Going shopping was definitely one of Dave Karofsky's least favorite activities; better than having open-heart surgery, yet worse than getting the crowded subway on a rainy day, probably somewhere along with taking care of a crying toddler. But it was certainly much much better than his number one fear: being the direct object of Santana Lopez's anger. He'd been in that position a few times, and would do anything to avoid the wrath of the beautiful latina, who just happened to be his best friend. He still couldn't quite figure out how they'd even become friends, struggled to explain whenever someone asked. We met in high school, he'd say, sometimes following with and we were each other's beards for a while, if the person was close enough to warrant a longer explanation. More than that, he wouldn't say, mostly because he couldn't. To this day, over four years after their first "date", he still didn't know why he liked Santana so much. They had nearly nothing in common, aside from the fact that they were both gay, and maybe a bit different from the stereotypes, but that was it. She was beautiful and elegant, outspoken and witty, and knew how to use words well enough to make a grown man cry. He was nothing of the sort: chubby, common-looking, dressed in baggy jeans and varsity jacket, shy and quiet, only knew how to make grown man cry by using his muscles, something he'd vowed to himself not to do again (unless absolutely necessary, which was a different thing altogether). She liked to sing and dance and perform, to go out to dance clubs in tight dresses and flirt with everyone around, including poor guys who had no idea they'd never get her. Santana loved being the center of attention. Dave hated it. He hated dance clubs, preferring bars to meet new people, and even then he'd sit down on a corner and drink his beer, waiting for someone to approach him. If he was feeling confident and bold, he'd approach someone, flirt, ask for a number, maybe dance and make out a bit; but that was only when he felt lonely. Most of the time, he'd rather hang out with his friends on the fraternity house (most of them all lived there, anyway), or meet Santana for a movie or a coffee somewhere, or simply stay up in his bedroom watching silly videos on YouTube. But, to avoid Santana's rage, he'd do most anything. Including shopping. Which was why he now found himself being dragged from one packed store to the next one on a Saturday afternoon, a sea of teenagers and other college students around them, everyone trying to avoid the rain that had been falling mercilessly since the morning and still manage to hang out. Dave couldn't understand why they hadn't just stayed home, in their soft warm beds – that's what he'd have done if he had been given the choice. As it was, he was now being pulled into what had to be at least the fifth store he and Santana had been in trying to find a present for Maureen, this rocker chick she'd been dating for a couple months and whose birthday was coming up.

"I don't understand what was wrong with the last store. It was a music store; she'd have loved anything from there!"

"Yeah, but she already has everything from there! Come on, let's go into this one", she said, pointing at small store with T-shirts of rock bands, torn jeans and black leggings on the window.

"Oh, because she certainly has nothing from there, right?"

Santana glared at him and he rolled his eyes, still following her. "Can't we at least take a break? I'm getting hungry."

"Just this one and then we'll stop for a snack. I'm sure I'll find something in here anyway."

He sighed and followed her, knowing from years of experience that it was better not to argue anyway. Upon entering the store, he realized it wasn't as small as it had first seemed, with a lot of space on the back and a second floor that could be reached through a spiral staircase. There were two cash registers on the back and the store was packed with clothes and isles with random objects, from nose rings to fridge magnets. A lot of teenagers were walking through the store, some in groups and some by themselves, most of them seeming to fit in quite well with the store, with bright hair and dark clothes.

As Santana started to look through the shelves, Dave told her that he'd look on the second floor and quickly climbed the few steps. The second floor was smaller, with fitting rooms to the side covering most of it, and shoes on the other half, with benches in the middle for people to sit and either try on the shoes or wait for their friends.

A salesman approached him quickly with a smile on his face.

"Good afternoon, may I… David?"

He startled, looking attentively at the blue eyes staring back at him. There was eyeliner around those beautiful eyes, making them seem even brighter in contrast and giving their owner an edgy look. Still, they were unmistakable, and Dave smiled back at Kurt Hummel.

"Wow. I mean… You look…"

He wanted to say hot, because boy, did he look hot with black leather pants that fit perfectly around his ass and thighs and a short-sleeved rocker t-shirt showing arms a lot more toned than Dave had ever imagined. He figured that'd be too forward and probably weird, since they hadn't seen each other in years, though, so he stopped and let the sentence linger between them.

Kurt grinned and raised an eyebrow. "Different, huh?"

He grinned back, because, although he was still the same Kurt, with the same stunning eyes and porcelain skin and flawless hair, he did look a lot different than the fashionable effeminate boy who used to go to school with him. "Yeah, that." Still smiling, he looked around a bit. "This doesn't look like the sort of place you'd work in. No offence."

Kurt shook his head. "None taken. And, well, a job is a job, right? We all need money. It's not half bad and sometimes I find some fabulous stuff in here, believe it or not. Plus, I get employer's discount!"

"Maybe you should dye your hair bright blue. It'd go well with your eyes."

Kurt laughed, scrunching up his nose, his head falling back and cheeks becoming slightly pink, and Dave felt something stir inside him, some sort of happy, giddy feeling and, damn it, he had thought he was over this boy.

"Oh, god, no way! Do you have any idea what dying products can do to your hair?"

"Maybe a piercing then, or a couple of tattoos. You'd fit right in." He imagined Kurt with a piercing on his eyebrow and a large tattoo on his arm, and the image was nothing if not drop dead sexy. He licked his lips unconsciously, thankful his pants were not as tight as Kurt's, or the way his dick was twitching and filling would be completely obvious. It got worse when Kurt winked, motherfucking winked at him, saying: "Who's to say I don't have any tattoos already? Maybe they're just in a place where you can't see them…"

He stopped there, but Dave was pretty sure he could hear the unspoken "yet" and he blushed. He wanted to say something witty, to reply that he'd be more than willing to see them, but a female voice interrupted them.

"My, my, what do we have here. If it isn't Lady Face. What happened, got kicked out of NADA?"

"NYADA."

"Same thing."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "It's good to see you too, Santana."

She smiled back fondly, letting her walls down around him, and reached out to give him a tight hug. Dave smiled at the interaction. He knew her, of course, knew that Santana could be caring and that she was extremely loyal and fiercely protective of those she loved, and that, sometimes, she could even show a sweet side. He knew all that, it was what he liked most about her, that she didn't have to be nice to everyone to be a nice person and she knew it, but, still, it felt good to see that he was not the only one she trusted enough to let her guard down.

She didn't make a big deal out of it, however, shrugging nonchalantly as soon as the hug was broken. "So, if you two are done flirting, can you help me now?"

He looked at her with wide eyes and felt his cheeks heating up, but Kurt just laughed and took Santana closer to the shoes so that he could start giving her suggestions.

They ended up leaving the store only one hour later, with not just one, but two presents for Maureen, plus new boots for Santana and a Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt for him, a present for being a nice friend and coming out shopping with her – and carrying everything, of course. Kurt gave them his number and they all promise to get together soon, keep in touch, and all those things you say to an acquaintance you haven't seen in a long time and probably never will again. Dave wanted it, though, he really wished to see Kurt again, preferably soon.

Once he got home, back in his small room, that he luckily didn't have to share with any of his fraternity brothers, he flopped on the bed and got his phone, fingers hovering over Kurt's number. He wanted to call him, to talk to him again – about anything, really, he wasn't picky, he just wanted to initiate some sort of contact between then. He hesitated, not knowing if that was a good idea. Kurt most probably had a boyfriend. He had definitely seemed to be flirting back in the store, though, so maybe he didn't. Or maybe he did, and he hadn't been flirting at all, just being nice, and Dave had misunderstood his intentions. He could also had been flirting solely for the purpose of convince him of buying more (he dismissed that hypothesis instantly – Kurt would never do that). He felt tempted to call Santana and ask her what he should do, but she'd already teased him enough about him while they were eating after having left the store. He wanted to get in touch with Kurt again, even if it led to nothing, simply for the fact that he was a genuinely nice guy. He didn't want to force something, though, push for a friendship that Kurt may not want. He sighed. He could almost hear Santana telling him to stop overthinking it and just do it already. Turning on the bed to support himself on his elbows, he got the phone again and decided to compromise by sending him a message. It was enough to reach out and make Kurt know that he actually meant it when he had said they should keep in touch, but still not so out there that Kurt couldn't ignore it if he wanted to. Which Dave really, really hoped he didn't.

Hey, there. Nice seeing you today. – Dave

He left the phone on the bed and decided to take a shower; that way he wouldn't keep staring at his phone obsessing over how long it'd take Kurt to respond.

It didn't help, however, for when he came back there was still no answer from him. It was only hours later, when he had pretty much given up and was trying to concentrate on studying that he got a reply.

Sorry, battery was dead. I liked it too. Come back and I'll help you pick out some nice clothes. – K.

He didn't know whether to be happy that Kurt had answered him, or offended that he seemed to think his clothes weren't nice. Which, okay, might be true, but still hurt to listen.

Are you saying my clothes aren't nice?

Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you! I meant only to give you an excuse to come back. ;)

He felt his stomach fluttering at the winking smiley at the end and yeah, he was definitely flirting.

Don't need one. He wanted to add a winky face too, but didn't want to come too hard in case Kurt was just being playful. He wished he had enough confidence to just go for it and risk it, but he was not there yet. Maybe someday. Seeing a friend is enough.

I'll be waiting. :)

He quickly answered that he'd be there, and after that the conversation sort of died out. Dave tried to focus back on his studying, but his mind kept going back to a pair of blue eyes with black eyeliner.