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Kurt wakes to the sound of something knocking against his window. It’s not the first time and considering he’s only a sophomore, it won’t be the last. He grabs the only pair of Converse he would deign to own from their place under his bed and slips them on. Usually if Kurt can get outside and threaten to call the cops they’ll stop before they actually break glass to throw something inside his room. And if the glass breaks before Kurt can cross the room, that’s what the thick plastic soles are for. He stepped on shards once before. Once was enough.
It’s disappointing when Kurt opens the back door and rounds the house to see Mike and Matt. It had seemed like they’d been enjoying themselves learning the Single Ladies dance. Last night they’d even thrown him on their shoulders after the game. Clearly they’d regretted the friendliness in the cold light of morning. Well, fine. Whatever. He’s already got one male acquaintance in Artie. It’s more than Kurt had thought he’d ever get while completely alone in junior high.
“Hey Hummel.”
“Hey. Wait, are you in your pyjamas? Those look like really fancy pyjamas. We can come back later, once you’re up for the day.”
Kurt refrains from rubbing the sleep crust out of his eyes. He’s small, queer, and in his nightclothes. He doesn’t need to demonstrate another weakness. “No, just get it over with now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know. Soaping fag onto the side of the house? You seemed to want my attention, so maybe you have pee balloons to throw? If you need ideas from me you’re more dense than I thought.” It’s too early for this and having it done by if not friendly faces, at least faces he’d thought weren’t hostile makes Kurt feel all the more weary. It’s why he gets a little more honest than is strictly smart. “Don’t worry about my having seen your faces. If there’s no real property damage we can’t charge you. Just do it, so I can clean up and go back to bed already.”
Mike shakes his head. “No, you’ve got it all wrong.”
“Explain if you must.” This must be what the hero feels like when the villain monologues. Kurt doesn’t care about their gay panic reasons. He just wants to go back to sleep. It’s only slightly after ten. AMs aren’t supposed to exist on weekends.
“Do you want to go inside? The grass is frosty.”
“Explain why you’re here first.” He’s hardly going to let jocks in his home. Well, he’d probably let in Finn, if he could think of a way to make it happen. But certainly not anyone else.
Matt shrugs. “It’s your goosebumps. Anyway, we both joined football as freshmen, before we knew the team was crap. By the start of this year we were praying for a miracle. We both vowed on the first sip of Gatorade that if by some miracle we won a game, we’d owe the MVP a favor.”
“...Okay?”
“You’re obviously the MVP.”
It’s a stroke to his ego, the same way going up on their shoulders was last night. Still, it’s not entirely true. “Finn threw the ball.”
“He wouldn’t have had the chance without your dance. Besides, you got the winning point.”
“So now you wanna do something for me. Like what? I don’t want confectioneries. I don’t eat them often, and when I do, I like to bake them myself.” Asking them to intervene in the next dumpstering is probably too much. They want to do him a favour, not ruin their own lives.
“Well you’re gay, right?” Matt doesn’t wait for confirmation, just continues. “So that’s gotta be lonely, in McKinley at least. And no action at all.”
Kurt arches his perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Your favour is advice on how if I’m not straight I’m going to be lonely forever? Thanks for that. You can leave now.”
“What? No. Our favour is wanna make out?”
“Ex-” The word gets caught in his throat. Kurt swallows on nothing and tries again. “Excuse me?”
“We owe the MVP. You’re the MVP. You’re gay, and a completely pure virgin.”
“We’re offering you the chance to make out.”
Kurt won’t say excuse me again. Using the same phrase multiple times in one conversation is common. Still, he needs clarification. “You’re not even gay. Wait. Are you gay?”
“No, but it’s just kissing.”
“We’ve watched Brittany and Santana do it,” Mike adds earnestly.
It’s a risk, inviting them in. They’re both bigger than him, and there are two of them. But Kurt’s had to be a good judge of character for a while now, and they look like they really mean it. They look like they genuinely don’t think show-gay is a big deal. And it would be nice to get his first kiss before university.
Worst case scenario is that one of them freaks out and starts beating him, the other playing bystander. But Kurt can counter that with his dad. It’s ten AM on a Saturday, he’s home to hear screams.
“You can come in. All I ask is that if you experience a moment of gay panic, leave rather than beat me to death.”
Mike’s face scrunches and Matt looks like he’s going to puke. Their reactions are good signs.
“Jesus Christ, dude.”
“You really think you have to warn us not to beat you?”
“You’re both wearing letterman jackets. What do you think the jocks have done to me for the last two years?”
In response Mike rapidly pulls open the snaps of his jacket and drapes it over Kurt’s shoulders. “You’re a jock now too.”
As much as Kurt would beg to differ, that Mike thinks so is very telling. He slips his arms into the sleeves then leads them in and down the stairs.
“Your room is pretty nice. Really white, but nice.”
Kurt smiles despite himself. “Not everyone can pull off Dior grey. So, how do you want to do this?”
“You have a big bed. We have an English assignment. I’ll read what chapters I need to catch up on, then tag in and Mike will read.” From one of the thousand pockets in Matt’s cargo pants he pulls out a beat up paperback.
“You brought a book with you?”
“If you told us you had a boyfriend or something we were gonna read it out loud at the park a few blocks from here.”
Kurt desperately wants to ask if they’re sure they’re not dating. A park picnic complete with reading to each other sounds pretty gay. But he doesn’t want to waste this chance on being a smartass. He puts his safety shoes back under his bed and lies on the right side. Mike spits something into the trash can, then lies on the left. Matt sits on the edge, by Mike’s calves.
It’s instantly clear that the spitting in question was strawberry Bubbalicious, when Mike exhales in preparation to lean in. It’s fine though. Hopefully it’ll cover Kurt’s own sleep-breath. If he’d known that this was going to happen he would have brushed his teeth before going outside. Of course, if Kurt’d had a premonition of this happening he would have assumed that it was a hallucination borne of a decade of bullying and stress and wanting to turn the tables on his tormentors.
Kurt presses his lips against Mike’s and waits for him to scramble away. When Mike doesn’t Kurt decides to not push his luck. He doesn’t move, just keeps the pressure of their lips as the only point of connection. It’s Mike that curls the hand of the arm he’s not laying on around Kurt’s neck. Not on the front, where it would be scary and more than a little threatening. Around the nape, where Kurt’s hair would normally be flat but is now embarrassingly rumpled. Not that Mike seems to notice. He probably doesn’t expect his make out partners to be immaculate. Kurt can’t imagine Brittany doing anything perfectly. Most of her charm comes in how odd she is.
As they kiss Mike keeps curling and uncurling his middle, ring, and pinky fingers. Kurt shivers. It’s not a turn on, persay. He knows the areas of his body that aren’t his genitals that make his skin crawl in the best of ways. His hairline isn’t one of them. But it’s still nice. It’s smooth, and gentle. The movement makes this feel like less of a pity favour and more like a needed bit of relief.
Kurt almost wouldn’t mind being walked in on. That way Dad could have a big I love my gay jock son moment, and they could discuss the not actually a jock thing later. But it’s not to be. He and Mike go on uninterrupted until Matt slaps Mike’s leg with the side of the paperback. Mike reflexively jerks forward and Kurt does his best to stop himself from enjoying the full body contact. That’s not what they’re here for, and to think that would be getting his hopes up.
“Finally done. I can’t believe I have write an essay about that shit.” Matt stands as Mike sits up and starts to scoot down the bed. “You want spoilers?”
Mike rolls his eyes. “I can barely force myself to read it now. Why would I bother if I already knew all the details?”
“Suffer, mortal!” Matt says, smacking Mike a second time with the book, this time on the shoulder. Mike reaches up and takes it, and then Kurt’s attention is focused entirely on the way Matt isn’t laying down beside him. Matt’s crawling on top of him. When he’s settled Matt’s hands are planted in a push up position on either side of Kurt, and his legs are nestled between Kurt’s.
Matt’s kissing technique couldn’t be less like Mike’s. Within seconds of being on top of him, Matt’s tongue is already gliding over his teeth like he’s trying to find the passage in. Kurt reasons that he’s never going to do this again, so he might as well indulge. He opens his mouth and lets Matt in. For a moment it just seems slimy. Then Kurt’s instincts overwhelm his thought processes and he’s jamming his own tongue against Matt’s. His body is telling him how to win this battle, and he doesn’t need to pay attention to anything else.
It’s around the time that Kurt starts getting aroused and Matt doesn’t that the jock pulls away. He rolls off to the side, nearly kicking Mike off the bed in the process.
“Sorry,” Kurt mutters. It’s the only thing he can do. If he had the ability to will himself soft he wouldn’t have let himself get an erection in the first place. He could cover himself with the oversized jacket, but that would probably be even worse in their eyes. No doubt Mike doesn’t want Kurt’s gay erection all over his symbol of masculinity.
“Nah. I consider it a compliment. I mean, it’s a bit too far for a MVP, you’d have to save my dog’s life or something. But I’m not freaked out or anything. It’s cool that you liked it.”
“So what happens the next time I score the winning point?” The second Kurt says it he feels pushy and creepy. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t think the dancing queer’s gonna last too long.”
“Isn’t that word a slur?”
“Besides, the dancing’s cool. It’ll suck when you leave and it stops.”
The next words out of Kurt’s mouth are madness, but he’s powerless to stop them. “So join Glee.”
“What?”
Might as well explain. “We dance every number. You could even choreograph if you want, probably. Brittany’s given a few ideas, when she thinks Quinn won’t rat her out.”
Mike seems interested for a moment, before he shakes his head. “I’m not a good singer.”
“We only have nine bodies. We need twelve to perform at Sectionals. You’ll be welcome, trust me.”
“We’ll think about it,” Matt says in a tone that as far as Kurt can tell isn’t dismissive.
“You mind if I finish reading before we take off? Get this shit over with?”
Kurt shrugs. “I’m going to have a shower. If you’re done before I’m done, let yourselves out.”
If anything, it’s riskier than letting them in the house. Small, gay, and in pyjamas is nothing compared to small, gay, and naked. Kurt’s never once showered in the locker room at school for that exact reason. Somehow though, he feels safe enough to grab a simple change of clothes and head for the bathroom. The door doesn’t lock, but he can’t imagine either Mike -slow, gentle- or Matt -joyful, enthusiastic- using that to their violent advantage. They’re not lovers. They’re not friends. He can’t even fairly call them acquaintances. But Kurt feels right categorizing them as people who won’t hurt him, and in his experience that’s both the smallest category there is, and the most important.