You Won't Bring Me Down
He'd done it; he'd blown the High F, handed Rachel yet another solo on a silver platter, and probably destroyed his chances of ever getting another shot. But it was okay, he'd done it for his dad. Kurt absently massaged his throat, vocal chords raw from throwing the note, a fitting counterpoint to his inner turmoil.
He had seen the shock on Tina and Artie's faces, the faint disappointment on Mercedes', and yes, the vindication on Rachel's. The girl would be insufferable, and Mr Schue would be drawn further into his belief that Rachel was the only member of Glee (besides golden boy Finn) with a voice worth showcasing. Still, as much as the smug look on Rachel's face made Kurt long to take a tire iron to the back of her head, his dad was worth it; not having to see that look on his dad's face like after that phone call ever again was worth so much more than a solo, even that solo.
He knew his dad would be upset and disappointed, he had fought to get Kurt the chance to audition and Kurt had thrown it away; but Burt didn't understand what Kurt faced every day for daring to be proud of who he was, and Kurt would spare him that as long as possible.
Besides, Kurt would always have the memory of the fear that had momentarily touched Rachel's features, the knowledge that he had shaken the foundations of little miss Streisand-wannabe's world in that instant. It was petty, but given that he'd just given away his shot at his favourite solo, a song that was practically an anthem to the LGBT community, he felt a little pettiness was well-earned.
"Hey, Hummel!" Kurt froze for a moment before turning on the spot to face Santana, arching an eyebrow, "Santana?" Kurt felt his confusion was well-deserved, he couldn't remember ever holding a conversation with Santana Lopez, their usual interactions had consisted of her either smirking at Quinn's side while the blonde tore into him, or else making tasteless gay jokes of her own. "Yeah, listen Hummel, I know you don't like me and I'm not particularly fond of you, but one thing I think we both agree on is that we dislike Berry more." "I suppose you're right, I am feeling especially uncharitable towards our self-proclaimed star right now." That earned him a snort from the Latina, "Like I don't know you just blew the audition, I may be a Cheerio, but that doesn't make me stupid. I could care less why you did it, though it gives me the warm fuzzies that Rachel totally doesn't know that she only has that solo because you gave her it." Kurt became aware that he was rather unattractively gaping at the cheerleader, "I don't know what you're talking about, that ponytail must be cutting off circulation to your brain."
"Save it." Kurt noted with some alarm that Santana was now moving towards him in a manner that could only be described as provocative, hips set to maximum sway, a predatory look in her eyes. "Santana, I know you know this, but I'm gay, your quote unqoute charms are wasted on me." Inwardly he cursed the nervous quaver that had escaped in his voice, just knowing that Santana would have catalogued it as a sign of weakness. And indeed the Latina's eyes were dark with glittering with dark amusement, "I know you're light in the loafers Hummel, have done since elementary school, your virtue is safe with me. However, I found myself interested while watching you audition, specifically while watching you diss Berry." Santana must have taken his look of confusion for what it was as she went on, "When you sang the 'You Won't Bring Me Down' line, you gave her a look that could strip paint. It was.... intruiging."
Kurt flushed, "I don't actually remember much of what went on during the audition, I was focussing." "Whatever. The bottom line is, I hate Rachel, you dissing her in front of the whole club like that was hot, and gay or not, I'm gonna tap you." Kurt's blush bloomed rosy on his cheeks as he backed away from the cheerleader cautiously, "As flattering as I'm sure you think that is, I am unable to appreciate your body on anything more than a purely aesthetic level, I doubt I'd be able to, as it were, 'get it up' for you to 'tap' me." He felt a certain level of pride in the fact that he could hear the inverted commas in his statement, but forcibly returned his attention to Santana as she stifled what might have been an evil chuckle. "I'll try and contain my disappointment. I didn't expect to be able to turn you straight, so I'll settle for a kiss." She turned a disconcertingly appraising look on his mouth, and very slowly licked her lips as she stalked towards him. He backed away from her advance, starting when his back hit the wall, and he realised she had cornered him. "You don't have to look so ill Hummel, one little kiss and I'll let you skip off to wherever it is you go. And honestly, who better to get your first kiss from than me?"
That stung Kurt into a response, "What the hell makes you think you'd be my first kiss Lopez?" The Cheerio smirked, "It's like my job to know Hummel, we both know that you're Lima's sole mascot for the rainbow crowd, so the odds of another guy kissing you are slim to none, and none of the girls have kissed you or they wouldn't stop bragging about it, I know I won't." She winked at the starled look on his face, "Don't look so shocked. If you weren't so overwhelmingly gay you'd have girls lining up for a piece, I would've thought Aretha would have shown you that much."
She pressed her body against his in a long line, and he fought distaste as her breasts were mashed against his chest. "Relax Hummel, it's just a kiss, even if I don't do it for you, you should still be able to enjoy it." With that, she leaned forward, and her lips gently brushed against his. Kurt had honestly not expected gentle from Santana Lopez, who had what could generously be called a reputation, but it was surprisingly nice, she was slowly increasing the pressure as their lips moulded together, and hers were soft and lightly spiced with whatever product she used. Kurt's lips parted on instinct, and with an approving noise deep in her throat, Santana darted her tongue into his mouth. Okay, so maybe she had earned herself a reputation, but damn if Santana could kiss, was Kurt's only thought as she deepened their embrace, her tongue exploring his mouth as though commiting to memory; he tentatively returned the favour, his tongue slowly moving forward to enter her mouth, brushing against her own en route, and creating an interesting sensation causing both to shudder.
Both were gasping as Santana pulled back, but kept her body pressed against his as she moved to attach her mouth to the pale column of his neck; teeth sinking lightly into his flesh as she sucked a hicky onto his alabaster skin, tongue laving over the hicky to sooth his skin as she ground her hips forward to encounter... nothing. She pulled away with an over the top pout on her lips and just had to stare, Kurt Hummel looked thoroughly debauched, pink mouth swollen, cheeks flushed, chestnut hair tousled and with a large hicky already forming on his pale throat.
When his eyes opened, they were dark with pleasure, but he had to fight a laugh at her expression, "I suppose I should thank you for confirming I'm gay Santana. If I don't get hard with you all over me I don't think I could for any girl." His words brought a satisfied smile to Santana's features and she kissed the tip of her fingers before pressing them to his swollen lips, "The pleasure was all mine stud." She swivelled to saunter away, but couldn't resist tossing a wink and a "You might want to cover up that hicky before your dad sees it and jumps to conclusions." back over her shoulder.
Kurt swore inwardly as he clawed in his bag for a mirror and noticed the bruise forming on his throat, he'd have to stop at the mall and pick up some concealer if he didn't want to be answering any awkward questions at the dinner table. Still, on reflection, off all the first kisses he could have had that had been far from the worst. And it never would have come about if he hadn't auditioned for, and blown the Wicked solo. Totally worth it, he thought as headed out to his car.