A/N: I have been frequenting the Kurt/Blaine section of this website since Never Been Kissed, and I'm so glad inspiration finally struck; I love these two people together, and exploring the complicated dynamics between them was an absolute joy. I didn't really have any outside help writing or editing, but I want to thank the creators of Glee for giving us these marvelous characters to work with, and I want to thank Darren Criss, on whom I have an epic crush of gigantic proportions. Because of him, this story includes an unhealthy amount of A Very Potter Musical references. And, because of my own nerdiness, there are also a few too many Harry Potter and Taylor Swift references. Sorry. But not really. You know, I could like someone really horrible like Hannah Montana or Justin Bieber and really piss you guys off, but I don't, do I? It's because I don't want your ears to fall off in a violent, gruesome death. You're welcome.

This will be a three-shot. And, in case you weren't paying attention, it is rated M for violence, language, and sexual themes. I feel like it should be higher than that, due to the sheer amount of fluffiness (it may be necessary to use a scythe to cut through it), but whatever. You people and your ratings! Anyway, please enjoy.

Firsts

It was Friday afternoon, just after glee club rehearsal, and Kurt Hummel was happily jaunting down the hallway, slipping his iPhone into the back pocket of his new William Rast jeggings. A month ago, he never would have dreamed that he could be this happy. But he was—and it was all because of Blaine.

Blaine. Just the thought of the other boy's name made Kurt sigh blissfully, a rosy blush spreading across his cheeks. Blaine was perfect—he was everything that Kurt had ever dreamed about. Blaine's texts always brightened Kurt's day, no matter what.

COURAGE.

The small, black text shone out like someone wearing Marc Jacobs in a crowd of fashion-ignorant, Gap-clad teenagers. Kurt would know.

But Kurt had tried having courage once, and it backfired. Big time. Kurt didn't need courage to face his bullies—ironically, he only needed it with Blaine. If only Kurt could have the courage to tell Blaine how he really felt about him, he would feel better…In fact, Blaine was waiting for him in the McKinley High parking lot right now so they could hang out. Maybe he would have a chance tonight.

"Hey, Ladyface." Suddenly, two hands came out of nowhere, circling around Kurt's small body. Kurt winced, bracing himself for impact with either the floor or the closest row of hard, metal lockers. But it never came. Instead, Karofsky pulled Kurt even closer to him. Kurt's heart started to race, and his eyes widened in fear.

"Let go of me, Neanderthal," he declared, more confidently than he felt.

Karofsky just laughed. "What are you gonna do about it?" he threatened, before leaning in and pressing his lips against Kurt's for the second time that month.

Gasping, Kurt pulled away, trying to push the sweaty jock off of him. "Get a reality check. Being gay doesn't automatically mean I want to kiss any guy who comes along. Back off, Dave."

Karofsky frowned, an almost-indiscernible, hurt look passing across his face. It was gone before Kurt could wonder about it. "You see, Hummel," he said, slowly backing Kurt into the row of lockers, "I don't think I want to do that."

Kurt opened his mouth in shock as Karofsky pushed against him, pressed uncomfortably against the hard, cold lockers. "I swear to God, Karofsky. If you don't get off of me this second, I will scream so loud that the angels will hear it at the 2010 Victoria's Secret Fashion Show." Kurt tried to be brave. He tried to remember Blaine's texts. He tried to have courage, but it wasn't as easy as Blaine made it sound. God, was this really about to happen to him? How far was Karofsky going to go?

"Unfortunately for you, Hummel, if a tree falls in the middle of the forest and nobody's around to hear it, it doesn't really matter if it makes a sound. It still falls." With that, Karofsky pushed Kurt against the lockers, more forcefully than he had before, and kissed him again.

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking out as Karofsky forced his cold tongue into his mouth. He tried to scream, tried to struggle, but it was useless. Karofsky was strong, and Kurt couldn't escape his hold. Besides, nobody was coming for him. Nobody cared.

Maybe I should just give in and let him kiss me. It's not like anyone else is ever going to want me after this. Not even Blaine. Especially not Blaine.

Kurt started to cry harder, whimpering as Karofsky's hands felt under his shirt. No. Kurt didn't deserve this. Kurt Hummel was a lot of things, but he was not a victim. He wasn't going to go down without a fight. So, with that, he redoubled his efforts, kicking and flailing at Karofsky, and screaming at the top of his lungs; he wasn't a soprano for nothing. The sweaty-faced hockey player was still stronger than him, but maybe someone would come see what all the screaming was about. Maybe someone would care.

But then, Karofsky punched Kurt in the side of the head—hard. "Stop fucking moving, fag! I'm trying to give you what you've been asking for since freshman year, with all of your girly clothes and hats and shoes. You want it. You want me to fuck you in the ass, like the faggot you are. Don't pretend like you don't," Karofsky snarled at him, enraged by his resistance.

Kurt slumped against the wall, seeing stars, Karofsky's forceful hold the only thing keeping him up. "No. No, I don't! I want Blaine. No. Please, Dave—please put me down. Let me go. Blaine… I need you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Kurt cried.

Suddenly, a hand slipped around Karofsky's neck, the silver blade of a Swiss Army Knife glinting in the florescent lights. "Let him go, Karofsky. Or I swear to God, I will kill you." It was Blaine, Kurt realized as he opened his watery eyes. Blaine was there, his hazel eyes unfamiliar in their hard, cold anger. But, Blaine had come to save him. He did care.

Slowly, Karofsky backed away from the two boys, his hands up in the air, fearful of Blaine's threats. "Stay the fuck away from him," Blaine growled, an unfamiliar, feral look in his eyes, pushing Kurt's assailant away, "or I will kill you next time. If you're still at McKinley on Monday, you can rest assured that I will file a personal complaint with the Lima Police Department. And they'll listen too, Karofsky. My uncle's an officer—very high rankings in the department. If you want to stay out of jail, stay away from Kurt." And, with that, Karofsky was gone, running down the hallway without looking back.

Don't ever look back.

Kurt watched Karofsky run until he was out of sight, then slumped against the row of lockers, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed.

"Kurt…" Suddenly, Blaine lost the harsh look in his eyes and became the boy that Kurt knew and loved. He crumpled to the floor, sitting down next to Kurt's heaving body, and pulled him against his chest. "Shhh…it's alright. I'm here for you. You're not alone."

Kurt buried his head into Blaine's vintage t-shirt, sobbing his heart out. "Blaine…how did you know?"

"Your phone," Blaine explained, concern sparkling like the gold flecks in his eyes. "Didn't you mean to call me?"

"No," Kurt told him, gasping in an attempt to regain his speech. "Must have butt-dialed you… Karofsky pushed me back against the lockers." He pulled his iPhone out of his back pocket to prove his theory—there was one outgoing call to Blaine.

Blaine ignored the phone, choosing to focus on the boy cradled in his arms. "Kurt, you'll never know how thankful I am that you're alright," Blaine said sincerely, burying his face in Kurt's neck. Kurt could have sworn that he felt Blaine press a light kiss against his skin. "I…I never want you to be subjected to people like that. People who think that you're some kind of sex toy just because you like boys instead of girls. That doesn't make you any less human—any less deserving of somebody to love you, to care for you and treat you right."

"Blaine," Kurt started hesitantly, "is that why you left your old school? Did…something like this happen?"

Blaine looked down at the speckled-gray tile covering the floor. "Yes," he admitted, finally looking into Kurt's blue-green eyes. "But I didn't have anybody to come and save me."

At this admission, Kurt's eyes widened and he flung his arms around Blaine. "I'm sorry, Blaine. I feel awful for crying about what almost happened when you've gone through something so much worse. I…I can't even imagine."

"Kurt, never apologize for crying. If anyone understands, it's me. And besides, it's all in the past. I've put it behind me." Blaine smiled at the younger boy, patting his shoulder understandingly. But, Kurt saw through his façade—deep down, Blaine was hurt. And maybe, just maybe, he needed Kurt just as much as Kurt needed him.

"No. Stop trying to make me feel better; I don't deserve it, Blaine. It was rude and insensitive to complain about Karofsky stealing my first kiss when somebody stole your first…you know, time." Kurt blushed, looking to the ground.

"No—don't say that about yourself. Of course your feelings are worth listening to. Haven't you figured that out yet?" Blaine asked, playfully tweaking Kurt's nose with one finger. "Besides, 'firsts' are what you make of them. You can look at your kiss with Karofsky as your first kiss, or you can wait until you get the chance to kiss someone that you really care about. A lot of people look at gays and think that sex is the most important thing. But they don't realize that we want what most straight people want—love. What makes you gay isn't physical attraction, or the act of having sex. It's the emotional connection of being with someone. Someday, you'll realize that having that kind of love is possible, and you'll forget all about Dave Karofsky. I promise. And, if you haven't figured it out yet, I like to ramble on and on when I'm talking. Sorry, I'm kind of completely off-topic. But hopefully all of that made some sort of sense."

Kurt wore a half-smile on his face, listening to Blaine's affectionate words as he gazed into his eyes. Blaine didn't know it, but Kurt was imagining himself having all of that with Blaine. So, without really thinking about it, he blurted out an important question: "So…how was it then? The second time?"

Usually, Kurt was the one who blushed during awkward topics. But this time, it was Blaine. "Erm…hasn't happened yet, actually," he said, clearing his throat. "Guess I haven't found the right guy."

I want to be the right guy.

Kurt's own thoughts took him by surprise—they hadn't even kissed yet, and there he was imagining things that he really shouldn't have even been thinking about under the given circumstances. He cooled himself off by envisioning Rachel Berry's animal sweaters—his own personal "mailman."

After a few moments of not-too-awkward silence, Kurt had an idea. "Hey, Blaine? I have a very illegal, pirated copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows at home, and I don't really feel like going out right now. Can we skip dinner and watch the movie at my place?"

At the mention of his favorite movie, Blaine's face lit up. "You had me at Harry Potter!" he exclaimed, standing up quickly and pulling Kurt along.

Blaine didn't let go of Kurt's hand until they had to get into the car. The two boys drove to Kurt's house in relative silence, apart from the soft sounds of "Will I" from Blaine's Rent soundtrack. Even though his life wasn't nearly as horrible as the AIDS-infected characters in the show, Kurt felt like he could identify with them.

Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care? Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?

As the melodies started to overlap in a haunting round, Kurt felt Blaine's hand close around his own. He didn't know what would happen with Karofsky's bullying, but he did know one thing: someone did care. And that person was Blaine.