Title: See, I'm Smiling
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.
Warning: potentially triggering. rated for sexual violence. also maybe some slash in later chapters.
Characters, Pairings: Kurt, Finn, Burt, Puck mostly...maybe Kurt/Puck later on
Summary: Written for this prompt on the glee_angst meme:One of the mechanics at Burt's shop has been molesting Kurt ever since he came out. Now that this guy has met Finn, he starts going after him too. This guy has Kurt's mind so twisted around that he views this latest turn of events as another person in his life preferring Finn to him. Burt finds out that it's happening to Finn somehow(Finn can't hide it as well as Kurt?) and it slowly comes out that it's been happening to Kurt as well.
Notes: Title taken from a song from "The Last 5 Years"


The first time it happened, Kurt had fought back. He kicked and screamed and managed to land a good punch or two before a fist connected with his face, hard, and everything had gone black. He woke up to cool air against his thighs and rough hands stroking him gently.

"Look at yourself," a scratchy voice had said from behind him, the voice that belong to the arms wrapped around him, holding him still, "just look…you can't tell me you don't want this, I can see that you do. The body doesn't lie."

Kurt had tried to argue but the blow to his head had left him dizzy and nauseous. And…he couldn't deny that something in him liked this, disgusting as that was. Hands too rough and the smell of old tobacco and a pounding headache and he had said no but…he came. Rough hands touching him so gently that he came. It was like it almost didn't matter that he had been crying whole time.

Jim smirked. Kurt couldn't see his face but he could tell, somehow, that the man behind him was pleased with himself, felt his smile as he pressed too soft kisses onto the top of Kurt's head, on the back of his neck. Kurt closed his eyes, waiting for it to be over, praying for it to be over. He didn't open them again until after Jim had released him from his death grip, until after he'd heard the man whisper "you'd better clean yourself up, your Dad'll be expecting you home soon," until after he'd heard an engine fire up and a car drive away, until after he could breathe properly again. And then he had gotten in his car, driven home, walked from the front door directly to his room, taken a shower, and gone upstairs to join his dad for dinner. Because he was fine, right? Because he had wanted it, right? Right. The stains on his new jeans were proof of that.

So he smiled and ate a second helping of the Chinese food his dad had ordered, even though he knew that the oily food would wreak havoc on his complexion, even though he really wasn't hungry at all. And when his dad asked about his black eye, Kurt had just shrugged and said that things had gotten sloppy at Cheerios practice and he had been elbowed in the eye. And Burt had believed him. Why wouldn't he? After all, everything was fine.


The second time it happened almost the same way as the first, except Kurt walked away with bruised ribs instead of a black eye. "We can't let your Dad catch on, now can we? Can't let him know that I'm the best a fag like you can do. That would be embarrassing for the both of us" had been Jim's explanation, almost apologetic as he gave Kurt another swift kick to the ribs, just to make sure that the boy wasn't going anywhere.

The third time, Jim had unzipped his own pants and forced Kurt to jerk him off because "It's only fair."

And things only escalated from there until Kurt regularly found himself face down on the floor or the back seat of a car, the older man pressed inside him, moaning horribly. And Kurt was still fine. Everything was fine. After all, he got off every time, Jim made sure of that, and that meant that he wanted it, right? Even sometimes when he woke up, drenched in sweat, Jim's face still behind his eyelids, making him cringe and shudder in the dark…even then. So he must want it, even in his dreams. His sticky sheets were proof enough.

And besides, Jim was right, he was the best that Kurt could do. None of the boys in his school looked at him twice unless it was to threaten him or toss him in the dumpster like garbage. So he was on his stomach and he was fine. It didn't even hurt anymore, not really, at least not compared to the first time. And he didn't bleed anymore, now that Jim had started bringing lube with him "Can't have you bleeding all over everything, someone might see, and no one will believe that a queer like you finally got laid by Prince fucking Charming. Can't have anyone finding out, can we, even though you know you want this, don't you?"

Kurt didn't answer, until Jim grabbed his arm and starting twisting it behind his back, so hard he knew it would just snap if he didn't…"Y-yes" Kurt choked out.

Jim smiled.


Everyone noticed a change in Kurt, almost from the very beginning. It wasn't like he was breaking down all over the place, but there was something….off. He was maybe just a little bit quieter. Or, maybe he was more sarcastic. Or maybe his eyes were a bit harder around the edges. Or…well no one really knew.

Everyone, even Mr. Schue, came to Mercedes to figure out what was wrong, but she just shook her head sadly: "I don't know you guys. He hasn't said anything, but…I know what you mean. It's like he's not really there recently, just someone playing the role of Kurt. I'm worried about my man too I just…I don't know what I…what we can do."

And one by one the gleeks approached Kurt himself, tentatively, all putting a hand on his shoulder and assuring him that he can talk to them, if he needs to. And Kurt just smiled at each of them in turn, assured them that he's fine, that things are just a little hard at home (which, soon, they actually are because of the Hudsons moving in), that he will come to them if anything really serious is going on. Then he tells a joke and turns to leave for class, for home, for practice.

That's what he tells them anyway, but what he really does is go outside and lean back against the big metal dumpster, his knees tucked up into his chest, arms wrapped around himself, eyes wide open and staring. He doesn't cry. Because he's fine, remember, just fine.

He doesn't cry but he digs his fingernails into his arms, almost hard enough to draw blood, almost. Because he's fine, but he can't look at his friends concerned faces, can't look them right in the eye and lie to them without feeling…well, without feeling dirty, used, broken. But he doesn't cry, he doesn't deserve to, he wanted it after all. And besides, now when he's on his stomach, on the floor, his Dad is out watching a game with Finn and Carole, with his new perfect fucking family, and Kurt can't help but think At least somebody wants me. And so he doesn't cry.


But Finn does. A lot.

Several months after the Hudsons moved into the Hummel house, Kurt had walked down the stairs of their shared room to find a blubbering Finn Hudson curled up on the bathroom floor, shirtless and bleeding from a small cut on his forehead. It looked to Kurt like Finn had gotten himself tangled up in his clothes again as he was undressing to take a shower, so the smaller boy chuckled to himself as he walked towards the bathroom door.

But the closer he got, the more apparent it was that something was wrong, really wrong, with Finn. His eyes were unfocused and he didn't even try to cover himself up once it became obvious that Kurt was heading his way. And when Kurt had reached down to pat him on the back, a small gesture to show Finn that he was there, the larger boy had flinched away as if Kurt had burned him, still not looking at the figure crouched beside him.

"Finn," Kurt whispered as soon as he found his voice, "Finn, what happened to you?"

Finn just shook his head and started crying harder.

"Finn, you've got to breathe," said Kurt, worried now. "Is it…can I come closer? Just…you need to breathe Finn. Let me help you."

Finn nodded, so Kurt joined Finn on the floor, pressed his chest to the bigger boy's chest. "Now, just breathe with me Finn. Breathe."


The two boys stay on the floor together while Finn struggles to match the rise and fall of Kurt's chest. In, out, in, out, in until he is no longer hysterical and Kurt feels like it's safe to sit up ask the question again:

"Finn, I'm sorry but...what happened to you?" he whispers, never taking his eyes off the bigger boy, his hands moving in comforting circles on Finn's back. Finn shudders, but keeps breathing and says, barely above a whisper, "You know Jim, one of the mechanics at Burt's shop?"

Kurt nods and forces himself to keep rubbing Finn's back, even though he knows what's coming next and he's already digging the fingernails of his free hand into his thigh.

And he keeps rubbing Finn's back as he tells Kurt about rough hands and tobacco breath, about being knocked out and waking up to the older man's mouth on his junk, about fighting him off and running back here, about how dirty he still feels, about how he hasn't moved from the bathroom floor since. He tells him, in a voice alternating between detached and full to bursting with emotion, he tell him and it takes all of Kurt's energy to keep himself from laughing out loud in relief that's all? (or, alternatively, from being jealous because Jim had never, in all this time, given Kurt a blowjob) but somewhere inside Kurt knows that what happened to Finn wasn't something to laugh about, he knows that it's a big deal, but he still wants to roll his eyes, to tell Finn to grow up, wants to tell him how much worse it could be, how much worse it is for him. But he doesn't, because this isn't about him. So instead, he holds Finn close and lets him cry all over his sweater. Instead, he digs his nails into his skin and breaks the surface, just this once.