This is all boldlikeblack's fault. XD After my last smutty piece, she asked prettily for another story, this time featuring "blackout-inducing Dave." My muse wanted to comply, but was all out of ideas, so I asked her for a prompt to get things going. She replied with a link to Chris Colfer's Gay Biker Bar pic from Rolling Stone, and the following: Kurt gets a fake ID, which he uses on a trip to Cleveland. Unfortunately, Fancy's not a self rescuing princess. Lucky for him, The Fury is more than happy to come out and play. Damn her, she had me at "Self-Rescuing Princess".
Kurt Hummel drove determinedly up 71 North, glad he was finally nearing Cleveland. It had taken him 2½ hours to get to this point, but his GPS assured him that his destination was coming up soon. Columbus was much closer to school, but for what Kurt had in mind, the further away from Dalton, the better.
Of course these days, he wished to be as far away from Dalton as possible for reasons more extensive than tonight's ultimate goal. His Dad and Carole had given up their honeymoon to send Kurt to boarding school, and he was dammed if he was going to waste their money by not sticking it out. But if he had his way, he'd be back at McKinley in a heartbeat, bullying or not. Dalton had not at all turned out to be the haven he'd craved. Sure, he didn't get slammed into lockers or slushied, or forcibly kissed by closeted jock morons. But Kurt could tell that a lot of the Dalton boys thought they were better than him, particularly when they learned Kurt's dad was a mechanic and his step-mom worked in a grocery store. He missed his fabulous wardrobe; the stiff Dalton blazers and scratchy red sweater vests were positively hiddy. And those stupid Warblers didn't appreciate his talent and specialness at all! In fact, they seemed kind of embarrassed about anyone wanting to stand out, or be in the spotlight. Kurt had once tossed his pride in his individuality in Karofsky's and Azimio's faces angrily (I'm proud to be different; it's the best thing about me!), but here at Dalton they rejected anyone who didn't conform just as much. There was no violence, or harsh words, but the chilly politeness that many of his classmates had come to treat him with was very hurtful in its own cruel way.
Blaine had tried to encourage Kurt to fit in, telling him that once the other kids knew him better, he could let out a little bit more of his natural flamboyant and dramatic self. But Kurt didn't want to pretend at his new school any more than he did at his old one. Would he never find a place to exist where he could just be himself, and not freak people out with his colorful personality? And what did Blaine know, anyway? That lying, cheating bastard, Kurt thought.
To be fair, Blaine wasn't really a liar. Kurt had never actually asked him if he was currently having sex with other boys, so needless to say Blaine had never denied it. And technically it probably wasn't cheating since he and Blaine had never really formalized their relationship. But Kurt wasn't particularly interested in being fair; he was much too hurt for that. Blaine knew how Kurt felt about him! Kurt was hardly subtle about it, and Blaine totally encouraged his feelings. Chase me around a room singing "Baby It's Cold Outside", and I'm supposed to not take that as a sign a guy's interested? Puh-lease! Of course he thought Blaine was well on his way to being his first boyfriend. Right up until he walked into Blaine's room and found him bending fellow Warbler and all-around jerk Luke Edgemon over his desk, shoving his condom-covered dick in and out of Luke at a frantic pace. Kurt's face burned at the memory, especially at his own loud and typically-Kurt-like emotional outburst. "Oh my GOD!" he had cried out, causing both boys to stop and look at him, wide-eyed with shock. "What are you doing? How could you, Blaine? You son of a bitch!" Blaine continued to stare at him in astonishment, but Luke (still bent over at a 90 degree angle, with Blaine's unmoving penis inside him) had the gall to smirk at Kurt. Tears came to Kurt's eyes and he rushed to his room, slamming and locking the door.
It only took about 15 minutes for Blaine to come looking for Kurt. "Come on, Kurt," he said, voice raised but not shouting, knocking firmly on the door. "Let me in. We need to talk about this." Kurt desperately wanted to tell Blaine to fuck off, but he never used coarse language like that, and wasn't about to let the older boy drag him down any lower. Blaine rattled the doorknob. "Kurt, open the door. Let's try to be mature about this, okay?" Sniffling, Kurt slid off his bed and headed for the door. He didn't really want to talk to Blaine, but he doubted he'd give up and Kurt just wanted to get it over with.
He let Blaine in, jerking back from him when he tried to put his hand on Kurt's arm. "Don't touch me," Kurt said disgustedly. "I know where that hand has been, and it makes me sick." Blaine held his hands up, reminding Kurt of the day Karofsky had slammed him into the chain link fence at McKinley. It's was Blaine's patented whatever-you-want-I'm-just here-to try-and-help-no-harm-no-foul gesture. He sat down on the bed, and under Kurt's red-eyed glare, tried to explain himself. It wasn't that he didn't like Kurt, he really did. But Kurt was so young, and inexperienced, and sensitive. Kurt had put him up on so high of a pedestal, he was bound to topple off of it eventually. He just wanted to go super slow and gentle with Kurt, since he seemed so fragile, so uneasy finding his way at Dalton. In the meantime, though, gay or not, he was a guy and he had needs. Luke was bisexual, and he and Blaine had been friends with benefits off and on since their sophomore year. It didn't mean anything, it was just sex. When Kurt was finally ready, it would be totally different, it would be making love. Didn't Kurt understand that?
Kurt was appalled. This was his hero, his knight in shining rainbow armor? Logically, it was probably partially his fault for idealizing Blaine so, but he was utterly disillusioned and completely grossed out. Did he really think that Kurt was ever going to let Blaine's…thing, near him, after this? He shuddered. If he'd been sticking it in Luke, Gaga only knew where else it had been. "I think you should leave," Kurt told Blaine quietly. Blaine had the decency to at least look ashamed, and left Kurt's room immediately. That had been 3 weeks ago, and they'd barely spoken since.
He may not have been talking much, but Kurt had been doing an awful lot of thinking since then. He decided he needed to stop being such a baby, thinking that true love was right around the corner, just waiting to delight Kurt with the perfect boyfriend who would provide him with the perfect deflowering. Waiting for that was just going to leave him eternally virginal, which was not a state he looked forward to being in. How many teenagers, gay or straight, had magically loving first times? Not many, based on his small circle of friends; a slightly drunk Quinn getting knocked up right out of the gate by Puckerman, and Finn losing his V-chip to the slut-tastic Santana in a crappy motel room. Hell, even his own first kisses had been about as unromantic as humanly possible. His first kiss was with a freaking girl, and not even one that he had tried to convince himself he respected or was attracted to (and who he had horrifyingly and recently discovered never brushed her teeth, except with Dr. Pepper. Bleeeeergh!) And his second kiss - which was technically still a first, since it was at least a boy kiss that time- was that nasty, violent, disturbing violation in the locker room by David Karofsky. With a track record like his, the idea that some gay Romeo was going to come flying out of the woodwork and make Kurt's first time anything more than tolerable was simply hilarious. What he really needed to do was what so many other teenage virgins before him had done: just get it over with. Once he got past the nerves and expectations of his first time, and it was a done deal, he could move on and maybe find some perspective and happiness.
So Kurt cooked up a master plan to score a fake ID, and slip off to a gay bar in Cleveland where he could hopefully find someone not too scary to get off with. He knew he didn't look 21, but at least he had inexplicably shot up 4 inches in the last year, and his face had become less round and more angular. Sometimes he looked in the mirror and didn't even recognize the person looking back at him. It appeared he was finally maturing physically, something he wondered if he would ever do. He still didn't have much in the way of body hair, and his voice was still thankfully as high and pure as ever. But at least he didn't look like an 11-year old milkmaid anymore. Corey Stevens on the second floor was apparently able to generate some amazingly realistic fake driver's licenses with a 1989 birth year on them, for the right price. Kurt sold his D&G 2009 Spring Collection transparent raincoat on eBay for $300, which was more than enough for the ID, as well as the cover charge for The Mean Bull nightclub, touted on their website as "a modern and sophisticated nightlife experience…a trend-setter for all of Cleveland's Warehouse District clubs, with the hottest dance floor and the finest DJ's around". Kurt had also found out online that The Mean Bull was directly adjacent to Flex, an elaborate gay bathhouse which offered decently appointed rooms for hooking up in.
Although he often came home on the weekends, Kurt told his family that he was going to stay at Dalton to study for mid-terms this time. In actuality, he tucked 3 condoms into his wallet along with the extra money and fake ID, and set off for Cleveland right after his last class on Friday. He didn't expect to return until possibly late on Saturday, and he definitely didn't plan on returning as a virgin.
Tonight, Kurt Hummel was getting laid. And in his opinion, it was about freaking time.