This story includes graphic language, violence, murder, molestation and graphic attempted non-con; mentions of past non-con. 100% AU. Puck/Kurt, brief Finn/Kurt, OMC's/Kurt - This is fiction!

The Waiting Game / Part One

Kurt, the stylish twenty-something cashier with his modish dark hair, glasses, soft smile, and shy, geek chic vibe, taps his timecard, sets the silent alarm, and locks up the Coffee Bean before walking home.

With his apron slung over one arm and half a cup of lukewarm latté in hand, he makes his way through downtown Los Angeles two blocks before he feels a presence. Hears their footsteps trailing behind, nearly mimicking his own.

And though its not an unfamiliar feeling, someone always watching, always just a step behind, the prospect does nothing to quell his insecurities, and he slides his hand down to his pocket. Cautious, he carefully fingers the pocketknife his father gave him when he first moved to LA. The cool metal being only a slight reassurance, Kurt stops mid-stroll to power walk the rest of the way home.

Without looking back, another block, with more heavy footfalls and fear-inducing panic, Kurt makes it to his building in one piece.

The feeling of someones eyes still lingers, burning holes and etching impressions deep into his flesh. He jogs up the small flight of stairs into the safety of his apartment where he locks the deadbolt, hangs up his apron, and takes a deep, ragged breath before dispensing whats left of his now icy latté. Then he flips on the TV to drown out the sounds of his obnoxious neighbors, Joe and Shelly's, latest squabble.

Its a typical night for Kurt.

He eats a bag of skittles, flips aimlessly through the channels, reads for a while and falls asleep around one-thirty with his glasses resting tight against the bridge of his nose and the cheap mystery novel laying forgotten in his lap.

The TV hums, volume low on an infomercial advertisement for the magic bullet. The book falls and the glint of binoculars shimmer out from a window across the street as someone watches, waiting for the right moment.

But they all go unnoticed as Kurt dreams - the sound of boots falling, a shadow in the midst, growing closer.

He can feel warm breath brush the back of his neck, muscular arms encircling his waist as hes enveloped in tight heat, so close, suffocating-

It hurts to breathe.

And the next morning when Kurt wakes, his pillow is soaked through with sweat and his glasses are resting on the end table.

The book he'd been reading is nowhere to be found.

:::

It goes on for three days, the feeling of someones eyes, the sound of footsteps, personal items disappearing

So on the fourth day, as he's finishing counting out the register, Kurt bums a ride off Dave, one of the other Coffee Bean employees who's been working at the shop for a little over three months now.

On the ride to his apartment building, they make the usual small talk, music, the weather, attractive regulars and then Dave starts telling a dirty joke, so dirty it makes Kurts cheeks flush and ears burn. It distracts him and he doesn't realize that they're pulling into the alley just behind his apartment building rather then claiming one of the many free spaces in the parking lot out front.

Looking around, he asks, "What are we doing?" confusion evident as he realizes where he is. He looks to Dave for answers, panic rising as he tugs on his seatbelt.

He thought he could trust Dave - he liked the green eyed boy. And he honestly thought things would be okay. Whenever Kurt is feeling down at work, Dave always makes a joke and doesnt let up until he's sure that he has lightened Kurt's mood. Hes supposed to be his friend but nothing about this situation feels friendly.

Hands fumble, the seatbelt appears to be stuck, and when Kurt reaches for the door handle and it wont open, he hisses, "This isn't funny, Dave."

But Dave seems to think it is.

He places a hand on Kurts upper thigh and begins to rub, ignoring Kurt as he voices his discomfort and grabs the offending hand, trying to push it away. Kurt lets out a small girlish squeak as Dave latches onto to it...

Adding pressure, his nails dig in as he forces Kurt's hand beneath his own and continues to molest.

A second later, Dave rasps, "So fucking hot," with a disheartening, pedophile-in-a-playground sort of glee that makes Kurt shiver, right before he leans in for a kiss.

Breath thick with espresso, Kurt turns his head away, and lips and teeth crash into his jaw before Dave pulls back.

Glaring, "Goddamit" echoes within the vehicle, causing Kurt to flinch, and he tries yanking on his seatbelt again.

He manages to get it unlocked, but just as it snaps back, a fist flies out of nowhere.

Hard and solid, it connects.

There's a flash of black and a momentary deafening as Kurt's head hits the window hard.

The world tilts.

He tries to blink away the blur, begs - "Dave, dont- please" - can feel blood sliding down his cheek from where his glasses cut into the skin just below his eye. The thought makes Kurts stomach lurch violently, and he begs "Jus-just let me out of the car," suddenly feeling far away, like peering through cellophane. There's thunder in his ears.

"You're such a fucking bitch, Kurt."

Kurt tries to push away the other mans hands, manages to hit Dave in the shoulder, but with his head still spinning, it comes on weak and pathetic.

He takes a deep breath, his hands fumble and push, but its no use.

Its been almost five years, since

This can't be happening again.

Body blanketed, heavy weight as his seat is reclined, helpless as Dave crawls on top of him.

"Dont worry, God-" He breathes, "I'll make it feel so good."

Kurt pushes, splaying his palms and beating his fists but the angle is all wrong and his wrists feel like theyre gonna snap under the pressure. Pinned within seconds, glasses ripped from his face; that mouth descends-

Bruising and biting. He's ravenous, and Kurt can taste the copper tang, can feel the thick crimson sliding slimily down his throat as Dave devours him.

Hovering above, Daves grinding his hips while fiddling with the button on Kurts jeans and easing his zipper down-

Down

Before a hand is reaching in, grabbing a hold of him as that mouth takes. Tongue forcing its way in, raping, plunging and sucking and Kurt can barely breathe. Low keening sounds, muffled as he screams into the other mans mouth.

His hearts pounding wildly, head throbbing, dizzy, so dizzy, as blackness is tinting the edge of his vision. Hes on the verge of passing out-

So close,

Then a miracle happens.

The hold on his wrists, the hand down his pants, the suffocating mouth, theyre all ripped away, and the seatbelt still tangled up on one arm is the only thing keeping Kurt from being pulled along with them.

He hears, "what the fuck" as Dave is dragged away from the vehicle. And he vaguely registers a large man, with big mitts for hands who is hiding within an oversized hoodie, throwing Dave down, kicking him in the stomach and then the groin. It takes a moment for Kurt to process what is happening, and when he does, he manages to get out of the car and stop the guy just before the heel of his Converse slams down on Dave's neck.

Terrified,

With one hand on the guys shoulder, the big frame turns, fist ready, but then it drops and the strangers hands are all over him, tipping up his chin and assessing the damage.

"Are you okay?" he breathes, voice rough, breath like an ashtray.

Kurt blinks, looking back down to Dave before trying to focus on the stranger. "How'd you-" He feels dizzy, confused. And the question dies upon his lips.

Those big hands grab a hold of him, keep him from falling, and Kurt tries to stay awake. Feeling blood drooling down into his ear, he reaches up to wipe it away. The motion feels foreign, oddly detached as he catches the strangers eyes.

They're so intense, filled with anger, worry, rage, and something else.

Something Kurt doesnt want to think about, something that reminds him way too much of Dave, and the look he had in his eyes just a few minutes ago.

Dave.

Kurts first instinct is to kneel down and make sure the assholes okay, doesnt need medical attention, but then hes grabbed by the wrist and an arm encircles his waist. Before he can make an effort, the stranger is dragging him away-

Dragged through the alley, into his apartment building, and up the stairs. Kurt wonders briefly how this guy knows just where he lives, but then they're at his apartment and the stranger is waiting expectantly.

Still holding him tight.

Kurt blinks, trying to clear the fog, a bad feeling welling within his gut as he hands over his keys and allows the man to pull him in - practically carry him into the bedroom - and lie him down.

The comforter is cool against his skin. Soft and fluffy, it envelopes him, and yet again, he fights the urge to close his heavy lids.

He knows something isnt right, stares up at the dark ceiling in his room, and moans as his bedside lamp is turned on-

Too bright.

It hurts his eyes and Kurt tries to turn away from it, but then theres something cool and wet blanketing his face while a hand combs gently through his hair.

Comforting.

"Youre okay." The voice is softer now. Different somehow, and Kurt reaches up to remove the hand towel, pushes it up onto his forehead against the wound and stares up, unfocused.

"Just try to relax," the man murmurs, moving his hand and shedding off his hoodie. "My name is Tosh. Im a good guy, I promise. Im not going to hurt you." He bites down on the bottom corner of his lip, and then barely a whisper sounds as his mouth moves again, "I can't hurt you."

He kicks off his shoes before removing Kurt's slowly, untangling the laces, then pulling them off. He sets them down next to his own and crawls into bed beside Kurt, spooning him close and shushing the half-moaned protests.

Kurt has tears in his eyes. They slide down his cheeks and mingle with the drops of blood and water from the wet washcloth. Fragile and afraid, he doesnt want to be touched, doesn't like the feeling of Tosh's arms wrapped around his waist. It makes him feel helpless, small, and he doesn't like the feel of complete strangers body forced up against his own. He has always been a magnet for this sort of unwanted attention.

"Please," he finally chokes out, but the arms dont let go, gripping him tighter instead. He tries to think, to remember what the stranger had said, and after a few moments, he remembers. "Tosh? Please let go, youre hurting me." Kurt grunts as if to emphasize his point and that's all it takes. The pressure is gone and he can feel the shift in weight.

"I'm not leaving, not until I know youre okay. If I wouldnt of" he trails off and Kurt turns to face him. Instantly regretting the motion as his zipper digs into his lower abdomen, his pants still undone. Evidence of Dave. The small pain seems to clear his mind a little and he finally feels like he might be able to focus better.

Then, "I've been watching you," Tosh confesses, "for almost two months" and fear seeps back into Kurts bones.

Taking a deep breath, trying to mask his fear.

Tosh continues, "I saw you one night in the coffee shop." He smiles fondly. "It was late and you were closing, and I just couldn't look away. Stayed outside watching you for a good hour but then you were leaving and I didnt want to stop. So I followed you home. It felt like the right thing to do. Like fate, like I was meant to find you..."

Kurt frowns, instincts screaming for him to run. Get away.

"And I guess I've just been keeping an eye on you every night since."

Tossing the washcloth on the nightstand, Kurt rubs his hand over his swollen face, "Why didnt you just come into the store?" he asks, trying to make sense of whats happening, to figure out if this man is really dangerous.

Tosh looks uncomfortable for a moment, forehead wrinkling, before whispering, "I guess I just didnt think that youd be all that interested. I know you kinda keep to yourself. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable but I didnt want to stop seeing you either." Kurt nods, and pushes his head up against Toshs shoulder.

No longer weary of threat-

Kurt says, "Thank you."

Head pounding, feeling light, he curls in.

Somehow, Tosh's words gave him comfort rather than fear. And it may just be the waning of a traumatic event, but for whatever reason, he feels safer now with Tosh than he has with anyone in a very long time.

:::

Kurts alarm sounds, bright red letters flashing six oclock and Kurt fumbles with it for a moment before pushing his legs off the side of the bed. Wincing as he feels the effects of the previous night, his head feels too heavy, hurts, and he tries to blink the sleep from his eyes.

His glasses aren't on the nightstand when he reaches for them and he realizes theyre probably still in Daves SUV.

Making his way to the bathroom, avoiding the mirror, Kurt takes care of his morning duties: bladder, teeth- He grabs his facial soap and is about to wash his face when he remembers Tosh.

Glancing into the mirror, his heart breaks.

Not one but two black eyes, puffy and a grotesque purplish-black, the bruising doesnt stop there. His left cheek looks like a rotting pear, yellowish-brown and turning fast.

Kurt's stomach turns with it and he vomits the entire contents of his stomach into the porcelain sink. Feeling a burn in his eyes, along with brutal pounding in his head, he spends the next ten minutes dry heaving and wishing he were dead.

Ive been watching you.

A shiver runs up his spine as he walks out into the living room. Its empty and there's no sign that Tosh was ever there.

He calls work. Voice hoarse, he explains that he cant come in and catches hell from Rachel - apparently Daves MIA and didn't bother opening this morning. The Coffee Bean is two employees short and Rachel, as sweet as she usually is, has now become a vile dragon lady -

In too much pain, unable to handle her bitching, Kurt hangs up.

Possibly out of a job? He doesn't really want to think about it. Kurt swallows down a glass of water with three aspirin and crawls back into bed.

Hes asleep within seconds.

:::

Hours later, the numbers on his alarm clock blur together. Still tired, turning to get more comfortable, Kurt realizes, much to his horror, that theres another body in his bed, a large lump beside him that wasnt there before, along with a sticky wetness soaking through his comforter and cooling messily against his hip and thigh.

"What the-"

Kurt crawls out, nearly tripping over his own feet as he sees the blood covering his lower half and Dave lying in his bed - throat slit, chest peppered with multiple stab wounds, a bloody, horrific mess.

"Tosh," Kurt mouths, voice too weak to make any noise. His knees hit the ground, hands shaky, and eyes wide.

He sits there for hours.

The sun growing dim as the day wears on, theres but a soft glow filtering in through the curtain.

Still in shock-

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little voice is telling Kurt to get up, to call the police, wash the blood off and get it together, but he can't.

An hour later, they show up on their own. How or why, hes not sure. He still hasnt moved. Cant move. They approach him slowly

A light is flashed in his eyes as a medic asks him questions that he cannot bring himself to answer. Nothing feels real. His throat's too dry, his thoughts are too muddled, but they're here and they're taking him away from the room which is a relief.

Safe, outside his apartment, Kurt can finally breathe.

:::

They keep him overnight at St. Agnes hospital. The little blonde nurse named April fusses over him, all smiles and soft words. She's the cutest thing hes ever seen. She gets him a new pair of glasses and if it were any other time and if he were slightly lower on the Kinsey scale, he may have asked her out.

But he's not and he can't.

Mid-afternoon comes fast and a tall man wearing a dark suit and a sharp tie introduces himself as "Officer Hudson," then extends his hand with an overly-friendly smile and asks, "Mr. Hummel, right?"

Kurt nods, shakes Hudson's hand, and the man continues, "Well, I know this isnt exactly the best time but Im going to need to get a statement from you."

When he doesnt answer right away, the man clears his throat and shifts uneasily. "Right, well, why dont you just start by telling me what happened to your" The officer motions to his face and Kurt's jaw twitches.

"This guy, he said his name was Tosh. He-He's been following me home from work. I usually walk, and I was kinda worried, so I bummed a ride off of Dave, and he-" deep breath, "he attacked me." He pauses, brow knitted as a small frown plays upon his lips. "I think Tosh killed him."

"Who's Tosh? Friend, ex-boyfriend?"

"No." Kurt shakes his head. "I don't know him. I just, look- He pulled Dave from the car and just started beating on him. I managed to stop him before- but I was out of it and he brought me home. He already knew where I lived," Kurt sighs. "He told me his name and said that hed been watching me. Then I passed out and he was gone."

Officer Hudson jots the information down before looking up and asking, "Is that the last time you saw him?"

"Yeah."

"So how did Dave Karofsky end up in your bed?"

"I dont know," Kurt says his voice shaky, rushed. "I called in sick to work, popped a few aspirins and went back to bed. When I woke up again, there was blood everywhere and there was Dave laying there like some kind of macabre gift. I know I shouldve called the police but I- I just, I couldn't." Kurt leans back, feeling the familiar sting in his eyes. He wipes them with the back of his hand before looking back to the officer. "I mean, Dave, he- but he didn't deserve..."

"So you werent planning on pressing charges?"

Kurt shakes his head "no."

"This isnt the first time something like this has happened. When I was living in Ohio, I was- I pressed charges and Im not- I cant ever go through that again."

"If I brought in a sketch artist do you think you could at least describe this guy, Tosh?"

Kurts frown deepens and he looks down at the IV in his hand. He cant remember. He hates that he cant remember.

With a put-out sigh, "This is probably going to sound so horrible but I dont really, I mean, I'm like Stevie Wonder without my glasses. I mean I can see a little but its more shapes then anything, I really couldnt make out his face. He was tall though, like you and he had like a medium build and brown eyes, I think God, Im so sorry. I just, I didn't think I can be much help."

"I understand. Thank you Mr. Hummel. I'll let you get some sleep."

He moves to the door, and then stops. "I or another officer may be back to ask you more questions so well need you to stay in town."

"I'll be here or at-" His forehead wrinkles. "I cant go back to my apartment, can I?"

"Not until the investigations wrapped, no. I'll talk to my superior about setting you up in a hotel and get you some security just in case Tosh decides to contact you again."

"I'm not a suspect, am I?"

"At this time, no."

"Thank you."

Officer Hudson nods. "Get some sleep, okay?" And Kurt watches him leave the room, takes a deep breath and embraces the innate healing powers of the morphine drip, the machine working more alkaloid into his system.

Kurt's eyes flutter closed.

Feeling a vague sense of familiarity, he falls into a dreamless sleep.

:::

The next day, by late afternoon, Officer Hudson and another, an Agent Puckerman, come to check him out from the hospital.

It only takes Kurt a second after introductions to decide that he does'nt like Agent Puckerman - a man who's eye contact is a little too intense when speaking, has terrible posture, ridiculous short hair, a tailored suit that looks like it was put through the dryer one too many times, and fidgety hands -

So not by the book.

It makes Kurt sigh.

This is the man hes going to be stuck with for an undisclosed amount of time. Not that hed been hoping for much, but he'd thought that maybe he could've at least made a new friend, something?

Kurt almost wishes theyd assigned a female officer.

Taking a deep breath, Puckerman asks, "You ready?"

And Kurt nods standing up as straight as he can. He brushes off his sweater and pushes his glasses up higher on his nose. He isnt quite sure why but he feels like he should be putting on an act. Like if he can convince people now that hes doing okay, then by the time he goes home, he really will be.

Officer Hudson touches his arm, squeezing gently; Kurt feels an odd pang in his gut and quickly looks away, listening as the two officers go over the usual protocol and safety precautions with him.

Kurt tries but barely hears most of what is being said, tired and achy; he just can't bring himself to care.

They say goodbye to Officer Hudson and Kurt stares at the pink lipstick stain on the back of Puckerman's collar the entire walk to the car, too preoccupied to notice the eyes following them, watching their every move as they get buckled in before driving away from the hospital.