Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or the characters or anything. If I did, Max would be a season regular and Dave's story would be given the attention it needs. Hmph.
NOTE: This fic is a bit of a departure from my first effort, and gives Dave kinda a rough time. Sorry. I guess I'm getting my angst on in Dave/Max's absence.

Chapter 1: What I Do, That Will Be Done To Me

Senior Year was going well for Dave Karofsky.

He'd come to terms with his sexuality and, even though he was still not out, he'd become friends with Kurt over the course of the PFFLAG meetings. They weren't quite best friends, but they enjoyed each other's company enough to like spending time together.

Or, at least, that would have been true for Dave if he already didn't want to spend every waking moment with Kurt. It had taken Kurt's departure to Dalton for Dave to realize just how much he felt for Kurt. The way everything felt gray and empty in Kurt's absence could only mean one thing: Dave was utterly lovestruck. He'd accepted, however, that the likelihood of a relationship with Kurt was pretty much zero, barring a miracle.

He aimed for friendship instead - and he easily hit the target. He and Kurt got along brilliantly, to the point where they even discussed private things like how Kurt occasionally found himself decrying his skincare regimen as a time sink in his more impatient moments, and how Dave had, in retrospect, only watched The Social Network and Friends With Benefits because he still had a bit of a crush on Justin Timblerlake.

It's not exactly like he could share that tidbit with anyone else.

Kurt found himself marveling at Dave's intellect. Dave still gave the impression of being a typical jock, but beneath the facade he was surprisingly smart. His grades were high, and Kurt was reminded of his dad once pointing out in Principal Figgins' office that Dave typically achieved A or B grades for his work. When it was just the two of them, Dave would occasionally drop a polysyllabic grenade into a discussion - a habit that had, at first, stopped Kurt in his tracks. Nowadays, however, Kurt merely smirked at Dave's occasional use of "unnecessarily extraneous grandiloquence", as he'd once described it to Kurt's astonishment.

"Oh, come on!" spluttered Kurt incredulously. "Now you're just showboating!"

"What good are syllables, if you can't use a whole bunch of them at once?" grinned Dave. Kurt couldn't help but giggle in response.

The closer Dave and Kurt got, the more seriously he found himself considering coming out. He'd even started planning an order - ideally he'd tell his parents first, but he was smart enough to accept there was too much of a risk of being thrown out. He had to find a place to stay before he told them. After that, it'd be Azimio, the rest of the team, then probably the school. As for everyone else, they could find out from anyone - by that point, it'd be moot.

But that first outing was the big stumbling block - coming out to someone who'd offer him a roof over his head if things went sour when he told his parents. Try as he might, he just couldn't come up with a solution.

Then fate intervened.

"Karofsky!" cried Jacob Ben Israel, running up to him in the corridor. He sounded worried. "Karofsky, wait up!"

Dave was surprised, to say the least. What could Ben Israel want with him? Wait, did he...? Nah. He couldn't possibly know. "What is it?" he sighed impatiently. "I was just headed home."

"You might wanna get there quick," gasped Jacob, recovering his breath. "I think someone's trying to out you."

The corridor seemed to darken slightly. The colors looked suddenly more muted, too. Apparently, he could definitely know. And him? Sweet cured Jesus on rye, why him?

"Trying to what?" he growled defensively. Maybe he'd misheard.

"Out you," repeated Jacob. He paused, very briefly, and urgently clarified his point. "Not me, I swear!" he spluttered.

"And how exactly would they do this?" challenged Dave. Ben Israel was being persistent. Was there evidence? Actual concrete proof? How?

"There's a bunch of pics of you apparently looking at guys. Like, that way," he added.

"Show me," snarled Dave. Jacob cued the pictures on his phone and handed it over.

"There's no point in destroying the phone," urged Jacob, keen not to lose a good handset to Dave's wrath. "Wherever the pictures came from, these can't be the only copies."

Dave skimmed through the pics of him being, as it turned out, a lot more relaxed about where he parked his eyeballs than he'd thought. He'd glanced at Finn. Puck. Mike. In one of the photos, he even noticed Puck looking at some passing chick in exactly the same way that Dave was looking at him.

"Delete them," he growled, sounding angry but feeling terrified.

"Already decided to," assured Jacob. "I don't want these, I can't do anything with them. If I did, I'd end up being a smear on the wall."

Dave stared at him as though he could hold him in position using only the power of sight. "Good. Remember that," he snarled. "Where did you get them?"

"Anonymous submission," pleaded Jacob. "No bullshit! I tried to track it down, but the trail leads nowhere. A dropbox account set up with a Mailinator email address. It could be anyone," he shrugged helplessly.

It could be anyone. He was screwed. Whoever had done this, they'd been careful to leave no trace. Nobody to intercept. He had a better shot at stopping the rain.

Not the best thought to precede a mighty clap of thunder. The day just couldn't become any more ominous.

"You better get home," advised Jacob. "Whoever's trying to out you at school probably has your folks in mind too. You'd better try to beat them to it if you can."

Dave nodded, desperately trying to think a few steps ahead, working out how to handle school tomorrow, what to tell his parents, what to do if the worst happens...

The worst. What was the worst? Kicked out of his home? Kicked off the football team? Beaten to within an inch of his life? How bad could this get? His blood ran cold as he contemplated the countless ways this could undo him.

"Thanks for doing this," he replied meekly. "You didn't have to bring this to me. You could have just let it unravel and have me walk into the explosion blindfold."

"I just wanted to make sure I didn't get the blame for this," explained Jacob. "If the photos come to me, that makes me a suspect. No thanks," he shuddered.

Dave's eyes narrowed in disgust. "Should have known," he grunted, shaking his head as he turned and left. "Remember - delete the photos!" he barked to the figure behind him as he picked up speed.

"Already done!" called Jacob from the distance. "Good luck with your folks!" he added.

Dave couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic or not.

He hoped not.

The rain was heavy enough that he was drenched by the time he'd reached the front door from his truck. He almost couldn't bring himself to enter... but he knew he had to face this or never come home again.

His parents were waiting for him in the front room. His dad was holding a stack of paper. There was an envelope nearby... they were the photos he'd seen on Ben Israel's phone. They had to be. His mom had clearly been crying.

And his dad looked angry.

So much for luck.

"Something you want to tell us, David?" queried Paul, his voice steady but his glare so piercing Dave almost wanted to run and hide.

"I've wanted to for a while," explained Dave.

"How magnanimous of you," seethed Paul.

"I couldn't figure out how to say it," pleaded Dave.

"How about 'Dad, I'm gay'?" spat Paul angrily. "It's really not that hard!"

"Are you kidding me?" cried Dave, his disbelief at his father's blasé attitude to coming out loosing his tongue. "When the guys at school find out about this, they'll beat the shit out of me! How was I supposed to come to you about this? How was I supposed to tell anyone?"

"You didn't even try, David!" retorted Paul furiously. "How long have you known? How long?"

"Too long! Way too long!" exclaimed Dave emotionally. "I've had to deal with this alone for over a year!"

"Don't you dare try to make this about you!" growled Paul indignantly. "You think that pleading misery makes this all okay? You lied to us, David! You lied to us for a whole year! Even in front of the principal, the teachers, the Hummels..." The fact that Dave had lied to Paul in front of authority figures, in public, no less, only served to compound his wrongdoing in his father's eyes.

"I was scared, okay?" wailed Dave hoarsely. "I never wanted to keep this from you! God, I rehearsed it over and over a hundred different ways and every single one of them felt like I was letting you down! The last thing I wanted was to let you down again!" he pleaded, his throat constricting as tears formed in his eyes.

"Too bad, David - you have," retaliated Paul in condemnation. "I may have been able to come to terms with having a gay son eventually, but a gay son who lies to us so easily, day after day after day?"

Dave's temper snapped at the accusation that one single moment of the past year had been easy. "It was never easy!" he howled bitterly. "I hated keeping this from everyone! The past year's been fucking torture for me! I wanted to tell you!" he repeated, desperate to get the point across.

But his efforts were in vain. "I don't care, David! It's too late!" insisted Paul, blinded by the perceived deceit. "I can't even bear to look at you right now - get out! Just go!" he demanded.

The words were like a knife to Dave's stomach. His worst fears had come to pass; he was being thrown out of his home as a result of his parents discovering he was gay. The fight suddenly deserted him, and he bowed his head in defeat. He took his house keys out of his pocket, placed them on a nearby ledge and plodded miserably to the front door for what felt like the last time.

The rain hadn't let up while he'd been indoors, and it began to soak in again as he closed the front door behind him. He slouched, dazed, to his truck, got in... and burst into uncontrollable sobbing as though grief-stricken.

He'd lost his family. He'd lost his home. Tomorrow he'd likely lose all of his friends.

No. Not all. There was one. One would stand by him.

One friend might just get him through the days to come.

Dave's presence, unannounced and unexpected, was a surprise in itself to Burt, but his appearance was positively distressing.

"Hi Burt," murmured Dave. "Uh... is Kurt in?"

Burt was staggered by the state Dave was in. "Jesus, Dave, you're soaked!" he gasped. "Come in out of the rain."

Dave took stock of his sodden clothing as though taking in something new. "...I hadn't even noticed," he mumbled as he stepped inside.

Burt could see there was something terribly wrong. "What's wrong, kid?" he asked.

"I... I don't have anywhere to go," stammered Dave, his eloquence failing him.

Kurt appeared, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected sound of Dave's voice. "Dave? Dave, what's happened?" he gasped. "You look terrible!"

Dave saw no point in hiding anything any longer. "Someone got to my mom and dad before I could tell them," he explained plainly.

"Tell them what?" asked Kurt. The realization struck him barely a second later. "Oh no," he moaned in dismay. "Oh Dave, no," he whimpered, shaking his head as his hand covered his mouth in horror at the news of his friend's sudden catastrophe. He felt his eyes reddening.

"Dad told me to get out," explained Dave in a timid tone. "I've got nowhere," he confessed.

Kurt suddenly found something for his resolve to stiffen around. "You've got here," he insisted, determinedly. "Dad?" he asked, more for agreement than permission.

It wasn't even a question. "Absolutely," nodded Burt. "I mean, all we can offer you is the sofa, but..." he shrugged.

Dave's relief was so emphatic it almost had texture. "It's enough. Really. Thanks," he sighed in relief.

Burt realized he was missing a few pieces. "What did they find out, exactly?" he asked.

Dave saw no reason to hide it any longer. It'd be all over town within a week. Maybe even sooner. "That I'm gay," he gulped. Even knowing everyone would soon know, it was still difficult to say it.

Kurt's jaw dropped. "Dave, you don't have to..." he started.

Burt interrupted, mildly outraged by the revelation. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he demanded. "Hold on a second. Just so I got this right... you picked on Kurt for being gay, even thought you were too?" His expression darkened.

"Dad, not the time!" cried Kurt desperately. The last thing he needed was his dad to flip out now.

"Not for that!" insisted Dave defensively. "And I already apologized for all of that. I picked on him for being braver than me." He looked at Kurt as though acknowledging the presence of a hero. "He was strong enough to be out, and I envied that strength. I shouldn't have picked on him, I just... I had no idea how to cope with any of it," he admitted weakly, shaking his head dismally.

Kurt's heart went out to the helpless jock. "Dad, he's tortured himself enough over this," he rebuked. "He doesn't need you laying into him too, it'll do more harm than good."

Burt paused. Finally, he spoke. "I can't say I'm happy about it," he grunted.

"Of course not," assured Kurt. "But I've long since forgiven him, so please. He and I have been friends since summer. Please, don't turn on him now," he begged. "He needs someone. He needs us."

Burt considered Kurt's plea for a moment. "Fair enough, Kurt," he decided finally. "If you're willing to defend him, that says enough for me."

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. Dave felt welcome enough to take off his jacket. It was drenched, but it had saved him from the worst of the rain. "I'll go over to the Karofsky house and bring some clothes back with me," declared Kurt. "I might just tear a strip off his folks while I'm there," he muttered angrily.

Burt's eyes rolled. "That's not gonna help, Kurt," he sighed. He knew his son's emotions would run high over the issue, but giving both barrels to Dave's folks wouldn't help things at all.

Kurt thought otherwise. "Oh, please tell me how this could get any worse!" he snapped. "They turfed out their son for being gay!"

Dave found himself defending them. "Actually, it was more that I'd lied to them for so long," he explained. "I let them down again," he observed sadly.

Kurt wouldn't hear it. "Dave, stop that!" he demanded. "As much as I tried to encourage you to come out, you had to come to it in your own time. You would have told them yourself, eventually. They have to see that," he urged.

"After everything else?" queried Dave. "I think this was the last straw."

"That doesn't excuse this," growled Kurt furiously. "It doesn't come close."

Burt nodded. "I'm with Kurt," he announced. "I can understand why you were so scared to tell them. Hell, Kurt kept it from me for however long, and I just waited patiently until he was ready to tell me."

Kurt's mood lightened a little at his own dad's understanding approach. He'd been so lucky.

"He's lucky to have you," Dave noted, as if reading Kurt's mind. Kurt's jaw dropped as he said it. He exhaled sharply at the coincidence.

"Well, don't you worry," Burt assured him. "You're safe here, son."

Son. The word hit Dave like a cannonball to the chest. He looked Burt in the eyes, the tears began to spill, and before he could stop himself he was bawling his heart out. Kurt's heart ached for him, and he threw his arms tightly around him. Burt, too, placed a supportive hand upon Dave's shoulder. He'd be safe here. He'd have somewhere to be.

But it wasn't home.

He no longer had that.

Kurt stood outside the Karofsky house, having just rung the bell. His mind was a swirling cocktail of barbs and vitriol. He didn't want to lay into these people with mere language. He wanted to hit them. He actually wanted to physically assault them for what they'd done to his friend.

He couldn't figure out what it was about the situation that had made him so angry. The injustice, most probably. Also, picking on someone for a thing about themselves which they'd already suffered a lot for. Yeah, that was a pretty unpalatable one right there. And aren't parents supposed to love their kids? And aren't kids supposed to make mistakes now and then?

There was so much wrong with this whole thing Kurt barely knew where to begin.

Paul looked pensive as he opened the door to Kurt, but bristled slightly as he took in the sight before him. This boy that Dave had bullied. Was that why? Had the Hummel boy done something to Dave? It didn't excuse any of it, but...

Kurt jolted Paul out of his thoughts. "Your son's on our sofa, crying his heart out," he snapped. "The least I can do is pick up some clothes for him."

Paul was wounded by the idea of his son in such distress, but couldn't see beyond the betrayal. "His room's upstairs, first on the right," he directed impassively.

His room. That didn't escape Kurt's attention. They still thought of it as though Dave lived there. He saw an open wound and went in for the kill. "His room? Surely you mean the guest quarters?" he retorted acidly as he made his way upstairs. He didn't look back to see the impact his barb left on Paul.

If he had, he'd have noticed the haunted expression. Paul had yet to take in the full impact of the fallout, and certainly hadn't considered the real possibility that he may have lost his son for good. He didn't know what to feel about that. He wanted to know what to feel. Indignant? Devastated? Guilty? Angry?

All he knew was that he and Helen missed their son dreadfully... but he no longer felt like their son to them. He felt like a stranger. Like he'd been pretending to be this person they knew, and now he was... who was he?

Could you even lose a son if you felt you never really had him in the first place?

Upstairs, Kurt was packing up an assortment of Dave's clothes. He was trying not to be his usual judgmental fashionista self, but surrounded by these misshapen crimes against fabric and tailoring, it wasn't easy.

Dave already had his letterman. He wasn't losing that. It was a part of him.

For how long? mused Kurt. Is he going to be kicked off the team when word gets around?

He tried not to think of the struggles Dave was yet to face. He packed an assortment of tops and jeans, and suddenly realized he'd have to handle his underwear. He'd have to touch... Dave's... underwear. He blushed. It wouldn't mean anything, but still, his... his...

The blushing intensified.

He gulped and tried not to think of anything. He scooped Dave's ...these things have touched his... his dick! ...from out of a chest of drawers, along with his socks and a handful of handkerchiefs.

He'd certainly need those, what with the state he was in when Kurt had left.

He grabbed a few other items he knew Dave would need - charging cables for gadgets, mostly - and called Dave to make sure there weren't any important things he'd missed. Once he'd assured himself he had everything Dave would need for now, he grabbed the huge duffel bag he'd packed everything into and headed downstairs.

Paul and Helen were still in the living room, seemingly taking in the events of the evening. Paul still had one vital question for Kurt before he left, and made his way to the stairs as he heard Kurt coming down.

"Is he safe?" he asked.

Kurt glared at Paul. "It's a suburban house, not a crack den," he sneered derisively, the bile rising once again. "He'll be fine with us." He tried to ignore the lump in his throat. He put the bag down, opened the front door, hauled the bag up again and left. Then he paused. He had one final parting shot - one last thing he needed to say to Paul before he went. He put the bag down once again and stared at Paul.

"I'm glad you're not my father," he growled, his voice thick with emotion as he reached to the front door and slammed it shut behind him as loudly and angrily as he could.

Kurt carried the bag over to his car and slung it into the trunk. He climbed into the driver's seat, steeled himself for the journey home... and suddenly noticed the tears rolling down his face.

Paul was rooted in position inside the house, paralyzed by the vicious parting shot from Kurt. He heard Helen's sobs ring out afresh, and made his way over to the sofa to console her while trying to stave off his own tears. He sat down and held her tightly to himself as she sobbed, as though they could protect each other from the trauma of the evening... but there was no protection. They were both wounded.

And it suddenly occurred to Paul what the sensation felt like as his own tears finally began to flow freely. It wasn't like a bereavement.

It was more like a break-up.

"Thanks for this, Kurt," sighed Dave.

"No problem," shrugged Kurt. "It's the least I could do. You don't deserve this." He sat down next to Dave on the sofa and hugged him. "You'll get through this," he whispered, more to convince himself than Dave.

"I don't have much choice, do I?" murmured Dave.

"You'll have us," Kurt assured him. "We're right here for you. All of us." He pulled away from Dave and headed out to the kitchen to fetch drinks.

Then it hit him. Out of the blue, a memory flashed across his mind.

"Burt, were you always so accepting of homosexuals? We're the same age. I remember what we used to say about the gays when we were younger."

"...what we used to say about the gays..."

He looked back over his shoulder and suddenly saw what had been troubling him ever since Dave had turned up outside their home. Dave's path could so easily have been his. If his dad hadn't figured it out so early on in Kurt's life - if he'd turned out more like Dave - would he have been so understanding? So supportive?

He stumbled into the kitchen. His dad was there, also fetching himself a drink. Kurt felt unbidden tears rolling down his cheeks as the horror of the path not taken began to sink in.

"Kurt?" asked Burt, concerned for his tearful son. "Son, what's happened? Did Dave say something?"

"No, it's not that," gulped Kurt. "It's just..." He stifled a sob.

Burt made his way to Kurt and wrapped him up in a hug. "What's wrong, son?" he begged.

Kurt found the sentiment difficult to express, but battled to get the words out. "I just keep thinking, dad," he choked. "What if I hadn't been so lucky? What if you'd turned out like Paul? He said you and he weren't so different when you were young."

Burt recalled the exchange in the principal's office. He tightened his hug. "Don't think that way, Kurt," he whispered. "You're doing everything you can for that boy, and I'm right behind you. Just you focus on that." He paused to consider Dave's catastrophic situation. "Poor kid's gonna need all the help he can get over the next few weeks," he observed, his voice catching suddenly.

"Oh, dad," gasped Kurt wetly. "I can't even bear to think of what's gonna happen to him. What they could do to him. If his own parents reacted this badly..."

Burt hushed him. "All we can do is be here for him, son," he reminded him. "And we're doing that right now."

"I really hope it's enough," sighed Kurt, reining in his tears. "Nobody knows how fragile he is."

"We do, son," replied Burt. "We do."

A/N: I have no idea why I keep writing Burt being all supportive of Dave. Ehh, I guess he bridled a little at the fact that Dave bullied him while being gay himself. Maybe it's not entirely unrealistic.

As ever, reviews = encouragement + love + guidance to make me better at this stuff.

-Liam