Title: I'm the Prom Queen

Pairing: One-sided Kurt/Karofsky

Rating: PG

Warnings: Spoilers for Rumors and Prom Queen! Do NOT read if you don't want to be spoiled about the events of Prom.

Word Count: 1,373

Summary: Tonight was Dave Karosky's moment to shine at McKinley, to be the stud and not have to worry about the rumors and just be the Prom King. Somehow, things just never turn out right for Dave.

A/N: Quickly wrote this after being inspired by the promo and the Kurtofsky chat. Sorry if there are any discrepancies or grammatical errors, I'm kind of writing with the jitters!

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Honestly, what was so great about prom? There's a bunch of cheap lights dangling from the ceiling with even cheaper streamers pretending to make a gym look fancy. And the tuxes, Dave thinks, are just not worth this. He looks down as Santana puts on his boutonniere, wincing slightly as she digs the pin into his chest. Okay, considering that smile, she did it on purpose, that little conniving lesbo. Why was he putting up with this?

"Oh yeah, because she knows your secret," Dave thought with an internal sigh. This is obviously why girls were not to be messed with; they screw with your head and emotions, leaving him between a rock and a hard place. "But it's just one night," thinks Dave. Only one night of pretending to secure safety for the rest of the school year. No one would mess with the Prom King and Queen. They would rule that school, all while keeping themselves away from the harm of rumors that would come back to bite them in the butt.

"Tonight, we're going to own this prom," whispered Santana as she brushes his lapel. Looking at her, Dave knows she has her game face on. In reality, this prom was more like a battle strategy than a fun night to look back on and remember. Things were going down, and this would make or break how the rest of his high school career went down. Who knows about after that, but right now, to maintain being McKinley's stud, he had to do this.

So he's driving them in his slightly beat up 1995 Chevrolet Camaro, she's beautiful and he'd like to think they've been through a lot together. 'Ha, that sounds like I'm talking about Santana,' thinks Dave as he's driving them up to the school. Maybe that's what he'll say for their acceptance speech part. Santana hadn't specifically told him what to say for when they won like she had for the apology, so he's giving himself a pat on the back for coming up with that.

This was going to be one night, and so help him, he is going to party the night through all while working on his straight cred.

So the night doesn't go down like he thought it would. The prom photos, the stupid streamers and balloons everywhere, the hideously bright dresses everywhere. That's all there, and what he was expecting from watching all those high school movies about proms and dances. But one thing that Dave forgot about was the fact that everyone was going to be there. Everyone. As in, Kurt Hummel and his slicked midget of a boyfriend. Okay, he really didn't see why Kurt was with that Rachel Berry he-clone. Did Kurt want someone that would be emotional through songs and always be causing drama? 'Cause it sure seemed that way once Blaine started singing. Ugh, singing at McKinley's prom? He doesn't even go here! Dave wasn't even sure how he got permission to sing here, but considering that rich school of his, he probably bought the time from Figgins. That man would do anything for money; probably even sell his own grandmother.

But he could almost forgive the fact that Kurt's boyfriend was here, but the kilt. What was Kurt thinking? What was his boyfriend thinking when he let him out of the house. Probably that it gave him easy access, the little hair-gelled scum. Not that his brain was going there, no, no, no, Dave was not thinking about the way Kurt's kilt was swaying back and forth enticingly as he danced. How the flaps of the kilt spread apart when he twirled. Not thinking about that at all.

But overall, that was okay, the night was soon to be over, and soon he would be named Prom King, and this all would be done. No more having to worry about the hockey team coming back to slushy their old team mate. No more combing through every Muckraker for any possible rumors about himself.

Tonight was the night that he would take a break from all the appearances he has to put up.

Too bad that the night goes totally downhill from there.

Prom King, yeah, Dave's the Prom King. He's up there being called, all smiles and ready to see Santana give her acceptance speech. But Santana is not his Queen.

Kurt freakin' Hummel.

'Are they serious?' thinks Dave, puzzlement and confusion written all over his face. 'They're joking, right? Santana's about to come up here.'

But the crowd parts, a light shines down on one Kurt Hummel, kilt and defying gravity hair. This cannot be a joke, 'cause Dave is not laughing a bit. He can see that Kurt is shaken up and pale. Obviously he wasn't in on the joke either, 'cause he would have thought Kurt would be bouncing up on stage for that tiara to add to some freaky stash he probably already has at home. Dave wouldn't put it past him. But Kurt's not moving, until someone pushes him forward. He hastily makes his way up the steps, as one of the football players put the King crown on Kurt.

'Hold up, the King crown?' thinks Dave, not liking where this is going at all. 'Then that means…' He can see one of the cheerleaders coming toward him with the tiara, ready to place it on his head with a smirk. But he's not letting that happen.

Dave grabs the tiara, jumps off the stage and makes a break for Santana. He's not sure whether he ends up pulling Santana away from prom or all-out carrying her, but they get out of there in less than a minute, what with everyone getting out of their way. Once they make it to his car, he peals them out of there, and he's not looking back. He stops at the town's 7-11, 'cause he is not ready to go home and deal with all this. Now is as good a time as any to get a slushy and actually drink it for once.

He gets out of the car, making his way to the store's door without looking back to see if Santana is following him. Once he's at the machine, he takes a deep breath and only hears the whirring of the machine and the buzz of the overhead lights. No jeering or laughing, no. He's not hearing that, whether it happened or not.

"Dave," starts Santana, putting a hand on his broad shoulders. He tightens his fists, and feels a stab of pain. Looking down, he realizes that he's still holding that stupid cheap tiara in his hand, and he drops it like he's just touched a fire.

"Just getting a slushy, that's it Santana," Dave mutters as he puts a large cup under the nozzle.

"You can't hide from this, you know," states Santana matter-of-factly. "It's going to be all the talk at school come Monday. No, people are going to be talking about it tomorrow all over town. And you need to get ready for that."

"Just for one hour, 'kay, San? One hour, I'm going to pretend this didn't happen." Dave watches the cup fill with blue slush. He never understood why raspberry was blue. That just didn't make sense at all.

He sees another cup start to run under the red nozzle, filling up with the drink, and Santana deftly fill the slushy cup and proceed to drink from it. He realizes that his cup has been full for a while now, and picks his up to drink.

"So, at least you got to see Kurt tonight, right? Even if it was next to that little hair troll doll of a boyfriend," comments Santana, idly sipping her drink.

Dave sighs. "Yeah, at least there was that."

They say that prom is the night that you'll remember for all your life and look back own. Just he didn't know he'd remember this night for that.

The night that Kurt, the boy of his dreams, could've been his King. If only he hadn't been too afraid to stand up there on that stage with him.

'But I guess I'm just not that confident or brave,' thinks Dave.

'Not yet.'