(So I ship them. And I really want them to be canon.)
Pairing: Irishofsky (Dave Karofsky and Damian McGinty’s character)
To say that Dave Karofsky was intrigued by the new transfer student/Irish kid was an understatement.
He hadn’t gotten in time to stop Azimio from throwing a slushie at the poor kid’s face, yelling “Welcome to McKinley, leprechaun!” as he high-fived Strando and left. He would’ve been in time if he hadn’t been chasing the guys who slushied Hudson after first period. Dave expected the new kid to run to the closest bathroom, but what he got was an entirely different response.
“Hey! At least throw me a blueberry one next time, guys! I’m allergic to cherry! Gee,” the Irish kid said, spitting out the rest of his cherry facial. “Pfft, pfft…”
For a moment, Dave just stood there, staring at him, his cool hair and his purple hoodie soaked with red slushie. He was just about to think the kid was dazzling, just a little bit, but then the thought sort of freaked him out. Guys didn’t think other guys were dazzling. ‘Cause that would make him–
No, no, no. Don’t even go there. No.
“Can I help you?” the kid said suddenly, snapping Dave out of his thoughts. He was also staring at him with a slightly mocking smile. Then Dave remembered that he was dressed with his Bully Whips outfit.
“Uh, I…” Dave was at a loss for words. Freaking hell, since when had any guy left him speechless? Well, he couldn’t really be blamed, because that accent–whoa, wait, what the heck? “No, I, uh, actually I was gonna check if you were all right.”
“Oh,” the Irish boy nodded. “Um, yeah, I’m okay. Honestly, I was sort of expecting this.”
“You… you were? Didn’t you just trans–”
“Well, yeah,” he said, opening his locker and pulling a towel out of it. “But some people warned me this could happen if I joined Glee club and–”
“Wait,” Dave said, narrowing his eyes. “You’re in Glee club?” The kid nodded again as he nearly rubbed his skin off on the towel. Not only was his voice amazing at speaking, but it could sing as well? Okay, stop that, right there. Dave scoffed. “Then you’re gonna need lots more of those,” he said, pointing at the towel with which the kid was drying his face.
“Ah, I assumed,” the kid sighed. “But it’s okay. I’m used to bullying. I’ve learned not to let them get me down because of who I am, so they can do whatever they want to me. I’m not gonna break.”
Not to let them get me down… I’m not gonna break… Now if only it was that easy for him.
Wait… “of who I am”? So, did that mean…?
“My name’s Damian,” the kid said, stopping Dave from getting to any conclusions, “Damian McRory, by the way.” Then he held out his hand, which Dave shook without a second thought, although it was sticky with red slushie.
“Dave,” he replied. “Dave Karofsky.”
How long they shook hands, he didn’t know. It was a little hard to let go of that hand.
“Um,” Damian chuckled, “y-you can let go of my hand now.”
“Oh.” Dave nodded, almost embarrassed, before letting Damian’s hand go. “S-sorry.”
“It’s cool,” Damian said. “No problem.”
Dave’s mind was racing as he wondered if he should tell Damian not to worry that much anymore, because see, he was part of these anti-bullying campaign called the Bully Whips (hence the ridiculous red outfit), and he was in charge of protecting anyone from any kind of bullying, and since Damian was new, Dave could totally help him during the first days and, y'know, maybe accompany him around a little bit and–
Seriously, stop. Right. Now.
But then the bell rang, and the hallways began to clear up.
Damian cleared his throat. “So, see you around?”
“Yeah,” Dave said before he could bite his tongue to stop himself from saying stupidities. “See you around.”
The Irish kid waved at him, smiling sympathetically, and then he got a green hoodie out of his locker, closed it, swung the hoodie over his shoulder, and walked off.
Dave Karofsky had no idea of who this kid was, or who he “truly” was, or how much bullying he’d gone through, or how good he sang. But to say that he was intrigued by Damian McRory was the fucking understatement of the fucking century.