Gleek Fic (Karofsky/OC) Chp 1-2

Note: Ack, I like the opening but some of the other stuff about this bothers me. Really glad I am flipping this to an original!

The alarm clock went off and the boy in the bed curled up into a ball before stretching out. A hand reached out, slapping the top of the clock, but music continued to play. He sighed, stretching out again, trying to wake up. More delicately, he reached over, sliding the alarm-bar over and back to reset it. He swung his feet to the floor, bare legs chilled by the light Ohio breeze that was coming through the open window. He sighed, pulling his fingers through his long hair as he stood up.

He threw open his closet –but it wasn’t what you might expect to find in a healthy teenage boy’s closet. A line of girls sneakers, open-toed sandles, and high-heels were lined along the floor. On hangers, there were a range of baby-girl cut t-shirts, lots of dresses, and there was a shelf stacked with shorts, jeans, and Capri pants. Only a few items, pushed to the far back and side gave any indication of manliness –a few t-shirts with superheroes on them, a pair of carpenter jeans, a suit, and some basketball shorts. He ran his hands over the clothes, pulling out a pair of jeans from the shelf, a plain baby-blue t-shirt, and a thin white jacket.

He lay the clothes on the bed before going to the dresser and pulled out his other supplies for the day –falsies, bra, panties, and a make-up bag. He slithered from his bedroom for the bathroom next door. He sat to pee, brushed his teeth with a pink toothbrush, and then tucked himself into the clothes he’d brought with him before pulling on a robe from a hook to focus on his face.

He brushed his hair, pinning it out of his face with a few bobby-pins. He didn’t wear much make up, just enough to give him a more female face. A little foundation, blush, mascara. He thanked some higher-power every morning that he’d been blessed with the smallest adam’s apple ever. When he had finished, he made his way back to his bedroom and got dressed in the clothes he had laid out. He pulled out the pins in his hair, letting it fall back around his shoulders.

And she walked out, ready to start the day.


“Taylor!”

Taylor jumped, feeling hands on her shoulders, “Jesus, scare the hell out of me why don’t you?” Her voice was soft and airy, like she was in an eternal library and couldn’t speak too loudly.

“Did you finish your homework for Spanish?” her friend, Rory, fell into step with her as she approached her locker. Rory already had her books for the morning in her arms.

“Pretty much,” Taylor nodded. “You?”

“I didn’t really get the last part; I’m never sure if Mr. Shuester wants answers in English or Spanish.” She frowned.

“Well it is Spanish class…” Taylor raised an eyebrow at her.

“I know! Ugh, I hate it.” She sighed. “I should have taken French instead.”

“I don’t think you would have liked that any better,” Taylor shook her head. She stowed her backpack in her locker and withdrew a couple of notebooks and her math
text book.

“True. So, what else did you get up to last night? Mel and I were sad you couldn’t come to our sleepover.” She gave her friend a little pouty look.

Taylor kept her cool, “Sorry. I hope you guys had fun at least.”

“Oh yeah! We stayed up late watching movies and all that jazz,” Rory smiled again. “You’ll have to come next time. Promise!”

“We’ll see,” Taylor didn’t agree, brushing her hair behind her ear. “So, what movies did you guys watch?”

Rory went off, talking about some action-romance that she and Melanie, their other best friend, had watched the night before as they walked. Taylor only half-listened, the quiet nagging at the back of her head that she should tell her friends about her…little problem.

Taylor’s family had moved to Lima, OH at the beginning of the school year for two reasons. First, Taylor’s Dad had gotten a job as a foreman at one of the factories in town. Second, Taylor felt suffocated and anxious at her old school. She’d always known that something wasn’t quite right –but it had taken reading a few books, a lot of research, and watching movies like TransAmerica and the L-Word to realize that: she’d been born wrong. Suddenly, she was fully conscious of every part of her body just feeling…wrong. She’d waited for weeks, agonizing about it before telling her parents what she felt.

And they were fine. Her Dad had actually breathed a sigh of relief.

“Christ, and I just thought you were gay.”

She smiled, “No…I guess I’m straight. I mean, if I’m a girl.”

Her Mom had taken her to shop –completely flipping her wardrobe from baggy jeans,
t-shirts, boxer shorts, and so on. She kept a few items…hell, everyone liked to cross-dress once in awhile, didn’t they? Plus, girls dressed in boy clothes all the time. She just knew that she couldn’t do it all the time anymore. She couldn’t be fake anymore. So…when they moved to Lima, she did so as a girl; and didn’t breathe a word of the hidden appendage between her legs.

“Are you even listening to me?” Rory frowned as they rounded into math class.

“Sorry, I just started to space out. What did you say?” Taylor asked.

“I asked if you wanted to go to the mall after school.”

“Sure,” Taylor nodded. “I’ll just have to call my Mom at lunch.”

“Awesome,” Rory grinned, and moved to take her seat closer to the back of the room.

Taylor tried to focus, jiggling her leg under the desk while her teacher droned on about angles…or something like that. She was relieved to burst in the hall after class. Every day seemed to feel like that: waiting and waiting, listening to teachers drone on about stuff she didn’t really care about, before the final relief of getting home and knowing that she had “passed” for another day.

She clutched her books to her chest, walking steadily back toward her locker, which was on her way to her next class. She swapped out books and tried to just avoid eye contact with anyone. Rory and Melinda were the only people she could meet a gaze with and not feel like they could see right through her; they were so airheaded and oblivious she probably could have wiggled her dick in their faces and they wouldn’t have known the difference.

She felt a hand on her back give her a gentle shove forward, and she caught herself before she tumbled, nose first, into her locker. She frowned, turning to catch the faint smile that a somewhat familiar football player threw after her as she walked away. Dave Karofsky. Her stomach flipped and her “secret” tightened, already getting ideas. She gulped, straightening and shifting her t-shirt to smooth it down. Karofsky rounded the corner, and disappeared.


Dave Karofsky shifted uncomfortably in the chair at Breadsticks where his “girlfriend” Santana Lopez insisted he buy her dinner. After getting to know her, he didn’t actually mind her that much; she was a straight-up bitch who didn’t take shit from anyone and rather than let that annoy him, he was starting to find it enduring. She’d approached him almost a month ago now about being “beards”; dating each other to conceal the fact that they were both gay. He grimaced. He didn’t have a problem with her being gay; she could get away with anything she put her head too. She was so hot and in-your-face, she’d even have straight girls clamoring to hook-up with her, just for the opportunity.

He however…well…he still wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure what it was about Taylor Green. He hadn’t even noticed her until a few months ago. When she’d showed up at school, her hair had been shorter, making her look boyish, but as it had grown out, she was looking more and more girly. It was the first he could remember a girl catching his attention like that. He was still making glances at boys –Kurt Hummel being completely irresistible. He was jealous of everything about him –his impeccable style, Diva-attitude, and even that signing voice.

“Santana,” he spoke up, stopping her mid sentence.

“What?” She looked annoyed, “Damn it, Karofsky, I’m trying to tell you a story. You
need to listen to me if you really expect people to continue to believe we’re in
love and all that crap.”

He held a breath, “I’m not gay.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”

“No, I’m serious. I think…I have a crush on someone.”

“Who?” She folded her arms across the table, giving him an irritated look. “Besides the usual suspects –all of whom, last I checked, were male, thank you very much.”

“Taylor Green.” He felt his cheeks turn red. “There’s just something about her.”

Santana was quiet, “Mousy looking chick? Always looks like she’s hiding something?”

“She does not! She’s just…shy.”

Santana’s held tilted to the side, “Oh, poor baby. You’re in denial so you’re just picking the prettiest loser at school?”

“You think she’s pretty too then?”

“Sure. She’s okay. If you’re into that sort of thing…and maybe if she had a bigger chest.” Something seemed to click in her head. “You only like her because she looks like a boy. Seriously, if she put on a looser-fitting t-shirt, a pair of baggy jeans, and some skate shoes, she’d look like Kurt.”

“Shut up.” Dave scoffed.

Santana sobered, hiding her face into her glass of coke before doing something unexpected, “You want me to ask her out for you?”

“Are you going to keep being a bitch about it?”

“No. Really, Dave,” she reached out, touching the back of his hand. The only sensitive thing she’d ever done, the entire month they’d been a faux-couple. “You deserve to be happy.” She pulled away, getting that bitchy grin again, “Besides, one real good look at her, and I’m pretty sure I can figure out what the hell is wrong with her –I mean, that you’d be so interested in her.”

“There isn’t anything wrong with her,” he grumbled.

“We’ll see. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”


Taylor looked up from under her eyelashes as Rory and Melanie were shoved out of the space next to her locker. Long, dark black hair whipped in front of them.

“Scram, losers,” Santana pushed them again, “I need a word with your bestie.”
Taylor felt her stomach sink as Rory and Mel both gave her “Sorry!” looks and scattered. She sucked in a breath and felt Santana’s eyes move over her.

“Cute dress.” Santana leaned on a neighboring locker.

“Um…thanks.” She clutched her books to her chest. “You needed my friends to leave to tell me that?”

“No. Just an ice breaker. Here’s the deal,” she straightened, slapping her palm on Taylor’s locker. “My boyfriend, you might know him –Dave Karofsky.”

“Umm…I’ve seen him around, but I’ve never…talked to him.”

“He likes you. Or thinks he does.”

“So, you’re going to beat me up?” Taylor winced. She had never gotten into a fight before –she was always the mediator.

“Don’t be stupid. I’m asking if you want to go out with him.”

“You’re asking me to go out with your boyfriend?” She hoped that wasn’t a crack in her voice she heard, unable to keep back the surprise.

“We have a very…open relationship.”

“Apparently.”

“So, what do you say? Twiddle some knobs for my man, keep him off my back for a night?” Santana asked.

“Is that a euphemism for something?”

“Just say you’ll meet him at Breadsticks for dinner at seven. Tonight.”

“I…okay, I guess.”

Santana was quiet, then leaned forward, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath through her nose. She hummed as she leaned back, “Hmm –sweet pea.” Her eyes flickered back open. “There’s something odd about you.”

“I have to go to class.” Taylor stepped back. “Tell Dave that I’ll be there.”

“Will do, Sweet Pea,” Santana watched her go, her eyes narrowed. Something was weird, and she couldn’t tell what it was. And that really pissed her off. As Taylor rounded the corner and disappeared, Santana fell into step beside Karofsky. “You’ve got a date tonight, Hot Shot.”

“What? We went out last night,” he sighed.

“Not with me, stupid,” she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Your little crush. Seven. Breadsticks. Don’t be late.”

Karofsky watched her slide away, her long hair flowing behind her, like a mini-cape of death.


“What was that about?” Mel whispered when Taylor slid into her chair in Spanish. “Scary!”

“She was asking me out for Dave Karofsky.”

“You said no, right?” Mel wrinkled her nose.

“Too scared to,” Taylor rationalized. She couldn’t tell them she sort of wanted to go out with him. Like a real girl. She held back the shake of her head –she was a real girl…even if the parts weren’t quite right.

“Well you’ll have to find him and tell him you can’t!” Mel insisted. “He’ll eat you alive if you don’t.” Taylor shivered. She knew Mel hadn’t intended that to sound at all sexual, but the thought of Karofsky giving her a hungry look and touching her with his big, strong hands… She held back a little gasp as she felt herself twitch, straining to come out from between where she tucked “him” back, wanting to stand at attention and be noticed.

“Think disturbing thoughts,” she started the mantra in her head as she turned around from Melanie and Mr. Shuester started the day’s lesson. “Car crashes. Dead bodies. Ham Sandwiches. Grandma.” She went through her usual list and yet she was still hardening. She finally sighed, raising her hand.

“Taylor?” Mr. Shue looked thrilled that for once someone seemed to want to speak up in class.

“Can I go to the bathroom? It’s kind of an emergency.” She jiggled her knee like she really had to pee.

He gave a soft smile, his hope dashed, “Sure, take the pass.” He titled his head toward the flat wooden ruler with “Bathroom” written on it in sharpie. She slipped from her chair, hoping she wasn’t walking awkwardly, grabbed the pass, and dashed out of the classroom.

She slapped her way into the empty bathroom stall and slid the latch over. She shifted the skirt of her dress up over her hips and pulled the panties down as she sat, spreading her thighs. She bit her lip as she popped forward to attention.

“Goddamn it,” she sighed. While she tended to actually be okay with her penis –it wasn’t like she thought it was gross or creepy or anything, it seemed to just cause more problems than it solved. She closed her eyes. There was only going to be one way to get rid of this –and it was the same way that it had “popped” up in the first place. She let her mind drift back to the thoughts of Dave Karofsky as she touched herself.

Five minutes later, tucked back into place and hoping that dirty sex smell wasn’t as strong as she felt like it was, she slid back into her chair after replacing the bathroom pass on its hook by the door. She shifted and tried to focus on what Mr. Shue was saying about Spanish.

After class, Mel linked arms with her. “Are you okay? You looked a little weird
when you came back. Did Santana corner you in the bathroom or something?”

“No, I’m just having an off-day.” She shook her head. “Did I miss anything important in Spanish?”

“I’ll make a copy of my notes when I’m in the library and give them to you.”

“Thanks,” She smiled. “I’ll see you later; I have to get to History.”

“See you after school,” Mel waved, letting her arm slip away as she waved.
Taylor stopped by her locker, swapping out notebooks and textbooks again before gliding down the hall to history. It was the only class she shared with Dave Karofsky. She sat in the middle, kind of off to the side near the window. He sat a row behind her, two or three seats over so he could watch her all through class, but she had to crane her neck at an awkward angle to get a glimpse of him. She flipped open her notebook to re-read what they had left off with in class the week before.

Taylor’s eyes drifted to the side as a figure loomed next to her desk. The class room was still relatively empty and she followed the denim clad leg up to the hem of a red letterman’s jacket, all the way up to the brown-haired, round face of Dave Karofsky. She felt nervous and fidgeted in her seat, the guilt of what she’d done in the bathroom an hour before making her uneasy.

“Can I help you?” She asked after he had stood there for a moment.

“I don’t know what Santana said to you; I know she can be kind of a bitch sometimes.” He looked up, as if checking to see who might be listening or watching them talk. “If she pressured you into saying you’d go out with me…you don’t have to.”

She swallowed, conscious of how it made her adam’s apple bob, “I…she didn’t.”

“Then…you want to?” He tried to keep his face blank, but his eyes got an extra little glint of light in them.

“Sure,” she nodded. “I mean, if you want to.”

He paused, “Okay then. See you there.”

“Okay,” she nodded. She felt the flush raising her cheeks as he slid past the other desks to his own chair. She tried not to think too much about the impending date, and that Karofsky was less than ten feet away.


Chapter Two

At home, Taylor looked at her closet. She had worn a yellow-flower patterned sundress to school, but she didn’t think she should wear the same thing for her date. She hummed, looking at the closet. A dress would probably be good…they tended give a more girly-air. She flipped through the selection. A couple of other sundresses in various colors, a knit number with ¾ sleeves and a curly-cue pattern up the skirt, and a short denim one with ruffles on the collar and skirt that came just above her knee. It had pearl-white, flat buttons down the front, and ribbon belt that tied in bow, just slightly off-center. All of these dresses had one thing in common: they didn’t show off the shoulder, and they didn’t make any attempt to show off cleavage.

“Taylor, are you home?” A female voice called from downstairs.

“Upstairs,” she called back, cracking the door open. She turned back to her closet, taking out the denim dress, and then a pair of green converse sneakers. They were leftover from her male-days, but they were comfortable, and went with everything in her opinion.

“What are you up to?” Her mom pushed open the door a little more.

“Umm, just getting around to some homework…then I’m meeting a friend for dinner. If that’s okay.”

“Of course,” she nodded. “You meeting with Rory or Melanie?”

“Umm…no. His name is Dave,” Taylor picked up her backpack to pull out her notebooks and line them up on her desk.

Her mom took a breath, “Honey…”

“Look, I know that we said I wouldn’t date anyone…but I just want to be a normal girl.”

Her Mom frowned, “Hun, you aren’t normal. You know I love you, and I want what’s best for you, but you can’t…” She sighed, trying to figure out how to put it. “He’s just a boy who thinks you’re pretty.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“He’s totally in the dark. One date is fine…but what about when it continues? Two, three, four dates. Suddenly he’s your boyfriend, and eventually he’s going to want something from you…and you’re going to just give him a surprise?”

Taylor swallowed, “It’s just one date, Mom.”

“It’s your life,” she agreed. “But if you expect to take this transition further, then you need to remember that there are more people affected by this than yourself. –Including anyone you plan on being romantic with.”

“Okay, now this is just getting weird,” Taylor sighed, shaking her head. “I’m going out tonight. It’s one date. It probably won’t even mean anything.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You can’t protect me from everything.” Taylor pulled out her desk chair and sat down, scooting it forward to flip open her math book.

“I know,” her mom crossed the room and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “But I can try.” She wrapped her arms around Taylor’s shoulders. “You can borrow Grandma’s emerald earrings if you’d like.”

“Thanks Mom. I should probably get my homework done before I worry about jewelry though.”

“Of course. I’ll let you work.” She patted Taylor’s shoulder before letting herself back out of the room. Taylor turned her attention back to her homework and lost herself in it for a few hours.


It was still ten-to-seven when Taylor parked her little blue sedan at Breadsticks. She couldn’t tell if Karofsky was there yet or not. She waited a few extra minutes, psyching herself up for the date. Finally, she flipped her little purse over her head, smoothed her skirt, and locked the car behind her before tucking the keys into her purse. When she walked in, she scoped her eyes over the restaurant. He wasn’t there yet. She sucked in a breath and slid into a booth near the middle, so she would be sure not to be over looked when he came in.

After sitting and setting her purse beside her on the bench, she folded her hands and tried to look at ease. A waitress came over and Taylor hesitated before ordering a water to sip while she waited. The waitress nodded, giving her a basket of the namesake breadsticks before walking away. She glanced at her cellphone. 6:55 PM. He still had five minutes. How long would she wait? She started to jiggle her leg and thanked the waitress when she brought over her water. 6:57 PM.

Her leg jiggled some more and she pulled a lock of hair over her shoulder to pick her fingers through the end of it. 7 PM. She sipped at her water. Five minutes. That was it. After all, he hadn’t even been the one to ask her out. Maybe he and Santana were having a good laugh about it before making out. He probably liked her boobs. Taylor looked self-consciously down at her chest. Her own synthetic chest consisted of falsies, like the kind women who had gotten a breast removed after breast cancer wore. They weren’t huge or anything, just average. They were just big enough so that her t-shirts rounded over the hills, like a real girl, giving a little curve to her profile. She straightened her skirt again, folding her legs together against the side of the seat so her leg would stop moving. She took another drink, resigned that he wasn’t coming.

“Sorry –am I late?”

She jumped as he slid into the spot across from her. She cleared her throat, “I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

Dave shrugged, sliding out of his jacket and shoving it in the space between himself and the wall. “Well, Santana may be many things, but she isn’t a liar.”

Taylor frowned, “I’m not really sure what that means.”

Dave shifted, “I didn’t tell her to talk to you…but what she said was true.” He grew quiet as the waitress circled for them again to take his drink order and hand them some menus. He didn’t speak again until she walked away. “I, uh…let it slip that I may have a crush on you.”

“R-really? But Santana is your girlfriend. Didn’t she throw a fit?”

Dave mulled over the thought, “We’re not like that. It’s…complicated.”

Taylor tilted her head, “You aren’t like a polygamist or something are you? I’ve got enough problems without needing to think about future sister wives or--” She flushed, “Eh, not to insinuate…shit.” She sighed, pressing her hands against her face. “I’m no good at this.”

Karofsky reached across the table and pulled her hands away, “I’m not a polygamist. I have a hard enough time finding one girl who actually likes me, much less two or three. Santana…well, she isn’t really my girlfriend, we just –it’s complicated. But we’re friends. I don’t like her, like that.”

“Then why are you telling everyone you’re dating?”

“It’s not important,” he insisted. He looked down at his menu. “What are you thinking about ordering?”

“What’s good here?”

He glanced up, “Have you never been here before?”

She shook her head, “No. You may not have noticed, but I don’t really have many friends. Rory and Mel prefer the mall food court over restaurants when we’re together.”

He sucked in a breath and shook his head, “Wow. Umm…well, the burgers are good of course. Chicken….” He went through, listing off a few of his favorite things.

“Okay, I get the idea,” Taylor smiled, “Everything is good.”

“Well, it is Breadsticks. It’s the most popular place in town for a reason.”

Taylor nodded, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger as she scanned the menu. By the time the waitress turned to take their orders, they had set them aside and started talking about other things. All-in-all, things seemed to be going well. Dave was nicer than Taylor expected. He talked about starting the anti-bully campaign at school and admitted to being a reformed bully himself. He also, though it seemed to pain him to bring it up, talked about starting the Lima, OH PFLAG chapter with Kurt Hummel.

“So, are you becoming friends with Kurt too?” She asked, taking a bite out of her burger.

He frowned, circling spaghetti onto a fork, “No. He’s just…well, he’s kind of holding something over my head.”

“What?”

He shook his head, “It’s not important.”

“Well, if he’s blackmailing you into doing something…”

“Okay, then I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“All right,” she shrugged.

“Why don’t you talk about you for a little while?” Karofsky suggested.

“Oh, umm…” she shrugged. “We moved here from Cleveland…I kind of just try to keep my head down and stay out of trouble.”

“You must have some kind of hobby.”

She hummed, “I don’t know. Normal stuff I guess; I used to play some basketball.”

“Used to?”

“I just don’t have time for it anymore,” she shook her head. That wasn’t entirely the truth; mostly she couldn’t very well play girl’s ball when she had her tucked secret, and she couldn’t play boy’s basketball without telling everyone about it.
They talked some more over their food, covering the usual topics: favorite music, movies, TV shows. Before they knew it, their food was gone, the table had been cleared, the bill settled, and the restaurant was starting to empty of patrons as it got close to closing.

“Wow, I didn’t realize we’d been sitting here this long,” Dave pulled on his jacket as they joined the last wave of people to exit. They shifted off into the parking lot, where he had managed to snag the space next to her car. He leaned back against the tail-gate of his pick up, “So…can we do this again?”

She flipped her hair over the collar of her jacket and shoved her hands into her pockets, “I’d like that.”

“How about Friday night? We could go see a movie.”

“Okay,” she nodded.

“I’ll pick you up. You live two streets over from school, right?”

She nodded again, “I can get you directions later.”

“I’ll find it…or you could let me drop you off after school tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged, pulling her keys out of her pocket. “We’ll see.” She took a step forward, but not too close. “I had fun with you tonight. I was worried that what everyone said about you was true, but it’s not.”

“What does everyone say about me?”

“You already know; that you’re a bully and asshole. Not to mention temperamental, hot-headed and egotistical.” She gave him a point-of-fact look, “But you’re really nice when you want to be.” She bit her tongue, wondering how much longer he’d stay that way if she told him the truth. “I should get home; my parents are worriers.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “I’ll, ah…I’ll see you at school.”

“G’night,” she gave him a little half-wave before circling for the driver’s side door. He twisted to watch her leave before snagging his own keys out of his pocket and getting into the pick-up. He smiled to himself; for the first time ever he had gotten to have an actual date with a girl…and it had felt right.