Fic: Whatever Side of Love Part I
Whatever Side of Love
Part 1 of 3
Fandom: Glee
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, I just like playing in it.
Pairings: Brittany/Kurt, Brittany/Santana (in later parts), references to canon pairings.
Rating / Warnings: PG-13 for sexual references, nudity, and some language.
Spoilers: AU starting at 1x03 (Acafellas) and running through to 1x13 (Sectionals).
Summary: Kurt Hummel doesn't mean to lie about being gay. Life's just easier if he doesn't say anything.
Notes: This part: 3,528 words
Beta'd by the ever-lovely bekkis. Thank you for making time for me, m'dear, you're lovelier every day.
Title is stolen from a song that will be relevant later.
Written for a prompt by kirke_novak on the glee_fluff_meme:
Kurt is straight. He may act "gay" but he had never had any lusty feelings towards guys. He's also dating Brit, which turns rather awkward, when Burt catches them making out.
Burt tries to have a serious conversation with Kurt how he'd love him no matter what, and how it's not fair to use this poor girl like that. Kurt is not pleased.
The more Brittany/Kurt, the better. Obviously, there was never any crush on Finn or Kurt's coming outs.
"Mercedes?"
She turned back to face him, confused but expectant.
"I lied to you. I don't like Rachel."
He took a deep breath, trying his best to steel his nerves. Even with Mercedes staring at him with tear-filled eyes, trying to offer the olive branch, he couldn’t bring himself to say the awful truth, especially to a girl with a freshly busted heart.
He hesitated. And she smiled.
"It's okay," she said gently, leaning back against the lockers. "You don't have to say anything if you’re not ready. I understand."
Kurt swallowed and nodded. It's not his fault if what she understood wasn't what he meant
~*~
Kurt Hummel was not gay.
He didn't have any particular problem with people thinking that he was, of course. It was easier, he assumed, just letting them think whatever the hell they wanted than trying to convince them of his heterosexuality.
The problem with not being gay was that he was Kurt Hummel. Small Town USA just could not reconcile him being himself with being straight. His interests just didn’t mesh with what a man was supposed to be. Their minds would be blown just trying to put it together.
He didn’t think it was that difficult. His love of musical theater came from his mother, and with a voice like his it would be a crime not to sing. Skin and hair care was not inherently gay, it was inherently hygienic. Fashion was art, and that was good enough for him. After all, how many designers out there were actually straight men? The models certainly didn’t hurt either. Most of his mannerisms came from only having females for friends for his entire life, and he only ever had females for friends because boys were freaked out by his mannerisms. It was a vicious cycle.
He imagined it would be easier if he ever got his hands on a girlfriend. He didn’t exactly have a lot of options, being the fey boy in glee club. Mercedes was the sister he’d always wished he’d had, and dating her would just be terribly awkward (which he hoped she’d realized before the truth came out.) Tina was Not Dating Artie, which was a whole situation he’d rather not get in the middle of. And he’d sooner shop at Wal-Mart than think about approaching Rachel Berry.
So until he found some girl willing to put aside her assumptions and endure being called his beard, he was stuck with the unjustly applied label of ‘gay kid.’ Because he liked what he liked and acted the way he acted, and he wasn’t about to change that for anyone. If he wanted to invite some people over and dress up and dance like Beyoncé in his own house, he was going to do it, and do it well.
Though, maybe he’d join football for his dad. But that was as far as he’d go.
“S-s-s-sorry, K-Kurt,” Tina said as she ducked into his bathroom. “I only m-m-meant th-that f-football players w-w-were-“
“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Kurt said, performing a mercy killing on that poor sentence. He threw himself into a chair and glared at Brittany. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Brittany frowned at him, though he wasn’t quite sure she understood why he had an attitude. “The kicker we have now is, like, really bad,” she said, trying to be helpful. She shrugged a shoulder free of the strap of her leotard. “I’m sure you could get Coach Tanaka to give you a tryout, if you asked.” She peeled the tight black fabric down her body, letting it bunch around her hips. She looked around, confused. “Have you seen my bra?”
He remembered that bra (cute, covered in little red stars with a small edge of red lace around the cups) but he wasn’t about to jump up and help her look. Because she was just standing there in front of him, hands on her hips, not wearing a bra - not wearing anything on top at all. He swallowed hard and shifted in his seat.
Stop staring, he thought, forcing himself to blink. You have to stop staring. But Brittany was too busy searching for her missing underwear to notice his intense interest in her breasts. Besides, if she had a problem with him seeing her, she wouldn’t have stripped in front of him in the first place. It was his duty to stare.
“F-F-Finn would pr-probab-b-bly help you ou-“ Tina stepped out of the bathroom, hugging her dance gear to her chest. She took one look at Brittany and turned bright red. “B-B-B-Brittany! You l-left your clothes in the b-b-bathroom!”
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” She gave them a little smile and reached up to cup herself. “Well, at least it’s like the locker room, right? No one here really cares about naked girls.”
Tina had turned an interesting shade of purple and Kurt’s eyes were about to fall out of their sockets. Brittany looked between them, rolled her eyes, and went to get dressed.
~*~
Being on the football team really wasn't so bad. Tanaka was letting him have his music, so there really wasn't a whole lot for him to do during practice. Mostly, he'd watch the boys running into each other at high speeds, and when that got boring, he'd pop on his head phones and a pair of sunglasses and grab some sun and a nap in the bleachers. It was another hour and a half of his life wasted every other day, but he'd just remember the look on his dad's face when he brought home his pads and put up with it.
He had been delegated to the girl's locker room, which was just fine with him. The other guys didn't want him seeing them naked and he had zero desire to do so. Besides, he had heard the horror stories. He was not about to put himself into a compromising position where the big mean guy in the closet took advantage of the smaller, weaker boy who was presumably out and proud.
Besides, Ms. Sylvester had put in a steam room for the Cheerios. It was great for his pores, and when their practices got out at the same time the girls had no problem with him joining them. So really, it was win-win.
Sadly, today was not one of those days, and he was stuck in the locker room all by himself. He struggled to get the pads off over his head and cringed at the smell that came off of them. Why would a sport that involved so much sweating need so much polyester?
There was a clanging somewhere towards the back of the room, in a different bank of lockers. Kurt paused with his shirt halfway over his head. Arms stuck in the air, he peered down the row, preparing himself to flee from some kind of horny jock ambush.
Brittany stood before a few lockers, hand on one of the dials. Her cell phone was in her other hand and she looked between the two in distress. She was chewing her lip in thought, and would occasionally fiddle with the lock. It was painfully obvious that she had no idea what she was doing.
Kurt watched her in silence for a few torturous minutes before he started to feel sorry for her. He took a few steps forward and gently cleared his throat. "Need any help there, Britt?"
She looked up at him with a look of dull surprise. "I forgot how to do my combination."
"Oh, honey," he sighed and stepped up to the locker. "Let me do it."
She angled the phone so he could see the note - [GYM LOCKER - NOT 1 IN HALL] - and turned the lock with practiced ease. There was a loud thunk when he tried to lift the latch, and the door wouldn't budge.
"Brittany, are you sure this one is yours?"
Her cheeks flushed brightly and Kurt fought the overwhelming urge to pinch them. "I just know that it's the one next to Quinn's and... well, I think hers is this one but it's hard to tell when she's not here."
Kurt nodded slowly and reached for her phone. "We could text her and ask, if you want."
"No!" she blurted as she bit her lip again. "I mean, she's always so busy. I don't want to bother her."
Kurt nodded again. Her lips said one thing, but her face said 'I don't want her to yell at me and then tell everyone how dumb I am. Again.' He smiled brightly at her. "Well, it's not anything too important, right?"
"It's my car keys."
"Oh." Kurt shrugged, though internally he quailed at the thought of Brittany behind the wheel. He started to walk back towards his stuff. "Well, I'll give you a ride if you want."
"Thanks," she said, reluctantly following him. "You're not as big a loser as everyone says you are."
"Thank you, I think," he said as he once again started pulling off his shirt. "But... still a loser nonetheless?"
"Well, duh."
Normally, he would shower or at least grab a quick steam, but now he had a passenger. She sat on the bench across from him, chin in her hands as she watched him deodorize and slip on a fresh cotton T. He hesitated slightly when his hands started undoing the laces of his padded pants. She continued to look on in mild interest.
"I'd really rather you didn't watch me like that," he said, gesturing further down the row. "Masculine pride and all that."
"You got to see me," she protested calmly, with a little sweet smile that made his stomach tingle pleasantly.
"That's different," he said as if he hadn't thought of her standing half-nude in front of him every night for a week. "You just... exposed yourself. I'm trying to be a gentleman."
Brittany sat up straight, her hands dropping to play with the hem of her Cheerio skirt. She tilted her head slightly to the right. "Do you like me?"
Kurt's eyebrows went up in surprise at the abrupt change of topic. "Well, yes, if you put a gun to my head."
She nodded, pleased with that answer. "Good. I like you too." she looked up at him through her lashes. "Do you want a blowjob?"
Kurt was thankful for the bench behind him, because his legs decided to go to mush. He sat down hard and stared at the girl across from him. "Would I like a what now?"
"It's when you put your dick-"
"I know what a blowjob is, Brittany!" Kurt cut her off. He leaned forward slightly. "Why do you want to give me one?"
She shrugged. "You're kind of cute. And you like me and I like you. And I'm good at it, I guess." She shrugged again, sliding smoothly off the bench to kneel in front of him. "Plus," she said with a grin, "You totally got a boner when you saw my tits. You can see them again, if you have some weird boob thing, but this top is kind of a pain to take off."
"No, I think I'll be fine." Kurt swallowed hard. Despite all his hard post-practice work, he was starting to sweat again. He had a death grip on the laces of his pants and Brittany had to unbend his fingers for him so she could finish the job. She continued to smile up at him sweetly until she couldn't smile anymore.
~*~
They went for frozen yogurt afterwards. Lima may be a little salt-of-the-Earth town with nothing going for it, but it still has its own Pink Berry imitator. Kurt let himself indulge in a little chocolate hidden amongst his medley of fruits. Brittany got Captain Crunch and honey, which was interesting, to put it one way.
Kurt wasn't sure what exactly they were doing. A big part of him was celebrating being one step closer to losing his pesky virginity. That part of him was taking Brittany out to thank her. The rest of him felt awkward - his own skin was tight and uncomfortable and his legs had yet to regain their strength. There was a jabbing pain somewhere in his abdomen whenever he looked at the girl across from him. Was he just taking her out to justify what he had let her do? Too late, something in his head whispered with malicious glee. You've already used her!
Brittany happily crunched her fro yo, staring out the window at the changing leaves. She didn't seem to be having an internal crisis. She wasn't beating herself up for acting like a slut. Because she is a slut!, the voice whispered. She's a slut and you used her!
Kurt was reinstating his ban on chocolate as soon as his cup was empty.
"Is yours good?" he asked, just to make conversation.
"Mm," Brittany hummed around the spoon in her mouth. "It's really yummy."
There was a bit of stray honey on her fingers, and she bent her head to lap it up. Kurt zeroed in on those parted lips, that quick-pink tongue, and swallowed hard. She looked up at him through her lashes - damn long and beautiful splayed across her cheeks when she closed them in pleasure - and grinned. She dipped her spoon into her yogurt, coating it with the melted yogurt. Holding it straight up in front of her, she licked her tongue flat against the plastic, up the handle, and over the wide, bulbous end. She slid the whole thing back into her mouth, humming obscenely.
Kurt slammed his cup onto the table, groaning at the pressure building once again between his legs. "You're a wicked woman and I hate you."
She giggled. "You make it easy."
His face felt hot and he desperately hoped that he wasn't turning splotchy. And maybe it was the blood that was no longer in his brain, but he suddenly found himself without a filter. "How did you know I was straight?"
She looked at him, surprised. "What?"
Kurt fought the urge to fiddle with his spoon and kept both hands flat on the table. He would not be embarrassed about this. "Most people just assume I'm gay."
Brittany shrugged and started playing with her own spoon. "I've heard a lot of people say that but... why should I believe them? It's not like they know you. A bunch of people who didn't know me said stuff about how I should be on the short bus, and some teachers assumed they were right. So I had to take all these tests and was put in the special class for a few weeks so they could figure out that I'm not, like, retarded or anything. In fact, I could totally be smart if I put the effort in. All my teachers remind me of that every day. But..." she paused and turned to look out of the window once more. "There's not really a point. Why waste my time with all that boring stuff? Being a Cheerio means I get a C-plus average, or Ms. Sylvester would raise hell. And it's not like I need to know chemistry to be a dancer. So..." she shrugged and crunched on another bite of her desert. "I guess I know not to assume things, you know?"
Kurt watched her, trying to take it all in. "You could have just said 'It makes an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'."
She stared at him blankly. "Why would I say that?"
He laughed and shook his head. And then was struck by something, and he felt his eyes narrow and he leaned forward. "Wait a second," he said, with an accusatory finger on the table. "What about the whole 'no one here cares about naked girls' thing?"
She gave him that grin again, wicked and sultry. And maybe, just maybe, Brittany wasn't the big idiot everyone made her out to be.
He drove her home in comfortable silence, but was once again struck by terrible nerves. The voice still chanted cattily Slut, slut, slut, and his hands started to shake. By the time he pulled into her drive way, he was a mess.
"So, are-" he stopped, cleared his throat, started over with a voice even more high-pitched than usual. "So, are we dating now?"
The look she gave him made him want to shrink back into himself for protection from the laughter. She quickly softened and managed to keep it to a gentle giggle. "I don't really have time for a boyfriend," she said, leaning closer. "But you're kind of cool sometimes, so if you ever want to fool around...?"
She kissed him then. Her lips were soft and slightly waxy from her balm, and her mouth still tasted like honey. She took his hand and guided it towards her body, to the where the hem of her uniform sat. It was a tight fit - extra supportive for gymnastic moves - but eventually his hand was cupping her breast. Through her bra (no lace this time) he felt her nipple grow hard under his palm. Oh yes, he thought, finally shoving out the evil voice, I could get used to this.
She broke away with flushed cheeks and a shy smile. "Almost forgot, my mom's home by now." She kissed his cheek as Kurt dragged his hand away from its new best friend. "I'll see you tomorrow?" she said as she pulled her house keys from her bag.
Kurt didn't answer. Instead, he said, "Aren't those your car keys?"
She looked at her key ring, where, sure enough, the bulky black plastic of her car keys hung. "Oh. Right." she laughed at herself as she slammed his car door closed.
~*~
The crowd was still cheering twenty minutes after he had made his game-winning kick. Kurt blew a few more kisses and struck a pose as hundreds (okay, five or six) flashbulbs went off. His former tormentors kept coming up to him to mess up his hair and fist bump and, for some reason, not pat his butt. For the first time in his high school life, despite all his efforts in glee club, he was truly a star.
Famous kickers whose names he forgot despite Finn drilling them into his head - Eat your hearts out.
They had to physically drag him away from his adoring fans and into the locker room. No one said anything when he stepped into the showers. No one had done anything to his locker when he went to get dressed.
Life was good.
He was stepping out of the building when Brittany rushed up to him. "Kurt!" she practically screamed, full of excited energy as she grabbed his hand. "We're all hanging out in the parking lot. To celebrate and stuff. Matt's dad brought us beer!" She tugged his arm playfully. "C'mon, we can't really do it without you!"
Kurt knew he should go home. He knew his father was waiting for him, wanting to talk about the game and relive the proudest moment of his life so far. And Kurt wanted to look him in the eye and see that pride and say 'Look, Dad, I really can do anything if I try hard enough. Don't give up hope yet!'
On the other hand, 'Sorry I'm late, Dad, I was out getting drunk with the boys with a hot blonde cheerleader on my arm. And then she let me finger her in the equipment shed. Not gonna be a virgin for much longer!' didn't sound half-bad either.
He went with Brittany.
The team had backed their cars into a circle around the world's most pathetic bonfire - really, a stack of old newspapers, a couple of twigs and a road flair did not a fire make. Nobody seemed to care. The guys were still high on their victory. The beer was flowing freely. The girls were gorgeous. The music from a dozen car radios was synched. It was a party.
Of course, Kurt ended up talking mostly to the Cheerios about pathetically feminine things. He sipped daintily at his Bud Lite (hardly what he would have preferred) as he listened to them debate the merits of homemade versus designer brand oatmeal scrubs. He probably would have taken the 'go home' option a long time ago if it wasn't for his hand resting comfortably on Brittany's hip, his arm around her waist, her hot breath against his neck whenever she laughed.
Mostly, he observed. Finn - the only person he could see himself having a conversation with - was busy being gooey and romantic with Quinn. Mike Chang kept doing a moonwalk-spin-crotch thrust of victory. Santana Lopez stumbled out of the backseat of Puck's Buick with conspicuously messy hair and a rumpled skirt and gave him the stink eye.
Brittany, returning to his side with her third beer, bumped into him in a cloud of giggles. She took his hand, linking their fingers, and rested her head on his shoulder. “You wanna go out to the equipment shed?" she whispered.
Oh yes indeed. Life was good.
TBC in Part 2
Part 1 of 3
Fandom: Glee
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, I just like playing in it.
Pairings: Brittany/Kurt, Brittany/Santana (in later parts), references to canon pairings.
Rating / Warnings: PG-13 for sexual references, nudity, and some language.
Spoilers: AU starting at 1x03 (Acafellas) and running through to 1x13 (Sectionals).
Summary: Kurt Hummel doesn't mean to lie about being gay. Life's just easier if he doesn't say anything.
Notes: This part: 3,528 words
Beta'd by the ever-lovely bekkis. Thank you for making time for me, m'dear, you're lovelier every day.
Title is stolen from a song that will be relevant later.
Written for a prompt by kirke_novak on the glee_fluff_meme:
Kurt is straight. He may act "gay" but he had never had any lusty feelings towards guys. He's also dating Brit, which turns rather awkward, when Burt catches them making out.
Burt tries to have a serious conversation with Kurt how he'd love him no matter what, and how it's not fair to use this poor girl like that. Kurt is not pleased.
The more Brittany/Kurt, the better. Obviously, there was never any crush on Finn or Kurt's coming outs.
"Mercedes?"
She turned back to face him, confused but expectant.
"I lied to you. I don't like Rachel."
He took a deep breath, trying his best to steel his nerves. Even with Mercedes staring at him with tear-filled eyes, trying to offer the olive branch, he couldn’t bring himself to say the awful truth, especially to a girl with a freshly busted heart.
He hesitated. And she smiled.
"It's okay," she said gently, leaning back against the lockers. "You don't have to say anything if you’re not ready. I understand."
Kurt swallowed and nodded. It's not his fault if what she understood wasn't what he meant
~*~
Kurt Hummel was not gay.
He didn't have any particular problem with people thinking that he was, of course. It was easier, he assumed, just letting them think whatever the hell they wanted than trying to convince them of his heterosexuality.
The problem with not being gay was that he was Kurt Hummel. Small Town USA just could not reconcile him being himself with being straight. His interests just didn’t mesh with what a man was supposed to be. Their minds would be blown just trying to put it together.
He didn’t think it was that difficult. His love of musical theater came from his mother, and with a voice like his it would be a crime not to sing. Skin and hair care was not inherently gay, it was inherently hygienic. Fashion was art, and that was good enough for him. After all, how many designers out there were actually straight men? The models certainly didn’t hurt either. Most of his mannerisms came from only having females for friends for his entire life, and he only ever had females for friends because boys were freaked out by his mannerisms. It was a vicious cycle.
He imagined it would be easier if he ever got his hands on a girlfriend. He didn’t exactly have a lot of options, being the fey boy in glee club. Mercedes was the sister he’d always wished he’d had, and dating her would just be terribly awkward (which he hoped she’d realized before the truth came out.) Tina was Not Dating Artie, which was a whole situation he’d rather not get in the middle of. And he’d sooner shop at Wal-Mart than think about approaching Rachel Berry.
So until he found some girl willing to put aside her assumptions and endure being called his beard, he was stuck with the unjustly applied label of ‘gay kid.’ Because he liked what he liked and acted the way he acted, and he wasn’t about to change that for anyone. If he wanted to invite some people over and dress up and dance like Beyoncé in his own house, he was going to do it, and do it well.
Though, maybe he’d join football for his dad. But that was as far as he’d go.
“S-s-s-sorry, K-Kurt,” Tina said as she ducked into his bathroom. “I only m-m-meant th-that f-football players w-w-were-“
“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Kurt said, performing a mercy killing on that poor sentence. He threw himself into a chair and glared at Brittany. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Brittany frowned at him, though he wasn’t quite sure she understood why he had an attitude. “The kicker we have now is, like, really bad,” she said, trying to be helpful. She shrugged a shoulder free of the strap of her leotard. “I’m sure you could get Coach Tanaka to give you a tryout, if you asked.” She peeled the tight black fabric down her body, letting it bunch around her hips. She looked around, confused. “Have you seen my bra?”
He remembered that bra (cute, covered in little red stars with a small edge of red lace around the cups) but he wasn’t about to jump up and help her look. Because she was just standing there in front of him, hands on her hips, not wearing a bra - not wearing anything on top at all. He swallowed hard and shifted in his seat.
Stop staring, he thought, forcing himself to blink. You have to stop staring. But Brittany was too busy searching for her missing underwear to notice his intense interest in her breasts. Besides, if she had a problem with him seeing her, she wouldn’t have stripped in front of him in the first place. It was his duty to stare.
“F-F-Finn would pr-probab-b-bly help you ou-“ Tina stepped out of the bathroom, hugging her dance gear to her chest. She took one look at Brittany and turned bright red. “B-B-B-Brittany! You l-left your clothes in the b-b-bathroom!”
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” She gave them a little smile and reached up to cup herself. “Well, at least it’s like the locker room, right? No one here really cares about naked girls.”
Tina had turned an interesting shade of purple and Kurt’s eyes were about to fall out of their sockets. Brittany looked between them, rolled her eyes, and went to get dressed.
~*~
Being on the football team really wasn't so bad. Tanaka was letting him have his music, so there really wasn't a whole lot for him to do during practice. Mostly, he'd watch the boys running into each other at high speeds, and when that got boring, he'd pop on his head phones and a pair of sunglasses and grab some sun and a nap in the bleachers. It was another hour and a half of his life wasted every other day, but he'd just remember the look on his dad's face when he brought home his pads and put up with it.
He had been delegated to the girl's locker room, which was just fine with him. The other guys didn't want him seeing them naked and he had zero desire to do so. Besides, he had heard the horror stories. He was not about to put himself into a compromising position where the big mean guy in the closet took advantage of the smaller, weaker boy who was presumably out and proud.
Besides, Ms. Sylvester had put in a steam room for the Cheerios. It was great for his pores, and when their practices got out at the same time the girls had no problem with him joining them. So really, it was win-win.
Sadly, today was not one of those days, and he was stuck in the locker room all by himself. He struggled to get the pads off over his head and cringed at the smell that came off of them. Why would a sport that involved so much sweating need so much polyester?
There was a clanging somewhere towards the back of the room, in a different bank of lockers. Kurt paused with his shirt halfway over his head. Arms stuck in the air, he peered down the row, preparing himself to flee from some kind of horny jock ambush.
Brittany stood before a few lockers, hand on one of the dials. Her cell phone was in her other hand and she looked between the two in distress. She was chewing her lip in thought, and would occasionally fiddle with the lock. It was painfully obvious that she had no idea what she was doing.
Kurt watched her in silence for a few torturous minutes before he started to feel sorry for her. He took a few steps forward and gently cleared his throat. "Need any help there, Britt?"
She looked up at him with a look of dull surprise. "I forgot how to do my combination."
"Oh, honey," he sighed and stepped up to the locker. "Let me do it."
She angled the phone so he could see the note - [GYM LOCKER - NOT 1 IN HALL] - and turned the lock with practiced ease. There was a loud thunk when he tried to lift the latch, and the door wouldn't budge.
"Brittany, are you sure this one is yours?"
Her cheeks flushed brightly and Kurt fought the overwhelming urge to pinch them. "I just know that it's the one next to Quinn's and... well, I think hers is this one but it's hard to tell when she's not here."
Kurt nodded slowly and reached for her phone. "We could text her and ask, if you want."
"No!" she blurted as she bit her lip again. "I mean, she's always so busy. I don't want to bother her."
Kurt nodded again. Her lips said one thing, but her face said 'I don't want her to yell at me and then tell everyone how dumb I am. Again.' He smiled brightly at her. "Well, it's not anything too important, right?"
"It's my car keys."
"Oh." Kurt shrugged, though internally he quailed at the thought of Brittany behind the wheel. He started to walk back towards his stuff. "Well, I'll give you a ride if you want."
"Thanks," she said, reluctantly following him. "You're not as big a loser as everyone says you are."
"Thank you, I think," he said as he once again started pulling off his shirt. "But... still a loser nonetheless?"
"Well, duh."
Normally, he would shower or at least grab a quick steam, but now he had a passenger. She sat on the bench across from him, chin in her hands as she watched him deodorize and slip on a fresh cotton T. He hesitated slightly when his hands started undoing the laces of his padded pants. She continued to look on in mild interest.
"I'd really rather you didn't watch me like that," he said, gesturing further down the row. "Masculine pride and all that."
"You got to see me," she protested calmly, with a little sweet smile that made his stomach tingle pleasantly.
"That's different," he said as if he hadn't thought of her standing half-nude in front of him every night for a week. "You just... exposed yourself. I'm trying to be a gentleman."
Brittany sat up straight, her hands dropping to play with the hem of her Cheerio skirt. She tilted her head slightly to the right. "Do you like me?"
Kurt's eyebrows went up in surprise at the abrupt change of topic. "Well, yes, if you put a gun to my head."
She nodded, pleased with that answer. "Good. I like you too." she looked up at him through her lashes. "Do you want a blowjob?"
Kurt was thankful for the bench behind him, because his legs decided to go to mush. He sat down hard and stared at the girl across from him. "Would I like a what now?"
"It's when you put your dick-"
"I know what a blowjob is, Brittany!" Kurt cut her off. He leaned forward slightly. "Why do you want to give me one?"
She shrugged. "You're kind of cute. And you like me and I like you. And I'm good at it, I guess." She shrugged again, sliding smoothly off the bench to kneel in front of him. "Plus," she said with a grin, "You totally got a boner when you saw my tits. You can see them again, if you have some weird boob thing, but this top is kind of a pain to take off."
"No, I think I'll be fine." Kurt swallowed hard. Despite all his hard post-practice work, he was starting to sweat again. He had a death grip on the laces of his pants and Brittany had to unbend his fingers for him so she could finish the job. She continued to smile up at him sweetly until she couldn't smile anymore.
~*~
They went for frozen yogurt afterwards. Lima may be a little salt-of-the-Earth town with nothing going for it, but it still has its own Pink Berry imitator. Kurt let himself indulge in a little chocolate hidden amongst his medley of fruits. Brittany got Captain Crunch and honey, which was interesting, to put it one way.
Kurt wasn't sure what exactly they were doing. A big part of him was celebrating being one step closer to losing his pesky virginity. That part of him was taking Brittany out to thank her. The rest of him felt awkward - his own skin was tight and uncomfortable and his legs had yet to regain their strength. There was a jabbing pain somewhere in his abdomen whenever he looked at the girl across from him. Was he just taking her out to justify what he had let her do? Too late, something in his head whispered with malicious glee. You've already used her!
Brittany happily crunched her fro yo, staring out the window at the changing leaves. She didn't seem to be having an internal crisis. She wasn't beating herself up for acting like a slut. Because she is a slut!, the voice whispered. She's a slut and you used her!
Kurt was reinstating his ban on chocolate as soon as his cup was empty.
"Is yours good?" he asked, just to make conversation.
"Mm," Brittany hummed around the spoon in her mouth. "It's really yummy."
There was a bit of stray honey on her fingers, and she bent her head to lap it up. Kurt zeroed in on those parted lips, that quick-pink tongue, and swallowed hard. She looked up at him through her lashes - damn long and beautiful splayed across her cheeks when she closed them in pleasure - and grinned. She dipped her spoon into her yogurt, coating it with the melted yogurt. Holding it straight up in front of her, she licked her tongue flat against the plastic, up the handle, and over the wide, bulbous end. She slid the whole thing back into her mouth, humming obscenely.
Kurt slammed his cup onto the table, groaning at the pressure building once again between his legs. "You're a wicked woman and I hate you."
She giggled. "You make it easy."
His face felt hot and he desperately hoped that he wasn't turning splotchy. And maybe it was the blood that was no longer in his brain, but he suddenly found himself without a filter. "How did you know I was straight?"
She looked at him, surprised. "What?"
Kurt fought the urge to fiddle with his spoon and kept both hands flat on the table. He would not be embarrassed about this. "Most people just assume I'm gay."
Brittany shrugged and started playing with her own spoon. "I've heard a lot of people say that but... why should I believe them? It's not like they know you. A bunch of people who didn't know me said stuff about how I should be on the short bus, and some teachers assumed they were right. So I had to take all these tests and was put in the special class for a few weeks so they could figure out that I'm not, like, retarded or anything. In fact, I could totally be smart if I put the effort in. All my teachers remind me of that every day. But..." she paused and turned to look out of the window once more. "There's not really a point. Why waste my time with all that boring stuff? Being a Cheerio means I get a C-plus average, or Ms. Sylvester would raise hell. And it's not like I need to know chemistry to be a dancer. So..." she shrugged and crunched on another bite of her desert. "I guess I know not to assume things, you know?"
Kurt watched her, trying to take it all in. "You could have just said 'It makes an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'."
She stared at him blankly. "Why would I say that?"
He laughed and shook his head. And then was struck by something, and he felt his eyes narrow and he leaned forward. "Wait a second," he said, with an accusatory finger on the table. "What about the whole 'no one here cares about naked girls' thing?"
She gave him that grin again, wicked and sultry. And maybe, just maybe, Brittany wasn't the big idiot everyone made her out to be.
He drove her home in comfortable silence, but was once again struck by terrible nerves. The voice still chanted cattily Slut, slut, slut, and his hands started to shake. By the time he pulled into her drive way, he was a mess.
"So, are-" he stopped, cleared his throat, started over with a voice even more high-pitched than usual. "So, are we dating now?"
The look she gave him made him want to shrink back into himself for protection from the laughter. She quickly softened and managed to keep it to a gentle giggle. "I don't really have time for a boyfriend," she said, leaning closer. "But you're kind of cool sometimes, so if you ever want to fool around...?"
She kissed him then. Her lips were soft and slightly waxy from her balm, and her mouth still tasted like honey. She took his hand and guided it towards her body, to the where the hem of her uniform sat. It was a tight fit - extra supportive for gymnastic moves - but eventually his hand was cupping her breast. Through her bra (no lace this time) he felt her nipple grow hard under his palm. Oh yes, he thought, finally shoving out the evil voice, I could get used to this.
She broke away with flushed cheeks and a shy smile. "Almost forgot, my mom's home by now." She kissed his cheek as Kurt dragged his hand away from its new best friend. "I'll see you tomorrow?" she said as she pulled her house keys from her bag.
Kurt didn't answer. Instead, he said, "Aren't those your car keys?"
She looked at her key ring, where, sure enough, the bulky black plastic of her car keys hung. "Oh. Right." she laughed at herself as she slammed his car door closed.
~*~
The crowd was still cheering twenty minutes after he had made his game-winning kick. Kurt blew a few more kisses and struck a pose as hundreds (okay, five or six) flashbulbs went off. His former tormentors kept coming up to him to mess up his hair and fist bump and, for some reason, not pat his butt. For the first time in his high school life, despite all his efforts in glee club, he was truly a star.
Famous kickers whose names he forgot despite Finn drilling them into his head - Eat your hearts out.
They had to physically drag him away from his adoring fans and into the locker room. No one said anything when he stepped into the showers. No one had done anything to his locker when he went to get dressed.
Life was good.
He was stepping out of the building when Brittany rushed up to him. "Kurt!" she practically screamed, full of excited energy as she grabbed his hand. "We're all hanging out in the parking lot. To celebrate and stuff. Matt's dad brought us beer!" She tugged his arm playfully. "C'mon, we can't really do it without you!"
Kurt knew he should go home. He knew his father was waiting for him, wanting to talk about the game and relive the proudest moment of his life so far. And Kurt wanted to look him in the eye and see that pride and say 'Look, Dad, I really can do anything if I try hard enough. Don't give up hope yet!'
On the other hand, 'Sorry I'm late, Dad, I was out getting drunk with the boys with a hot blonde cheerleader on my arm. And then she let me finger her in the equipment shed. Not gonna be a virgin for much longer!' didn't sound half-bad either.
He went with Brittany.
The team had backed their cars into a circle around the world's most pathetic bonfire - really, a stack of old newspapers, a couple of twigs and a road flair did not a fire make. Nobody seemed to care. The guys were still high on their victory. The beer was flowing freely. The girls were gorgeous. The music from a dozen car radios was synched. It was a party.
Of course, Kurt ended up talking mostly to the Cheerios about pathetically feminine things. He sipped daintily at his Bud Lite (hardly what he would have preferred) as he listened to them debate the merits of homemade versus designer brand oatmeal scrubs. He probably would have taken the 'go home' option a long time ago if it wasn't for his hand resting comfortably on Brittany's hip, his arm around her waist, her hot breath against his neck whenever she laughed.
Mostly, he observed. Finn - the only person he could see himself having a conversation with - was busy being gooey and romantic with Quinn. Mike Chang kept doing a moonwalk-spin-crotch thrust of victory. Santana Lopez stumbled out of the backseat of Puck's Buick with conspicuously messy hair and a rumpled skirt and gave him the stink eye.
Brittany, returning to his side with her third beer, bumped into him in a cloud of giggles. She took his hand, linking their fingers, and rested her head on his shoulder. “You wanna go out to the equipment shed?" she whispered.
Oh yes indeed. Life was good.
TBC in Part 2