This is the first Glee story I've ever written, so the characterization is probably a bit off, but it's not like it's that long so characterization doesn't even matter! It was written when I was really fucking tired, and when I get tired all I wanna do is snuggle something...and that's how this story happened.
It's rated T for language only (my headcannon is that Dave swears like a sailor)
Don't even ask about when this might take place. Most of my stories will probably take place in some odd clusterfuck of time and space where seasons and episodes violate each other. Just know that Dave loves Kurt.
Respite
If there was one thing Kurt Hummel hated more than anything in the world, it was being exhausted. He'd rather be slushied while wearing an all-designer, perfectly matched outfit (that's happened before); he'd rather face down a gauntlet of jeering mullets, all yelling slurs (also happened, those puckheads could only bully in packs or else no one would take those haircuts seriously); he'd rather be locker-checked so hard that he pisses himself (thankfully, that's never happened) than be so exhausted that his whole body hurts and his brain aches.
That's the state Kurt found himself in, shuffling down a hallway he couldn't even describe, trying to remember how the hell to get to the parking lot from here. He was so tired when he left Glee that he made a couple thousand wrong turns in the suddenly gigantic high school, but did it with such fake-determination that everyone else assumed he had a reason for walking further into the depths of the labyrinth.
Kurt was so tired that he didn't even notice that a deep voice was calling his name until a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around. Kurt thought he felt something distantly related to terror, but his heart was already doing it's best trying to pump what felt like syrup though his tortured body that he couldn't really tell.
"The fuck you ignoring me for, Fancy?" Karofsky growled, scowling down at Kurt. "You too good to even react?"
"What?" Kurt said, the picture of confusion. "I...what?"
"I called your name like five fucking times, but you just walked right past me." Karofsky wasn't glowering as much, disarmed by how stupidly adorable Kurt was right now. He was swaying gently on his feet, as if listening to some song he just heard in Glee. His eyes were pretty much completely unfocused, and it was the first time in a long time that he was looking at Karofsky without glaring, grimacing, or flinching.
"Oh." Kurt paused, trying to remember what words were. "I'm sorry, I'm just...really tired." So tired, in fact, that he didn't notice that he was swaying even more, and didn't notice when he briefly leaned his forehead against Karofsky's solid shoulder, not even for a second.
Dave definitely noticed though, just as he noticed the soft sigh Kurt released at the brief contact. He froze, and nervously glanced around the hallway to make sure they were completely alone.
Kurt was a bit more awake now that he had that unknown respite, and noticed the bigger teen's paranoia. He rolled his eyes, then briefly considered passing out, but he persevered. "No one is going to make the illogical leap of 'He's not immediately beating the shit out of the gay kid, so he must be gay himself', you know." Kurt said snappishly.
"Shut up!" Karofsky hissed. "Don't say that shit so loud."
Kurt rolled his eyes again. "We're the only ones here." he grumbled.
"You don't even know where 'here' is." Kurt looked like he was about to protest, but Karofsky cut him off with a hiss. "Your car is on the other side of the fucking school, along with that stupid choir room. You're walking around like a fucking zombie with a death wish." Karofksy quickly shut up as the words left his mouth.
Kurt may have been the walking dead, but he was possibly coherent enough to notice the wording. "What? Are you concerned about me now? Worried, even?" The counter-tenor said, running on pure bitch now that he had no energy left. Karofsky's face flushed pink, hoping that Kurt wouldn't realize that, yeah, he kinda was. "Well feel free the play the role of doting mother-hen next time one of your friends decides to grace me with a couple of bruises or slushie-facial."
Karofsky was a deep shade of red now, nostrils flaring, and The Fury getting ready to go, so Kurt finally shut up and glared fearfully at his number one bully.
Kurt was surprised, however, when all Karofsky did was close his eyes a few seconds before loudly exhaling and relaxing his fists, though he was still scowling. "You don't have to be so fucking grouchy just because you're tired. Thought you were supposed to be all composed and shit." Karofsky was back to growling, his voice low and heated and somehow comforting in it's bass, which made Kurt bristle all the more.
"I'm not just tired, Karofsky," He spat, "I am fucking exhausted. Mr. Schue is already drilling us with choreography, which he have to do over, and over, and over because Finn, that lovable oaf, can't dance to save his life. Coach Sylvester is waging mild psychological warfare trying to get me back onto the Cheerios, Mercedes is still trying to talk to me about God, Rachel won't let a single fucking solo go to anyone else, I have more homework than should be legal...and don't even get me started on how much work it is to have a bunch of mesozoic idiots doing their best to drive me into an early grave and how much more work it is to make it seem like it isn't affecting me in the least and where the fuck are you taking me?" Kurt was already starting to screech as he got further into his tirade, but he went up a few octaves when he finally noticed that Karofsky had pretty much picked Kurt up, dragging him into an empty classroom, and he wasn't even putting up a fight. He also didn't notice that his eyes were so full of tears that they were close to spilling.
"Would you just calm down? Jesus, I'm not going to murder you." Karofsky grumbled. He set Kurt down right up against a wall, with his body right in front of the counter-tenor, hands gently resting on thin shoulders.
"Then why are we in this stupid history room." Kurt mumbled under his breath, sniffling a little. He'd be damned if he started crying.
Karofsky didn't leave a lot of room between their bodies, so Kurt could feel the heat radiating off of the lineman. His traitorous, traitorous body desperately wanted to go towards the warmth, and his dastardly brain imagined that even though that muscular bulk has most likely given him some intense phobias, it would be bliss to to snuggle into all that warmth right now.
Without even realizing it, Kurt had leaned forward again, eyes closed in an unwanted daydream.
Karofsky just stared down, eyes softening as Kurt wobbled closer. He took a deep breath, and moved before he lost his nerves. He wrapped thick arms around the smaller boy, pulling him gently into his broad chest. Kurt stiffened as much as his fatigued muscles allowed, which wasn't much, but enough for Dave to notice. He was expecting it, of course, but it still kind of stung.
"What do you think you are doing." Kurt said, his voice eerily calm. He started shaking a little.
"Hugging you." Dave answered gruffly. "You seemed...miserable." Kurt shook a little more, and Dave really hoped that he wasn't about to get kicked in the nads.
"I can't...I can't do this, David." Kurt said, his voice broken with exhaustion. "I don't hate you for what you did. I should, but I don't. But I can't...I still flinch when I see you, and you're still a rude bastard, but you're so fucking comfortable and...I can't...I want to hate you..." Kurt trailed off, shaking more. Tears started to spill, tracking down Kurt's too-pale face. "I'm just so fucking tired of everything." He whispered. Dave's heart clenched in slight fear, though he knew Kurt well enough to know he didn't mean it in an alarming way. The curly-haired boy heaved a deep sigh again, Kurt's head moving limply along with Dave's chest.
If asked later, Dave wouldn't have been able to tell you what kind of fucked up spirit had possessed him to pick Kurt up, turn around, slide down the wall, and arrange the counter-tenor so he was in the most comfortable position possible. Kurt went along with it, saving his the last vapors of energy in case of attempted homicide, completely boneless. Luckily though, he didn't need bones to speak.
"I repeat myself. What do you think you are doing?" He said into the rough material of Dave's letterman jacket. His watery voice was crystal clear to Dave's ears, which were naturally tuned to 'stupidly beautiful girly voice'.
"You said you were tired. So, take a nap or something." The noises Dave made could only be described as rumbling, the bass of it reverberating inside Kurt's jellied brain. Kurt was so distracted by the physical feeling of it, that he completely missed the fond tone, a fact which Dave was grateful for.
Kurt started struggling to get free of Dave's arms, something they both knew was challenge when Kurt was at full-strength, and all-together impossible in his current state. "If you think I'm going to even be able to relax enough around you of all people to sleep then-"
Dave made an annoyed rumble as he squeezed his arms tightly, cutting off Kurt before he could monologue again. He shifted again so that Kurt's head was tucked underneath his chin, careful not to lighten his iron grip.
"Just take a fucking nap, Fancy."
Kurt decided that if he was going to die, he might as well do it comfortably, so he gave in to the blackness that had been creeping up on him all day. Dave finally allowed himself to smile as he felt Kurt relax and let go. His calloused hand gently stroked the edges of Kurt's hair, the only part Dave was confident he could touch without making too big of a mess.
He still didn't know what the fuck happened, how making sure Kurt wasn't an actual zombie turned into making sure Kurt wasn't overly miserable turned into making sure Kurt wasn't so tired anymore, but he did know one thing; If there was one thing David Karofsky hated more than anything in the world, it was seeing Kurt cry.
So there it is. My first Glee fic. My first Kurtofsky fic. My first fic period in a couple years. Reviews are appreciated, but only if you use proper spelling.
Just kidding, if you have to use u and r to express yourself then rock the fuck on, I'd never turn away a review just because it needs to be deciphered.