The Arrangement
The Arrangement
by Harikari
Pairing/Characters: Eventual Puck/Kurt, Finn, Ensemble
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Violence, strong language, underage boys in a relationship (eventually), protective and brotherly Finn, protective Burt, possible fluff, angst, etc.
Spoilers: Takes place after Preggers, but contains possible spoilers for elements of the entire first season.
AN: Oops. I sat down to work on finishing up a chapter from one of my WIPs and instead this Glee fic happened. I blame Kurt/Chris. He's too awesome for anyone's good.
Summary: Sick of being bullied, Kurt makes a deal with a desperate Puck. A deal that slowly spirals out of control.
Part One
Except for Finn, Kurt was the last one out of the locker room. He made his way slowly across the football field and toward the bleachers, yellowing grass crunching underfoot. To his right he could make out the distant forms of Coach Tanaka and their bus driver. The two men were beyond the chain link fence that bordered the field, standing in the large area of the school parking lot designated for buses. The driver was scratching the back of his head. Coach Tanaka was pacing, back and forth, near the front end of the silent and stationary bus. It looked like they were waiting for something. For someone.
Lovely, thought Kurt.
That meant there had been zero progress since Coach had informed them all shortly after the game had ended that there was 'something wrong with the damn bus, so call your parents and tell them you'll be back in Lima a little later than expected'.
He reached the bleachers. The McKinley High football team (minus the players whose parents and other rides home had been at the game) was sprawled all along the steel seats. Most of them were sitting in groups of twos or threes, laughing raucously at some undoubtedly crude joke or talking excitedly about the game and their victory. Kurt eyed them all for a long moment before quickly but carefully marching up to the very top of the structure.
A sour looking Noah "Puck" Puckerman was sitting in the center of the middle row of bleachers, one level down from the top. Kurt took a seat in the top row. Just a little above and to the right of Puck. He heard the larger football player let out an annoyed sounding huff as he made himself as comfortable as possible on the metal bench seat. He ignored it, pulled his water bottle from his gym bag's convenient little mesh side pouch and took a sip.
Football. He could hardly believe he was on the football team. After confessing to the man that he was gay, he had been assured by his father that he didn't need to stay on the team if he didn't like it. However, Kurt had been reluctant to leave the entire team just hanging like that. The kicker he had replaced, the one who had been demoted to water boy, had ended up quitting the team altogether. This would leave McKinley High without a kicker, at least until another tryout was held and a decent replacement could be found, if he just up and quit.
So, sure that it was best for everyone concerned (after that first win the team had taken to ignoring him outside of practice; the soprano had no doubt abandoning them would mean going back to sneak slushie attacks in the school hallways and getting thrown into a dumpster daily, maybe more than just once daily if they were out for revenge) Kurt had informed Coach Tanaka that he would stay on the team only until another kicker could be found. Although...after a handful of practices and now another victorious game Kurt had a sneaking suspicion that Tanaka wasn't actually looking as hard as he could be for a new player.
Kurt put his water away and pulled his cell out of his pocket. He noticed Finn had emerged from the locker room -- the home team had been kind enough to grant them use of the girl's locker room -- looking scrubbed and no longer dressed in his gear and was halfway across the field. He couldn't help a small smile as he began to text his dad. Problem with the bus, he typed. Will be a little late. He pressed the send button just as a large shadow appeared, sliding over him like a dark cloud that blocked the intense shine of the setting sun.
Finn, thought Kurt. But he realized even as he began to look up that it couldn't be Finn. Not unless Finn had sprinted across the field and up the bleachers at an almost impossible speed while he had been busy texting.
And...no. It wasn't the slightly ignorant but generally good hearted football player. It was number twelve from the opposing team. From the team they had just beaten, from the very high school they were now stuck at.
Kurt recognized number twelve because the guy had been trouble the entire game. Shouting, spitting unnecessary insults at people, tackling just a little too roughly... Number twelve, Hernandez according to his jersey if the soprano remembered correctly, was a flat out asshole.
"Wha-" started Kurt, but he was promptly interrupted.
"Well if it isn't the little fairy that scored the winning point," said Hernandez. He was smiling, but it definitely wasn't a happy or friendly smile. He looked angry. Predatory even. His dark eyes were narrowed and he was breathing hard.
Fairy. Well. He had been called worse. He could handle fairy. Still...he wondered why the buffoon was targeting him, calling him a fairy in the first place (besides the obvious fact that the teenager was an ass). Was it because he had scored the winning point? Because he was an easy target? Did he give off some vibe? Because he hadn't even done the whole Beyonce dance thing this time when he had kicked, and he was wearing a rather simple outfit that consisted of black skinny jeans and a t-shirt. Granted, the jeans were designer and quite obviously expensive but-
"Hey, fag!" shouted Hernandez and then the guy shoved him. Actually bent to shove hard at his shoulder. Kurt let out a little gasp he couldn't help at the unexpected move, his phone flew from his hand and landed underneath his seat with a discouraging clatter. "Are you listening to me, you little fag?" Almost without thought, the soprano shot up. Glared.
Number twelve was a lot broader than him. And taller. Not as tall as Finn or even Puck but still taller. And at the moment he just didn't care. This wasn't some jock or random joker from McKinley High, from Lima. This wasn't someone who he had grown up with, someone he had grown accustomed to shouldering him into lockers or picking him up and swinging him into trash bins. This was someone he didn't even know. Some jerk who thought he could go around shoving people and calling them hurtful names just because he was angry about losing a stupid game.
"Don't touch me," said Kurt. It came out calm. A little quiet but firm.
Hernandez didn't react at first. Just stared. The rest of the team was standing now. Finn was hurrying up the wide bleacher steps and Puck was still a level down but had moved closer, was now standing directly below Kurt and the asshole from the other team.
"Hey, no talent!" shouted Puck and Kurt was a little surprised at that. That the player would interfere. Maybe it was a team spirit thing. Maybe the rest of the team didn't want McKinley High to be made a fool of...that was probably it. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't have the balls to take on someone your own size, or what?"
Hernandez didn't even seem to hear the other teenager. Kurt could see a strange intensity in the guy's eyes, felt a wave of relief rush over him when he saw that Finn had finally reached them. The quarterback was reaching out for the oblivious opposing player's shoulder when, suddenly, Hernandez moved.
Hernandez shot forward. He gripped Kurt's shoulders with strong fingers and just threw him. Kurt flew sideways, lost his footing and went airborne and went down. Hard. His left shoulder slammed against concrete and he cried out, felt himself start to roll-
"Whoa!" Puck's voice. Dazed, Kurt felt it as a large hand wrapped tightly around his arm, as another gripped his hip and pulled him firmly to stop. "What the fuck, man?" And that sounded angry. Really angry. It took a moment for the soprano to realize it wasn't directed at him.
Kurt blinked. Inhaled deeply and took in his surroundings. He was on concrete, Puck kneeling beside him. He had been thrown from the top level. Had apparently missed hitting the bleachers that had been directly below him altogether and had landed on the concrete. He would've rolled farther, over the edge of another set of metal seats and onto more concrete, if he hadn't been caught.
Jesus.
He shifted but Puck squeezed his arm in what seemed to be protest so Kurt settled for turning only a little and looking up. Finn looked furious. His face was red and he was breathing hard, his chest moving in and out and in and out. He had Hernandez's shirt bunched in his fists. His grip must have been strong; Hernandez was practically on his tiptoes, eyes wide and terrified looking and blood leaking from his nose.
Kurt shook his head. Blood leaking from his nose? He must have missed something. Had Finn...punched the other teenager?
"You could have killed him!" yelled Finn. "He could have kept going or hit his head or something. He..." He trailed off. Shook Hernandez and flashed his teeth in an angry grimace. It was as if he wanted to do something to the teenager he was holding but couldn't wrap his mind around what.
"I'm sorry," whined Hernandez. He saw Kurt was looking and zeroed in on him. "You. I'm sorry. I didn't... I wasn't thinking. I didn't want to push you down the bleachers or anything, I just-"
"Oh, fuck you. That's bullshit." Puck again. He was still crouching next to Kurt, had let go of his hip almost as soon as he had grabbed for it but still had a firm hold on his arm.
"No!" shouted Hernandez. "I'm serious. I'm telling the truth." And the soprano was surprised to see that the guy looked genuinely sorry. Looked afraid and remorseful. And he wasn't fighting Finn at all, just hanging there in his grip.
"You could have killed him," repeated Finn, like he thought everything number twelve from the other team had just said didn't matter. Didn't make a difference. At all.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Coach Tanaka. He was standing next to the bleachers, frowning and glaring up at them. His eyes swept over Hernandez' bloody nose and the angry Finn, then landed on Kurt and stuck there. He started up the steps. "Hummel-"
"I'm fine," piped up Kurt before the man could get very far. He moved to get up and this time Puck allowed it. The larger football player stood and then planted himself nearby as Kurt pushed himself to all fours and then to his feet. "I just..." He trailed off. There was dirt and grit embedded in his palms. He made a face as he wiped them off on his jeans.
His poor jeans.
He didn't know what to say. What do do. On one hand he didn't want to do nothing. Didn't want to brush it off. His attacker could have seriously injured him, after all. But on the other hand there was the scared and guilty look on Hernandez's face, the worried and pained look that would be on his father's face if the man ever found out about the incident.
Kurt's left shoulder was throbbing. Stinging. He gripped it with his right hand. "Fell," he said lamely. And as soon as the word was out of his mouth both Finn and Puck shot him sharp looks that ever so clearly screamed what the fuck. He ignored them and went on, hoping they wouldn't say anything. Hoping the rest of the team wouldn't say anything. "I tripped." He nodded in Hernandez's general direction. "We both...tripped."
For a moment there was silence. Then Hernandez was nodding enthusiastically and agreeing with him and elaborating. They had just been brushing by each other, he insisted. It was all an accident.
Standing on the second step up from ground level, Coach Tanaka looked at them all like he knew they were full of shit. Looked at Kurt. "Tripped. Are you sure, Hummel? You okay?"
The soprano nodded. "I'm sure. I'm okay. Just...my shoulder hurts a little bit."
Slowly, the man nodded. "Fine. Go ahead to the locker room and check it out. I'll try and round up some ice for you. And you!" He was glaring at number twelve now. "You get out of here. What the hell were you thinking coming around while my team is sitting here?"
Hernandez swiped a hand under his nose (the bleeding seemed to have stopped already) before wrenching away from Finn and rushing down the wide steps. He shot a last, strange look at Kurt before touching ground and disappearing around a corner.
The soprano sighed and made his way carefully downward. It took until he had reached the grass and was crunching across it once more, still holding his arm and heading back to the locker room, for him to realize both Noah Puckerman and Finn Hudson were following him.
Part Two
by Harikari
Pairing/Characters: Eventual Puck/Kurt, Finn, Ensemble
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Violence, strong language, underage boys in a relationship (eventually), protective and brotherly Finn, protective Burt, possible fluff, angst, etc.
Spoilers: Takes place after Preggers, but contains possible spoilers for elements of the entire first season.
AN: Oops. I sat down to work on finishing up a chapter from one of my WIPs and instead this Glee fic happened. I blame Kurt/Chris. He's too awesome for anyone's good.
Summary: Sick of being bullied, Kurt makes a deal with a desperate Puck. A deal that slowly spirals out of control.
Part One
Except for Finn, Kurt was the last one out of the locker room. He made his way slowly across the football field and toward the bleachers, yellowing grass crunching underfoot. To his right he could make out the distant forms of Coach Tanaka and their bus driver. The two men were beyond the chain link fence that bordered the field, standing in the large area of the school parking lot designated for buses. The driver was scratching the back of his head. Coach Tanaka was pacing, back and forth, near the front end of the silent and stationary bus. It looked like they were waiting for something. For someone.
Lovely, thought Kurt.
That meant there had been zero progress since Coach had informed them all shortly after the game had ended that there was 'something wrong with the damn bus, so call your parents and tell them you'll be back in Lima a little later than expected'.
He reached the bleachers. The McKinley High football team (minus the players whose parents and other rides home had been at the game) was sprawled all along the steel seats. Most of them were sitting in groups of twos or threes, laughing raucously at some undoubtedly crude joke or talking excitedly about the game and their victory. Kurt eyed them all for a long moment before quickly but carefully marching up to the very top of the structure.
A sour looking Noah "Puck" Puckerman was sitting in the center of the middle row of bleachers, one level down from the top. Kurt took a seat in the top row. Just a little above and to the right of Puck. He heard the larger football player let out an annoyed sounding huff as he made himself as comfortable as possible on the metal bench seat. He ignored it, pulled his water bottle from his gym bag's convenient little mesh side pouch and took a sip.
Football. He could hardly believe he was on the football team. After confessing to the man that he was gay, he had been assured by his father that he didn't need to stay on the team if he didn't like it. However, Kurt had been reluctant to leave the entire team just hanging like that. The kicker he had replaced, the one who had been demoted to water boy, had ended up quitting the team altogether. This would leave McKinley High without a kicker, at least until another tryout was held and a decent replacement could be found, if he just up and quit.
So, sure that it was best for everyone concerned (after that first win the team had taken to ignoring him outside of practice; the soprano had no doubt abandoning them would mean going back to sneak slushie attacks in the school hallways and getting thrown into a dumpster daily, maybe more than just once daily if they were out for revenge) Kurt had informed Coach Tanaka that he would stay on the team only until another kicker could be found. Although...after a handful of practices and now another victorious game Kurt had a sneaking suspicion that Tanaka wasn't actually looking as hard as he could be for a new player.
Kurt put his water away and pulled his cell out of his pocket. He noticed Finn had emerged from the locker room -- the home team had been kind enough to grant them use of the girl's locker room -- looking scrubbed and no longer dressed in his gear and was halfway across the field. He couldn't help a small smile as he began to text his dad. Problem with the bus, he typed. Will be a little late. He pressed the send button just as a large shadow appeared, sliding over him like a dark cloud that blocked the intense shine of the setting sun.
Finn, thought Kurt. But he realized even as he began to look up that it couldn't be Finn. Not unless Finn had sprinted across the field and up the bleachers at an almost impossible speed while he had been busy texting.
And...no. It wasn't the slightly ignorant but generally good hearted football player. It was number twelve from the opposing team. From the team they had just beaten, from the very high school they were now stuck at.
Kurt recognized number twelve because the guy had been trouble the entire game. Shouting, spitting unnecessary insults at people, tackling just a little too roughly... Number twelve, Hernandez according to his jersey if the soprano remembered correctly, was a flat out asshole.
"Wha-" started Kurt, but he was promptly interrupted.
"Well if it isn't the little fairy that scored the winning point," said Hernandez. He was smiling, but it definitely wasn't a happy or friendly smile. He looked angry. Predatory even. His dark eyes were narrowed and he was breathing hard.
Fairy. Well. He had been called worse. He could handle fairy. Still...he wondered why the buffoon was targeting him, calling him a fairy in the first place (besides the obvious fact that the teenager was an ass). Was it because he had scored the winning point? Because he was an easy target? Did he give off some vibe? Because he hadn't even done the whole Beyonce dance thing this time when he had kicked, and he was wearing a rather simple outfit that consisted of black skinny jeans and a t-shirt. Granted, the jeans were designer and quite obviously expensive but-
"Hey, fag!" shouted Hernandez and then the guy shoved him. Actually bent to shove hard at his shoulder. Kurt let out a little gasp he couldn't help at the unexpected move, his phone flew from his hand and landed underneath his seat with a discouraging clatter. "Are you listening to me, you little fag?" Almost without thought, the soprano shot up. Glared.
Number twelve was a lot broader than him. And taller. Not as tall as Finn or even Puck but still taller. And at the moment he just didn't care. This wasn't some jock or random joker from McKinley High, from Lima. This wasn't someone who he had grown up with, someone he had grown accustomed to shouldering him into lockers or picking him up and swinging him into trash bins. This was someone he didn't even know. Some jerk who thought he could go around shoving people and calling them hurtful names just because he was angry about losing a stupid game.
"Don't touch me," said Kurt. It came out calm. A little quiet but firm.
Hernandez didn't react at first. Just stared. The rest of the team was standing now. Finn was hurrying up the wide bleacher steps and Puck was still a level down but had moved closer, was now standing directly below Kurt and the asshole from the other team.
"Hey, no talent!" shouted Puck and Kurt was a little surprised at that. That the player would interfere. Maybe it was a team spirit thing. Maybe the rest of the team didn't want McKinley High to be made a fool of...that was probably it. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't have the balls to take on someone your own size, or what?"
Hernandez didn't even seem to hear the other teenager. Kurt could see a strange intensity in the guy's eyes, felt a wave of relief rush over him when he saw that Finn had finally reached them. The quarterback was reaching out for the oblivious opposing player's shoulder when, suddenly, Hernandez moved.
Hernandez shot forward. He gripped Kurt's shoulders with strong fingers and just threw him. Kurt flew sideways, lost his footing and went airborne and went down. Hard. His left shoulder slammed against concrete and he cried out, felt himself start to roll-
"Whoa!" Puck's voice. Dazed, Kurt felt it as a large hand wrapped tightly around his arm, as another gripped his hip and pulled him firmly to stop. "What the fuck, man?" And that sounded angry. Really angry. It took a moment for the soprano to realize it wasn't directed at him.
Kurt blinked. Inhaled deeply and took in his surroundings. He was on concrete, Puck kneeling beside him. He had been thrown from the top level. Had apparently missed hitting the bleachers that had been directly below him altogether and had landed on the concrete. He would've rolled farther, over the edge of another set of metal seats and onto more concrete, if he hadn't been caught.
Jesus.
He shifted but Puck squeezed his arm in what seemed to be protest so Kurt settled for turning only a little and looking up. Finn looked furious. His face was red and he was breathing hard, his chest moving in and out and in and out. He had Hernandez's shirt bunched in his fists. His grip must have been strong; Hernandez was practically on his tiptoes, eyes wide and terrified looking and blood leaking from his nose.
Kurt shook his head. Blood leaking from his nose? He must have missed something. Had Finn...punched the other teenager?
"You could have killed him!" yelled Finn. "He could have kept going or hit his head or something. He..." He trailed off. Shook Hernandez and flashed his teeth in an angry grimace. It was as if he wanted to do something to the teenager he was holding but couldn't wrap his mind around what.
"I'm sorry," whined Hernandez. He saw Kurt was looking and zeroed in on him. "You. I'm sorry. I didn't... I wasn't thinking. I didn't want to push you down the bleachers or anything, I just-"
"Oh, fuck you. That's bullshit." Puck again. He was still crouching next to Kurt, had let go of his hip almost as soon as he had grabbed for it but still had a firm hold on his arm.
"No!" shouted Hernandez. "I'm serious. I'm telling the truth." And the soprano was surprised to see that the guy looked genuinely sorry. Looked afraid and remorseful. And he wasn't fighting Finn at all, just hanging there in his grip.
"You could have killed him," repeated Finn, like he thought everything number twelve from the other team had just said didn't matter. Didn't make a difference. At all.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Coach Tanaka. He was standing next to the bleachers, frowning and glaring up at them. His eyes swept over Hernandez' bloody nose and the angry Finn, then landed on Kurt and stuck there. He started up the steps. "Hummel-"
"I'm fine," piped up Kurt before the man could get very far. He moved to get up and this time Puck allowed it. The larger football player stood and then planted himself nearby as Kurt pushed himself to all fours and then to his feet. "I just..." He trailed off. There was dirt and grit embedded in his palms. He made a face as he wiped them off on his jeans.
His poor jeans.
He didn't know what to say. What do do. On one hand he didn't want to do nothing. Didn't want to brush it off. His attacker could have seriously injured him, after all. But on the other hand there was the scared and guilty look on Hernandez's face, the worried and pained look that would be on his father's face if the man ever found out about the incident.
Kurt's left shoulder was throbbing. Stinging. He gripped it with his right hand. "Fell," he said lamely. And as soon as the word was out of his mouth both Finn and Puck shot him sharp looks that ever so clearly screamed what the fuck. He ignored them and went on, hoping they wouldn't say anything. Hoping the rest of the team wouldn't say anything. "I tripped." He nodded in Hernandez's general direction. "We both...tripped."
For a moment there was silence. Then Hernandez was nodding enthusiastically and agreeing with him and elaborating. They had just been brushing by each other, he insisted. It was all an accident.
Standing on the second step up from ground level, Coach Tanaka looked at them all like he knew they were full of shit. Looked at Kurt. "Tripped. Are you sure, Hummel? You okay?"
The soprano nodded. "I'm sure. I'm okay. Just...my shoulder hurts a little bit."
Slowly, the man nodded. "Fine. Go ahead to the locker room and check it out. I'll try and round up some ice for you. And you!" He was glaring at number twelve now. "You get out of here. What the hell were you thinking coming around while my team is sitting here?"
Hernandez swiped a hand under his nose (the bleeding seemed to have stopped already) before wrenching away from Finn and rushing down the wide steps. He shot a last, strange look at Kurt before touching ground and disappearing around a corner.
The soprano sighed and made his way carefully downward. It took until he had reached the grass and was crunching across it once more, still holding his arm and heading back to the locker room, for him to realize both Noah Puckerman and Finn Hudson were following him.
Part Two