Mercedes knew something was up. Karofsky's been singling Kurt out this year, and she initially can't figure out why. Then, on that goddamn date with Kurt and Blaine—despite Kurt's assurances that she's not a third wheel, Blaine is "just a friend", she knows it's a date—she spots Karofsky across the restaurant with some blond Cheerio. He's looking over at their table unflinchingly, but doesn't notice that Mercedes has spotted him. At first, she thinks that murderous glare he's sporting is directed at Kurt, but then Blaine shifts in his seat and Karofsky's eyes follow. Mercedes does a double-take. She looked again, but the jock's eyes were clearly focused on the dark-haired boy next to Kurt. She noticed Karofsky clenching his fist around his glass, his knuckles white. Honestly, she thought, homeboy was this homophobic, to the point where he couldn't bear to see two men sitting next to each other? After all, Blaine wasn't obviously gay. If she hadn't seen those smitten looks directed at Kurt, she may have gone after him herself. So it made no sense that Karofsky reacted this much. For all he knew, Blaine was straight, and this was just a casual dinner between three people.
As Kurt and Blaine giggled about some Broadway musical, Mercedes watched Karofsky. His eyes hardened every time the two touched. He was blatantly ignoring his date now, totally fixated on their table. Ten minutes into her observations, Mercedes saw why. Blaine was in the middle of telling a story about Kurt, something embarrassing he had done last weekend. Kurt groaned and blushed, hiding his face in his hands. Blaine chuckled warmly and casually draped an arm around the smaller boy's shoulders.
The majority of the restaurant jumped when the glass shattered. Kurt and Blaine, too interested in each other, continued their conversation. But every other patron's eyes turned to Karofsky's table, where the glass he had been clutching in his large fist had literally exploded all over the table. A waiter come over, wiping it up, and people gradually returned to their conversations. But when Karofsky glanced back up at their table, the look in his eyes had changed. He looked upset. Angry. Jealous.
And that's when it all made sense. Karofsky's vendetta against Kurt. How jumpy Kurt became every time he spotted a flash of red in the hall. Karofsky was gay. Karofsky liked Kurt.
Dave Karofsky was in love with Kurt Hummel.
Holy mother of Jesus.
Almost immediately, Karofsky stood up sharply, his date following confusedly behind. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders loosely and walked straight towards them.
"Hey fairy, having fun with your boyfriend?"
Kurt winced and paled. Mercedes was acutely aware of Karofsky's fingers brushing lightly against the counter-tenor's neck, hand lingering on his skin for just slightly too long. But then, without another word,, he dragged the leggy blonde outside. Kurt shook slightly in his seat, still white as a ghost. Blaine glared after Karofsky, but his hand squeezed Kurt's shoulder.
So. Karofsky liked Kurt. And, judging by Blaine's expression, he knew. There must have been more to the story, but Mercedes was hesitant to ask. Kurt had a look of utter terror on his face, and seemed frozen in place. Mercedes, stunned with her newfound knowledge, found herself immobile as well. Only Blaine kept calm. Fishing around in his wallet, he pulled out three crisp twenties—a considerable amount more than they had spent—and threw them down on the table. Carefully grasping Kurt's arm, he led him out of the booth, gesturing for Mercedes to follow. They piled into the car silently, and Blaine said softly that he'd take Kurt home first. The smaller boy simply nodded, staring blankly out of the window. When they got to his house, Blaine shifted the car in park and jumped out, holding Kurt as he walked him to the door. They talked for a few minutes, Kurt shaking his head and crossing his arms tightly to his chest. They hugged, and Kurt went inside. Blaine jogged quickly back to his car, and made his way to the Jones residence in silence. Once there, he sighed and turned to Mercedes.
"So I take it you realize what's going on."
Mercedes wasn't sure what to say.
"I-I just can't believe it. He's been beating Kurt up for years. I figured he was just homophobic..."
"He probably is," Blaine said, looking up thoughtfully, "it does happen, you know. He realized he was gay, knew people wouldn't accept him, and began hating who he was. I'm sure that's why he hates Kurt. He's not at all ashamed of who he is."
"He doesn't hate him though, does he?"
"I really don't think I should say anymore. I know you're his best friend, but he really doesn't want to talk about this."
Mercedes nodded, desperately wanting more information. Instead, she opened the door, smiling at Blaine.
"Thanks," she said, "for being such a good friend to my boy."
"I could say the same to you," Blaine grinned.
She sent one last smile to Blaine before exiting the car and entering her immediately, her pocket buzzed.
From: Kurt Hummel
I'm sorry I freaked out back there, Merce. He just really pisses me off.
Mercedes sent back a text immediately.
To: Kurt Hummel
No problem, baby. BTW, Blaine's a total babe. ;) Plus he totally digs you.
As she slid her phone back into her pocket, she smiled. Kurt definitely had a great ally in Blaine, and he'd eventually begin to feel better. If he didn't want to talk about this yet, she wouldn't push him. She wouldn't tell the rest of the Glee club, and she definitely wouldn't tell Kurt.
When he was ready, he'd tell her everything.