Author's Note: This one shot was inspired by Kittendragon's review to my 25 Kurtofsky Sentences. Thank you for putting the little plot in my mind lovely! I still don't own Glee. This is a future fic, maybe and AU, I'm not sure, depends on how ooc they are.
Kurt sighed softly as he was hurrying home to meet his husband David, who was waiting for him and he was already late as it was. The two had anniversary dinner plans and he didn't want to miss him. And he still had to fix his hair and change into a better outfit, because his work uniform would just not cut it.
He couldn't help but admire the streets of New York at night, the lights of time square and the busy bustling of people walking quickly to get to their destinations. Sometimes he couldn't believe that he was twenty five years old and married, living in New York. Sure he hadn't made it to Broadway or had his big fashion break, but he was on his way.
He turned to a side street and down to the metro, sliding in his card and making his way to an empty seat. It was pretty busy for seven, and with winter here it was already dark. He was just happy they hadn't gotten their first snow yet, and it was the third of December. He was beyond thankful for that, because he was almost positive his perfect skin would be unhappy with Mother Nature.
He stepped unsteadily off of the metro and onto the silent platform as he watched the vehicle speed off, leaving a cool wind in its wake. Kurt tightened his coat and held his bag tighter as he made his way towards the stairs when a hand covered his mouth. The man's eyes widened as he tried to fight against his perpetrator, but the other was much stronger.
"You be quiet, you hear me?"
Kurt felt tears fill his eyes and he nodded his head at the stranger's voice and let himself be pulled into the darkness. He was imagining the worst things possible, like rape or even being murdered. Oh god. He would never get home to David. He was going to die in the metro in New York City before he even got to live his life.
"Give me the bag." He heard. Kurt for once handed his beloved messenger bag without a second thought. There was only one credit card in there, his license, a fifty dollar bill, and various make ups, brochures, fashion magazines, keys, and his cell phone. All of those things could be replaced. His life could not. He obeyed silently as the man covered his eyes and he let himself be lead into the darkness, trying to find noise in the unusual silence.
"Sit and count to one hundred, and don't you fucking move or I'll blow your brains right out of that pretty little head."
Kurt nodded and kept his eyes held shut tight as he counted backwards from one hundred. He heard the sound of footsteps walking away, but he still let out a scream when he heard the sound of a gun being fired.
Dave growled to himself, pacing back and forth in the large house as he glanced at the clock for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was already eight now and their reservations were at eight fifteen. He swore out loud, almost getting into a fight with the standing lamp that got in the way of his pacing. If Kurt forgot about their five year anniversary and went to have drinks with the girls from work he was going to be so pissed.
But there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. For the entire time since grade school that he had known Kurt Hummel and well into their marriage, the soprano had not once been late for anything. And he rarely forgot things. But he shook his head. They had been in New York for almost five years and Kurt knew the way by now and was perfectly safe.
Right?
Dave called the males cell phone but was disappointed when it went straight to voicemail. He called the office and was told that Kurt had left at seven. That meant he should have been home forty five minutes ago. Dave was seriously starting to panic.
Dave sighed softly, falling back on the couch. Maybe Kurt was getting some early shopping done and had gotten caught up and forgot about the time? Or maybe he wanted to grab a coffee before he got there. Or he was stopping at the cupcake place he liked so much that the line took forever to get through. There were plenty of liable excuses for why his husband was now an hour late.
A knock at the door made all of his tension fall away as he shot up and adjusted his suit before pulling open the large cherry wood door, only to come face to face with an officer.
"Can I help you officer?" the ex-jock asked, swallowing around the lump that formed in his throat.
"You are David Karofsky, correct? Husband of Kurt Karofsky?" the officer questioned, staring down at a paper.
Dave's heart normally soared when he heard his last name following Kurt's first, but now it just sent a jolt of fear through his veins.
"Yes."
"I'm going to need you to come down to the station and identify a body. We believe that your husband has been involved in an accident."
When Dave heard those words he could feel his heart shattering and he couldn't help lost his balance, backing up until he fell against the couch, a sob forming in his throat as he stared at the officer in his doorframe.
Kurt opened up his eyes long after the sirens had faded and he found himself in a dark alley, shielded from the main streets. He stood, shakily brushing himself off as he glanced at his watch that now read nine. David was going to be having a panic attack by now, and he was surprised that he could hold himself together. Then again, he was glad that he had gotten away unharmed from the incident. But now he was missing his brand new Prada bag and his belongings.
He walked out to the main street to see the concrete wet where it seemed someone had been cleaning off some sort of substance. He then remembered the gun; aimed at his own head as the stranger accidentally fired the trigger. Directly into his own skull.
Kurt breathed out a shaky sigh of relief as he tried to figure out his surroundings. He couldn't be more than ten blocks from home, maybe twelve. He took off running towards his house. When he got their ten minutes later, thankful that he worked out every weekend, he held his breath when he heard muffled screaming from inside.
Oh god.
He heard a sudden yell of 'He can't be fucking dead!' and all but ran to the front door, bursting through it.
Dave had looked at the picture of said body, but that wasn't his Kurt. That looked nothing like his Kurt. How the fuck had the officer's not seen that the two bared no resemblance? Kurt's hair was always perfect, his nose tiny and adorable, his lips full and always in a dignified smirk. That was not his husband.
But then where was he? This guy had stolen Kurt's bag, and he had a gun. He had shot himself. What if he had shot Kurt? Dave let his head fall in his hands while chanting to himself, unaware that he was yelling the words out loud until the door burst open and his head shot up. His body following soon after.
There in front of him was a lightly ruffled and shaken Kurt. His husband. He was alive and breathing and the taller male wrapped the other up in his arms so tightly that he thought he might squeeze him until he combusted.
"Oh god, Kurt where were you! I had an officer asking me to identify your body and all I could think was that you were gone from my life. And oh for the love of god I'm so happy that you're okay!" he cried.
Kurt's eyes widened and he shook his head free from the shock of Dave's words. "Oh Dave, no no no. Honestly, I'm fine. I got my bag stolen and got a little lost. No big deal!" he spoke, trying to reassure his hysterical husband.
"No big deal?" Dave gaped, kissing Kurt's lips roughly. "Dammit I thought you were dead Kurt!" he cried, holding him close.
Kurt wrapped his arms securely around Dave's waist and burrowed into him. "I'm sorry." He whispered.
"That's it. You're carrying pepper spray and I'm bringing you to and from work. I don't care what the hell you say." He spoke.
Kurt could only nod his head. Dave leaned down to kiss the smaller males trembling lips.
"I love you Kurt. I love you so much." He whispered.
"I love you too Dave." The other sighed. "I just want to know one thing." He spoke softly.
Dave looked down, nodding his head. "Yes?"
"What kind of jerk steal's a man's necessity like that?"
Dave could only chuckle and pull his husband closer in his arms as he felt the pieces of his heart coming back together stronger than any glue could ever make it.