Story: First Date
Author: MikoAkako
Beta: None
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Pairing/Character: Pre-Kurtofsky(kind of), Burt, Finn, Santana
Word count: 1,166
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.
Summary: Future AU. Kurtofsky. Response to a prompt from the glee fluff meme at lj. Santana helps Dave get ready for his first date with Kurt.
A/N: Another Kurtofsky fic from me. I came to the realization last night that I may not be as much of a Klaine shipper as I originally thought. That, or Dave is just too damn sexy to resist.
Dave leapt up from where he was sitting on his bed when he heard the doorbell ring. He'd sent a desperate text to Santana almost two hours ago, and the emergency hadn't gotten any closer to being solved in the time it took her to detach from Brittany and drive over. His dad had beat him to the door, and was talking to the latina girl when Dave got there.
"Hey Dave," Santana said, excusing herself from the middle aged man and walking to Dave. "You look like crap." It was a standard greeting from the black haired girl, and Dave had learned long ago not to take her insults personally.
"You said you'd be here over an hour ago," He said, grabbing her arm and steering her towards his room. She laughed, pulling away from him and leading the way. When they'd 'dated' the year before she'd come over at least once a week. Since they'd both come out the summer before, they had remained friends.
"Chill, caveman," She said, not flinching as Dave closed the door behind them. "You've still got an hour before you said you'd pick Kurt up. How hard could it possibly be to find something for you to wear. It's not like you've got to worry about doing your hair or makeup." She strode confidently to his closet, pulling it open and expecting to just grab a shirt, pair it with jeans and be done. What she saw made her freeze.
Everything was either red, white or a mixture of the two. And by everything, she meant the four jackets hanging up. She pawed through them quickly, hoping she'd missed something. She hadn't. All Dave owned was McKinley high jackets. He had one from football, one from hockey, a generic one he must have bought freshman year which, judging by the size, wouldn't fit anymore even if she did deem it appropriate to wear, and last, she recognized their old Bullywhip uniform, the beret tucked in a pocket.
"Is this all you own?" She asked, turning to face him. He was sitting on the bed, head buried in his hands. At her words, he glanced up.
"No. Most of my clothes are in the dresser," he indicated a beaten up black dresser on the other side of the room. The top was covered in a mess of papers, dirty clothes and dishes containing things Santana really didn't want to think about. She'd been to Kurt's house, and to say the two were opposites would be an understatement. Still, she thought they'd be a cute couple.
The inside of the dresser was no cleaner than the outside. Instead of folding his clothes, it looked like Dave had just shoved them all in, wrinkling most beyond repair. Not that it mattered, because like his closet, everything was either red or white. She didn't even know McKinley offered so many choices.
"Do you own anything that doesn't have McKinley written on it?" She asked, taking out a few shirts just to make sure she didn't miss anything.
"No," Dave admitted. "Well, I have some plain white shirts. But I usually wear one of my jackets over them." He stood up, walking over to stand behind her. "What's wrong with them, though?"
"Honey, have you seen Kurt?" She tossed the shirts on the ground – they were so wrinkled it didn't really matter anyway – and pulled out others. "There's no way you can take him out wearing…" She held up a white shirt, stained on the bottom from something that looked like it was either coffee or a really old blood stain. "…whatever this is."
"Then what can I wear?" Dave asked, sinking back on the bed. Santana glanced over her shoulder.
"I've got an idea…" Instructing him to grab his wallet and follow her, she went out to the car. It was a quick drive to Wal-Mart. It wasn't Santana's first choice, but there wasn't time to go to the mall. And frankly, anything would be better than what Dave owned.
"Where are you taking Kurt again?" She asked, stalking through the aisles of the men's clothing department. "Breadstix?"
"No," Dave said. "Kurt mentioned an art thing in Findlay." Santana looked at him, brows raised.
"Ambitious first date," she said, turning back to the clothes. "You must really like him."
"I do," Dave picked up a shirt which Santana firmly put back on the rack.
"Well, just know that if you hurt him, I'm on his side," she said it jokingly, but Dave knew it was a serious warning. "What about this?"
Exactly an hour later, Dave pulled his car up to the Hudmel residence. He got out of his 1989 Ford Ranger feeling distinctly self conscious, not only because Kurt's gleaming 2010 Cadillac Escalade made his beat down truck look like a kid's toy, but also because of the outfit Santana had convinced him to wear.
"Hey Finn," Dave lifted a hand in greeting when Finn opened the door. "Is Kurt ready?" The quarterback swung the door open all the way and turned over his shoulder.
"Kurt! You done yet?" Dave winced, stepping inside. He'd never seen Kurt's house, but somehow he hadn't expected it to be so…rustic. Of course, it fit with exactly what he expected someone like Burt would like. And speaking of Burt…
"David," Burt said, putting on a strained smile. Dave shook the offered hand, grimacing at the tight grip.
"Hello, Mr. Hummel," Dave said. The last time he'd met Kurt's dad was a year ago after Santana blackmailed him into apologizing to Kurt. He'd come a long way since then, but he wasn't sure how much of that Kurt had passed on to Burt.
"You sure you're not just messing with Kurt? Because I swear to god I'll…" Whatever the threat was going to be was cut off when Kurt ascended the stairs.
"Hi Dave," He said, grinning. He went over to his dad, hugged him, and then went to stand beside Dave. The taller male shifted uncomfortably, wishing he'd just worn one of his regular outfits instead of the stupid jeans and collared shirt Santana picked out for him. Kurt looked flawless as usual. He didn't have a strand of hair out of place, and his outfit fit him like a glove – a white double breasted coat and dark blue pants.
"Be back by ten," Burt said, drawing Dave's attention away from Kurt again.
"It's Saturday," Kurt said. "Curfew is eleven, remember?" Burt agreed, reluctantly, and Kurt led Dave outside.
"Sorry about my dad," Kurt said when the door was closed. "He's kind of over protective."
"That's alright. Not like I blame him," Dave added. "You look nice, by the way." Kurt laughed, spinning in a circle.
"Thank you," he said. "You look…like Santana dressed you." Dave felt himself blush at Kurt's teasing laugh.
"Is it that awful?" Dave asked, opening the passenger door for Kurt.
"Not at all," Kurt said. "But you look better in red."