you, um, okay...? I’d ask if you have the flu, but..." he raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the conversation light.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Dave replied; he knew he probably looked like hell. He'd remember not to get that drunk again during the week. Or ever, maybe. The teacher/student line was so blurred that it was getting hard to differentiate between what should be said and what was inappropriate. Obviously anything even remotely sexual was out (not that it was ever "in" to begin with). "Got so hammered last night. Guess I can't take it like I used to."
…yeeeah, that... didn’t sound dirty at all to Kurt’s mind...! Not one little bit, nope. He laughed breathily, crossing his legs and humming in agreement. "Perhaps just... save it for the weekend and other, similar, traumatizing events," he smiled, though he was 99.9% sure he knew exactly why Dave got as drunk as he did last night. And it was... sort of his fault.
Dave barely managed to cut off a loud bark of laughter. "Totally not traumatized." He assured with a lopsided grin. Flattered, yeah, and part of the reason he'd gotten so drunk. He shouldn't be flattered by a student's attraction. Traumatized, no. Well. Okay, maybe a little, if only for the SWAT teams he still wasn't entirely sure weren't going to come.
"Well... then I guess we can call it totally-not-traumatized-even," he smiled, the hint of a smirk playing around the corners of his lips. He was pretty sure Dave wasn’t as completely untraumatized as he was, but that was a conversation that was probably never going to happen. He rested his chin on his palms, his attention completely on his coach as opposed to the movie.
"Put your phone away, Garcia." Dave was glad for the distraction. There was just no way to look away from Kurt without physically pointing out that he noticed the staring so, for once, the misbehavior from his class was a blessing rather than a curse.
Kurt shot the student a small glare, finding himself interrupted once again, though his eyes were instantly drawn back to his coach.
*
Kurt had stayed behind to help Dave put away the equipment, and a good third of the class were already gone by the time he’d snuck into the room and gone to his corner to change. He’d had to bring a different bag - one that tied rather than zipped, but his stuff hadn’t been touched, and so he’d deemed it safe. After waiting a few moments he grabbed his toiletries from his bag - along with towels - and slipped into one of the shower cubicles, his clothes a neat pile to the side.
Strando and Johnstone had waited after, hiding by the back lockers until everyone had cleared out. They'd been banking on Kurt being too prissy not to shower --especially since it always got too warm in the gym due to their ventilation system, which always made the school either way too cold or way too hot. The air vents in the gym itself didn't even work half the time. Once they heard the water start up the two boys made their move, sneaking quietly through the rows of lockers to grab Kurt's bag so they could empty it out in the nasty dumpster out behind the cafeteria.
Kurt didn’t notice, humming softly to himself as he washed; his eyes closed against the spray. Strando grabbed Johnstone’s arm. "Hey. Let’s go dump his gym clothes and towel too," he grinned.
Johnstone bit back a laugh, nodding. "Oh my god, dude. Fuck yeah!"
Strando choked back a laugh and the two of them snuck back in, grabbing every last scrap of clothing they could find and dumping it too. "Dude, this... this is the best idea we’ve ever had," he laughed, shoving Kurt’s bag in there too for good manner. "Just imagine his face when the next class comes in!"
"Totally. So much better than the time we glued his man panties to the bulletin board." Johnstone grabbed his friend's shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get to the cafeteria so no one can blame us."
Strando barked out a laugh and nodded, the two of them heading into the cafeteria. Kurt rinsed out the last of the shampoo from his hair and shut off the water. He turned, reaching for his towel blindly, eyes closed as he shook the moisture from his eyelashes. Kurt’s fingers skimmed against the tile. What the... Kurt opened one eye, fumbling for his--
…where the hell was his towel. Where the-- Kurt scrubbed his hands over his eyes, turning full circle in the cubicle. His towel was gone. His towel was gone. Kurt swallowed, peering over the wall in hope it had fallen.
Oh god. Oh god. "Hah hah, very funny," he called, "give it back now." Silence echoed back at him. "Guys...? Give my towel back now...!" But it was silent. Utterly, eerily silent.
Kurt’s breath caught. He’d never felt more vulnerable in his life, naked and trapped in a tiny cubicle, his towel gone. What was he going to do?! After a moment of trying not to panic Kurt edged open the door, peering around it and--
…his bag was gone. His bag was gone. It hit him like a ton of bricks, as hard and fast as any punch.
They’d stolen his clothes. Those... those fucking bastards had stolen his clothes and his towel and-- and he was trapped. Naked.
Kurt’s small sob echoed in the room as he shut the cubicle door again, leaning against the cold tiles and burying his face in his hands. He was already starting to shiver, the changing room’s air cold. A moment later he slid down to the floor, pressing his knees to his chest as he cried, head ducked and his shoulders shaking.
He had never felt so humiliated in his life - literally stripped bare and left; denied all his dignity... they’d brought him down further than before without a word, a look or a touch.
Dave had gone through all of his desk drawers before he conceded that, no, he didn't have any Excedrin. He could just go to the nurse's office, but he wouldn't. Sure, he wasn't the first teacher to ever come in hung over, but it was still embarrassing. After all, he didn't want to look like he was drinking because of work. And he was sure it would seem that way; like he couldn't handle being a teacher.
So, instead, Dave went to the locker rooms. There was an office there for a personal trainer they could never afford and a locked supply cabinet that was sure to have some pain killers along with the bandages and Icy Hot.
Kurt had managed to work up the courage to - while holding his wash-bag over himself - scout the room for clothes of any sort, but had found nothing. Not even a sock. But before he could get back to the cubicle he heard the door open and with a frightened and humiliated sob he collapsed back to the floor, drawing his knees to himself again to hide his nakedness, his back pressing to the wall. He was trembling from the cold and all he could pray was that whoever came in was someone who could help him, or someone who wouldn’t see him.
Dave looked through the keys he had attached to a Bioshock lanyard, trying to remember which was which as he made his way toward the office at the back of the locker room. The one with the black tape on it was his office, the red tape was the equipment room, the duct tape was the master for the various supply closets around the school, the one with Sharpie on it was to the gym, the masking tape was... well, he wasn't really sure what that one was. It was either that one or--
"Hello?" Dave frowned slightly; maybe his head was just pounding again, but he was pretty sure he'd heard something.
… of all the people to find him naked. Kurt’s heart pounded as he swallowed, inhaling sharply and trying to stop crying for long enough to call for help.
"C-Coach Karofsky...!" His voice cracked, thick with tears. "Th-they took... they t-took all my c-clothes," he managed to choke out.
Dave faltered, his game of Guess the Key forgotten. Oh, for the love of... He shoved his keys back into his pocket.
"Are you okay?" He asked softly, brain working quickly to find the fastest solution. The had loaner uniforms, but he was pretty sure they hadn't been washed since Dave was in school. There was the lost and found and, hell, if worst came to worst he was pretty sure he'd left a shirt in his office at some point.
Kurt sobbed softly, shaking his head. "N-No... no, I-- they t-took everything..." his teeth were chattering, tears rolling down his cheeks.
"Fuck..." Dave sighed. He didn't dare take another step forward to be able to see around the lockers to Kurt. "I'll be right back, okay? Gonna find you something to put on."
"L-- lock the door... I-- don’t want anyone coming in," he mumbled, hiding his face in his hands. Kurt was still crying, but relief was flooding him from the fact that someone who was helping him had found him. That it was someone he trusted and... he sobbed again.
"Yeah... yeah, okay," Dave promised. He locked Kurt in on his way out. When he came back five minutes later he didn't have much to offer. The lost and found was pretty barren except for about ten pairs of sunglasses, a few pieces of clothing, some keys, a Tamagotchi thing he was pretty sure had been there for at least ten years, and a weird sweater with Santa stitched onto the front. He really didn't want to subject Kurt to the loaner gym clothes, so when he unlocked the locker rooms and went back in he brought a button up shirt he'd left in his office near the beginning of the year and a pair of pants he was fairly sure were girls' jeans that had been in the lost and found with the ridiculous amounts of sunglasses.
Kurt had moved slightly, standing behind one of the doors of the cubicles, hiding himself behind it. He was still crying a little, wiping his tears with the backs of his hands. The tips of his fingers and lips had turned a little blue; but he shot Dave a weak, wobbly smile.
"Th-thanks..." he mumbled.
"Best I could do without leaving school," Dave muttered apologetically, handing the clothes over. "Don't worry 'bout giving any of it back. Shirt's mine, jeans're from the lost and found."
Kurt flushed a little as he took them, mumbling a thanks as he yanked on the - incredibly - tight jeans. Girl’s. A girl... three years younger than him, from the feel of it. And without underwear. Ugh... He pulled on the shirt afterwards, doing it up and finally stepping out from behind the door, dressed in the ridiculously tight jeans and the over-sized shirt - shoe and sock-less and looking... miserable.
Utterly miserable. "Thank you..." he whispered again, running his fingers through his damp hair.
"I --the shirt's long enough you could, um... leave the jeans und... I mean," Dave fumbled for something, anything, but there was absolutely nothing that would make this situation better.
Kurt snorted, waving a hand. "Please, these are practically baggy from what I’m used to," he said weakly, trying to make a joke. The last thing he needed was to leave things open and have a flashing incident.
And the right words just weren't there when he needed them. He wondered if they even existed. "God, Kurt I--" Dave sighed; shook his head. "Come here," he muttered as he pulled him into a hug.
He looked up, breath catching as Dave moved forward and-- Kurt swallowed hard, clamping his eyes shut and trying not to just break down as his hands gently rested on Dave’s back. "Thanks..." he whispered. "For... for ev-everyth-thing..." his voice broke, a few more tears falling down his cheeks.
"Who did it?" Dave was worried. Truly worried for the first time. Not that he had ever made light of the situation, but he'd always known that Kurt never really needed him to step in most of the time. Sure, there were taunts and harsh words, but Kurt had them all beat in the insult department --that was for sure. This, though. This was too far. This was a line crossed that very well could push Kurt in a direction Dave never wanted to see him go. And he wasn't going to stand back and let Figgins ignore the problem anymore.
"I d-don’t know," he whispered, letting his forehead rest on Dave’s shoulder, his whole body shaking with the delayed shock and cold. "I... I was sh-showering a-and... they j-just took it all..." It could have been any of them - or all of them, easily. Some... some big, planned event - or one cruel individual. And it wasn’t as if any of them were going to own up to it.
Dave nodded. "Okay... okay, well." he stepped back, digging his keys out. "Here. Go to my office. You can have lunch there. I'll see if I can find your stuff, alright? It's, uh. The key with the electrical tape on it."
Kurt stepped back too - though it was a tad regretfully as he took the keys and nodded, drying his eyes with the cuffs of Dave’s shirt. "Thanks... I-- thank you..." he was in no mood to eat, but he didn’t want to face the school dressed like he was, with them all looking at him and... and knowing what had just happened to him.
"Do you wanna go home after I get your stuff? I can write you a pass for early release."
"Y-Yeah... please," he nodded again, taking a deep, steadying breath. He could go back and... and curl up to some movies and when his dad got home he could just sit with him for the whole evening and try to forget the whole sickening, terrifying thing had happened.
*
Dave was pretty sure that had been the most humiliating experience of his life. Climbing into a dumpster wasn't so bad, but half falling out of it and landing at the feet of Sue Sylvester... that, he wasn't sure he would ever live down. He was pretty sure that by the time the day was out the entire staff would think he was a gambling addict who dumpster dove for scrap metal to slowly pay off his debt or something else equally ridiculous.
He'd found everything, but Kurt's clothes were better off left in the trash considering the state they were in. He opened his office door with his free hand, Kurt's trashed belongings all haphazardly stuck back into his school bag.
Kurt was miserably picking at a sandwich, sitting in Dave’s chair and slumped against the desk, looking lower than he’d been in weeks. It was obvious he’d been crying again, but he tried for a brave smile when Dave came in.
"Any luck...?"
"I dunno if you'd call it that, but..." Dave closed the door behind him, holding up the bag. "Your school stuff doesn't look too bad, but your clothes, um... They sort of had stroganoff surprise all over them. I mean, I still got 'em and your shoes are alright, but..." Dave sat down on the chair by his desk, typically reserved for students, brushing a stray noodle off of his shirt as he set Kurt's bag down.
"Oh, god..." he whispered, voice catching as he caught sight of his clothes. "...it’s-- it’s okay... I can fix this. I can somehow... if I soak them... vinegar... oh, god..." he reached for them, face falling further as he inspected the ruined clothing. "...great, well. Not only have I been robbed of all my dignity and humanity today, but I’ve been robbed of $500 odd as well. Awesome."
"I'll figure out who did it and --even if I don't, you're not going back into my class, okay?" Dave had had plenty of time to think while getting himself acquainted with the inside of every dumpster in school. Every tenth grade gym class was getting redistributed to break up the worst of the groups and Kurt would be switching to the position of student aid for Dave and if Figgins didn't like it, well that was tough shit because he wasn't going to watch this crap happen anymore.
"What do you mean...?" he asked, looking up with slightly wide eyes. Surely he wasn’t going to get kicked out - and gym was the only time he had with Dave...! He didn’t want to give that up...! Kurt swallowed, pulling out his shoes and socks, sliding them on.
He knew it probably wasn't the best idea considering, well, everything... but the only other option Dave saw was to remove Kurt completely from the class and have him make up the credit in summer school. "Switching you to my student aid for fourth period. You'll still have to take mid-terms and finals for the class, but you'll do fine."
He looked up again, hands freezing where he was tying his shoelaces. "...really? You’d do that...?" Kurt murmured, the ‘after everything’ unsaid but clear in the air between them. "Thanks," he murmured, welling up again as he swallowed. "That’s... that’s really nice of you."
"Are you gonna be okay?" Dave asked quietly, resting his elbows on his knees. He ignored the fact that he'd managed to settle his arm on a patch of still-wet ...something on his shorts, suppressing a grimace.
"Yeah... I mean... it’s not like anyone beat me up again," he murmured, shrugging a shoulder. "And... it’s not like anyone saw. I’ll be fine. I’ll go home and... binge on ice cream and watch a few musicals." Kurt pulled a dry smile. "I’ll be fine... thank you..."
"You can quit thanking me." Dave shook his head; he couldn't help but feel like all of this was partly his fault. Or all his fault. He wasn't sure which. If he hadn't been so fucking hung over he would have noticed that some (or all?) of his class had waited around or come back to steal Kurt's things. "I'm sorry I wasn't there." He mumbled.
"Why would you have been...?" he asked. "It’s not like what they did would be obvious... and you don’t usually check the changing rooms, and it’s not like I was screaming or anything..." Kurt slowly packed up his clothes - folding the messes in so they didn’t spread. "You’ve done above and beyond what anyone else here would do..."
Kurt was right, of course. Dave sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He needed that Excedrin now more than ever. "Go home, Kurt. Everything'll... look better tomorrow."
"...that would be nice," he murmured, standing and cracking out another small, weak smile. "I’ll see you later... thanks again." he moved past Dave, bag in arms.
◄◄ ■ ►►
AN: Teacher!readers, please see here! ♥
AUTHORS: Gleekilicious & Tessisamess
PAIRING: Kurtofsky
RATING: Will hit NC17
WORD COUNT: 5,256 // 15,903
SPOILERS: None; AU-fic
WARNINGS: Teacher/Student
SUMMARY: Kurt's pretty sure nothing sucks worse than being the only gay kid in the changing rooms. It's hell but he does a damn good job of skipping gym for three years before he's caught and forced back. Luckily, Coach Karofsky seems to be on his side, and when Kurt accidentally sees a lot more than he was supposed to, he starts to see his coach in a whole new light. After all, who better to lose your virginity to than a (slightly) older, experienced man with a thing for 'twinks'? There's only one problem: Coach Karofsky refuses to give in to the idea, namely because Kurt's not even legal. On the plus side, Kurt's birthday is only three months away...
AN: We realize that Glee canon has towels in the gym for their students but, well. The show's not really known for portraying high school realistically so we've changed that to reflect how it usually went in high school --since I can't ever recall a school supplying towels for their students' phys ed department.
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
◄ 5 ►
The first thing Kurt had done as soon as he was a safe distance from Coach Karofsky’s office was text Mercedes with a simple - yet oh-so telling - message.
‘Cedes. I need ice cream, love and romcoms. Stat.’
After telling his dad he was going to be spending the night with her, packing a bag of soft pajamas and fluffy slippers and some luxury face masks (as well as other necessities) Kurt drove straight to her house and knocked on the door.
As soon as the front door opened Mercedes was dragging Kurt inside. "What happened?" She whispered, even though her brothers were all but zombies since the TV was on. "Was it bad --of course it was bad. How bad?"
"Remember that time Strando Number One shoved my head down a toilet? Times that by about a billion and that’s how bad this was. I have never been so humiliated in my life," he groaned, clinging to her arms and slumping against her morosely.
"Do I have to beat anyone? 'Cause I totally will." Mercedes slipped her arm around Kurt's waist as she lead him upstairs to the quiet security of her room. Especially since the game would be over soon and that would mean a house full of rowdy boys screaming and causing a riot --whether it was a good one or a bad one depended on who won.
Kurt snorted weakly, leaning against her as they went up. "I’d pay good money to see you take on Coach Karofsky," Kurt murmured, collapsing down on her bed and covering his eyes with his forearm. "...oh, god. Why didn’t you --you read my mind and stop me...?"
"Stop you from wh-- oh my god, you did not. Please tell me you didn't do what I think you did." Mercedes hurried to close her door --locking it, too. She wasn't really supposed to, but no one ever yelled at her for it considering how her brothers never knocked and abused the "no locked doors" policy.
"I think I did what you think I did..." he groaned, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillow. "If you think that I might have... have propositioned him then I definitely did what you think I did..." Kurt mumbled.
"Kurt! I thought you were kidding the other day. Well, not about liking him but," Mercedes waved her hand vaguely. "The rest of it. Hold on," Mercedes turned and unlocked her door, jerking it open so that her youngest brother came stumbling into the room. "Go away, Thomas!" She snapped.
"Sorry!" Thomas bolted down the hall, the sound of him thundering back downstairs soon following the half-hearted apology.
"Anyway," she locked the door again. "So what happened? Are you in a lot of trouble?"
Kurt rolled himself back onto his back, blinking miserably at her. "Basically... I waited until after school and went to his office and... outlined the general idea, so to speak, and... well the fact that I’m here with three musicals and a bag of cookies tells you how well that went... but no, I’m not in trouble. That’s the worst bit!" He sat up, pointing in the general direction of the school.
"He was so nice about it! I can’t even feel... feel angry at him...!" Kurt slowly flopped back down.
Mercedes nodded sympathetically, sitting down on the edge of her bed. She smiled, but it was forced. "It could be worse?" she tried. "You could... have a restraining order now! That would be worse!"
Kurt glared halfheartedly at her. "Gee, thanks ‘Cedes... I just don’t know how I’m going to face him after this... ugh... and I’ll bet he stops being so tough on the other assholes just so he doesn’t encourage me by treating me nicely..."
"I dunno; I don't think he'd do that," Mercedes said doubtfully. "I mean, he's still your teacher, you know?"
"I know," Kurt sighed. "I’m just being dramatic..." he sat up again, head hanging a little. "...I made such a fool of myself... I tried to-- to sit on his desk, and I messed up my words and I knocked over his mug and... ugh... I’m an idiot..."
Mercedes stifled a giggle. "You sat on his desk? Like in all those bad teacher-student pornos where the girl is so obviously like twenty five and not seventeen or whate-- not that I watch stuff like that."
"Of course you don’t," Kurt said, patting her knee. "But... yup, that’s... basically what I did," he sighed, leaning his head on her shoulder. "I made a huge fool of myself and everything sucks..."
"I shouldn't be encouraging you, but it's not like he said there was no chance ever. I mean, you never know, after you graduate..." Mercedes shrugged. "Just try not to molest any more of his furniture and you might-- Thomas, I can see your feet. Get away from my door!-- have a shot."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "We’re talking about boys, Thomas, it’s not worth listening in to unless you want to hear me describing how amazing André looked the other day..." there was a clatter of footsteps, and once again Thomas was gone.
"Anyway," Kurt sighed, "after I graduate I’ll be off to college..."
"Well see then? It's a good thing he turned you down. I mean, what if you fell in love with him or something and then had to leave?"
"What if I fall in love with him and he won’t have anything to do with me and then I have to leave," he grumbled, reaching over to rummage in his bag and bring out the packet of cookies.
*
Dave was nursing the biggest hangover of his relatively short life. It made him feel... well, kind of fucking old. He used to go out and get plastered every weekend during college and he wouldn't feel any worse for it the next day. Of course, in college he wasn't having to give younger guys talks about why you shouldn't sleep with your teachers, but even so.
"Alright, guys," Dave muttered as he walked into the gym, a DVD case in his hand. A TV stand was already rolled out near one of the sets of bleachers, which had been unlocked and pulled down. "We're on the bleachers today 'cause I feel like crap. Sorry for making you all get changed for nothing. You'll get over it one day, I'm sure. Everyone sit down and shut up. We're gonna watch the '93 games since that was the last time our crap basketball team won and maybe you guys'll pick up some pointers. Reminder: Basketball tryouts are a little ways off, but I encourage anyone who's enjoying this segment to try out."
"Are you coaching basketball?" Michaels asked as he plopped down in one of the middle rows.
"I'm not, no. Mr. Barrows, the shop teacher, coaches basketball. I'm the hockey coach. I like my sports with a little brutal contact." Dave turned on the TV, wincing slightly at the bright blue screen as he popped open the DVD case. "...okay," he sighed. "Guess we're watching The Sandlot since that's what’s in the friggin' case for some reason."
Kurt huffed a short breath, leaning his chin in his hands. He’d seen it. Who hadn’t, after all? It was one of his favorite films, to the point where he’d seen it almost as many times as The Sound Of Music. He was sitting as far away from the rest of them as he possibly could. Their remarks and jeers had been a lot more brutal today, and a hip-check into a locker along with one of then sneering ‘cocksucker’ had put him on guard for whatever they were planning next.
But despite that, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Dave; gazing at him with a sort of... of pathetic longing, really. There wasn’t another way to describe it and instead of Dave’s rejection stamping out the flames, he’d only managed to fan them. Kurt was clearly some sort of masochist.
There was a general rumble of agreement, the guys all grinning and nudging each other.
Dave slid the movie into the tray, then waited for it to read as he picked up the remote. "Anyone talking too loud gets to go stand in the corner like a baby for the rest of the period, got it?"
"Asshole," Johnstone muttered.
"Except you," Dave smiled pleasantly. "Lucky you, you're already dressed for the twenty laps you're gonna give me. Must be your day. Get to it." He hit "play movie" on the menu as he walked to the bleachers and sat down on the far end, closer to Kurt than the rest of the class, but a couple of rows down.
Kurt could barely bite back the smirk as he watched Johnstone groan and get to his feet. The first highlight of an otherwise shit day. His eyes flicked back down to Dave, knowing he was staring, but... but he had his back to him - and besides, where was the harm in looking? Seeing as it was all he’d get to do, surely he could have that much, right?
Part of Dave really wanted to call Sylvester in to watch his class so he could take a nap or puke up the worst of his hangover, maybe both, but the truth was he was just as scared of her now as he was when he was a student --and he was pretty sure everyone else was too, so at least no one could make fun of him for that.
As the movie progressed, Dave slowly slumped further back, arms resting on the bleacher behind him as he tried not to completely zone out. "Keep running," he shouted, stifling a yawn, when he glanced up and noticed his wayward student slacking by the water fountain. "You're only at four. Movie's only been on ten minutes."
Kurt snorted just loud enough for a few of Johnstone’s friends to glare over at him, but they were ignored, Kurt pretending to watch the movie and keeping his gaze on Dave instead. He looked pretty rough, and Kurt guessed that he’d tried to drink away the memories of that proposition in the same manner Kurt had wallowed in calories and chick-flicks - and a very healthy amount of moaning and whining and ‘why me’ing. When he’d got home, he’d put a lovely hat on order for Mercedes as a thank you present for putting up with him being miserable and self-pitying for a whole night.
"Hey!"
Dave jumped at the sound of Johnstone's sharp voice, one hand moving to the side of his head. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep, but it was obvious he had fallen asleep. "Don' yell," he muttered. "What?"
"I'm done."
"And you needed to yell at me to tell me that? Sit down and watch the movie if you're done, moron."
Kurt shot the boy a glare. The way Dave had been reclining had given him a perfect view of his (very much asleep) face for the last half an hour or so, and now... now he’d moved and the view was ruined. Asshole. He couldn’t even be left to idly fantasize in peace. Johnstone rolled his eyes, moving past Dave and giving Kurt an equally dangerous glare as he sat back down with his friends.
Kurt uncrossed his legs, swapping their positions and leaning back with a small sigh.
Dave yawned, stretching to try and crack his back. Bleachers weren't really the best place to pass out. They hadn't been in high school and they still weren't now. He glanced behind him, reaching back to tap Kurt's shoe with his knuckles.
"He actually do twenty?" He murmured, thankful that the distance between them and the rest of the class was enough to mute the proof of his own inadequate teaching.
Kurt only just managed not to blush guiltily as Dave turned to talk to him. He shifted, crooking a small smile. "He did twenty-two. The idiot lost count at thirteen," he said casually, as if he hadn’t spent that time just... staring. Probably really creepily.
Dave snorted quietly, shaking his head.
That restraining order was looking more and more plausible. Oh, god. He was turning into Suzie Pepper. He didn’t want to be a Suzie Pepper...
"Are you, um, okay...? I’d ask if you have the flu, but..." he raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the conversation light.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Dave replied; he knew he probably looked like hell. He'd remember not to get that drunk again during the week. Or ever, maybe. The teacher/student line was so blurred that it was getting hard to differentiate between what should be said and what was inappropriate. Obviously anything even remotely sexual was out (not that it was ever "in" to begin with). "Got so hammered last night. Guess I can't take it like I used to."
…yeeeah, that... didn’t sound dirty at all to Kurt’s mind...! Not one little bit, nope. He laughed breathily, crossing his legs and humming in agreement. "Perhaps just... save it for the weekend and other, similar, traumatizing events," he smiled, though he was 99.9% sure he knew exactly why Dave got as drunk as he did last night. And it was... sort of his fault.
Dave barely managed to cut off a loud bark of laughter. "Totally not traumatized." He assured with a lopsided grin. Flattered, yeah, and part of the reason he'd gotten so drunk. He shouldn't be flattered by a student's attraction. Traumatized, no. Well. Okay, maybe a little, if only for the SWAT teams he still wasn't entirely sure weren't going to come.
"Well... then I guess we can call it totally-not-traumatized-even," he smiled, the hint of a smirk playing around the corners of his lips. He was pretty sure Dave wasn’t as completely untraumatized as he was, but that was a conversation that was probably never going to happen. He rested his chin on his palms, his attention completely on his coach as opposed to the movie.
"Put your phone away, Garcia." Dave was glad for the distraction. There was just no way to look away from Kurt without physically pointing out that he noticed the staring so, for once, the misbehavior from his class was a blessing rather than a curse.
Kurt shot the student a small glare, finding himself interrupted once again, though his eyes were instantly drawn back to his coach.
*
Kurt had stayed behind to help Dave put away the equipment, and a good third of the class were already gone by the time he’d snuck into the room and gone to his corner to change. He’d had to bring a different bag - one that tied rather than zipped, but his stuff hadn’t been touched, and so he’d deemed it safe. After waiting a few moments he grabbed his toiletries from his bag - along with towels - and slipped into one of the shower cubicles, his clothes a neat pile to the side.
Strando and Johnstone had waited after, hiding by the back lockers until everyone had cleared out. They'd been banking on Kurt being too prissy not to shower --especially since it always got too warm in the gym due to their ventilation system, which always made the school either way too cold or way too hot. The air vents in the gym itself didn't even work half the time. Once they heard the water start up the two boys made their move, sneaking quietly through the rows of lockers to grab Kurt's bag so they could empty it out in the nasty dumpster out behind the cafeteria.
Kurt didn’t notice, humming softly to himself as he washed; his eyes closed against the spray. Strando grabbed Johnstone’s arm. "Hey. Let’s go dump his gym clothes and towel too," he grinned.
Johnstone bit back a laugh, nodding. "Oh my god, dude. Fuck yeah!"
Strando choked back a laugh and the two of them snuck back in, grabbing every last scrap of clothing they could find and dumping it too. "Dude, this... this is the best idea we’ve ever had," he laughed, shoving Kurt’s bag in there too for good manner. "Just imagine his face when the next class comes in!"
"Totally. So much better than the time we glued his man panties to the bulletin board." Johnstone grabbed his friend's shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get to the cafeteria so no one can blame us."
Strando barked out a laugh and nodded, the two of them heading into the cafeteria. Kurt rinsed out the last of the shampoo from his hair and shut off the water. He turned, reaching for his towel blindly, eyes closed as he shook the moisture from his eyelashes. Kurt’s fingers skimmed against the tile. What the... Kurt opened one eye, fumbling for his--
…where the hell was his towel. Where the-- Kurt scrubbed his hands over his eyes, turning full circle in the cubicle. His towel was gone. His towel was gone. Kurt swallowed, peering over the wall in hope it had fallen.
Oh god. Oh god. "Hah hah, very funny," he called, "give it back now." Silence echoed back at him. "Guys...? Give my towel back now...!" But it was silent. Utterly, eerily silent.
Kurt’s breath caught. He’d never felt more vulnerable in his life, naked and trapped in a tiny cubicle, his towel gone. What was he going to do?! After a moment of trying not to panic Kurt edged open the door, peering around it and--
…his bag was gone. His bag was gone. It hit him like a ton of bricks, as hard and fast as any punch.
They’d stolen his clothes. Those... those fucking bastards had stolen his clothes and his towel and-- and he was trapped. Naked.
Kurt’s small sob echoed in the room as he shut the cubicle door again, leaning against the cold tiles and burying his face in his hands. He was already starting to shiver, the changing room’s air cold. A moment later he slid down to the floor, pressing his knees to his chest as he cried, head ducked and his shoulders shaking.
He had never felt so humiliated in his life - literally stripped bare and left; denied all his dignity... they’d brought him down further than before without a word, a look or a touch.
Dave had gone through all of his desk drawers before he conceded that, no, he didn't have any Excedrin. He could just go to the nurse's office, but he wouldn't. Sure, he wasn't the first teacher to ever come in hung over, but it was still embarrassing. After all, he didn't want to look like he was drinking because of work. And he was sure it would seem that way; like he couldn't handle being a teacher.
So, instead, Dave went to the locker rooms. There was an office there for a personal trainer they could never afford and a locked supply cabinet that was sure to have some pain killers along with the bandages and Icy Hot.
Kurt had managed to work up the courage to - while holding his wash-bag over himself - scout the room for clothes of any sort, but had found nothing. Not even a sock. But before he could get back to the cubicle he heard the door open and with a frightened and humiliated sob he collapsed back to the floor, drawing his knees to himself again to hide his nakedness, his back pressing to the wall. He was trembling from the cold and all he could pray was that whoever came in was someone who could help him, or someone who wouldn’t see him.
Dave looked through the keys he had attached to a Bioshock lanyard, trying to remember which was which as he made his way toward the office at the back of the locker room. The one with the black tape on it was his office, the red tape was the equipment room, the duct tape was the master for the various supply closets around the school, the one with Sharpie on it was to the gym, the masking tape was... well, he wasn't really sure what that one was. It was either that one or--
"Hello?" Dave frowned slightly; maybe his head was just pounding again, but he was pretty sure he'd heard something.
… of all the people to find him naked. Kurt’s heart pounded as he swallowed, inhaling sharply and trying to stop crying for long enough to call for help.
"C-Coach Karofsky...!" His voice cracked, thick with tears. "Th-they took... they t-took all my c-clothes," he managed to choke out.
Dave faltered, his game of Guess the Key forgotten. Oh, for the love of... He shoved his keys back into his pocket.
"Are you okay?" He asked softly, brain working quickly to find the fastest solution. The had loaner uniforms, but he was pretty sure they hadn't been washed since Dave was in school. There was the lost and found and, hell, if worst came to worst he was pretty sure he'd left a shirt in his office at some point.
Kurt sobbed softly, shaking his head. "N-No... no, I-- they t-took everything..." his teeth were chattering, tears rolling down his cheeks.
"Fuck..." Dave sighed. He didn't dare take another step forward to be able to see around the lockers to Kurt. "I'll be right back, okay? Gonna find you something to put on."
"L-- lock the door... I-- don’t want anyone coming in," he mumbled, hiding his face in his hands. Kurt was still crying, but relief was flooding him from the fact that someone who was helping him had found him. That it was someone he trusted and... he sobbed again.
"Yeah... yeah, okay," Dave promised. He locked Kurt in on his way out. When he came back five minutes later he didn't have much to offer. The lost and found was pretty barren except for about ten pairs of sunglasses, a few pieces of clothing, some keys, a Tamagotchi thing he was pretty sure had been there for at least ten years, and a weird sweater with Santa stitched onto the front. He really didn't want to subject Kurt to the loaner gym clothes, so when he unlocked the locker rooms and went back in he brought a button up shirt he'd left in his office near the beginning of the year and a pair of pants he was fairly sure were girls' jeans that had been in the lost and found with the ridiculous amounts of sunglasses.
Kurt had moved slightly, standing behind one of the doors of the cubicles, hiding himself behind it. He was still crying a little, wiping his tears with the backs of his hands. The tips of his fingers and lips had turned a little blue; but he shot Dave a weak, wobbly smile.
"Th-thanks..." he mumbled.
"Best I could do without leaving school," Dave muttered apologetically, handing the clothes over. "Don't worry 'bout giving any of it back. Shirt's mine, jeans're from the lost and found."
Kurt flushed a little as he took them, mumbling a thanks as he yanked on the - incredibly - tight jeans. Girl’s. A girl... three years younger than him, from the feel of it. And without underwear. Ugh... He pulled on the shirt afterwards, doing it up and finally stepping out from behind the door, dressed in the ridiculously tight jeans and the over-sized shirt - shoe and sock-less and looking... miserable.
Utterly miserable. "Thank you..." he whispered again, running his fingers through his damp hair.
"I --the shirt's long enough you could, um... leave the jeans und... I mean," Dave fumbled for something, anything, but there was absolutely nothing that would make this situation better.
Kurt snorted, waving a hand. "Please, these are practically baggy from what I’m used to," he said weakly, trying to make a joke. The last thing he needed was to leave things open and have a flashing incident.
And the right words just weren't there when he needed them. He wondered if they even existed. "God, Kurt I--" Dave sighed; shook his head. "Come here," he muttered as he pulled him into a hug.
He looked up, breath catching as Dave moved forward and-- Kurt swallowed hard, clamping his eyes shut and trying not to just break down as his hands gently rested on Dave’s back. "Thanks..." he whispered. "For... for ev-everyth-thing..." his voice broke, a few more tears falling down his cheeks.
"Who did it?" Dave was worried. Truly worried for the first time. Not that he had ever made light of the situation, but he'd always known that Kurt never really needed him to step in most of the time. Sure, there were taunts and harsh words, but Kurt had them all beat in the insult department --that was for sure. This, though. This was too far. This was a line crossed that very well could push Kurt in a direction Dave never wanted to see him go. And he wasn't going to stand back and let Figgins ignore the problem anymore.
"I d-don’t know," he whispered, letting his forehead rest on Dave’s shoulder, his whole body shaking with the delayed shock and cold. "I... I was sh-showering a-and... they j-just took it all..." It could have been any of them - or all of them, easily. Some... some big, planned event - or one cruel individual. And it wasn’t as if any of them were going to own up to it.
Dave nodded. "Okay... okay, well." he stepped back, digging his keys out. "Here. Go to my office. You can have lunch there. I'll see if I can find your stuff, alright? It's, uh. The key with the electrical tape on it."
Kurt stepped back too - though it was a tad regretfully as he took the keys and nodded, drying his eyes with the cuffs of Dave’s shirt. "Thanks... I-- thank you..." he was in no mood to eat, but he didn’t want to face the school dressed like he was, with them all looking at him and... and knowing what had just happened to him.
"Do you wanna go home after I get your stuff? I can write you a pass for early release."
"Y-Yeah... please," he nodded again, taking a deep, steadying breath. He could go back and... and curl up to some movies and when his dad got home he could just sit with him for the whole evening and try to forget the whole sickening, terrifying thing had happened.
*
Dave was pretty sure that had been the most humiliating experience of his life. Climbing into a dumpster wasn't so bad, but half falling out of it and landing at the feet of Sue Sylvester... that, he wasn't sure he would ever live down. He was pretty sure that by the time the day was out the entire staff would think he was a gambling addict who dumpster dove for scrap metal to slowly pay off his debt or something else equally ridiculous.
He'd found everything, but Kurt's clothes were better off left in the trash considering the state they were in. He opened his office door with his free hand, Kurt's trashed belongings all haphazardly stuck back into his school bag.
Kurt was miserably picking at a sandwich, sitting in Dave’s chair and slumped against the desk, looking lower than he’d been in weeks. It was obvious he’d been crying again, but he tried for a brave smile when Dave came in.
"Any luck...?"
"I dunno if you'd call it that, but..." Dave closed the door behind him, holding up the bag. "Your school stuff doesn't look too bad, but your clothes, um... They sort of had stroganoff surprise all over them. I mean, I still got 'em and your shoes are alright, but..." Dave sat down on the chair by his desk, typically reserved for students, brushing a stray noodle off of his shirt as he set Kurt's bag down.
"Oh, god..." he whispered, voice catching as he caught sight of his clothes. "...it’s-- it’s okay... I can fix this. I can somehow... if I soak them... vinegar... oh, god..." he reached for them, face falling further as he inspected the ruined clothing. "...great, well. Not only have I been robbed of all my dignity and humanity today, but I’ve been robbed of $500 odd as well. Awesome."
"I'll figure out who did it and --even if I don't, you're not going back into my class, okay?" Dave had had plenty of time to think while getting himself acquainted with the inside of every dumpster in school. Every tenth grade gym class was getting redistributed to break up the worst of the groups and Kurt would be switching to the position of student aid for Dave and if Figgins didn't like it, well that was tough shit because he wasn't going to watch this crap happen anymore.
"What do you mean...?" he asked, looking up with slightly wide eyes. Surely he wasn’t going to get kicked out - and gym was the only time he had with Dave...! He didn’t want to give that up...! Kurt swallowed, pulling out his shoes and socks, sliding them on.
He knew it probably wasn't the best idea considering, well, everything... but the only other option Dave saw was to remove Kurt completely from the class and have him make up the credit in summer school. "Switching you to my student aid for fourth period. You'll still have to take mid-terms and finals for the class, but you'll do fine."
He looked up again, hands freezing where he was tying his shoelaces. "...really? You’d do that...?" Kurt murmured, the ‘after everything’ unsaid but clear in the air between them. "Thanks," he murmured, welling up again as he swallowed. "That’s... that’s really nice of you."
"Are you gonna be okay?" Dave asked quietly, resting his elbows on his knees. He ignored the fact that he'd managed to settle his arm on a patch of still-wet ...something on his shorts, suppressing a grimace.
"Yeah... I mean... it’s not like anyone beat me up again," he murmured, shrugging a shoulder. "And... it’s not like anyone saw. I’ll be fine. I’ll go home and... binge on ice cream and watch a few musicals." Kurt pulled a dry smile. "I’ll be fine... thank you..."
"You can quit thanking me." Dave shook his head; he couldn't help but feel like all of this was partly his fault. Or all his fault. He wasn't sure which. If he hadn't been so fucking hung over he would have noticed that some (or all?) of his class had waited around or come back to steal Kurt's things. "I'm sorry I wasn't there." He mumbled.
"Why would you have been...?" he asked. "It’s not like what they did would be obvious... and you don’t usually check the changing rooms, and it’s not like I was screaming or anything..." Kurt slowly packed up his clothes - folding the messes in so they didn’t spread. "You’ve done above and beyond what anyone else here would do..."
Kurt was right, of course. Dave sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He needed that Excedrin now more than ever. "Go home, Kurt. Everything'll... look better tomorrow."
"...that would be nice," he murmured, standing and cracking out another small, weak smile. "I’ll see you later... thanks again." he moved past Dave, bag in arms.
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AN: Teacher!readers, please see here! ♥