That Corkscrew Comet Jet

A response to "Never Been Kissed". Depending on popularity/reception, this will be a multi-chaptered story. Kurtofsky. Rated T for the moment. Review please, I don't usually write in the third person, so I'd love criticism if any issues with tense continuity occur. Title taken from the Sylvia Plath poem "Sonnet to Satan", not sure of relevance, just liked the phrase. Open to Title suggestions.

Despite what Jacob Ben Israel's blog said, Kurt Hummel was not an exceptionally cruel individual. Sure, he had no concerns telling Rachel "I'm-a-star" Berry her style reminded him of his Great Aunt Mildred, but he figures not to do so would be a crime against humanity. No, Kurt Hummel, for all his flaws, was raised with the belief that compassion and empathy would get you further than underhanded schemes. It was a rule that governed his life. Well, at least for the most part.

It was this belief that found him standing on the porch of one Dave "Neanderthal" Karofsky. For what seemed like hours, Kurt had stood alone in the guy's locker room, one shaky hand raised to press against his bruised lips. When he had confronted the jock, he went with the knowledge he was facing certain death. To say he was more than a little surprised by the turn of events was an understatement. Never could he have imagined the brusque football player reacting by … by how he ... Kurt shook his head; he obviously needed more processing time.

"Excuse me?" Kurt was shaken from his thoughts by the appearance of a middle-aged woman peering behind the front door. "What are you doing on my porch? If you're here to cause trouble I'll have to ask you to leave."

Kurt stuttered, "Uh, I-I'm looking for Karofs- Dave. Is Da- Is he home?"

The woman, Neanderthal's mother if the solid build was anything to go by, looked sceptical but nevertheless motioned Kurt inside. She led him towards a set of narrow stairs, before wandering off.

Kurt couldn't help but feel as though this was one of the most stupid ideas he had ever had. Karofsky had made his life a complete hell, and he had more than one bruise to show for the larger boy's efforts. Why did the uncultured ignoramus even deserve a smidgen of his compassion? What had suddenly changed Kurt's unremitting hate? If anything, Kurt should be engaging in some serious reputation killing gossip right about now.

When Kurt entered Karofsky's basement he couldn't mask his gasp of surprise. Turning to flee up the stairs, Kurt hoped his inhalation wasn't loud enough to rouse the attention of the other occupants in the room.

"The fuck!" Karofsky boomed, quickly followed by an indignant shriek as the football player shoved a half naked Cheerio off his lap.

"Get the fuck off me," he told the girl as he fumbled with his unzipped fly. His face reddened as he took in Kurt's widened eyes. What the fuck was he doing here?

"Whatever, I'm out Karofsky. It wasn't as if you were up for it anyway." With a flick of her hair, the girl rushed past Kurt.

For a moment, Kurt was unsure what to do. If he were in his right mind, he'd turn around and slam the front door on his way out. But the shame that quickly spread across the meat-head's face made him pause. It seemed as though it were an afternoon full of surprises.

"Merde," Kurt muttered under his breath. This was not supposed to be in the job description. It was supposed to be quick and simple, talk to Karofsky about support networks, blackmail him to quit the bullying, and most importantly, get the hell out of there as fast as possible so he could meet Blaine for a Chai Latte date. Now, he was stuck with a six foot three, two-fifty pound football and hockey player, with anger management issues and an unstable emotional state.

The sound of Karofsky's heavy breathing pulled Kurt out of his thoughts, and the smaller boy took a step further into the room.

"Well, isn't this … quaint," he motioned to the décor, in a pathetic attempt to break the awkward silence.

"What do you want Faggot?" Karofsky growled, avoiding eye contact.

Kurt bristled, "Ah, my favourite pet name. How your aptitude of wit astounds me, you recalcitrant asshole."

"Don't push me, you queer!"

Kurt barked in laughter, the sound cruel and harsh even to his ears. "Karofsky, my Neanderthal friend, I believe that insult is moot considering recent … developments."

Karofsky slammed his fist on the small television set, "Shut the fuck up, Hummel."

"Listen ignoramus, I'm only going to say this once. Stop getting so violent! You need to find a healthy outlet, you can't keep fighting this through promiscuous behaviour with girls..." He chuckled, "Believe me I've tried."

Karofsky snorted. It was impossible to imagine the effeminate boy under a writhing Cheerio, those two images totally did not mix.

"Fine, I tried it once with Britney." He shuddered, "Heterosexuality is so nasty. I mean, really, give me a tall, dark and handsome man any day."

Karofsky growled, "Do you have a point ladyman?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, "You really need to come up with new material. Your ingenuity and creativity are really lacking, though I suppose that's not a surprise considering the amount of brain cells you've lost from the skull-crushing games you enjoy so much. My point is," he took a deep breath, "I can't believe I'm about to do this. My point is, if you need to talk, I'm here and I wont … your secret is safe with me."

Karofsky looked up at Kurt in surprise, "You'd do that? For me –"

"I'm doing it because I'm sick of dry-cleaning my Yves Saint Laurent Fall 2010 Collection. The fabric's too gentle to not be damaged from your brutal corn-syrup washes. Really, considering your sexual preference, I'm surprised by your continual attacks."

"Hey! Those slushies were always the same colour as your precious jackets." Kurt blinked slowly at Karofsky's defence, a smirk forming as realisation sunk in.

"My, my," Kurt drawled, "how considerate of you. Why, one could even say how damn right chivalrous of you. It's almost as if you have feelings for –"

Karofsky lunged towards Kurt, one fist in his shirt as he slammed him into the wall, "I've warned you, Hummel."

A shudder of fear ran through Kurt's body, though whether it was from the raised fist or from the niggling want to feel the other boy's lips against his, Kurt couldn't tell. He sighed, why did the idiotic boy make his blood boil so?

"What are you going to do? Hit me?" Kurt taunted, "Kiss me?"

Karofsky tightened his grip. Kurt winced as his back scraped against the wall.

"Leave me alone, Hummel," Karofsky near whimpered, "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"You're hurting me!"

Karofsky pressed harder. Without thought, Kurt's hands came to rest on Karofsky's chest, ready to push him away, but stopped at the feel of Karofsky's heart thudding at an increased rate. Kurt gasped. Their eyes locked. As though in a trance, Karofsky lowered the slight boy to the ground, one stray finger brushing against Kurt's exposed collarbone. Kurt shivered, his chin lifted in defiance as Karofsky bent closer. Flushed skin, parted lips, Kurt couldn't help the flutter of his lashes as he watched the tip of Karofsky's tongue dart out to moisten his lips. How could something so simple cause a tingle of energy up his spine? He should be disappointed the breath caressing his skin did not smell minty fresh like Blaine. But it's so masculine, so male, that niggling voice at the back of his head thought.

With a strangled groan, Karofsky pushed away from Kurt in an attempt to put as much distance between them as possible.

This time, it was Kurt who fled.

Once again, please review, let me know if this is worth continuing. I know this chapter is very rough, un-beta'd too, just had to write. Cheers.