Very much NSFW fic continued from yesterday:
Fracture Six: Back to School
_I can do this,_ Kurt chanted inside his head. _I can do this, and I don’t need anyone else to do it for me. I don’t need to make anyone new, either. I can do this by myself._
Saturday had seen a phone call to the school, explaining that Kurt had finally come home and giving Principal Kelly a satisfactory cover story; that he’d been abducted, beaten, robbed and left by the roadside with next to nothing on. The story had gotten him out of detention, but it would also be all over the school.
He could keep the lie. Better than the truth, that someone he thought had loved him had, instead, used seduction to rob and humiliate him.
_I’m swearing off applesauce for life,_ he promised. _Think of it as the taste of a predator._
That meant he had two predators to avoid. Wonderful.
He could keep clear of Tabby by sticking close to an escort of sorts between classes. All he had to do was walk to class with a friend. He usually did that anyway. No-one would be any the wiser about how afraid he was. As for Hess… It was only one class. A little bit of spontaneous deafness would see him safely away from her. As long as there were other people around, he was safe from the both of them.
He hoped.
Someone had blown up his locker, and several others surrounding it had payed the price, too. One of them belonged to Duncan Matthews.
_Oh great._
Someone cracked his knuckles behind him.
Kurt knew that sound through long association of avoiding a regular pounding by the School’s prize jock. “Hello, Duncan,” he sighed. “I just got here. What happened to our lockers? Do you know?”
“Very funny, WAGner,” Matthews hauled him around by his shirtfront. “I *know* you’re responsible for this one. Admit it, and I’ll only break *one* bone.”
Like he broke any bones, anyway. Everyone knew that breaking someone's bones got you in jail, no matter *how* many goals you scored.
“Leave me alone, will you?” Kurt pleaded “I’ve been having a bad week.”
“It’s only Monday.”
“My point.”
“I *still* say you’re responsible for this mess, and I’m gonna–”
“You’re going to what, mister Matthews?”
Kurt cheerily waved at the newcomer in the conversation, “Guten Tag, Herr Kelly. Nice day!”
Belatedly, Matthews put Kurt down and straightened his shirt a little. "Er. We were just -er- we were just–“
"Discussing the break-in,” Kurt invented. “Were there any other lockers trashed?”
Principal Kelly glared at Matthews. “No. Just these ones. Yours appears to be at the centre of the blast, mister Wagner. Know anyone with the skills and a good reason to do this?”
Kurt shrugged. “I know a *few* people who are good with an M-80… and revenge is a clever game, ja?”
Kelly was still glaring at Matthews. “Quite. I don’t want to see any more disturbances about this. Understood?”
They nodded, and he left.
“That was close,” Matthews said. “Temporary reprieve, Wagner, ‘cause you got me off. Don’t think this is over.”
Kurt waited until he was well out of earshot before he imitated Matthews with a sneer. “…mi mi mi mi mimi…” he muttered.
_Jocks!_ Did they have to spend the entirety of their waking lives trying to *prove* what everyone knew already?
Kurt snorted and made his way to his first class. At least he didn't have to worry about locker time. Nope. He had to worry about lugging his books around all day.
Faboo.
*
Kitty’s heart was hammering in her throat. She hadn’t even noticed she was on her own until it was too late, and screaming for help - either aloud or mentally - wasn’t exactly the brave, strong thing Kurt thought she could do.
Kurt was safe. Someone she could hang on to when she was feeling weak, and borrow his strength. He’d been through whatever with Tabitha and his primary concern was her.
Okay, so there was something else going on. It didn’t take a genius to work that out… But whatever *was* going on, Kurt was able to work through it in record time.
There was a note in her locker. Kitty steeled herself and opened it.
“Had a wonderful time, Saturday. Why didn’t you call? L.”
_OmyGod… he thought it was just like, sex._ Kitty felt sick. She took a few deep breaths, crumpled up the note, and tossed it at the trash. It still hurt inside, and she had to be somewhat careful when sitting down, but no-one could tell that just by looking at her. All the hurt was on the inside.
“Hi, Pretty-Kitty,” he said, spontaneously appearing from the crowd. "Left you a love note.“
Kitty summoned all of her strength, all of her hurt, and channeled it out of her mouth. "Fuck off, loser!” and then she gave him a black eye. _Well. If that didn’t like, make the message clear, I don’t like, know what *will*…_ She ran to class, bolting for her seat, and let herself hide her shakes behind her textbook.
_OmyGod, I can’t believe I like, *did* that…_ Kitty stifled a giggle. She had to keep a handle on hysteria. _Kurt would be like, so proud._
She never for a moment doubted that Kurt wasn’t coping with his problems.
*
Tabby was wearing his shirt. Parading around in it like it was a prize trophy. She saw him watching her and grinned. “*There* you are. Naughty boy… We had a *marvellous* time, Friday night, and you just ran out on me.” She’d crossed the distance between them and embraced him. Then kissed him.
She still tasted like applesauce, but it had lost all of its allure.
“I would have bought you food anyway, you know. Sex machine like yourself needs *all* the energy he can get.”
Kurt growled at her and siezed her/his shirt by its neck. A little twist. A little turn. A little pressure on the collarbone and he had her pinned against the lockers and choking. He stomped Fight down to a moderate level of civility and spoke in the eerily calm tones that put solid fear into the spines of the wise.
“The next time you decide to chain me up like an animal,” he said. "You’d better shoot me. Right *here*.“ He tapped the centre of his forehead. "Because I will get out. I *will* hunt you down. And then I will kill you. Do we have an understanding?”
Tabitha nodded, frantic to get down.
He dropped her like the rotten offal she was. “Good*bye*, Tabitha.” He snorted as he stalked away. Fight wanted to rip her apart. But then, fight remembered a few things about Friday night that were obscure to Kurt.
_One of these days, I’m going to have to have a little talk to the Archivist. He may want to protect me, but there *are* things I want to know._
Fight still lurked under the surface as he settled down to class.
*
The cigarette was out of his hands before he knew what was happening.
“Thanks, mudslide. I needed that,” Tabby exhaled smoke in his direction.
“Get your own cigarettes, Tabby,” Lance automatically reached for another and lit it. “I can’t let you keep bumming *mine*.”
“I don’t smoke that much,” she said, and took a long draw. “Can you believe Blue? After a marvellous night doing the horizontal tango–”
“*PLEASE* don’t keep mentioning that…”
Tabby continued, unperturbed. “–he just goes *ballistic* on me. Like it wasn’t special or anything. I mean,” another long drag, “he went totally *ape*-shit.”
“Yeah, I can’t believe Kitty, either. I make a woman out of her and she gives me *this*,” he pointed to his black eye. “Calls me a *loser*… I mean - Geez… What did I *say*?”
Tabby was glaring at him, now.
“*What*?”
“You made a woman out of her…” she said. “What the *fuck* is that supposed to mean, anyway? That we’re not 'mature’ until some guy’s got his prong in? Jesus H, Lance. Grow the fuck up.”
“Fuck you.”
“You wish.” Tabby absently tipped ash on his bag. She blew a couple of smoke rings. “I swear, it’s like he’s two different people or something. I mean, ten *thousand* and one naughty things you can do with handcuffs at night, but in the morning, it’s all, 'You beddah shoot me or I vill keel you’.”
“*Ew*. *Tabby*…”
“How the hell’d he get out of those things, anyway? He didn’t even dent the varnish on the bedposts. Just left them there like he was never in 'em to begin with.”
“Shut the fuck up about the freakshow, okay?” He took a really long drag. He needed it to settle his nerves. “I do *not* want to think about him and *anyone*.”
“You’re just jealous 'cause he’s bigger than you are.”
Part of Lance’s brain imploded. That just about explained everything… “Yeah. Right. Him and Kitty probably got together and got X-feaky while *both* our backs were turned.”
Tabby snorted out smoke. “You been lacing these with something, tremor-boy?”
“Come off it. Everyone *knows* that after a girl gets some, she can't stop. I got her so hot she had to jump the next thing that came along. Poor girl.”
“Lance-baby. If you don’t keep your sexist little ideas to yourself, I’m going to pop you one in your *other* eye.” She put the cigarette she’d stolen out on his vest. “Capiche?”
Lance watched her go, stunned. _Women…_
Tabby automatically fished in her pockets and got out a handful of Apple Chus™ and started munching on them. Chasing the smoke out of her mouth with essence of applesauce. She’d never do it with him. Hell, no. She was into freaks.
Maybe Kitty could be converted back into the throng of sex-with-normals. It was his solemn duty as a man to get her in the sack a second time and show her everything he had. Show her that normal was just as good as freaky. Even better.
*
Just two more meters. Only two more meters. Through a crowd. Going the other way. Just your typical, everyday game of don’t-touch-the-norms. He did it between every class. No big deal.
“Herr Wagner. I’ve been looking for you.”
_Oh no…_
Hess blocked his way and made a little island in the stream of flowing humanity. “Frau,” he said. “I have to get to class.”
“Not this class. I’ve already told your teacher I need to have a word with you.”
_Oh no._
“You are coming with me.”
Her grip around his arm was like a vice. Kurt looked around desperately for someone. *Anyone* he knew. _Jean! Get help!_ Jean didn't appear to be 'listening’, and the Professor had left strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed, today.
Why did his plans have to go wrong at the worst possible time?
His heart-rate climbed as she took him out of the school building, and towards the teacher’s parking lot. _No no no no no no…_ He could struggle. He could scream for help. But his lips were already busy forming his safe-word between gasps for air.
Hess threw him in the back of her car. A reconditioned police car. There were no door handles on the inside. The cage was still intact.
“I told you I was going to keep you, mein Damon,” she said as she started the car. “I meant it.”