Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any songs referenced here.

Title is from the song You Give Love A Bad Name by Bon Jovi.

First time writing Karofsky, hope y'all like it!

Five times Dave Karofsky thought he was gay, and one time he knew he was.


It all started while he was watching porn with his bro Azimio, like they often did. In fact, Azimio was the one who introduced him to porn, when they were in middle school together.

This time, the movie was showing a jock having a three-way with some cheerleaders. As per usual, Dave was focusing his attention to the guy, studying his moves to know what to do when he'd actually have sex with a girl. He never told that to Az, though, because he didn't wanna look like a fag.

For the first time, Az spoke up. They usually just watched, barely acknowledging the other was there.

"Man, it's been so long since I got off, hope you don't mind…"

He then popped the button on his jeans, reaching to grab his dick. They'd never done that either; they could watch porn together, but jacking off was kinda off-limits. Dave felt his throat tighten.

Azimio's boxers had ridden down and now he could see his whole hand grasping his dark cock, quickly stroking it. Dave couldn't look away – he'd completely forgotten about the movie. He suddenly realized that if Azimio noticed, he'd look like a homo, so he turned his face back to the TV, but kept staring from the corner of his eye.

He felt his cock harden – even the movie hadn't manage to turn him on this much – but he sat on his hands to keep from putting a hand in his pants: the situation was weird enough like this.

That night, in his bed, Dave finally relieved himself, images of dark skins and huge cocks flashing through his mind.


Dave was used to keep his eyes on the floor when he was in the locker room, even since he noticed that looking at all that skin and those muscles was doing things to him – things that girls didn't manage to do, even if it pained him to admit it.

He forgot his eyes-to-the-floor rule, though, when Azimio began to dis Hudson for some reason and Puckerman and he flew at Az. Dave's eyes shot up to see what was going on, but the first thing they landed on was Puckerman's chest. Most specifically, what was glimmering on it. Puckerman had a nipple ring.

Dave didn't even know why someone would have that – it was kinda faggy – but he winced at the realization that he found it sexy. Some flashes of images came to his mind: twisting the ring between his fingers, biting at it, licking at the nipple – anything to make him moan, to wipe that superior smirk off his face.

Dave felt his face reddening. He packed the rest of his stuff in hi bag and shot out of the room, deaf to Az's shouts about leaving him alone to teach the dweebs to behave.

That night, in his bed, he surprised himself thinking about metal against tanned skin, muscles, and Mohawks.


Dave and Az were in the hallway leading to the cafeteria, each holding a cherry slushie, trying to decide who'd get it that day. They needed to keep the order in this school, and nothing worked better for that than preventive slushie facials.

Hudson crossed their path, looking way too happy. Dave and Azimio exchanged a glance, nodding.

"Hey, Hudson!" Az shouted. "I think you need something to wipe that goofy grin off your face. You need to show some respect to those who rule this place."

Hudson opened his mouth to answer, but was cut out by the ice red wave hitting his face. He was standing there, his mouth still gaping, completely dripping with red juice. His white shirt was clinging to his chest, the dampness making it transparent, and Dave found himself peeking at the muscles that were nicely outlined. Plus, cherry was his favorite flavor, and he caught himself wishing he could taste it, maybe lick it clean.

Hudson pushed past them to get to the bathroom, and Dave made sure he got a mental image of him – he'd surprisingly enjoyed the show.

That night, in his bed, he jerked off to the thoughts of giving Hudson another kind of facial. He could see him in his head, openmouthed, panting and dripping with Dave's come, but still begging for more. Now, wasn't that a great way to keep them glee fags in line?


Dave was sitting on the bleachers for the homecoming pep assembly. It kinda sucked; he'd rather have classes than listen to Figgins' stupid speeches or some faggy musical number. The first notes of a pop song he didn't know began to play. Azimio and he exchanged a glance, rolling their eyes. Why did they have to sit through such a waste of time, anyway?


He just saw why, and suddenly he didn't mind so much.

Chang just started to dance and it was kinda hypnotizing. Seriously, the guy had legs that went on for miles, even more than the Cheerios.

Dave just couldn't look away. The way he danced was amazing; Dave didn't know a body could bend all those ways. Also, the moves he did with that bowler hat were downright obscene. He agreed with the lyrics of the song: it was intoxicating, he was so turned on. Seriously, he hoped nobody would notice he was hiding a huge boner by keeping his backpack in his lap. At least, if somebody asked, he could say he was watching Brittany or her Latina friend. It would seem lame, but at least nobody would think he was a homo.

That night, in his bed, all he could think about was long legs, bowler hats, and suspenders. And that song that was stuck in his head.


Not long after Dave joined the football team, one of the cheerleaders – the dumb blonde one – came to see him at lunch.

"Hi, I'm Brittany. I've slept with everyone on the football team, and since you're the new right guard, I'd totally want to get it on with you.

Dave nearly choked on his Coke. It was the first time someone propositioned him, and she did it so matter-of-factly, it was kinda unsettling. He regained enough composure to answer something along the lines of "yeah, okay".

"My place, four o'clock." She left with a little spring in her step, finding a seat next to that Latino cheerleader who was always a bitch to him.

He thought about it all afternoon. He was looking forward to it: the prospect to lose his V-card was awesome. However, he wasn't turned on by the idea. He wondered what was wrong with him, but figured that after a bit of making out he'd be fine.

After the last bell rang, he met Azimio at his locker, like he always did.

"So, any plans tonight?" Azimio asked him.

"I'm going to Brittany's – you know, the dumb Cheerio – Gonna lose the big V!"

He tried his best to look thrilled, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Az looked way happier than him when he high-fived him and pulled him into a bro-hug.

At four o'clock, he was knocking on Brittany's door, trying to give himself an inner pep-talk. It was only sex; he was supposed to enjoy it, not to dread it. She opened the door as he was about to chicken out. That was it: no way out. He gulped and followed her lead, figuring he might as well get it over with.

She led him to her bedroom, closing the door behind them. He sat awkwardly on the bed, not really knowing what he was supposed to do. She climbed up on him, straddling him, and she pushed softly on his shoulders so that he'd fall back on the bed.

She started kissing him, and for a while he kinda forgot he was supposed to kiss back. He finally caught on and feebly responded to the kisses. After a while, she moved on to kissing his neck, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. She started grinding down on his crotch while he lay there, not knowing what he should do. Moments later, she stopped moving and frowned at him.

"Why aren't you getting hard? Usually boys are really turned on when I do that."

Dave realized that she was right; he wasn't turned on at all. What was wrong with him? A really hot cheerleader was grinding on him, in that skirt, and he wasn't able to get it up.

She got off of him, lying next to him, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek – that, he kinda liked – before asking:

"Are you a dolphin?"

"What?" That didn't make any sense.

"My friend Kurt wasn't turned on either when we made out, because I'm not a boy."

It suddenly clicked in Dave's head, and he jumped to his feet, dashing out of her room.

"I'm nothing like Hummel, understood?" he snapped.

That night, in his bed, he didn't think about Brittany's boobs, or her skimpy cheerleader skirt.


This week, Dave had noticed Hummel looked especially happy. He smiled a lot, more than usual. Dave couldn't let that go on: he had to keep order in the school, like Az always said, and that couldn't be achieved if the losers were happy. He also had another reason, but he wasn't willing to admit it: Hummel's smile made him feel all kinds of things.

Dave was getting used to be turned on by guys, at this point. Hummel's smile, though, wasn't like that. It made him feel happy and peaceful; it made him want to be the one causing that smile. Which he obviously wasn't.

So that day, when he came across Hummel in the hallway and he saw him beaming over his phone, Dave lost it. If he wasn't the cause of this smile, nothing else could be. He knocked the phone out of his hands and slammed him against a locker, harder than ever before.

For the first time, though, Hummel ran after him; he followed him into the locker room. Dave couldn't help noticing they were alone together for the first time. Sure, they were fighting, and Hummel was throwing insults at him, but it was a start, right?

Until Hummel said it.

"You're not my type!"

Dave felt like he'd been punched in the gut, but he managed to keep a straight face.

But then Hummel insulted him again.

Dave was about to break down, and yet, Hummel kept standing there, daring him to do it. Dave knew Hummel was certain he'd hit him, but that was about the last thing he wanted to do now.

And then Hummel said Dave was scared, and all he wanted was to show him he wasn't.

And that's how Dave got his first kiss that counted. Kurt was soft under his touch and Dave finally felt free. He went for another kiss, but Kurt pushed him away.

It's only then that Dave realized that Kurt wasn't smiling. He didn't look like he'd enjoyed it at all; in fact, he looked scared shitless.

Dave realized what he'd done. He was confused, but he wasn't dumb; he knew that it was a sexual assault. He left the room before Hummel could say anything, because Dave couldn't face it anymore.

That night, and several nights after that, in his bed, Dave was haunted by Kurt Hummel's terrified face and the fact that he'd scared away the one person he thought could truly understand him.