A/N: This is my first fanfic ever. I posted it as anon on the kink_meme. However, my second story went over very well and someone suggested that I post it here. Having never used before I decided to use a shorter fic to figure everything out. Reviews (please, only constructive or approving, obviously no bashing) are greatly appreciated. If there are problems related to posting how-to please let me know, I'm not really enjoying the way posting is set up here, so I am learning as I go.

Disclaimer: Glee is not mine.


Blaine knew why he went and talked to Kurt's dad last month. And it wasn't because he wanted to keep Kurt safe from uneducated mistakes. Nope, it was because overstepping with Burt might keep Kurt farther from Blaine. Kurt might not realize it, but Blaine definitely wasn't the perfect, pure, saintly boy Kurt made him out to be.

He had implied to Burt that he learned all his information on the internet. Which was partly true. Honestly, he had learned the safety part on the net. But the mechanics? How everything actually worked? That he had learned first hand. That was the truth he wanted to hide.

What was that truth? Blaine was a slut. Well, sort of. Like he had told Burt, he wasn't very close to his father. So when the let's-bond-but-I'm-really-trying-to-make-you-straight moments get to be too much, Blaine grabs his fake ID and heads to a club. A gay club, where he could get with anyone he wants.

Except, who he really wants isn't there, he's at home in Lima. But there are others like him. So Blaine takes a shot of whiskey and approaches. Then, even if they look like what he wants, they don't sound like he wants, so he takes two more shots before shutting them up. But then, they don't act like he wants. So he has to take another shot or two before he allows them to turn him into the wall and use him.

By the time he goes home three hours later, he's dirty. So obviously he takes a shower, but when he craws into bed he still feels dirty. And that's why he doesn't want to get too close to Kurt, because he doesn't want to make him dirty. Even something as simple as holding his hand every day, like boyfriends do, would probably contaminate him.

His gay club days had started when he was sixteen. He couldn't even remember how he'd come across a decent ID, but he had. Though, he didn't use it that much. Until now. Ever since he had met Kurt, he started going more often, almost every weekend. As a result, his fear of contaminating Kurt grew worse the dirtier he got.

But at the same time Blaine couldn't stop and couldn't allow himself to get close enough to Kurt to tell him the truth. Because then he'd have nothing. Not his father, and not his best friend.

After he had talked to Burt that one day, he had made a resolution for himself. No more clubs and no more alcohol. Maybe then, by the time Kurt was really ready to listen, to him or Burt, then Blaine would be able to talk to him. Hopefully without spreading his own filth.

Kurt, however, had much stronger will power then Blaine expected. Even after hearing that Burt had talked to him, Kurt still held off. Sure he still had a huge crush on Blaine, but not enough to make a move. So instead of just telling Kurt to make the first move, he just… broke. Then returned to the clubs.

This time, though, it was worse. He drank more. Got fucked more. For the past two weekends he'd practically spent the night Friday and Saturday at hotels with guys he didn't even know. Didn't want to know. But they were just the right size, and just stylish enough, that he could live out his dreams to a certain degree.

He knew his grades had slipped, but it was still a short enough time that he could pull them back up before the end of the year. But his dad didn't really care anymore. As long as Blaine could manage to get home, no matter the early morning hours, and wake up in his own bed, then his dad didn't pay any attention.

So that's what he did. Friday night, after hanging out with Kurt, he'd go home, change, grab his ID and head out to a club. There, he'd find a guy, and after some heavy petting on the dance floor, he'd suggest a hotel room instead. Then, after hours of sex, he'd wait until the guy was asleep before stumbling out to his car and driving home, falling into bed as late as five in the morning. Then he'd do the same on Saturday. But because he could get out sooner, sometimes more than one guy got involved. Which really was okay with him. After all, how much dirtier could he get?

But tonight? Tonight had been different. Tonight Blaine had decided to go to a different club. One he hadn't done research on. There hadn't been any small, stylish boys in that club. Only big, leather clad men. Blaine couldn't handle them. He figured he'd still take one to a hotel, he really needed it to help forget all his problems – when really he was just making them worse.

What he hadn't counted on was that man inviting his friends along. Blaine was too drunk to notice them until three men surrounded him. Initially he had fought, years of being bullied had taught him how. But he didn't have the strength to counteract their hits. So it wasn't long before he was hit in the face and he collapsed onto the bed going in and out of consciousness.

That's when they really started using him. He felt his clothes torn away, too light headed to fight back now. Large hands manhandled him around. Then the cocks came out. Blaine shuddered, even hours later. They had been so big. Sure he had enjoyed a nice big cock in the past, but these just didn't seem natural. All he knew was that he had barely been able to breath when one was stuffed into his mouth. And that it had muffled his cries of pain when one was shoved mercilessly into his ass without preparation. At the time, the only thing he'd been able to be grateful for was the fact that they had at least used lube and condoms.

And after a while he was so stretched out that he didn't have to scream. So he was able to concentrate on not gagging as the other man shoved into his mouth. But his eyes were still watering. That's what started off the next chain of events.

"Look boys, he's crying," the third man said, not having touched him yet. "Maybe we should actually give him something to cry about." Then he'd dropped his pants.

Blaine suddenly tripped and fell to the sidewalk. He didn't want to relive those next moments. Not yet, he couldn't face them, not on his own. So instead he pushed himself up and kept walking to the door that he hoped held aid behind its wooden paneling.

After the third man was finished with him they all left, leaving him in a ball of pain and tears. After at least a half hour he managed to pull himself together and pull on some of his clothes. Most of them were ruined, but he was able to salvage his kaki pants and his undershirt. Then he'd stumbled out to his car. He knew he wasn't drunk anymore; it had been a few hours since his last drink. So he started to drive home.

By the time he entered Lima's city limits, he realized he wouldn't be able to make it home easily. He had already swerved in and out of the lane a few times, lucky there hadn't been any cops around. So he pulled into the first drug store parking lot he could find and thought about where he was.

Finally he rang the doorbell to the house of the people he knew lived closer to that parking lot. Leaning against the doorframe he waited. It took a few minutes, it being sometime between midnight and dawn, but eventually Blaine heard the deadbolt slide out of place and the door opened.

"Blaine?" Burt stood stunned.

Blaine looked up from where he leaned and winced when he heard Burt gasp. Half of his face must have been bruised. The man that had hit him did have a pretty big hand. "Is Kurt home?" he asked, his voice hoarse from screaming.

Burt shook his head but stood back. "He's having a sleepover with Mercedes at Rachel's house. Blaine, come in."

Blaine swallowed and nodded, half relieved Kurt wouldn't see him like this. He started to take a step forward, but pain shot up his back and he stumbled, right into Burt.

Burt caught him and pulled him inside. "Careful, Blaine. Come on, let's go into the living room." He helped the boy to the couch and had him sit, causing Blaine to groan in pain. Burt looked at the boy, concerned. "Are you hurt, Blaine?"

Biting his lip the boy nodded.

"Should I take you to the hospital?"

"Please, I just need to tell somebody the truth."

Burt stared at him a moment before nodding. Then he left the room, coming back with some aspirin and a large glass of water. Placing both into Blaine's scratched and bloody hands, he told him, "Take those, and drink the water. I'll be right back."

Blaine did as instructed and before long Burt returned with sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a pair of briefs. Blaine set down the near empty glass and took the clothes, staring at the briefs.

Burt grinned. "Don't worry, those are right out of the package. Carole bought both Kurt and Finn some earlier this week. Neither of the boys have touched them." He motioned to a bathroom in the hall. "Go change, clean yourself up a bit, and then we'll talk."

Blaine looked toward the stairs. "What about Carole and Finn?"

"They're heavy sleepers, don't worry about it. Do you need help getting to the bathroom?"

Blaine blushed in embarrassment and shook his head. "I'm feeling a little better. Thank you." Then he slowly stood, stiffness replacing the pain as the medicine kicked in, and made his way to the bathroom.

When he emerged again, he still had a few cuts and bruises, but he'd managed to wash off the blood. Burt was sitting in a chair of his own so Blaine walked over to the couch and started to fold his clothes. He saw the stain of blood on his pants, luckily it was dried, which meant he wasn't bleeding any more. He quickly folded the kakis, hoping Burt hadn't been watching, but his gasp said otherwise.

"Blaine?" he asked softly.

The boy just shook his head. "I'm fine now." He swallowed, but forced himself to say his next words. "It stopped bleeding a few hours ago, I think." Then he folded his shirt and sat down, letting out a resigned sigh. No more hiding the truth.

When he didn't say anything at first Burt leaned forward. "Do you still want to talk, or just go to sleep?"

Blaine shook his head. "No, I need to say this now."

Burt nodded and sat back, watching Blaine closely, waiting patiently.

Before he started Blaine looked Burt straight in the eyes and told him, "I've never even considered dragging Kurt into this. I've always made sure he was protected from me."

Burt frowned in confusion but nodded, letting the boy continue.

Looking down in his lap, Blaine noticed he was wringing his hands and concentrated on that as he started to talk. "I have a fake ID. I use it to get into clubs and get drinks." He swallowed, "I usually only go after my dad tries 'bonding' with me. He just… ugh!" Blaine ran a hand through his hair. "He refuses to accept me. He doesn't try as often anymore, but when he does I feel terrible afterwards. I always just need to get out and go somewhere that I can be myself and know that others want me."

Shifting, Blaine glanced up at Burt, his intent gaze unchanged from when he first started. "I tried to stop," he continued, "After I talked to you. I wanted to be there for Kurt if he had questions, but he never came. And my sick, twisted, dirty mind saw that as rejection. I've been going out the past few weekends, but I got bored, so tonight I went into unknown territory."

He rested his head in his hands, staring at the floor. "I was so stupid." He fisted his hands, pulling his hair in an attempt to stop the tears. "God, it was like I was asking for it."

Almost immediately he felt the couch shift next to him as Burt sat down, and large, calloused hands cover his fists. "Blaine," he said, loosening the boy's fists. "Blaine, look at me."

Slowly Blaine looked up at his best friend's father.

"Were you raped, Blaine?" asked Burt, looking into his eyes.

Blaine frowned and shook his head. "No?"

Burt watched in horror as the boy seemed to finally break.

"Yes? I don't know!" Blaine wrapped his arms around his middle just as he had seen Kurt do in the past. He released a choked sob when Burt wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

"What happened, Blaine?"

"I just wanted to be with one of them. I needed to know I was wanted for who I was. But I was too drunk to notice his friends." He squeezed himself before continuing. "I would have been fine with the first two. They were rough, but I could take it. When they were finished with me the third guy wanted a turn. He wanted to 'give me something to cry about.'"

Blaine couldn't stop the tears. He desperately tried to wipe them away before Burt saw, but the arm around his shoulder tightened.

"He was so big. It hurt, even after the other guys. H-he's the one that…" he gestured to his pants, "That… God, it felt like he tore me apart. I've never screamed so loud in my life."

Burt didn't let go in disgust, like Blaine had expected, but instead he turned and pulled Blaine against his chest, holding him close. "Everything's going to be okay, Blaine," he said into the boy's hair.

They sat there for a few minutes, Burt holding Blaine while he cried out his pain. When the tears seemed to stop, Burt started to pull back but Blaine pulled him close again.

"I've always been safe," he whispered into Burt's sleeve, swallowing loudly. "The guys I've been with always used condoms. Even tonight, those two guys used condoms. But he didn't. He didn't use a condom, and I bled, and now I'm scared to death I might have gotten something from him." Then he started to cry again, harder, louder sobs.

Burt stayed quiet, rubbing one hand in a calming circle over Blaine's back. Eventually, the boy calmed down, sobs turning into hiccoughs. Only then did Burt pull away, but he kept his hands on Blaine's shoulders and kneeled on the floor.

"Blaine?" he whispered quietly, bringing the boy back into the present.

Blaine looked up, tears still in his eyes, but not crying. "I'll go to the hospital," he said, "But I just want to sleep right now."

Burt nodded and stood. "I'll get you some bedding. Is the couch okay for tonight?"

When Blaine nodded, Burt left, and returned with the sheets, blanket and pillow. As Blaine started making up the couch Burt disappeared again. This time when he returned he had a pair of scissors and what looked like a business card.

Blaine sat on the couch, hugging his knees, and watched as the man sat close to him.

"Where's your wallet?" Burt asked.

Blaine reached out and grabbed his pants, pulling his wallet out of the pocket and handing it to Burt without question.

Burt nodded in thanks and took it, opening it up and quickly finding the fake ID. Only once Blaine had put it back in his pants and was watching him again did he hold up the scissors.

"No more of this," said Burt, just before cutting the ID in half. "Not only is it illegal, but it's dangerous, and completely unnecessary." Then he held up the business card. "This is my card, it has the shop and house numbers, as well as my cell phone. Whenever you feel like you would want to use the ID, I want you to call me instead. Or Kurt. Whatever you feel like you need."

Blaine took the card and stared at it for a minute before speaking. "But I'm so… dirty," he whispered. "I don't want to… contaminate Kurt, or you, for that matter. I've done enough damage tonight as it is."

"No," said Burt firmly, leaning forward. "You can't 'dirty' someone unless they let you. I know my son. He wouldn't let you do anything he didn't want." He sat back, a thoughtful look on his face. "As for you, we've already started the 'decontamination process' with the card exchange. By the time we leave the hospital tomorrow morning, you'll be clean again. You'll be able to start from scratch, Blaine. It'll just take a little more courage this time."

Blaine couldn't help but grin. He wondered if Kurt had told his dad about his little speech that day they first met. Probably, and Burt most likely said it on purpose, remembering that. "Thank you, Mr. Hummel."

Burt nodded and stood. "Get some sleep, Blaine. I'll take you to the hospital in the morning."

Nodding, Blaine lied back and cuddled under the blankets, surprised at how fast things were starting to look up.