Sometimes when a mommy fic and a daddy fic love each other very much, they come together and make a baby fic that is a combination of both of their best parts. And so goes this fic, which was originally going to be two fics: 1) The story of Dave's first trip to Scandals, thus giving us a window into his journey that we were so rudely denied by RIB+6 and 2) A Dave or Kurt POV of THE SCENE from The First Time. Dave won, because he needs a voice more than Kurt, I think, and also because Max gave me about 5,000 different things to work with in that one short scene.
With that, I hope you enjoy. :)
As Dave Karofsky made his way from the pool table to the bar to get another beer, he never suspected that something momentous was waiting at his destination. As soon as he got within ten feet of the bar, he spotted him immediately. Kurt Hummel. Standing so tall and slim, hair styled perfectly and fashionable clothes clinging to his lithe frame. Dave ducked back, pressing up against the shadows of the back wall. Luckily, Kurt hadn't noticed him at all. He was looking at the dance floor with an irritated expression, sipping on a drink with a ridiculous little umbrella in it. Following Kurt's gaze, he saw Kurt's boyfriend Blaine dancing with that annoying rich kid who was always coming on to everyone with a penis at Scandals. Christ, if they hook up, I hope they use something thought Dave. Kurt's gonna get chlamydia just from being in the same room with Blaine after that. Turning his head back to Kurt, he took a moment to fully inspect the boy he hadn't seen in five months. Unsurprisingly, Kurt hadn't become any less beautiful. If anything, he was even more so.
They say you never forget your first time. Dave knew this was true. He would certainly never forget his first kiss, with that beautiful boy. And for sure, he would never forget the first time he ever walked into this place. It may have looked seedy and dumpy to someone like Kurt. But to Dave, it was heaven. No, it was a haven. A place where Dave could be Dave, not Karofsky. Where people liked him, accepted him. Treated him like family.
Dave remembered the nervousness, the anticipation of coming to Scandals for the first time several weeks after the end of junior year. Things had gotten bad for Dave after prom. He saw how the other students looked at him differently; side-eyeing him like they weren't sure what to think. The other jocks, at least the ones who weren't in glee, started to avoid him. Even Z, who Dave had always been tight with. He finally tracked Azimio down in the locker room about a week after, asking him to be honest with him. To tell him what the fuck was going on with his reputation at McKinley. Z's words had left him white-faced and trembling.
"Look, man, I'm not saying any of this shit is true," said Azimio, not looking Dave in the eye. "But there's rumors, y'know? It sucks that you had to be part of that Hummel prom queen prank. But we thought you'd laugh with us, make fun of him or something. But instead, you like, fuckin' walked out onto the dance floor with him. Whispering and shit. I thought you were actually gonna do it for a minute there. Dance with the fairy, I mean." He paused for a moment, then continued. "I don't know what's going on with you. But you looked at him like you were gonna fuckin' cry. You ran off, then Santana broke up with you the next day. What are people supposed to think, bro?"
Dave could hardly hear anything over the buzz in his ears. His worst fears were coming true. They know. They know about me, what a freak I am. That I'm gay, that I like boys and not girls, like a normal guy. His stomach twisted, and he fought not to throw up on Z's sneakers.
The next few weeks passed in a blur. Dave went from class to class, with his head down and barely speaking to anyone. He went home at the end of each day and nearly ran to his room, often refusing to come down for dinner, saying he wasn't hungry. He spent a lot of that time in his room lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking. Dave wanted a do-over so badly, a chance to go back and change a million things that he'd said and done this year. But that wasn't possible, and the thought of even getting through each day seemed more impossible with each passing one. Even if he made it until the end of this year without having a full-on panic attack in the hallways, or coming home and finally doing more with his mom's sleeping pills than just pouring them into his hand and staring at them, what about next year? He still had a whole other year of high school to survive, before he could get the fuck out of this cow town and start over with people who didn't know anything about him.
But even in a near constant fuge state of fear and despair, he somehow found the strength to promise himself something. If he could just make it until the end of the year, he'd at least try to change things. He didn't know how, or what the answer would be. But he did know that, one way or the other, he couldn't go through another year of living like this. So he shut out everything and everyone from his life, watched those fucking It Gets Better videos until his eyes were nearly bleeding, and waited for time to pass.
He'd expected the last day of school to somehow lift his spirits, but since he still didn't know what he was going to do, it was just more of the same. He continued to close himself in his room day after day when summer break began, until four days in, his dad knocked on his bedroom door. Not that that was unusual; his parents had been knocking on his door a few times a day, usually in the morning before they left for work, and a couple of times in the evening. Dave always told them to go away, and they always complied. But on that fourth day, Paul Karofsky finally decided to stop taking "go away" as an acceptable answer.
"No, David," his dad said, voice muffled by the door. "I'm not doing this anymore. I'm coming in whether you like it or not. I'll give you about thirty seconds to get dressed in case you're not, and then I'm coming in." Dave sat up on his messy bed, scrubbing his hands over his face. He was dressed, in the same cargo shorts and solid blue tee shirt he'd been wearing for days. His dad waited the few moments he'd promised, then entered Dave's room quietly. He stood there silently, taking in the cluttered space that his son usually kept so neat, and the blinds closed tightly, so no sunlight entered the room. He looked at Dave, and the fear in his father's eyes surprised him out of his lethargy.
"Hey, Dad," he said, shocked at how gravely his voice was from disuse.
"David," said his dad, in a broken voice that Dave didn't think he'd ever really heard him use before. "What's happened to you? What is it?" Paul went over and got on his knees before his sitting son, and brought his hands to his shoulders. "You know you can tell me anything. Your mother and I, we don't care what it is. Just please, please tell me what's wrong, so we can try to help fix it."
Dave looked into his dad's face, pale and desperate, and felt the wall he'd built up around his heart start to crumble. He wanted to badly himself to fix his life, and here was his dad, offering him exactly that. He didn't know what to do, but maybe his parents would. They'd always helped him before, even getting his expulsion reversed last year. What was wrong with him, that he'd gotten so depressed and isolated, he'd forgotten that? "Everything's so messed up, Dad," Dave said, his voice breaking as tears started to leak from the corners of his eyes. "I screwed it all up, and now everyone hates me. The kids I used to bully don't want anything to do with me. And my friends don't like that I'm different now. I'm so..." Dave paused, his breath hitching in a sob. "I'm so fucking alone, Dad. I've got no one but myself anymore, and I can't stand who I am." He broke down, finally weeping openly, hiding his face in his hands.
Suddenly, he felt himself pulled against a firm surface, and arms around his shoulders. "Don't say that," his dad choked out. "You are not alone. You have your mom and I, and you always will. Always, I promise, no matter what you do or who you are."
"He's right," Dave heard his mom say. She must have heard the crying, and decided to come in as well. Dave looked up from where he'd been sobbing against his father's shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed and teary, like she'd been crying herself a lot more than just these past few minutes. "We love you, David. Please, let us help you." Dave's mom threw her arms around him as well, and the three of them dissolved into tears.
That had been a real turning point for Dave. The one he needed, the one that had literally saved his life. He still couldn't bring himself to tell his parents that he was gay, but he told them about what had happened at prom, and the backlash that resulted from it. He talked about how he wanted to be a better person, but he didn't know how to do it when he felt like he was constantly being watched and talked about. His parents had listened sympathetically, and then offered a suggestion that was so obvious, Dave couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it himself. Transfer schools, to Carmel High, which had been their backup plan last year if they hadn't been able to get Dave's expulsion reversed. Dave had felt so trapped at McKinley, he'd been blind to a much less drastic method of escape than suicide.
Once Dave knew he didn't have to go back to McKinley, he started to feel better almost immediately. He started thinking that maybe he didn't have to wait until school started to begin making some changes. Dave knew for sure that he was gay, and that no matter what, he wasn't going to be able to stay in the closet forever. But at the same time, the thought of busting right out scared him to death. It was just too overwhelming, and brought back the same terrifying feelings as when Kurt had asked him to come out at prom. Dave wondered if maybe other kids had the same problem as him, so one night he typed "coming out stories" into Google. The results were a real eye opener for him. It turned out that coming out gradually, or selectively, was in fact a fairly common path for gay men and women to take. He read blogs on LiveJournal and Tumblr, and video diaries posted on YouTube. He noticed that several of these people mentioned that they had first come out within the gay community itself, either by attending a PFLAG meeting, or going to a Pride event, or even just hanging out at the local gay bar. It made sense to Dave. What safer place could there be, than among people who were in the same boat? Wasn't that part of why he'd kissed Kurt? To reveal to somebody, someone who could actually relate to his feelings, his deepest secret? Dave couldn't find any PFLAG groups or Pride parades in close by, but he was shocked to discover that there was actually a gay bar there, near the outskirts of West Lima. It was a place called Scandals, and they had a basic website that listed their hours, location and drink specials.
Dave already had a fake ID; most guys on the football team did. He'd only ever used it to buy alcohol, though, never to get into a bar. And even then, he hadn't used it in months. Dave took some time to think about if he really wanted to go through with it, and in the meantime, started going out by himself to the movies, or the coffee shop with his laptop. He didn't want it to be suspicious to his parents, that he was just suddenly taking off one night. It wasn't like he could claim he was hanging out with his buddies, after all. Of course, after Dave's spiral into depression, his mom and dad were thrilled to see him wanting to be around other people again; so they in fact encouraged him strongly to go out as often as he liked.
One Friday afternoon, Dave decided that if he didn't at least make an attempt to go to Scandals soon, it was never going to happen. So he put on the plainest, darkest clothes that he had in his closet, along with a denim baseball cap, and headed out to West Lima. He could always leave if it was terrible, or weird. And maybe they wouldn't let him in anyway. After sitting in the parking lot of the utterly non-descript building for ten minutes, Dave sucked in his breath and finally left his truck. He nervously handed his ID to the bouncer, a rough looking bearded dude in a worn flannel. He sure didn't look like any gay guy Dave had seen before (all two of them), but maybe you didn't have to actually be gay to work at a gay bar? The guy turned his flashlight on the ID, then squinted up at Dave. With a little huff of a laugh, he gave it back. "Have a good time," he said gruffly, and with that, Dave was officially standing in a gay bar for the first time in his life.
To say it didn't look anything like he'd pictured was an understatement. It looked like your typical townie bar in Lima. Wood paneling, a pool table in a small room around the corner, and incredibly, an Ohio State football game playing silently on a medium-sized flatscreen TV. There was music playing and people dancing to some really retro sounding music, but it was hardly the fabulous right-out-of-a-Lady-Gaga-video type of club that Dave had always thought gay bars must be. But the biggest shock to his system was how many different types of guys there were. He though he'd be walking into a room full of Kurt Hummels and Blaine Andersons, thin guys with great hair and fancy clothes. And there were a few of that type there. But there were others with your usual Lima level of clothes and personal grooming. Old guys, young guys, and even some guys built a lot like him. It was totally surreal.
He grabbed a seat at the bar, and asked for a bottle of whatever beer was on special. He gulped the first quarter down as soon as it was brought to him, staring at the scarred wooden surface of the bar and trying not to get freaked out. He didn't know how long he'd been looking down, when he felt something brush against his arm. Turning his gaze upwards, he saw an older big guy - bigger than him, even - in a jean jacket, leaning across the bar next to him, trying to get the bartender's attention. He ordered a gin and tonic, then turned and looked at Dave. "Hi," he said with a friendly smile. "First time here? I don't think I've seen you around before."
Dave immediately turned beet red. This was one of the things he'd been afraid of, that some pervy guy would try to pick him up. "I guess," Dave mumbled, looking back down and wishing for the floor to open up and swallow him. Why had he thought this was a good idea, again?
"Hey," said the guy, in a different voice. Less cheery, and more...kind? It reminded him of his dad's voice, actually. Dave looked up at the man again. He held his hands out to the sides, smiling slightly. "Just so you know, I'm not trying to come on to you or anything. Be pretty stupid of me, since I'm here with my partner." He looked somewhere behind Dave, and winked.
"Partner?" said Dave.
"My husband, really," said the man. "But you know...the not legally recognized kind."
"Oh," said Dave. So they were like Rachel Berry's parents?
"Yep, ten years together, as of just a couple of months ago."
Dave wondered if he was supposed to say congratulations, or something. Instead, he just kept his mouth shut, and took another pull of his beer. The man's drink was served to him, but instead of leaving, he lingered. "I just wanted to welcome you," the man said, in a warm, casual tone. "I've been coming here for over twenty years, back when Scandals first opened. It's kind of like a second home to me, y'know? So I have this habit, I guess, of saying hi to newcomers. Seeing if they're doing okay, if there's anything I can help them with." He paused to take a sip of his drink. "The guys rag on me about it, call me Papa Bear." He laughed, a big booming sound, and Dave found his lips curling up in a tiny smile.
Dave turned in his seat, fully facing the man for the first time. "I'm Dave," he said shyly.
"Troy," said the man, turning his back to Dave. Spelled out on the back of the sleeveless denim jacket was indeed the name Troy, in pink sequins.
This time Dave actually laughed himself. The dude was pretty fucking badass looking, but he still liked glitter. There was something really funny and at the same time, mindblowing to Dave about it.
"So, Dave," said Troy. "What brings our newest bear cub into this fine establishment?"
Dave squinted. "Bear cub?" he said. Troy just smiled at him, and sipped his drink. Something occurred to Dave. "You said they call you Papa Bear," he said. "And I'm a bear cub. So bears...that means something?"
"Bears are gay guys like us, Dave," replied Troy. "Tall, with big chests and arms and shoulders. Hairy guys, and usually what a lot of people would call chubby."
Dave's eyes went wide. "Are you trying to tell me," he said, "that there are enough guys like me out there, that there's a special name for it?"
"Congratulations, Dave," said Troy, smiling delightedly at Dave's awe. "You're a living, breathing stereotype. Welcome aboard."
"It's just," Dave said. "I only know two other gay guys, and they're both exactly alike. Skinny, dressing up all the time, singing and talking about theater and fashion constantly. And that's what I usually see on TV, or in the movies, too."
"Those are twinks, Dave," Troy supplied helpfully. "Not my type, by a long shot. But we do get our share of guys in here that go for that. Of course, there's quite a few that are going to fall over themselves to buy you a drink, or get on your dance card. When you're ready, of course," he amended.
"I don't know about that," said Dave, blushing. The thought of another guy finding him attractive seemed pretty farfetched.
"Well, there's plenty of time for you to be proven wrong on that score," said Troy. He clapped his big hand on Dave's shoulder. "Why don't you come with me, and I'll introduce you to George, and some of the other guys. Do you play pool?" At Dave's answering nod he smiled. "George gets pissed as hell if I beat him, and then I wind up sleeping on the couch. He's pretty good sport with anyone else, though."
Dave came to Scandals at least once a week, sometimes twice. He'd made a lot of friends, and gotten to hear a lot of stories. People loved to talk about themselves, and Dave, still not comfortable with a lot of attention, turned out to be a wonderful listener. And Troy had turned out to be absolutely correct; Dave was apparently a lot of guys' type, and he was often flirted with outrageously. He still didn't quite have the confidence to flirt back much, but he danced with other guys when asked, and accepted his fair amount of free beers. One step at a time. He had this whole year, or as many as he needed, to come out all the way. None of his friends had a single problem with the fact that Scandals was the only place Dave was out. He was finally able to achieve he kind of acceptance he'd once craved from his peers, one that was based on who he really was, not some character he was playing. Scandals was his safe haven.
But now his haven had been invaded, and for the first time since that night months ago, Dave found himself wanting to turn and run from the bar, as fast and as far as he could. He thought of putting down his beer and slipping out the door; it wasn't as if Kurt or Blaine had noticed him at all. He started to feel the fear creep up in his chest, a horrible feeling he hadn't missed at all. No, he thought. I'm not running from this. I ran from prom. I ran from McKinley. I am not running away from the best thing that's happened to me in years, just because Kurt walked in the door. Dave had had so many things taken away from him; he wasn't letting go of Scandals without a fight.
He slid onto the empty barstool next to Kurt. "Better watch your boyfriend," he suggested mildly, asking Rick behind the bar for another beer. It was entirely satisfying to see the stunned look on Kurt's face, followed by a short laugh and adorable smile. Maybe this wouldn't be a disaster.
"So how's life at your new school?" Kurt asked, seeming genuinely curious.
"Fine," said Dave, trying for bravado. But as usual, Kurt's blue-green eyes eroded his mask instantly. He looked down, then back up again. "I just want to have a normal senior year, and play football without my teammates hearing rumors about me." He was proud that his voice caught only slightly, at the very beginning.
Kurt looked almost offended by his words. "Just to let you know, I never would have told anyone about you," he said in that holier-than-thou tone that Dave remembered so well. "That's not who I am." Kurt turned huffily to face the dance floor. Well, you did tell your boyfriend out there about me, Dave thought. Or maybe that's when you were someone else? He took another drink of his beer, deciding to give Kurt a pass. He obviously didn't know about the rumor mill, about what people were saying about me.
Apparently deciding to change the subject, Kurt turned back to Dave. "So, you come here all the time?" he asked.
Dave couldn't help the big smile that broke across his face. "People like me here," he said enthusiastically. "I feel accepted." Kurt smiled at him, and encouraged, Dave chuckled and continued. "I'm what they call a bear cub."
"Because you look like Yogi?" said Kurt, with an unusually clueless air.
I wonder who needs to be educated now? thought Dave. He laughed again, blushing. "I don't know," he responded, even though he certainly did. "Because I'm burly, or something?" For some reason, he didn't want to make Kurt feel outright stupid. This feels like flirting. Oh God, am I flirting with him?
Kurt seemed to take in the information, but then turned away, avoiding Dave's eyes. Dave felt the slightest sting of rejection. He felt his defensiveness rise up. "So is this the point where you judge me?" Dave said peevishly. Of course it is. There was no denying that Kurt was gorgeous, and that he had some wonderful qualities. But God, he can be such a condescending bitch sometimes too.
But apparently Dave had jumped to conclusions, because Kurt did a complete double-take. "No," he said, sounding completely sincere to Dave. "As long as you're not beating people up, I'm all for being whoever you have to be, at your own speed." If I didn't know any better, thought Dave, I'd almost think that was a lame ass - but still kinda cute - apology for asking me to out myself in front of the entire junior class.
Kurt glanced again back to the dance floor, where his oblivious boyfriend was goofily tearing up the dance floor with a guy Troy had dubbed a predator from the first time he laid eyes on him. You better keep your eye on him, Kurt. Although, what you want with a guy who hasn't even noticed you've been talking and laughing with a stranger the bar, I'll never know. "Right now," said Dave honestly, "I'm just trying to get through high school." It didn't sound particularly impressive, but fuck it, he was hardly flirting anymore. This is who I am. I'm happier than I've been in years, and I'm not going to be ashamed of that. But something in his words sparked a very unexpected reaction in Kurt. His eyebrows raised, and his soft lips parted on an inhale. But mostly, it was the look in Kurt's eyes. Like he was seeing something, or realizing something for the very first time. He smiled, letting it out in a sigh. Dave didn't know quite what to make of Kurt's reaction, but it seemed positive, and it sure was pretty to look at. "Here's to baby steps," said Dave, holding out his beer.
Kurt clinked the glass of his foufy drink against it. "Baby steps," he agreed, with another one of those amazing smiles. He turned back to the dance floor, seeming to come to some sort of internal decision. With one last smile and a nod of his head, which Dave returned, Kurt stood. Dave turned back to the bar, not sad, but not really anxious to watch Kurt dance all up on his boyfriend either. He drank the rest of his beer, then decided to head back to the pool table room. He passed the three boys on his way, seeing that Kurt was blocking the predator by keeping himself between the tall kid and Blaine. You go get your man, Kurt, he thought. I just hope he deserves you.
"Christ, Dave," said Troy, as he re-entered the room. "We were about to send out a search party. Where've you been?"
"Just talking to some guy at the bar," said Dave with a smile.
"Was he hot?" asked Troy.
"Sure was," said Dave, nodding. "But not as hot as you, Papa Bear," he said, reaching for Troy and making obscene kissy noises with pursed lips.
Troy accepted the friendly kiss. "Such a smartass you are. You know, I can barely remember when you were such a sweet, polite little cub with your elders."
Dave turned and picked up his pool cue. "Well, every cub's gotta become a big bear someday," he said cheerily. "But don't worry, Papa. I'm not leaving the den yet. I definitely have a ways to go."
A big part of writing this story for me was to recapture the joy I felt in my heart when I realized that Dave had found a place where he could be happy, with people who accepted him for who he really was, and not the mask he wore at McKinley. I think a lot of you might feel the same way, so please review and let me know if I was even a little bit successful.
Troy, btw, is based on my dear friend, constant supporter, Pirate and all around amazing human being, Dr. Glitterbear. Since Kurt's "mentor" turned out to be a slightly messed up kid who was actually YOUNGER than Kurt, I decided that at least Dave would get a real fucking mentor, y'know. And every time I visualized the scenes with said mentor, it was always Dr. Glitterbear. So I decided to just write him on in, since that's what the muse was demanding shrilly. I hope he doesn't mind that I gave him a cameo.