Title: May Others Plan Their Future, I'm Busy Loving You

Author: hopefulwriter27

Rating: R

Pairing: Kurt/Dave, Kurt/Blaine (past)

Summary: The perfect life with Blaine that Kurt's always planned has fallen apart. Blaine is gone, Kurt's a divorcee, and his life no longer has direction. Then Kurt returns to Lima to visit his Dad and Carole, and he runs into Dave Karofsky. The man has grown up, and he teaches Kurt that just because plans don't turn out the way Kurt wanted, it doesn't mean that he can't be happy.

Author's Notes: No idea where this came from, but I'm going with it.

Part 1

In the end, Kurt keeps the ring. It's simple and gold, nothing spectacular. The engraving on the inside - forever and always yours - is hidden from view, but it burns hot through his chest. The heat isn't a good feeling. Its path leaves Kurt's insides feeling scorched and tender. Still, Kurt finds himself wearing the damned thing around his finger months after the divorce.

"Can I buy you a drink?" asks a handsome blonde.

Kurt smiles and tucks his chin in hand. "Sure," he said, twisting his bored smirk into what he hopes is a flirty pout.

The guy's eyes slide across Kurt's lips and land on the metal. His nose wrinkles, age lines pucker around his eyes. "Actually, I just remembered I'm late to meeting my friends."

Kurt frowns then sighs as the man's broad shoulders disappear into the crowd. Kurt turns and holds his empty glass for the bartender to see.

Just one more and I'll go.

###

Home these days is a two bedroom, second story apartment in Queens. It doesn't have the open floor plan of the loft he and Blaine shared, nor is it a ten minute walk to Central Park. It is, however, located six blocks from Ragtime, the best Italian grocer Kurt's had the pleasure of running into since he moved to New York. His fridge is stocked with Mozzarella balls, and he has fresh rolls with dinner at least once a week.

Kurt uses the smaller bedroom as a make-shift office since he has yet to go into his real one since the separation. An L-shaped, black lacquered desk holds his laptop on one side and his desktop on the other. Sketches of multi-colored costumes are pinned to the long corkboard on the opposite wall. However, instead of working, Kurt fiddles around with iTunes, making playlists called "Sobbing" and "Screw Him" and his personal favorite, "It's Not Fucking Perfect," which includes Mercedes' new chart topper, Bring Him Down.

Weeks meld into months and one morning Kurt wakes up to the phone ringing. "Hello?" he says, vision blurry and mouth dry as a desert. There's a half-empty bottle of ice wine sitting on his nightstand- damn, that's a waste, along with a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich.

"Dude, I'm outside your place. Come let me in."

"Finn?" Kurt says. He pushes himself up and glances at the clock. "It's seven o'clock in the morning."

"I know," chirps his step-brother. "Rachel and I got in a fight. I need pancakes."

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and rubs at his temples.

"Kurt?"

"I'm getting up. Hold on a sec and I'll come down."

Finn has a bag slung over his shoulder and his hair is sticking up all over the place. His coat is mis-buttoned, and half-circles hang under his eyes. Kurt hops from foot to foot, toes cold against the cement steps, and says, "Hurry up, before I freeze to death."

Kurt waits until Finn has a mouthful of banana wheat pancakes before asking, "What happened?"

Finn swallows and licks his lips. "I don't know." He runs a hand through his hair. Kurt catches sight of the thick gold band around his step-brother's finger and glances at his own hand. "One minute we're reading Babs a goodnight story, and the next Rachel is biting my head off about not doing the dishes." He dips his finger in syrup pooled at the edge of his plate and licks it away. Kurt wrinkles his nose, but says nothing. "We fought all night, and after like, no sleep, she starts in with me again this morning!"

Kurt sighs and holds out his own piece of turkey bacon. Finn accepts the offering and shoves it in his mouth. Kurt's stomach rolls, and he takes a sip of his coffee to calm his alcohol induced aches. "Were you supposed to do the dishes?"

Red darkens his cheeks, and Finn looks down at his plate. "I got busy." His head snaps back up. "I just don't understand why it such a big deal! They're just dishes!"

"Finn," Kurt scolds. "It's not about the dishes. It's about Rachel being seven months pregnant and not wanting to have to do any extra work. She's tired, and missing her job. You need to give her some slack."

Finn frowns and chugs down his juice. His should sag. "I know. She's not good a being bored." He meets Kurt's gaze and adds, "I'm not good at remembering chores."

Kurt kicks him lightly under the table. "I know."

The corners of Finn's mouth rise. "I should apologize?"

"Flowers and candy," Kurt replies.

"Flowers and candy," Finn repeats.

###

They walk down to Jill's Flower Garden, eight blocks south of Kurt's apartment, and Finn spends twenty minutes searching before settling on a bouquet of white orchids. "What do you think?" He holds them up for Kurt to see.

Kurt inspects them, checking for drooping or ripped petals. "They look good."

Finn brings them to his nose and sniffs. "I don't want them to be good. I want them to be magical."

A bright beam of sunlight streams through the store's front windows and beats Kurt between the eyes. His head throbs, and he tugs his sunglasses back out of his pocket. "Finn, as much as I love flowers, and you, I've had about five hours of sleep, and I'm nursing a hangover. Nothing seems magical to me right now."

His step-brother's eyes narrow over the bouquet, and he stares for an endless second. Finn lowers his arm, the flowers drop, and he steps closer. His voice is soft as he says, "I'm sorry. I never even asked how you're doing."

"Besides my pounding head? I'm fine," Kurt says. Finn's eyes dart to the ring on Kurt's left hand and frown lines appear over his brow. Kurt stuffs his hand into his coat pocket. He can't keep the sharp edge from his voice when he says, "Are you almost finished? I need another few hours of sleep before work."

"You've started back at the office again?"

Kurt looks down at his shoes. "Well no, but I'm designing like a mad-man from home. I turned in three costumes just last week." Kurt doesn't mention that Mitchell sent them back with a giant question mark attached to the file and the note, "You're lucky I think you're fucking magnificent," scribbled across the first page.

Finn stares at him for a moment, and then tension in his shoulders ease. Kurt relaxes, thinking the conversation is over. "Have you talked to him?

The question knocks the air from Kurt's lungs like a punch to the chest. His legs go weak, and his eyes begin to burn. He can't think, so he answers honestly. "No." The word comes out harsh and dry. "He's tried to call me a few times, and he sent me a letter." It's in Kurt's scarf drawer, hidden from view. "I couldn't read it."

"Don't you think it will give you some closure if you talk to him?" Finn asks.

Closure, Kurt thinks unkindly. Rachel's taught him well. "It probably would," Kurt admits. "But I just can't." Sorrow clogs his throat, and Kurt gasps for a breath. Tears cloud his eyes and turn turns his head, unable to look at his brother. "He left me." A hand touches his shoulder. "He found someone else, someone better."

The plastic wrap from the flowers crunches against his back as Finn wraps his long arms around Kurt. "There is no one better," Finn whispers into his hair.

Kurt presses his face into Finn's shoulder. Then why wasn't I enough? His fingers dig into Finn's coat and cries, right there in the damned flower shop. Why wasn't I enough?