Title: Snapshots
Pairing(s): Kurtofsky
Rating: PG-13 for the below warnings
Word Count: Listed with each drabble
Warnings: Fluff; sexual references; rampant domesticity; beagles (well, one); angst; crooning; implied violence; Brittany.
Spoilers: Right up to On My Way.
Summary: A batch of double drabbles for the 100 Themes Challenge on K Love. I may post more later…like when I'm not drowning in assignments :S
Theme: 24. No Time
Word Count: 196 (double drabble)
Kurt sets the timer on the oven – its pie night – and flings down his pot-mitts. He's already half out of his shirt by the time Dave gets in the door.
"Girls're at San and Britt's," he says, dragging Dave inside and attacking his buttons.
"How much time do we have?" Dave asks with all the seriousness of someone planning a military campaign.
"An hour if we're lucky."
"Cutting it fine," Dave says, "but it's doable."
"Your face is doable," Kurt mutters, going for the jugular.
"Your mom is…okay, enough witty banter," Dave moans as Kurt bites down. "Lose the pants, Fancy."
There's a very involved, very noisy interlude which results in several hurried but heartfelt orgasms, a jammed zipper, a broken lamp and (because they really can't help themselves) more witty banter.
The pair of them are flat on their backs, panting at the ceiling and thinking lazy thoughts (Kurt's are rather self-congratulatory actually) when there's a buzz from the bedclothes.
"I thought we turned that off."
"It's my phone, not the…um."
Kurt grins. "You're thirty, David, you can say dildo."
"Shuddap. San texted; they're nearly here."
As if on cue: bing!
Kurt laughs. "Pie's done."
Theme: 73. I Can't
Word Count: 200 (double drabble)
The album tops Ke$sha's latest, knocking her off the number one spot within a week of release.
Kurt's been avoiding it for reasons he won't examine, but finally caves and buys the limited addition vinyl from Sam's shop and then swears him to secrecy.
He spends the rest of the afternoon sprawled on his living room floor, entranced.
It's nothing like the earlier albums; Band Apart is a band of many facets, but their bread and butter is rock. This is…not.
This is a low, warm voice filling the room like hot chocolate. This is a man making love to an unseen darling. This is sweet and lost and aching, and Kurt is taken back to the first time he heard Adele's Lovesong; the catch in his throat, the heat in his chest.
When the first of the bonus tracks starts, his eyes burn and his heart seizes up.
Footfalls under an ocean
A heartbeat that lasts a year
I see expectation coming
I hear you loud and clear
And I'm so sorry sweetheart
But I can't
I can't
Kurt smiles, eyes closing at the final chorus when he hears:
I'm not sorry sweetheart
I know I can
I can
Theme: 38. Abandoned
Word Count: 194 (double drabble)
The soft whine from under his car is remarkably unignorable.
Dave sighs, puts his backpack on the backseat and awkwardly gets down on his knees, peering into the wet gloom.
It's a beagle.
Of course it's a damn beagle; Dave's always had this terrible weakness for beagles.
He sighs again and reaches under the car, crooning to the pup until she gets close enough to drag out. Once she's safely stowed in Dave's coat he begins the drive home.
What is he doing? He's going to college in a few months – he can't just leave his dad alone with a dog…
His dad.
Alone.
With a dog…
Only he wouldn't be, with a dog, would he? There would be someone home when his dad finished work each night, and someone to hang out with him or go fishing on weekends when Dave can't make it home…
"Huh," says Dave, softly since the pup is sleeping against his chest. "What's that word that means you find a thing you need without knowing you need it?"
Two days later Dave's standing at the key-cutting kiosk in the local mall having a dog tag inscribed with 'Serendipity'.
Theme: 68. Hero
Word Count: 194 (double drabble)
Blood has made a sharp arc across the classroom floor and the air smells of new pennies. There are smears of it on Dave's hands and his left cheek. It's drying now, itching.
Rachel's breathing is shallow against his neck. Dave tries not to jostle her leg; the bleeding could start again, and if she cries out in pain, they could be found…
"It's gonna be okay," he finds himself saying and then fights not to flinch at the distant thunder of gunshots…and screams. "We'll be okay."
"I…I know," she breathes. "Dave?"
"Yeah?"
"You're very brave."
He has absolutely no idea what to say.
"I should've told you when you came back, but… You're very brave, and I –"
"Should stop talking, Berry, seriously, is it like a compulsion for you?"
She huffs a laugh. He can feel tears on his skin.
"I admire you," she whispers. "I'm proud of you."
"You just like me 'cos I kept you from bleeding out."
Another tiny laugh. Gunshots two corridors over. She presses her face to her chest and he curls close around her.
"I'm scared."
"Me too…"
…and then there's sirens coming down the street.
Theme: 39. Dreams
Word Count: 199 (double drabble)
Kurt is struggling to comprehend what he's seeing.
It looks like Dave Karofsky in a waistcoat and cabbie cap leading a dapple grey unicorn – only that makes even less sense than Scientology.
And yet, Dave Karofsky is in a waistcoat and a cabbie cap leading a dapple grey unicorn.
"Hi," Dave says when he gets closer. He smiles nervously, eyes shy. The…the unicorn is nibbling on his shirt.
It's remarkably calm considering the rowdy crowd behind Kurt; Brittany's birthday falls midsummer, and this year her parents have pulled out all the stops and put together a party that strongly resembles a fair. Half the school is here.
Kurt stares.
"It…you…what?" he asks intelligently.
"It's –"
"DAVE!"
Brittany careens out of the crowd of revellers, eyes electric blue in the sunlight, and gasps.
"Is that –?"
Dave smiles his shy smile.
"Happy Birthday, Britt," he tells her, drawing her hand over to the mythological gift. "He's yours for the day."
She stares at him, stroking the equine's nose.
"Dave," she says wonderingly, "you're the most unicorn of them all. Just like Kurt!"
Dave glances at him and blushes and…Kurt finds himself absurdly charmed.
Which, again – even less sense than Scientology.