Exams were pretty much over and done with, and Kurt had a whole summer to kill before he had to leave for college. NYADA had accepted him, much to his delight, and he was very much looking forwards to moving into an overpriced New York student dorm, complete with irritating over the top room mates that would make him impossibly homesick within the first week. He and Blaine had gone their separate ways a few weeks ago now, due to their impending thoughts of being parted from one another, yet not quite being completely heartbroken by this fact. He and Blaine had been a lovely couple. A great couple, in fact, but not for the same ways as his friends. Their relationship was borderline perfect - the kind of thing you saw on TV shows and cheesy 50's commercials and soapbox, picturesque photos of smiling families. The face of two happy gay men; all smiles and clean cut clothes. The sex, however, had really established for them how little they were attracted to one another. It wasn't a matter of being attractive - heaven's, no. He and Blaine were both gorgeous, young men, in different ways. It was just that their fleeting touches and gentle kisses were somewhat... lacking.
He would never regret losing his virginity to Blaine. It was breathtakingly gentle; loving and perfect the way he'd always dreamed it would be. He'd held him close as he'd thrust into him, peppering his face and neck with gentle kisses and whispering on a heated breath that he was perfect. It had made his heart swell, and cuddling in the afterglow left him with little doubt that he would have done it any other way. But that was just it - it was always gentle; always about making each other feel good and complete, but they did that without the sex. They did that just by being around one another; by hanging out or talking or just having fun. Sharing popcorn at the movies was the same was holding one another on the silken bed sheets. Dark; intimate; perfectly lovely and something that made your palms a little sticky afterwards. That was just it, though. There was no desire to do it, aside from the curiosity they had both held naturally for this kind of thing.
With this realization, they suddenly found themselves having a small epiphany. It wasn't exactly a big moment - no 'eureka!'; no 'Oh my god, no way!'. It was just a simple realization. They were curled up together, talking, and it just... came up. They loved each other; good god, there was no way to ever doubt that; but it wasn't the kind of love that made you want to fling everything out of the way and fuck on a tabletop, or cover each other with kisses, or run away in the middle of the night and get married. The desire; the curiosity had been there once upon a time, but even that had melted away into nothing more than a friendly crush.
Their breakup wasn't as understandable to a lot of their friends. In their eyes, their relationship had been so full of love and rainbows, they should be sobbing their hearts out or wrapping themselves up in bed and refusing to come out ever due to heartbreak, not sitting around chatting over vogue and which boys out of Supernatural were the hottest. Kurt would only look at them with confusion when they wondered why he wasn't completely heartbroken over this. It was mutual. He told them over and over again, but they continued to insist that it must be terrible for him; a horribly hard time. He even found out that, when he spotted Blaine making out with some guy in Scandals, he wasn't even jealous. He just cat-called at him and turned back to Dave, who was smiling at him shyly over the table.
Dave was perhaps the one person who understood at this point. Dave was simple. It was such a relief after all of his other friends; such a weight off his shoulders. He felt like he could trust Dave. Tell him anything and everything. He explained about why they had broken up - the sex - and explained why they were still best friends - the intimacy - and explained what he thought he might like - a bigger, stronger sort of person. Although he would always have a soft spot for the charming schoolboys, he wanted to revert back to his personal preference of the 'jock type'. Dave didn't even flinch when Kurt recalled his embarrassing crush on Finn, although he looked freaked out until Kurt hastily mentioned that it had stopped pretty much straight away the moment their parents started dating, because he could never have a crush on someone who left their smelly socks all over the floor. It had been utterly disgusting for the first few weeks until Finn finally cottoned onto picking up after himself and therefore stopping Kurt from barging in to bitch at him over it. Dave didn't say a thing. He just sat with his beer and let Kurt explain himself until he was breathless and red in the face, sick of having to repeat the same old rant over and over again, until at last he took a sip of his beer and chuckled.
"You can like whoever you like, Kurt." he'd said. "I'm not gonna sit here and judge you because your feelings changed. As long as he isn't being mean and stuff. If he is, feel free to tell me, so I can pretend to be tough and threaten to punch him."
Kurt had been so happy with this little nugget of information that he'd leaned over and hugged Dave without another thought.
Maybe it was then that he began to notice how strong Dave was. The boy was no longer a boy - he was a man, and a damn gorgeous one at that, too. Junior, the bartender, often joked on about him, saying that he wouldn't be able to call him 'cub' soon. He was growing into a fully fledged bear, except not as rough as the others, perhaps. Kurt was beginning to notice too, and - more importantly - he was beginning to notice that he actually sort of liked it. He liked the way Dave was beginning to look. He liked his strong body and his big arms and the way he felt safe when Dave would hug him back. He especially liked it when Dave caught him in the corridor one time, when he was having a terrible day, and just came up behind him in the hallway and hugged him from behind. Wrapped up in those arms, and feeling the warm barrel of his chest behind him, he felt like his day just got about a million times better with that single, tiny piece of contact.
He didn't really realize the implications of this strength, and the ways in which his body would look like thanks to it, until Dave finally caved in and agreed to allow Kurt to dress him up, "just this once."
It was a Saturday, and Kurt had the long summer ahead of him without Blaine to fill the time, and he was bored. How could he possibly turn down shopping? Dave was a friend now - a good friend - and he needed his help. It was a job interview. He'd never been for an interview before, and he was pretty damn terrified. The job was an apprenticeship in New York; working under a sports agent, just as he'd always wanted. After his suicide scare, he'd found hope once more and, thanks to his dad's persistent efforts to try and find ways in which he could improve, he found a small apprenticeship in New York under a not-so well known agent. It would be harder than going for the big name, but Dave was so excited for it, he could barely think about eating, let alone dress himself properly for it. It was important that he got this interview. He couldn't fuck this up. He had no college plans - he didn't want to go anyway, but he needed to give his dad something to reassure him he wasn't going to starve - so this apprenticeship was pretty much the only way out for him. As much as he loved Lima, he was pretty sure he'd love it out there too.
New York hadn't been his first stop. Chicago would have been better, maybe. He liked Chicago more than the bright lights of Broadway. Or maybe LA, in one of those fancy office blocks. But NY it was, and NY it would stay, if he managed to get the damn thing.
The interview was the last step of the process. He'd sent in his application weeks ago, and it had finally gotten approved, along with sending a detailed plan of when his interview would be, as well as flight details. His dad could afford to send him off for the interview, and he had relatives out in NY, so he could stay with them for a few days to visit anyway. There was just one problem. As much as his dad tried to help him; give him advice and let him know all the ways he wouldn't screw up; he still had no idea what to do for this damn interview and the very thought of it terrified him.
That was where Kurt came in. According to him, the interview was mostly just a face. All they'd do was ask you a few questions about your subject and how you planned to go into your chosen career and blah blah blah. Then again, he'd applied for college, so maybe it was different. Kurt managed to sooth him with gentle words and appreciative comments, building up his confidence; telling him that they would be stupid not to pick him; that his answers, as long as they were honest, would wow them. He'd always had a way with words, when he wasn't trying too hard. Kurt soothed him by explaining how much it meant to him when Dave would sit down with him and just tell it to him straight. If he did the same with his potential boss, nothing could go wrong.
The only part Dave really didn't have a fucking clue about was the clothing. When Kurt said 'casual, but smart - show them the student side of you, but the professional side too!' he'd just stared at him, completely blank. The only smart thing he'd owned was the suit his dad had thrown away the second he was at the hospital. He tried not to think about that suit. Kurt tried not to mention it either. He knew about it, and it hurt him just as much as it hurt Dave and Paul.
His hands petted soothingly at Dave's arm when the boy gave him a confused, terrified kind of look, utterly unsure about this thing nd not for the first time. He didn't have a clue when it came to clothes. He didn't have a single, fucking clue, and he was going to crash and burn with the whole thing before he knew what was happening. First impressions were super important. Kurt had drilled that into him over and over again, and now it was backfiring, because they would take one look at him and know he was an unfashionable douche bag. Sports agents didn't need to know about fashionable shit, but presentation was way important. Even his dad had to put some thought into what he was doing every morning when it came to his wardrobe choices. Nobody would take a lawyer seriously if he showed up in a cheap suit and a tacky tie collection.
At least he had Kurt. Kurt was a total relief in his mind, because it reassured him that at least someone was going to be able to help him. Kurt knew clothes more than just about anyone he knew, and about ten times more than anyone other than 'Tana. Santana would have helped, but she didn't know as much about men's fashion, and she probably would have made him dress up in really douchy things just to get her entertainment for the day. Shopping was boring for her, which was why they were kind of close, because when the 'girls' (and Kurt, and now Dave) all went out shopping, they generally buggered off to do something else, like mess around in the apple store playing angry birds. It brought back memories of when they were 'dating', and all they'd done was climb into the back of Dave's truck, listen to music, bang on the sides for a bit and play games on his iphone.
Kurt had been more than happy to take over the role of 'fashion adviser' (his own idea, of course) and take him out shopping. Dave was kind of relieved; kind of dreading it. He hated shopping. Hated it with the fire of a thousand suns, and he was pretty sure that shopping with Kurt would be even more unbearable. He'd finally caved in when Kurt mentioned the new ice cream shop, and their butterscotch special. The fact he remembered his favourite flavour made him flush with half embarrassment, half pleasure. It was... sweet. In a weird kind of way.
So, he found himself in the fifteen hundredth shop with absolutely no desire to be there and a headache that was getting worse and worse with every passing minute. They'd been there for what felt like hours, and his arms were already aching with the number of bags he carried. Most of them were items for Kurt, anyway. He'd just wound up acting as a packhorse, because wow, these things were heavy, and he kind of feared that Kurt's arms would snap straight out of their sockets if he tried to take them all on himself. That had earned him a light smack when he tried to mention it. Apparently he was stronger than he looked, but at the fierceness of the smack and how little he felt it, he sincerely doubted that fact right now, and said so with a grin.
"I swear, David!" Kurt huffed, blowing a little strand of hair out of his face and turning his nose in the air, the way he did when he was severely annoyed and yet fighting amusement at the same time. Dave gave him a friendly nudge, which was mostly out of boredom, because Kurt had been looking at the same two fucking shirts for the past ten minutes. Blue or blue? What did it matter? They were both fucking blue, and Dave hated blue. On himself, anyway. Kurt's colour was blue. It brought out the blueness of his blue eyes. Blue looked good on him. Blue was a funny word if he kept saying it enough times. Blue Blue Blue. Fucking hell, he was bored.
"I think you should try this one," Kurt finally said, and Dave dropped the bags unceremoniously on the floor to catch the shirt when it was shoved into his hands. He already had a blue shirt. They'd bought it three stores ago, but the gleam in Kurt's eyes told him not to argue. He draped a tie over the collar, tweaked it a little, and passed over the pair of dress pants which had been draped over his arm for a while now. He plucked a shirt - red, not blue, thank fuck - from the rack and handed that over as well. "Now go," he instructed, pointing to the dressing room.
Dave trudged reluctantly into the too-small stall and drew the curtain in a half-arsed manner, leaving a smallish gap in the middle. He didn't really notice; he just turned away and stripped down to his underwear as fast as possible, because he really wanted to just get this over with. He pulled on the pants first, and the fucking blue shirt, because he wanted it on and off as fast as possible. He only bothered to unfasten the first couple of buttons before shoving it over his head and tucking it in, knotting the tie loosely and stepping out.
Kurt ran his eyes over him in a slow, calculating manner, and Dave felt his body begin to heat uncomfortably. It kept doing that - the weird, squirmy sort of thing that left him confused and aching and wishing this was over, yet wanting more of it at the same time. He wished he could just suss out what he wanted here, because it was getting really annoying that he couldn't.
"It's... nice," Kurt said slowly, but Dave could already sense that it wasn't nice enough. Which meant more shirts. "We can do better," he added firmly, and Dave's heart plummeted. He was sick and tired of this whole thing and he'd been here forever. Literally. It could not have just been three hours. It was more like ten. "Try the red one on next."
Oh, yeah. Like he had any other shirts to wear. He turned and crammed himself back into the stall, barely covering it with the curtain before tugging off his shirt. He planted it back on the hanger, turned to collect the red one from the side, and paused. His hand faltered on the hanger, and his fist did a weird clenching thing on the fabric. Kurt was watching him. Staring straight through that gap, and watching him.
He turned, his hands fumbling with the buttons, facing away from it and tugging the shirt over himself before he could process this. Kurt had just seen him shirtless. Kurt had just been watching him shirtless. On purpose. How was he supposed to feel about that?
His hands could barely manage the buttons, so he left them, just faffing with the bottom and trying to shove the shirt tail into his pants as fast as he could so he could change back into his comfy t-shirt and leave this whole mess of thoughts behind him. They only shook harder when the curtain opened and closed with a swish and Kurt stepped in, huffing in annoyance. He spun around to ask, but Kurt's hands immediately collided with his hips, beginning to tuck the material into his dress pants with far more efficiency than he could muster. "You're doing it all wrong," he said, the irritation clear.
Dave didn't even realize he was hard until the back of Kurt's hand rubbed up against him. He let out a low, shocked sound, and Kurt made a similar noise, eyes darting up to lock with Dave's. His hand froze where it had tucked the front into his pants, feeling the steadily quickening pulse of his cock through his underwear. They could only stare at each other in morbid embarrassment, and Dave wanted the ground to swallow him up.
Then Kurt turned his hand around, grazed him curiously, and squeezed.