A/N: PLEASE READ.

Okay, so, I found this independent film called, "The War Boys." And while I ended up not liking the plot very much, I ADORED the main gay pairing in it. Seriously, it had some of the absolute BEST intimate gay moments I've seen in a movie in a while, aside from "Brokeback Mountain." And while watching, I was amused by the fact that one of the main guy's names was David. Freaking David. You all know whom I thought of, right? And oddly, David's personality in the movie wasn't like our Dave; the other guy's was.

And there lies the idea for this fanfic.

This is going to be AU, taking place in Lima, Ohio, and still (lightly) involving Glee Club, but things will be pretty damn different otherwise, including ages and birthdays, but I'll try to keep the personalities relatively the same. You'll see. But this is a short one, about five chapters, so bear with me.

And for the record, I'm going to be borrowing a lot of themes from "The War Boys," since I really loved what happened in them. So I disclaim some of my creativity. XD

ALTHOUGH (AND THIS IS IMPORTANT), you should know that my brain goes to dark places sometimes, so this fanfic? Yeah, rated M. And involves curious pre-pubescent children (ages 11 and nearly-12) and adult-ish (ages 16 and nearly-17) "interaction." -But I figure this isn't as bad as Pandora's Box, since that involves, well, near-rape. :/

But if you're okay with all of that… Enjoy!

#will be ridiculed for this, I just know it#

Preface.

It was a cold winter day in January when it first happened.

He knows, because unlike Dave, Kurt chose to remember everything precisely how it happened.

They had been eleven years old, both of them. But Dave had been on the brink of turning twelve, his birthday a couple months away. They were friends. Best friends. They had been since they were seven, when they met on the playground at school near the end of first grade. They knew each other well. Kurt knew all of the foods Dave liked and hated. Dave knew all of the cartoons and movies Kurt liked to watch, and the ones he despised. They would finish each other's thoughts most times.

And on that particular day, they knew that the other boy was very, very cold.

Burt was out for the day, doing errands. He told Kurt that he'd let Dave's parents drop him off to play in the freshly fallen packing snow if they promised to come in to heat up after two hours of play. They had agreed. And then Kurt was shivering uncontrollably, and Dave was offering to make hot cocoa from a packet since he mom taught him how. Kurt agreed, and soon, they were bundled up on Kurt's couch, sipping cocoa and wrapped in the only blanket they could find.

Dave shifted uncomfortably, because sharing that blanket with Kurt was making him feel a bit too warm. He set down his empty mug and asked if they could turn on the television.

Kurt had shaken his head. "No," he told Dave, "I don't feel like it. I just want to warm up again. When I get feeling in my toes, then maybe we can."

The slightly older boy had nodded. "Yeah, okay."

Kurt scooted closer. "You're warm," he remarked quietly, his skinny body touching Dave's. Kurt wrapped the blankets tighter around them. "Do you care if I use you to get warm again?"

Dave peered over, finding nothing but flushed cheeks and a pink nose and big blue eyes looking hopefully at him. Dave poked Kurt's face. Just as he thought: where it's a patchy pink, it's numb with cold. But so very, very soft.

"Uh… I don't care," Dave replied, and to this day, he doesn't know why he didn't care, because even years later when he repressed the following memories, he can still clearly recall how he had gotten squirmy inside and leaned in just a little bit closer.

Kurt had smiled. "Thanks," he said happily, and didn't hesitate to worm his way into Dave's side, tucking his head under Dave's chin, still round with baby fat.

Dave had blushed, but he had held his friend because he wanted Kurt to be warm, and he knew that it was what friends did: they helped each other, and despite what his mother sometimes told him, Dave knew that friends held each other.

But Kurt's hand, at the time, seemed not to know any boundaries in their friendship. It slid under Dave's shirt, the iciness of Kurt's fingers like snow on Dave's chest. He yelped, stiffening, but hadn't pulled away.

"Sorry," Kurt had muttered, "But you're really warm."

And Dave understood, so he nodded his head and gave Kurt more of the blanket. "It's okay. I don't care."

That encouraged Kurt, reassuring him that it was okay. "Good," he murmured, and moved to curl up against his friend's torso, his hands seeking refuge under Dave's shirt, flat against his chest. Dave's heart sped up, and an unfamiliar feeling tingled throughout his body.

Girls were yucky and had cooties. Everybody knew that. But just the week before that incident, Dave had asked his mother were babies came from. She told him it was a completely natural process, and since he was almost twelve and about to hit puberty, it was all right for him to know. And so she told him gently, using easy-to-comprehend words, and described things as simply as possible without grossing her son out entirely.

And one of those things she had mentioned was feeling tingly.

Dave sucked in a trembling breath, the coldness of Kurt's hands tensing his chest and speeding up his heart, and it was weird, because Dave was actually paying attention to how his best friend smelled: like stale cocoa, like winter air, like shampoo, like boy. And Dave liked it. And he liked how Kurt's face was on his shoulder, getting warmer and feeling so tender and nice.

But Dave also knew that what he was feeling was wrong. When giving him "The Talk," his mother specifically stated at the end that God frowned upon boys being with boys and girls being with girls in the same way she described. She used nasty words that Dave thought sounded ugly and like curse words ("faggot" and "lesbo"), and Dave had felt tiny and scared.

But right then, he didn't feel that way. He felt nothing but good, fuzzy, happy things toward Kurt, and in retrospect, Dave thinks that is what compelled him to do what he did next.

Without thinking, Dave had said, "Kurt? Look at me," and he used one chubby hand to lift Kurt's chin and face him. Kurt peered up, opening his eyes and grinning minutely.

"Yeah, Dave? What is it?"

"I want to kiss you."

Kurt had made a funny face, pulling out of his friend's hands and sitting up, but not removing his hands from under Dave's shirt, because warmth was warmth.

Kurt always knew that he had been different. And he knew that he liked Dave. He liked him a whole lot, and thought that even though Dave got teased for being a chubbier kid, Dave felt cuddly to Kurt and Kurt liked how nice Dave was to him, since other kids said that Kurt was too thin and too weird and too loud. Even in grade school, they were outcasts. And once or twice a mean older kid from seventh or eight grade, the two grades above Dave and Kurt in their middle school, would call Kurt a foreign q-word that rhymed with 'sneer,' and oddly enough, 'sneer' is precisely the expression those bullies would make when they said it to Kurt.

But Kurt knew that Dave would always step in and shout, "Hey! That's dirty! Kurt's not any different than you!" And once, he punched a kid for saying it, and got in trouble, but in Kurt's eyes, that only made Dave all the more admirable.

And so at the time, all Kurt could think of to say was, "Then do it. It's okay."

Dave didn't need telling twice. He leaned in against this friend and mimicked how his parents did it: lips parted, puckered slightly, and touching the other pair of awaiting lips.

To the slightly older boy, Kurt felt like heaven. He was angelically soft and he was warmed by now, and as he pressed closer, his hands went up and pulled off Dave's shirt. Dave gasped as the sensation, but Kurt simply draped the blanket over them and leaned into his friend. Kurt kissed him again. "It's okay," he told Dave, "I only want to be warmer."

"Okay, but…" Dave mumbled, his face turning red, "Don't cross this line." And he drew an imaginary line across his own stomach, just below his belly button. "My privates are past that line, and I don't think it's still okay if you go there."

"Why would I go there?" Kurt muttered in response, his lips still so very close to Dave's mouth.

Dave wriggled. "I dunno. It's just something my mom said, about how things start with kissing and then end up… weird."

"'Things'?"

Dave shook his head, his face all too red. "Nevermind." And he had the urge to kiss Kurt again, so he did. He kissed him, trying to find out how to kiss, trying to make Kurt feel tingly, too, even though something in the back of Dave's head in his mother's voice was snapping at him, saying that he was a disgusting little boy that needed to get grounded for his actions.

But no one had to know.

Kurt didn't know what sex was, being too afraid to ask his dad and too timid to find out at school from an older kid, but he knew that sometimes touching himself felt nice, almost like a tickle mixed with a happy churn in his tummy. And while he kissed Dave over and over, experimenting with his lips and his tongue in ways he didn't know those pieces of him could work, but had seen before on TV.

"Dave," Kurt sighed, and he moved his tiny body to lie down next to his friend on the couch. He hugged him, but crossed his legs. "I feel weird."

Dave pressed closer, and then said quietly, "Maybe you're too hot, now. Here, let's get rid of your shirt, too."

Kurt had nodded, at the time thinking it perfectly reasonable. But with his shirt off and pressed skin-to-skin, chest-to-chest, where they faced one another… it only made it worse. Kurt tightened his thighs together, his knees buckling together as he scrunched himself up. He idly kissed at Dave's chest, not knowing why, but he liked how Dave's skin felt on his lips, smooth and warm, and as Kurt kissed his friend across the collarbones, he liked how Dave's skin got a little sticky from the saliva on Kurt's lips, and liked how Dave kept making stifled noises in the back of his throat.

"Are you okay?" Kurt murmured, looking up at his friend. The noises almost sounded like whimpers of pain.

Numbly, Dave nodded. He reached out under the blanket and glided his hand over Kurt's narrow shoulders and down his bony back, feeling the slight muscles and the goosebumps that dotted Kurt's flesh. Idly, Dave played connect-the-dots with the raised skin while leaning in to have another kiss, because he liked how Kurt tasted.

But Dave noticed that Kurt's lower body was leant away from his. As he kissed Kurt's chest like Kurt had done for him, he heard Kurt gasp, "Dave… something's… wrong. I feel… so weird…"

And Dave felt Kurt's hand dip down and cover his crotch, as if hiding it from Dave. And young Dave realized that oh crap, this was what his mom told him about, and what happened to Dave when Dave tried touching himself not quite a month before. And oh no, he wondered if it ached for Kurt the way it did when Dave tried to ignore it, and he wondered if he should help his friend, and he also wondered if white stuff would come out of Kurt, too, and –

"Tell me," Dave murmured, and Kurt looked up at him. "Tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can fix it."

Kurt bit his bottom lip. "My… whole body. I'm shaking, can't you feel it? But I'm not cold anymore. I'm actually way too hot, but it feels comfy. And… something feels cramped, in my lower tummy…" He made a squeaking sound. "And this! It's not floppy like it should be! Dave, what's happening? You said your mom told you some grown-up stuff. Can you tell me if this is part of it?"

And even though Dave was in the sixth grade like Kurt, and even though he knew just a little bit more, he felt guilty for having to ruin Kurt's innocence by telling him that yes, getting hard like that was a grown-up thing, but he didn't have the heart to add that Kurt shouldn't feel that way when kissing another boy. But Dave was guilty of it too, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Oh, so it is," Kurt murmured. He paused, blushing. "What do I do? Can I make it go away?"

Nibbling on his own lip, Dave had slowly nodded in reply. "Y-yeah… you can. But let me do it, since you've never tried before."

Kurt didn't say that he actually had touched himself before, but not when his body looked like this. "Okay. I trust you," Kurt whispered.

"Close your eyes," Dave said. "And pull down your pants a little."

Kurt hesitated, because it felt awkward and embarrassing to expose himself, but they were so close together lying on the couch that Kurt figured Dave couldn't peek anyway. So under the blanket he tugged his jeans and underwear halfway down his thighs, and he gasped when his erection met the stale air between their bodies.

Kurt closed his eyes and grabbed Dave's scrawny biceps, fully trusting but nowhere near fully understanding what was going on.

"Now, Kurt, if I do this… you have to promise not to tell, okay? It's not… a normal thing."

"I know," the other murmured, his lips by Dave's ear. He felt Dave timidly touch him, and he flinched, curling inward a bit. "That… tickles," he breathed.

"That's because this is supposed to feel good," Dave replied with a blush. "My mom said that it feels best when you're with someone you like." And he started to curl his fingers around Kurt's member, and it felt strange in his hand – tender and warm, but perfectly stiff, and it was just the right shape to fit perfectly in the contours of Dave's palm. He inhaled through his nose, feeling himself cramp up, because the way Kurt was clinging to him and the small whimpers and pants he made in Dave's ear as Dave pumped his hand up and down was just… intoxicating and wonderful and beyond bizarre, but it also felt kinda right.

"N-no wonder, th-then," Kurt stutters as he shook in Dave's gasp, his body reacting naturally, and his hips dully meeting Dave's ministrations. "Because… Dave, I-I… ah!… l-l-like you," he confessed, and buried his head against his best friend's shoulder. Dave's hand stilled, and Kurt trembled, his legs wrapping around Dave's and his body rubbing against Dave's hand on its own accord, just to help lessen the burning urges coursing through his slender, young body. "I know I sh-shouldn't, because you're my best friend, and I don't want to lose you… b-but we're doing this, whatever this is, and… I really like it, and… I like you so much th-that I wouldn't let anybody else touch me, and… and…"

Dave understood, and to himself, he admitted that he felt the same way. His hand picked up its pace again, stroking and stroking, even curiously swirling around the head with his thumb, until Kurt suddenly gasped the loudest gasp Dave had ever heard, and out poured that strange white substance that got Dave's hand all sticky, but he knew he could always wash it.

In fact, as Kurt's grip loosened, Dave got up from the couch – feeling too chill without his shirt in the house, too cold without Kurt lying beside him – and washed his hands in the kitchen before returning to the couch, watching as Kurt yanked up his pants and gazed downward, seemingly mortified.

Dave's heart melted. He climbed back under the blanket and pulled his friend tightly to his chest. "Feeling better?" he murmured.

Kurt nodded, his hand coming up to grip Dave's sides. "A lot better. Everything feels normal, now. I feel sleepy, but comfy and warm. Thanks." He snuggled closer. Then, frightfully, he asked, "Dave… we'll still be friends after this, right? Even though you touched me like that? I feel like we did something naughty."

Technically they had. But Dave didn't want to tell Kurt that. So he swallowed his guilt and whispered back, "Yes, of course we'll still be friends. We'll always be friends. I… like you, too, Kurt."

And Kurt's head shot upward, his eyes staring into Dave's hazel ones, a shocked expression on his face that soon gave way to a blissful smile. "You do? Really?"

Dave smiled. "Yeah, of course, dummy. Why else would I touch you like that, or hold you like this?"

Kurt giggled. "That's true." He sighed and planted a small kiss on Dave's collarbone, since he didn't want to crane his neck to find the taller boy's lips. "I like this. This is nice. Let's always be like this, okay? Really close, so that I can feel you. Those seventh and eighth graders call you names, but I think you're perfect, Dave. You've always been this way, and I wouldn't want you to change."

Dave's heart fluttered in his chest, almost like a trapped canary in a cage. He felt his face grow warm again. "Th-thanks, Kurt. I think the same about you. I hate that word they call you; it's horrible, and not fair."

Kurt frowned. "What does it mean, again?"

Dave tensed. "My mom said it was a word people use when they know a boy who likes other boys."

"But then it should be fair, because I do like other boys. I like you, remember?" Kurt reminded, and really, if 'queer' meant that Kurt liked Dave, he was willing to be called it proudly, because at the moment, he felt like he wanted to shout to the whole world how much he loved his best friend.

"Yeah, but… you shouldn't let people know that. They might hurt you, Kurt, and I would be so mad and so sad if they hurt you."

"Oh," Kurt mumbled. "Well, okay then. I don't want to make you upset." And he shook his head, leaning in again. "But I want to help you, Dave. I can feel it, you know. You have the same problem I did."

Dave tensed again, because he didn't want to admit to that. He didn't want to say he was aroused because of hearing and seeing and feeling Kurt's reactions (the pants, the whimpers, the rosy haze across pale cheeks, the fluttering blue eyes; everything that made Kurt suddenly look so much prettier than any girl). He felt ashamed of himself for being so dirty when it came to his own friend. He shrugged. "It's nothing, really. Mine can wait. You don't need to do anything. Besides… that would be crossing the line, remember? The line I drew across my belly?"

"Yeah, but… I want you to feel good, too, Dave," Kurt whispered shyly. "Let me cross it just this once."

And somehow, Dave knew it would be wrong if he let Kurt do just that. It felt okay when Dave touched Kurt, but for Kurt to touch him back… it didn't seem right in Dave's eyes. He shook his head. "No, don't. It's okay, honest. I'll be fine. Let's get our shirts back on and watch a movie instead."

"Oh. All right."

And that had been the end of it.

It was a memory Kurt came to cherish, because between eighth grade and freshman year of high school, things went very, very wrong, and the memory became the only thing Kurt had left.

Dave met Azimio, an African American boy thicker than Dave and very, very homophobic. He despised and feared gays more than anything else, but he was on the junior, and later, the high school football team, and he got Dave into the in-crowd. And while Dave tried to preserve his friendship with Kurt, Azimio kept pulling them apart, saying that Kurt was a "disgusting faggot" who "ought to get beat," and Dave just didn't know what to do.

Because he liked being popular, but he liked Kurt more, and yet in the end… peer pressure won out over loyalty, because that happens sometimes; especially when his mother was jamming it down Dave's throat about how proud she was of him for making such wholesome, God-fearing and fag-hating friends, and how much his dad loved that Dave was going out for football, and partway through freshman year, hockey as well. His dad gave his silent, serious nod that always made Dave feel proud of himself, and with all of this combined, Dave slowly disappeared from Kurt's side.

Kurt was heartbroken, and he knew that Dave must have forgotten that January day when they touched and held each other like adults do. So at age fourteen, Kurt replaced Dave with a girl named Mercedes, and soon, met an Asian girl named Tina, and they became his best friends instead, and he told them how he liked boys, and they didn't mind, and he felt happy that at least two people were okay with him and wouldn't leave him.

And it was Tina and Mercedes who told Kurt that he should join glee club, and it was Tina and Mercedes who introduced him to Noah Puckerman, a jock with a bad rep but a kind heart, and even though Kurt's heart secretly ached for Dave, Puck offered his talents to Kurt since Puck swung both ways, and Kurt gave in, because he needed to erase the memory his mind never let him forget. But Puck got found out, and the other jocks decided to turn on the rebel and the glee club he loved so much as well as everyone else in the singing group, Kurt included. And Kurt watched with pained, teary eyes as Dave was among their ranks. And even though Dave never made eye contact or hurt or slushied Kurt, Kurt knew that Dave was still one of them.

That's how the war started: the war between glee club and the jocks, the war between homophobes and people who could care less, and the war between David Karofsky and Kurt Hummel.