"Next up, Kurt Hummel," Brock said, leaning back in his chair a little. The committee went quiet instead of starting up on the usual back-and-forth mixed bag of derisive comments and social advantages. A few seniors glanced at each other, not sure how to start.

"The ladyboy?" someone finally scoffed.

"Shut the fuck up, Karofsky—you can't say shit like that," Derek snapped.

"What, like you weren't saying 'shit like that' literally last week?"

"Well, that was..."

Before a trans dude had rushed Phi Delta Theta. The living room lapsed into silence again.

"So offensive," Derek muttered to himself, loudly enough to make sure Karofsky heard him.

"Since when!" he complained.

"Uh, since always?"

"Fuck off," Karofsky snorted, draining the rest of his beer before leaning back to chuck it into the overflowing trash can that they all pretended they didn't notice so they wouldn't have to be the one to take it out.

"I say we let him in," Brock said before the next lapse could get too tense.

"...what?" It wasn't Karofsky, though; it was Mister Morals himself.

"Yeah," Brock said, focused now; honed in the way he always was when he got to thinking. He sat forward in his seat again, looking at Kurt Hummel's transcript. "Great grades, spectacular extracurriculars, charming..."

"Fag," Karofsky coughed into his fist, snickering. Whether he meant Hummel or Brock or both was left unclarified.

"We'd be the only fraternity at OSU with an out gay dude—and probably one of the only ones in the country with a transgender. And I'm including the sororities on that count," Brock explained, ignoring him. Nothing out of Karofsky's mouth was ever serious, and he spent fifty percent of his college career at least three beers in. The other half, of course, was dedicated to the only part of school he really cared about, as best as any of the rest of them could figure, which was hockey.

"Yeah, I'm sure the board would just love that," Jared drawled, shaking his head. "No way, man. It's bad news."

"Think bigger," Brock said, exasperated. "If we let him in, that looks great to an as-of-yet woefully underutilized group, and that all but puts my dad in office. You know how much of the gay community is registered Democrat? Like all of it. And what's good for my dad is good for all of us."

"I don't know, man..." Derek admitted uncertainly. "The other pledges aren't gonna wanna room with a gay dude."

"Fuck them!" Brock laughed. "We own those little shits. If they want to make it into a big deal, they can sleep in the basement. Besides... You do have to admit, it took balls to even rush to begin with."

"...I thought he didn't have any," Karofsky said, confused.

---

Dave couldn't let this whole thing fly. First of all, apparently everything he said was offensive or phobic, which was stupid if you asked him. Tranny was, like, basically the same word as trans! How was that offensive? And now Brock was saying they couldn't call each other fags anymore??

And that didn't even start to get into the 'second of all' of the shitshow—which he didn't wanna get into either. It didn't matter. What mattered was Brock wanted some girly gay dude prissing up the house, because of fucking course they wanted him to live at the house, and everyone else had just... agreed.

Dave had too, but only because he'd had to. It had been more of an annoyed 'fine, whatever' than an outright yes. God, what a bunch of cock-smoking dumbfucks. See how much they liked it when Hummel was redecorating everything in doilies and nagging everyone to clean and shit.

Maybe it would take care of itself. He'd probably wash out before the hazing even really started.

"Alright, ladies," Dave barked, glaring at their little gaggle of fresh meat. Next they'd be telling him that was offensive. "Phi Delta Theta welcomes you, and all that other kumbaya bullshit. Brotherhood and opportunity and blah blah blah. None of that garbage matters right now; right now? What matters is every single one of you weenies belongs to me.

"From here on out, you will refer to me as sir or, if you're really feeling like kissing my fat ass, master," he said, but then his grin faltered. "You, uh... not you two," he conceded awkwardly when he realized they had two black pledges. "Uh. You can just call me Karofsky."

One of them snorted, which made someone else laugh.

"You laughing at me, you little jizz stain?" Dave asked, rounding on the other (white) guy. Look, he didn't know what he was supposed to do, he just knew it felt gross to make a black dude call him master, pledge or not.

"Um! ...no?" the pledge winced.

"No. What?"

"...sir? N-no sir."

"That's more like it, bitch. Drop and give me fifty. As for the rest of you dipshits," he said as the skinny pledge in the glasses knelt down and started trying to get away with girl pushups. "Any questions?"

"I have one," a voice spoke up. "Are we supposed to be intimidated by this?" It wasn't hard to zero in on Hummel when he'd already been thinking about him all fucking afternoon. His large, clear blue eyes bore right into Dave, his expression condescending.

"Dude," the guy next to Kurt hissed, still eyeing Dave warily instead of looking over at him. "Shut up."

"No no, it's fine," Dave assured. "We encourage all of our pledges to speak up when they have something to say. I, for one, think it was really nice of Hummel to volunteer for bathroom duty."

God, he'd known this guy was gonna be a pain in the ass. He didn't know why Brock thought he'd be able to hang, but it was minute one and he was already being an uptight dick. He didn't belong there.

"Well," Hummel said, tilting his chin up. He was half a head shorter than Dave, but it still felt like he was looking down on him. "Someone has to make sure they're clean."

"Good thing we have you then, huh?" Dave agreed with a hard, tense smile. Not exactly the reaction he'd been expecting, but that was fine. The problem was definitely gonna take care of itself now. Hummel thought he could handle cleaning up after fifteen other dudes? He gave it a week, tops.

Especially once Dave let the guys know they had a pledge scrubbing their toilets.

"We have four and a half bathrooms, by the way," he added, giving Kurt a rough clap on the shoulder. "Good luck with that, l-"

'Lady lips' was probably on the new No-No list. God, this was so fucking annoying. It wasn't like he meant—*that...* Just that he had, like. He didn't know! Nice—*gay*. Gay lips.

And that just didn't roll off the tongue as well.

"Dipshit," he finished lamely. Fuck, he'd already called the pledges dipshits like ten seconds ago. Man, he was off his game.

"Very original," Hummel smirked. "I think I'll be just fine."

"Sure thing, cupcake," Dave agreed. "Y'know, I haven't been hearing a whole lot of sir going on. How about you go ahead and get started now? Cleaning supplies are in the basement."

---

"Havin' fun yet, Hummel?" Dave asked as he appeared in the doorway, butting one shoulder up against the frame with his hands shoved in his pockets. Man, and he was on the worst bathroom, too—ie, the one they never bothered to clean because it was the one girls were almost never at risk of seeing during parties. He almost felt bad for the guy.

Hummel's shirt was damp with sweat, and the perfectly styled hair he'd walked in with that morning was now hanging in his face.

He stepped inside and crouched down so he could get a better look at him, forearms resting on his knees. It was really impressive that he still looked hot, even wearing rubber gloves and all sweaty from scrubbing a bunch of dude-funk.

Or—not hot. Unless you meant, like, literally. But like... like...

God, he needed him out of this house.

"Tons. I never realized how many men get through life without ever having to clean up after themselves." Hummel glared, but it was weak.

"Hey, that's offensive!" Dave scoffed, shaking his head slightly. He reached out (don't be an idiot) and lifted some of Kurt's limp hair out of his eyes with one finger (god*dammit*) so he could get a better look at him.

"I know how. I just don’t," he joked, flicking his hair out of the way of his eyes, careful not to touch him any more than that.

The truth was, even he knew their bathrooms were disgusting. He never remembered to put any of his clothes away, and he'd only ever made his bed at home at figurative gunpoint, but at least he could say with confidence that he knew how to fucking aim when he pissed.

"Still not hearing a sir..." Dave pointed out, amused. "What, did you think you were gonna roll up and get special treatment?"

Hummel looked like he was about to start arguing, sitting up on his knees with a huffy little look on his face. Dave smirked. He was totally a goner.

But then the look passed, and what replaced it was smooth and prissy. One brow raised and he looked Dave up and down, a brutally short assessment. And why the fuck did he feel like the grimy one now?! Hummel was the one covered in sweat and cleaner and who knew what else!

"Sorry, I just didn't realize that joining a fraternity meant living in a direct-to-DVD frat movie," Hummel sneered. "Tell me, exactly... how many stupid frat movies did you watch to get your act right?"

Honestly...? Dave had probably watched a lot of them—not for fucking research, just like... like how anyone watched movies. Who the fuck didn't like Animal House, right?

"Enough for me to know that your full of it, holier-than-thou attitude means you don't have what it takes to be a brother," he countered. And thank god for that, because if he had to be around this dude every day, he was gonna go nuts. It wasn't his whole... downstairs... situation or whatever. Honestly, he kind of kept forgetting about it since he was so—

Annoying. He was just so... annoying.

"If you think this is enough to get rid of me? You're sorely mistaken," Hummel said, his voice cold and stiff. "Sir," he tacked on with a hard smile. Now it just sounded like a fucking insult.

The thing was, part of Dave respected it. If it had been any other pledge, he would have respected it a lot. But Hummel wasn't any other pledge. He was... him.

"That's more like it," Dave said anyway, forcing a smug smile. He was good at that, at least. "Get back to work, Hummel."

Dave didn't know what he was supposed to do at first. It had been a week, and Hummel still hadn't washed out. On the other hand, the house probably hadn't been this clean since before any of them had moved in. That was kind of... not cool, that was lame, but a novelty at least.

And at what cost?

He'd had to put two other pledges on cleaning duty with him just so Brock wouldn't get on his ass for messing with The Gay Kid, but it had mostly been Hummel's job.

And it wasn't like that, anyway. He wasn't trying to like... discriminate or whatever! He just... needed to go. Cleaning up after a house full of dudes hadn't sent him running, so Dave needed a better idea. And it had taken him a few days, but he was pretty sure he even had one.

"Hummel," he barked from the kitchen doorway. He refused to admit that taking a shower in a clean bathroom had been nice. He also refused to admit that he'd been picking up after himself to keep it that way for longer. "C'mon, it's time for your—Meeks, what're you doing?" he asked, a confused laugh escaping.

"You told me to stand in time out for walking in front of the TV when the game was on, sir," the pledge responded, his voice a little muffled by the corner.

"...oh right," Dave said, laughing harder. "I forgot. Alright, fuck off I guess. C'mon, Hummel."

He watched Hummel turn off the sink and pull the dishtowel (that he hadn't known they'd even owned) off of his shoulder to lay over the side of the sink. When he turned, he looked at Dave expectantly, like he was an idiot. Dave was pretty used to that look now.

"It's time for my what?" he asked, starting to unroll his shirtsleeves as he made his way over. Hummel was always wearing shit like that. Button-downs and vests and bowties and shit, like he was on gay Boardwalk Empire or some shit.

He'd been getting with the program a little over the week—he was even calling Dave sir like at least half of the time—which was exactly why Dave had to put his plan into action.

"Evaluation," Dave said, circling back around.

"There's gonna be evaluations?!" the other pledge all but yelped. Dave could say with complete confidence that Meeks was the biggest weenie to ever pledge Phi Delta Theta.

"Yeah," Dave lied. "Better start studying up before yours."

"...studying what?" he asked, panicked.

"Well, if you don't know, I'm not gonna tell you," Dave drawled, nodding toward the hallway before leading the way. Man, he loved fucking with that guy. He wished he could enjoy fucking with Hummel as much, but that wasn't what this was about. "There's no fucking evaluation," Dave snickered quietly, letting Hummel in on the joke.

"All of the others are going to think they have evaluations by the end of the day," Hummel pointed out. He looked a little like he was trying not to smile or laugh.

"I know," Dave agreed with another laugh. The thing about Hummel was, he wasn't so bad. He hated that. The two gay kids he'd gone to high school with had been nasty bitches who made a game out of making the unpopular girls cry when they wore something ugly.

Dave wouldn't have known the difference either way by their standards, but if you asked him? It was way shittier than anything he'd ever done. And he hadn't exactly been that nice in high school.

He guessed he wasn't now either, but he was just clowning. It wasn't serious.

Dave didn't say anything else until they got to where they were going—his room. He was one of the only guys who had their own room, and he'd worked hard to get it. He needed his own space or he'd lose it—it was bad enough constantly being in the changing rooms with other dudes.

Normally his door stayed locked when he wasn't there; pledges weren't banned from his room, but he'd never let Hummel in before.

Since he had his own room, it was one of the smallest bedrooms—the only big bedroom claimed solo was Brock's, and you didn't exactly complain when the dude's dad had his name on the library.

It looked a lot like his room at home, minus the room for activities. Hockey and music posters slapped on the walls, a messy desk and unmade bed, but not nasty like a lot of the brothers' rooms were. He, at least, dumped his food mess in the kitchen before forgetting about it.

"You wanna be here so bad? You're gonna work for it," Dave said, glancing Hummel over as he closed the door behind them. Man, this was gonna be hilarious. Brock probably wouldn't see it that way, but he'd deal with him when he had to and not a second sooner.

"Well, obviously," Hummel replied annoyed. He crossed his arms over his chest, pursing his lips. "You've only been humiliating us for the last week. What, do you want me to scrub the roof next?"

...that would actually be kind of hilarious, but Dave couldn't say that. Maybe once Hummel was out of there he'd use it on one of the other pledges.

"Maybe next week," he said instead, watching Hummel look around at his room. He waited for that bitchy judgmental look he always got on his face, but his expression was mildly curious if anything.

"I was thinking something... a little more hands on. Just for you, since you seem to think you're so special."

Hummel didn't look impressed. That was fine. He'd thought hard about exactly what he was gonna say; about exactly what would get him to flame out the fastest. And honestly? Dave thought it was probably some of his best work.

"The way I see it, there's gotta be a reason you wanna live in a house full of dudes so bad," he pointed out. He didn't feel great about the flicker of rage on Hummel's face, but it was good. They were right on track. "Figure we can both get something out of you being here if you're gonna be such a pain in my ass anyway."

"Excuse me?" Hummel snapped.

"Yeah," Dave said, pushing forward. This kind of wasn't as funny as it'd seemed in his head—Hummel seemed actually mad and not just pissy and grossed out—but it was definitely working; what else did he need? "You wanna stay? You're gonna have to do more than everyone else to earn it. So. Here's the deal: Whenever I want, however I want. And I'll make sure you make it to initiation and get your scholarship money.

"Or... you could just leave," Dave said with a shrug. Hummel was practically shaking, he looked so mad. "I even found you another frat with a scholarship program. Papers are right there," he said, nodding towards his desk. It wasn't as much money, but it was a smaller house with a bunch of fucking dorks running it. Hummel would probably like it more there anyway.

"Are you seriously suggesting you want me to be your—your—"

"Sex slave?" Dave offered, keeping a straight face. "Oh yeah. Two months and three weeks, and I make sure no one tries to fuck up your initiation."

Hummel just stared at Dave for a long, long moment. He stared him down right back at first, but he started getting nervous after a few seconds when Hummel still hadn't said anything. God, would he just take the papers already?

"Fine."

Jesus, finally. Dave breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'll do it. Two months. Three weeks."

Wait... what.

Dave felt like he was going nuts. He was bluffing. He had to be—who the fuck would agree to something like that?! Yeah... yeah, he was just bluffing because he knew Dave wasn't serious. That was fine; he could do that too.

"Okay," Dave agreed, lifting his chin and crossing his arms. "You'll be on call."

"Fine."

"Whatever I want. Whenever I want."

"Yes, you said that already," Hummel said in that voice he got when he wanted Dave to feel stupid.

"As many times as I want," Dave added, just so he could say he'd added something new to the mix instead of just repeating himself like a dumbass.

"Fine."

"You're not gonna like it," Dave taunted. "For all you know, I'm into some seriously fucked up shit."

"I sincerely doubt you're capable of being that creative," Hummel said dismissively.

"You'll quit in a day, tops."

"We'll see."

Dave faltered briefly. Why the fuck wasn't he caving?

"Might as well get to work right now then," Dave said pointedly, but he felt like he was losing his balance a little. He'd run out of carefully planned script like three minutes ago. "Y'know, I think I could go for some head right about now. And by the way? I still expect you to call me sir."

"Alright," Hummel said coolly. He reached back and locked Dave's door. "I can do that. Sir."

"Uh-huh," Dave snorted. He looked Hummel in the eye as he reached down and undid the button on his shorts with a sharp flick of his wrist, then pulled his fly down. "Prove it."

He smirked and waited for Hummel to finally start yelling at him or girly punch him or just flat out walk out on him. But Hummel was just looking right back at him. The smirk dropped off of his face when Hummel dropped to his knees. Dave looked down at him, eyes wide.

"What're you doing?!" he yelped. This was—this was not how this was supposed to go. Why wasn't he bailing?! It was Hummel smirking now; he reached up and pulled Dave's shorts down lower on his hips, never breaking eye contact as he reached down the front of his boxer-briefs and pulled his cock out.

His confidence seemed to finally get a little rattled when he got a look at it; Dave's idiot cock didn't care that this was all supposed to be a—a joke! A way to make Hummel leave! It was already more than half hard, and it was... not small.

"Oh my god," Hummel said, somewhere between horrified and impressed.

"Yeah," Dave agreed a little breathlessly, which sounded fucking dumb in retrospect, like he was seeing his own dick for the first time. "Too much?" he still managed to get out; more impressively, he still managed to sound like a smug dick about it.

Which was maybe a mistake, because Hummel gave him a nasty little smile, leaned in, and took the head of his cock into his mouth. Dave didn't really know what else to do but stand there and watch and—ohhh fuck, that was good. He was pretty sure he hadn't gotten a blowjob since freshman year.

"Shit," Dave ground out, grabbing the back of his desk chair to keep himself on his feet. "What the fuck, Hummel..."

"What's wrong, Karofsky?" Hummel asked, putting on a bullshit, cutesy innocent voice as he pulled back a little. "You said you wanted me to suck it. Should I stop...?"

Dave just looked at him for a second, breath shuddering as he tried to get his head back on straight. He could tell him to get off his fucking dick, take the application form, and get out of his room. He really should do that. Or...

"Get back to fucking work." Dave pushed his head back down, grunting under his breath when Hummel put it back in his mouth. Okay, so maybe his plan hadn't worked, like, at all... but this? This was good too. Really good. Hummel looked just as hot with his cock in his mouth as he'd—

Not that he'd thought about it. Just, like, his mouth was all... gay looking and shit.

Hummel couldn't fit that much of his cock in his mouth, but Dave hadn't really expected him to be able to, and he definitely wasn't complaining; not with the way his hand was working the rest of him, Hummel's spit making the movement smooth while his tongue did fucking something that made Dave groan, low in his chest.

"That's good," he muttered, watching Hummel's face as he sucked steadily. Some hazy part of his brain was trying to tell him it was fucking gay to watch him instead of closing his eyes and picturing a chick, but Hummel was looking at him too, and it felt like his eyes were pinning him in place.

Daring him to look away first.

And Dave really, really couldn't. His hand settled heavily on the back of Hummel's head, guiding him to move faster. It was embarrassing, but he really wasn't gonna last very long. It'd been... a little while since he'd gotten laid. It wasn't that chicks didn't like him—he wasn't a fucking loser. It was just...

He was really busy. With hockey and everything. That was all.

"Fuck yeah," Dave grunted as he watched Hummel work him over, his cheeks hollowing every time he pulled back. He'd been right; it wasn't even two minutes before he felt his balls start to tighten. "Gonna fuckin' cum, Hummel," Dave warned, his voice tight.

He sucked faster, squeezing and pumping Dave's cock until he started to cum with a short, almost pained noise, his cock pulsing in his grip as he got off in Hummel's mouth; he didn't think he'd ever cum this hard or this much before in his life.

Dave hadn't even processed that he'd stopped and was leaning over to spit it out into the trash can by the desk until after he'd already done it.

And then they just looked at each other for a second, both of them breathing hard. Dave really wanted to say something that was... he didn't know, something to get Hummel back for that bitchy smile he'd had on his face before he'd started blowing him.

But he couldn't think of a single fucking thing to say except for a shaky, "Holy shit."

Hummel stayed on his knees for a moment as he finished catching his breath, finally looking away as the tips of his ears burned pink. He got back up, straightening his clothes carefully, still looking anywhere but at Dave.

Man, he should have said 'good boy'. That would've been so funny; Hummel would have been pissed for sure.

"Well," Hummel said when he finally looked at him again, his voice smug and flippant at the same time. "That settles that. On to terms."

"...huh?" Dave asked, looking a little like a confused dog.

"Terms," Hummel said, slowly this time. "Of this... arrangement?"

"What the fuck does that mean, 'terms'? I already gave 'em to you. I wanna fuck, you come give me what I want, you get into the frat."

"No, Karofsky," Hummel sneered. "My terms. Whatever and whenever is too vague, even with my absolute certainty that there's no way you can come up with anything truly heinous."

"Hey!" Dave snapped. "Yeah I fucking could!" It sounded whinier than he'd meant for it to.

"Name one thing."

"Well, I mean—" Dave was scrambling mentally, trying to think of just one thing that didn't boil down to we fuck and I cum. Hummel blinked slowly and crossed his arms, patiently waiting him out. "There's always, like—I dunno! Weird shit."

Hummel snorted quietly and rolled his eyes. "That's what I thought."

Dave glared at him until he jumped on the first thing that finally came to mind. It sure would've been nice if he'd thought of it before Hummel was looking at him like he was too stupid to function. "What if I wanna piss on your face?"

"Wh—" Hummel gaped at him for a second before pulling it back together. "Do you?!"

"I mean... not really, but I thought of something," he pointed out with a smirk. "So fuck you."

"It doesn't count if you don't want to do it," Hummel spat. "I—*nevermind*, we're getting off track. Do you have a notebook?"

"Dude, it's been half an hour," Dave groaned, covering his face with his hands as he flopped back onto his bed from where he was sitting on the side of it. "I get it!"

This had been a lot hotter in his head for the whole five seconds he'd gotten to actually think about it once he'd realized Hummel was serious. He'd already initialed like ten things.

"Do you?" Hummel asked dryly.

"Yeah!" Dave said into his hands before pulling then away. "Stop when you say stop, nothing freaky without making sure it's okay, and like a million other things I already knew!"

"And no kissing," Hummel said archly, already starting to add it to the list.

"The fuck is this, Pretty Woman?" Dave asked incredulously, sitting up on his elbows. "I wasn't gonna kiss you, bro. I'm not gay."

Hummel stopped writing mid-word and his eyes flicked upward from his notebook; he just stared him down for a second, one brow raised, then went back to writing.

"What?" Dave scowled.

"Absolutely nothing," Hummel said blandly, shaking his head a little. "Initial," he added, holding the notebook out. Dave rolled his eyes and took the pen, scrawling yet another sloppy DK next to Kurt's elegant KH.

"Happy now?" Dave asked as he handed it back.

"Almost," Hummel said, picking up the pen again. "No dresses."

"Dresses?" Dave sat up a little more, because Hummel's voice had lost a little of the cold edge it'd had since they'd started listing things out. Not by much, but enough that Dave noticed. Hummel wasn't looking at him.

"I'm not a girl," he said. "No dresses. No skirts or heels or shaving my legs or—or anything like that. I'm not pretending to be a girl just so you can feel better about this."

Dave pulled himself all the way up so he could actually look at Hummel. "Bro, I know you're not a chick. I wasn't gonna... like. Yeah."

"Eloquent," he replied, but it sounded a little less like a knife.

Hummel was looking at him again at least, so he guessed he hadn't said anything extra dumb that would go on the No-No list—the uh. The regular unspoken one that said he couldn't say fag anymore. Not the one Hummel was writing.

Dave reached for the pen without being told this time, initialing the new line.

"Y'know, I have a few things too," Dave said as he dropped the pen onto the notebook.

"Of course you do," Hummel said under his breath.

"Dude, you got like twelve!" Dave exclaimed. "I can have a couple too."

"I never said you couldn't," Hummel sighed. "Fine, what are they?"

"No telling anyone about this."

"Wouldn't want anyone to think you're gay," Hummel agreed smoothly. He started writing. "But I was going to say the same thing."

"Very funny," Dave muttered, initialing when he was given the notebook. "No fucking other people."

"What?" it was Hummel's turn to ask.

"It's ten weeks. I think you'll survive," Dave said, motioning for him to write it down. "No fucking other people. I don't want some other dude's sloppy seconds, and I'm not gonna work around some jackoff boyfriend's schedule. You're mine until after Hell Week."

"You are absolutely disgusting. You know that, right?"

"I try," Dave agreed, shooting him a sharp grin.

"No having sex with other people," Hummel sighed as he wrote it down. "I'd say the same goes for you, but I sincerely doubt that's going to be a problem."

"Well of course it goes both—*hey*, fuck you!"

"Not until we're done with this," Hummel said sarcastically.