Weeeell, I figured I might as well try writing a Kurtofsky fic, so I gave it a shot. I had a couple ideas, one with Pirate!Karofsky and another one with zombies, but I figured I'd try out this one. A lot of people were talking about Karofsky singing songs from the Moulin Rouge in Glee and it got the cogs in my brain turning, so I figured; why the hell not!
That being said, this fic doesn't actually have a lot in common with the movie, just the location... I guess the most it has in common is that there will be a love triangle. Oh, how I love triangles! Anyway, I digress, just... I hope you like this silly little fic I've attempted to write. I tried to make it as accurate as I could, but I did not live in 1899, so who knows. I'll hope you take any slight historical inaccuracies in your stride and enjoy it anyway!
So without further ado, I present 'Welcome to the Moulin Rouge' part 1!
xXxXxXx
The year was 1899. Bohemian culture had hit Paris in a huge way, and right in the centre of it all lay the Montmartre district. By the light of day it appeared as a dirty run down area filled to the brim with failed writers and drunks. But by night it became a glorious city of music and dancing.
At the heart of all of that sat a luxurious nightclub; the Moulin Rouge. People would spend their lives in the club, chasing after elusive women and drowning their sorrows at the bottom of an absinth bottle. But the nightclub was in dire straits. They needed a new sponsor and they needed one badly.
That was where Blaine Anderson came in. At twenty two, Blaine had inherited a small fortune when his father had passed away. He was a performer and notorious party animal. All they needed to do was lure him to the club and suck him into the excitement like so many men before him. It was with that thought in mind that William Schuester, current owner of the Moulin Rouge, sent out a personal invitation for him to spend a night in the infamous nightclub for free.
With the invitation sent out, the performers waited in the wings, anxious for his arrival.
"Okay everyone," called Will, slapping his hands together. "Mr. Anderson should be here any minute now. I want you to all do your best to make him happy. If we can get his sponsorship, we won't have to worry about where our next meal comes from ever again."
A murmur of excitement and hope ran through the crowd gathered around Will. He turned to Rachel, one of their biggest selling courtesans.
"We may be relying on you for this one, Rachel," he turned to the rest of his performers, "but we need to all put in an effort."
"Do we even know if this Blake guy has a type," asked Santana with a flick of her hair. "Munchkin over there isn't exactly the most beautiful of the girls around here."
"First of all, his name is Blaine. Blaine," emphasised Will. "Please don't make such a mistake when he gets here. Besides, I've heard he doesn't care as much about looks, but he falls in love with singers."
"Which means I'll be able to sing?" Rachel turned to Will with wide, hopeful eyes. She hadn't been able to sing in a long while and she was getting tired of not being able to share her passion for music with the world.
"You'll be able to sing," confirmed Will, breaking out into a smile. "We'll open with Rachel and while she entertains Blaine, we'll have Kurt perform for the rest of the customers."
Kurt stood from where he'd been sat away from the courtesans, a large grin on his face. He'd been working at the Moulin Rouge for four years and it was still very rare that he'd be given an opportunity to sing. Of course with most of the patrons being young, rich men, he had little opportunity to entertain.
After coming to Paris at the tender age of nineteen, the dream of singing for a large audience in his mind, he'd quickly found himself swept into the romanticism of it all and found himself near starved and living on the streets. Will had taken pity on him and offered to take him in and give him a job. He didn't get to perform as much as he'd like and the work that he did setting up the bar and decorating the stage was strenuous and would keep him awake for long amounts of time, but it was a job. It was one step towards his dream of stardom.
Santana huffed from where she had been standing, turning on her heels and landing heavily into a chair. She looked down at the man next to her and rolled her eyes in annoyance. He let out a little laugh and rubbed small circles into her back.
"You'll get to sing again, Santana, don't worry about it," he reassured her. "At least you won't have to sleep with him?"
"Yeah." She leaned back against his hand and closed her eyes. "Kurt will be performing tonight then?" She turned a sly eye to the man, her mouth turning up into a small smile. "I'll bet you're happy about that?"
The man squirmed in his seat slightly, turning his eyes to where Kurt was happily chatting to Rachel about which songs to perform and which costumes would go best.
"I suppose so," he replied, his cheeks turning a subtle shade of red. Santana laughed out loud at that, drawing the attention of the room, including Kurt. The man turned his head away when Kurt glanced in his direction and pretended he didn't know he was looking over at him with interest.
"Oh Dave! Dave, Dave, Dave. You've got it bad, boy."
And it was true.
Dave Karofsky had been working at the Moulin Rouge since he was only fourteen. He was strong and fairly athletic and never chased after the working girls like some of the others, so Will had taken a great liking to him; calling him faithful and reliable. So when he had begged Will to hire Kurt, there was nothing else he could have done.
The first time Dave had laid eyes on Kurt Hummel, he was entranced. He'd never seen anyone as beautiful as he was, standing on a street corner in dirty, oversized clothes trying to busk for an uninterested audience. It was his voice that had captivated him. It was high, like a woman's, but with a masculine undertone to it. It was completely fascinating and had caught him in a trap he feared he could never break from.
He'd practically sprinted back to the club, begging Will to hire him. Will was reluctant at first, but after being dragged to the street corner to hear him, he didn't have to think twice. Of course, Dave had told him not to mention his input in Kurt's hiring process. He just couldn't watch the young man starve in the gutter like so many more before him. He wanted to hear him sing again.
Their first encounter hadn't gone well. Dave had been appointed the role of showing Kurt the ropes, but he could barely look the man in the eye. He mumbled out instructions to him, Kurt having to ask him to repeat what he said on more than one occasion. He'd lugged heavy boxes into Kurt's arms and tried not to touch him when he stumbled. When Kurt had dropped a box filled with decanters, Dave had flat out shouted at him. Kurt had glared up at him with damp eyelashes. It was a look Dave had never forgotten. He both loved and hated the memory. It was the first big show of emotion Kurt had ever given him, but it was one of anger and frustration.
From that point on, their relationship had been distant at best. They still spoke to each other, but it was mostly out of necessity. But Dave could live with that. They lived together and ate together and on the occasion Kurt would sing. He was partial to anything by Isadore Rush; his favourite actress and singer. On many occasions, Dave would find himself listening to Kurt hum out her tunes. It was his favourite part of his day and he treasured those times of peace more than anything. Every other time, Dave would push Kurt away, sometimes even physically. He was very aware of his attraction to Kurt, and he was also very aware that he was about a million years out of his league.
So he decided to admire him from afar. Watch him sing, watch him work, and just imagine. Imagine what it'd be like if he could look him in the eye and just be with him, no matter what their relationship.
He sighed and scratched the back of his head, glancing back over to Kurt who had stopped looking by now, probably with lack of interest. Santana curled fingers through his hair in reassurance. She was the only one who knew about his love for Kurt, just as he was the only one to know of her love for Brittany; another courtesan. He'd confided in her after a questioning session when she caught him staring for the hundredth time. In return she'd explained her love for Brittany. They'd become instant confidents, going to each other for advice and just a general shoulder to lean on when things got too tough.
"Come on," smiled Santana, slapping her thighs before abruptly rising to her feet. "I've got a mean corset I need to squeeze into and I need a pair of big, strong hands to help me out without copping a feel."
Dave couldn't help the laugh that fell from his lips as he stood up, slinging his arm around her shoulders. "I take it you've met the new guy? What's his name again? Puckerman?"
Santana broke into a long winded rant about their new employee, with Dave grinning beside her, attempting to lead her to the dressing room even while she flung her arms around in her tirade.
Kurt watched them leave, an interested look on his face.
"I heard they've been seeing each other," whispered Rachel, leaning in close to Kurt's ear. Kurt turned to look at her, his expression a little shocked; mostly due to the fact he'd been caught staring at Dave.
"R-really? I didn't think that was allowed..." he grinned at her, a nervous laugh escaping his mouth.
"Well, it's not really against the rules, but, what's the point? No trust, no love, right?" Kurt nodded at her mindlessly. "Ugh, it's just Santana, though. She's so... y'know? She's even going after that Karofsky guy? She doesn't even have taste."
"Really? I don't think he's all that bad on the eye though," mumbled Kurt, turning away from where Dave and Santana had disappeared to.
"Did I just hear you right," gasped Rachel. "We are talking about the same guy who you once said was chubby, sweat too much and was going to be bald by the time he was thirty, right?"
"Yeah, but I also said you were a spotlight stealing diva, and that's only half true," laughed Kurt, distracting from the situation. Rachel puffed out her cheeks and slapped Kurt's arm, playfully.
Since Kurt had joined the staff of the Moulin Rouge, he'd found himself becoming the best of friends with their headline act; Rachel Berry. No one was more surprised about that than Kurt himself, but while Rachel was most certainly self centred and most of all, bossy, he'd found he'd had much more in common with her than he'd like to admit out loud. It was their mutual love of the theatre and music that drew them together and they had become fast best friends. They'd even made a promise to each other; they were going to save all the money they could and get out of Paris. They would travel to America and make names for themselves. They would go down in history and become more than what they were. And they were going to do it together.
As much as Kurt still insisted on doing that, he was starting to have drawbacks. Not only would they be all alone in America, but they'd be turning their backs on their lives in Paris. All the friends they'd known, and their loyalty to the Moulin Rouge; it would all go down the tubes.
But they were so close, and it was their chance to chase their dreams. They couldn't resist it; America was calling. Blaine Anderson was the key.
Kurt wrapped an arm around Rachel's and gently led her to the dressing rooms. He only half glanced at Dave and Santana before returning his full attention to Rachel's wardrobe. Poor girl may have been born with above average looks, but she couldn't dress herself to save her life.
Dave and Santana hadn't noticed the two walk in and were still struggling with Santana's corset. Santana was straddling a chair, her hands wrapped around the back, holding on for dear life. Dave's knee was resting between her outstretched legs, fighting for balance.
"Do you have to pull it so damn tight?" Santana kicked her heel back only half playfully while Dave struggled with the lace in his hands.
"Do you want to expose yourself to the audience? If not, then yeah, it has to be this tight." With that he gave another tug of the lace. Santana gasped and turned around, her hands over her chest.
"Oh, you'd just love to see my girls, wouldn't you?" They grinned at each other, Dave putting his hands on the chair either side of her head.
"You know I'd love to see 'em, it's just that Schuster might get a little pissed at me, don't you think?"
"Ahem," interrupted Rachel. The two whipped their heads around to look at Rachel where she stood, her arms crossed over her chest looking down her nose at the two of them. Kurt stood behind her, trying hard to look like he wasn't paying any intention and was completely content with looking at the fabric inside the wardrobe. "If you two are going to have some sort of secret relationship, could you at least keep it a little secret?"
When Dave locked eyes with Kurt for the first time, he jumped away from Santana so fast it was almost like he'd been scalded.
"It's not," he raised his hands, defensively. "It's not like we're- We're not-"
"Ugh, forget them, Dave," Santana all but growled. "They wouldn't understand the kind of relationship we had if we sat them down and spelled it out. It's platonic, by the way. Davey here has his eye on someone else." The last part she'd pointedly said to Kurt, making Dave's whole face burn up in embarrassment.
"Platonic. Sure." Rachel turned back to her wardrobe to rummage through it while Dave and Santana returned to lacing up her corset. Kurt glanced around the room, a little awkwardly before helping Rachel pick an appropriate dress. He couldn't help wondering who exactly Santana had been talking about when she said Dave had eyes for someone else. It couldn't be Rachel, could it...?
xXxXxXx
"Thank you all for coming tonight," smiled Will, shouting from where he stood on stage. "Without further ado, I welcome you to the Moulin Rouge!" With that he pulled of his top hat, bowing as he left the stage. A long line of girls danced out, performing the Moulin Rouge's trademark dance; the can-can.
Dave watched from the bar as he poured drinks. He smiled when he finally saw Santana appear, her arm wrapped around Brittany's waist, kicking her legs up high with a smile that was only half fake plastered to her full red lips. He let out a loud cheer when their routine had finished, Rachel moving to the centre of the stage.
The dancing girls broke from their line to make their way to entertain their own patrons. Santana lingered around Brittany, her arm wrapped tightly around her waist before she was forced to detach herself from her and made her way to the bar, settling against it to talk to Dave.
"Looks like it's going to be a long night," she scowled, glancing over to where Rachel danced around the stage, singing some high tempo tune neither of them had heard before. Dave chuckled as he poured her a finger of whiskey, handing it to her. She gratefully took it and turned to survey the patrons; looking for a victim she could separate from his money.
"Oh," she started. "That must be that Blaine guy?" Dave glanced to where she was pointing.
He suspected she may have been right when he saw Will trying his best to please Blaine as much as he could. A gaggle of girls had already formed a crowd around him and he couldn't have looked any less interested if he tried. Dave stared, taking the man in.
"He doesn't look all that special," he huffed.
"Got that right," scoffed Santana. "Sure, he's fairly good looking in a pampered rich kid kind of way, but he's also a short arse with huge eyebrows." Dave laughed at her blunt summary, watching Rachel with half interest as she finished her song. She raised her skirt high above her head and dropped to the floor performing the splits as her big finish.
The room cheered and Dave clapped his hands appreciatively while Santana rolled her eyes. She may have been a difficult woman to work with, but Dave could appreciate talent when he saw it and Rachel was a damn good singer. She grinned at the crowd before making her way over to Blaine and Will, sitting close to the former.
"Oh, looks like it's your lucky day," grinned Santana, nodding towards the stage. Dave glanced over, his heart near stopping when he saw Kurt. His clothes weren't lavish by far, but in Dave's opinion, anything would look good on the boy.
Kurt strode to the centre of the stage only a little nervously. He glanced at the band and nodded his head. Music filled the room once more and Kurt swayed along to the sound of the violins. Dave stared in a trance while Kurt's hips swayed to and thro. He parted his lips to sing out a song, 'You and I'; one of his favourites as Dave recalled.
"Sweetest love will come at last for you and I,
Sorrow deep will soon be past for you and I,
I'll be yours and you'll be mine, with a fond, pure love divine.
The sun of happiness will shine on you and I..."
The song was slower than the original; almost sultry with the way Kurt was moving his hips to the tune, his voice breathy. Kurt had truly made it his own.
Dave absentmindedly rubbed the glass he was cleaning, not once daring to blink for fear of losing sight of the sway of hips. Santana grinned from where she leant against the bar, completely amused with Dave's reaction. Neither of them noticed the way Blaine had become just as entrapped with Kurt as Dave, not paying any attention to the girls who shamelessly rubbed themselves against him where he sat.
"Mr. Schuester," started Blaine, not once looking away from the man on stage, "who is that?" Will looked over to the stage where Kurt was still singing, swaying with the violins.
"Oh, that's just one of our grunt workers. He's filling in on stage tonight while the girls work. It's rare that he does though."
"Really? You should put him on more." Rachel gave Blaine a weary look as he stared at Kurt.
"Is he..." she started, waving her hand in a vague gesture, unsure how to ask her question, "your type?"
"Yes, actually," smiled Blaine, no shame on his face at all. Will nodded, a little uncertain. Kurt was not a courtesan. He wasn't up for sale; Dave had made it clear he didn't want that kind of life for him the minute Will had agreed to hire him. But they needed Blaine. No, they needed his money and if Kurt was the cost, then they would have to do what was necessary. It wasn't just about Kurt or Dave, it was about everyone. It could benefit everyone.
"I will have a word with him," smiled Will. They watched Kurt in silence as he finished off his version of Raymon Moore's song, the girls stopping with their constant flirting aware that they most certainly were not Blaine's type.
Kurt bowed to the half interested audience and retreated to the bar when a new batch of dancing girls took his place. He took up a stool near Santana and Dave was next to him in a flash.
"Can I get you anything?"
"Just water please, David," smiled Kurt, his face red from the performance. Dave smiled at him bashfully. Only Kurt and his mother ever called him David and it made him feel the smallest connection with the other man; one that only they shared. He took up a clean glass and filled it with water, dutifully handing it to Kurt. He lingered around him for an awkward moment, trying to think of something to say without coming across as a creep. Santana watched the scene unfold, amusement flickering across her eyes.
"You were, uh, really good tonight. When you were singing, I mean." Kurt gulped down the mouthful of water he'd sucked up before turning a bashful smile towards Dave.
"Thank you."
"I really like the version you sing of that song," Dave continued. It was rare he had time alone (he'd decided to pointedly ignore Santana's presence) to talk to Kurt and he never wasted an opportunity. "I don't know why that guy didn't sing it like that in the first place, it's so much better."
"You flatter me, David," laughed Kurt a little breathily. "I suppose that song is better when it's upbeat; more popular as a parlour song, don't you think?" He leaned forward on the bar a little, genuinely interested in having such a conversation with Dave.
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Your voice is so much more beautiful, though." The words were out before Dave could think about them. He clapped a hand over his mouth and his face began to heat when Kurt just stared up at him.
"O-oh? You... Think I have a beautiful voice?"
"I, um, of course, I love your voice." They broke out in an awkward silence, neither man knowing how to continue their conversation. Dave glanced over at Santana when he heard her giggling to herself. He knew she'd been taking great amusement in watching Dave sweat. Kurt glanced towards Santana, following Dave's line of sight. He leant forward on his stool and half whispered.
"If... if you don't mind me asking," he started, "are you and Santana...?" He made a small gesture with his hands. Dave stared at Kurt for a moment before snapping back to reality at the realisation of what Kurt was asking.
"Oh! Oh, God, no." He shook his head furiously and raised his hands in front of him in defence. "That would be wrong on so many levels. She's pretty much my sister. Well, close enough as you can get without actually being related, anyway."
"Oh," replied Kurt, his shoulders relaxing a bit. He took another swig of his water and glanced around a little nervously. Dave raised his eyebrow.
"Is that... all?"
"Um, well," started Kurt, taking another glance around. He sucked in a breath and let the words tumble from his lips, "Was what Santana said true? That you like someone else?"
Dave felt his face heat up; he wasn't prepared for that kind of question, especially not from Kurt. He scratched the back of his neck bashfully, avoiding eye contact.
"It's... true. I guess. Yeah, I do."
"... Rachel?"
"What? No!" Dave all but shouted. Kurt flinched a little where he was sat, surprised by the outburst. Dave raised his hands to show he was harmless. "Listen, Kurt, there is someone I like, but it's not like I'm going to do anything about it. He and I are about a million years apart."
"He...?" Kurt turned his eyes to Dave, a little mischievously. "So he's a man?" Dave gulped in a breath of air. The only other person who knew of his sexuality was Santana and even she had to rip it from him over the course of six years. He wasn't so sure about letting Kurt in on his secret; even if he was the one Dave had longed for in all the four years he'd known him. He glanced at Santana who was staring back at him, a look of encouragement in her eyes. He gave her a slight nod and turned his attention back to Kurt, drawing in a deep breath. He couldn't believe he was about to do it, but he was going to try and tell Kurt everything. Now was a good a time as any, he supposed.
"Kurt, the truth is, you... I-"
"Kurt!" The two men looked over to see Will striding briskly over to them. Dave's heart sank a little when his sentence died in the air.
There's always next time, I guess... He thought when Will bounced towards the table, swinging an arm around Kurt.
"I'm giving you a promotion," smiled Will, squeezing Kurt's shoulder. Kurt raised his eyebrows, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"A promotion," he grinned. "Does this mean I get to sing more?"
"Maybe..." started Will. He cast a quick glance at Dave who narrowed his eyes at him sceptically. Something was off about all of this, he could smell it.
"I have a proposition for you, if you're willing to take it." He turned Kurt on the stool and pointed towards Blaine who was watching intently from across the room. "It turns out, Mr. Anderson has... 'special interests' that only you can provide."
Kurt's eyebrows shot up into his hairline and his cheeks turned a dark pink. Dave slammed his hand down on the bar, grabbing Will's attention.
"Will, that's not what we-" He was cut off when Will raised his hand. Dave may have had considerable pull when it came to affairs at the Moulin Rouge, but Will was still his boss. If it really came down to it he'd have to do whatever the man told him to.
"Kurt, this is your decision to make, I won't force you into anything you're uncomfortable with, but think about it, okay? This isn't just about us; it's about everyone who works here."
Kurt was silent for a moment. He glanced over at Rachel who was doing her best to grab Blaine's attention. He thought about America and all the money they'd saved up. They were going to do it together, but Rachel was the only one really doing any work. The girl had sold herself to countless men for the both of them and Kurt had done nothing. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right. He took a quick glance at Dave before turning his head back to Will, nodding with a determined expression.
"Sure. Yeah, I'll do it." Dave started in with a protest, but was caught off by Will, who raised his hand to him, his other still clasped around Kurt's shoulder.
"That's great, Kurt, I'm proud of you. Come on, I'll take you over to meet him." As Will guided Kurt over towards Blaine's table, he shot a quick glance over his shoulder to Dave, a sympathetic look on his face. Dave watched him go, dropping his head to rest a top the bar. Santana slid over to him, sliding her fingers to curl around his hair.
"You okay?"
"No," he mumbled into the wood. "I tried so hard to keep him away from that scene and one word from Will and he's skipping over to Bland like some kind of skanky whore."
"Ouch," winced Santana, drawing her hand away. Dave raised his head to look at her sympathetically.
"You know I didn't mean it like that, I'm just... pissed off is all. I was so close to telling him... everything." He dropped his head again and Santana resumed trailing her fingers through his hair.
Kurt dropped down next to Blaine in their private booth, Rachel on his other side. He had no idea what he was doing and it showed easily on his face. Rachel laced their fingers together and gave a little squeeze for reassurance. Kurt felt his nerves trickle away with the simple action and turned his attention towards Blaine.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Anderson."
"Please, call me Blaine," smiled the man, politely. Kurt felt his cheeks grow a little rosy with the attention he was receiving from another man. He'd known he was attracted to men since he was only a small boy; the problem was finding other men to return his advances. "And your name?"
"It's Hummel. Kurt Hummel," he smiled.
"It's lovely to meet you, Kurt," smiled Blaine. Kurt took note of how white his teeth were; a sure sign of wealth. "You're a very good singer, I must say."
"T-Thank you. I rarely get to sing but when I do, I try to go all out."
"Well, with me as a sponsor, I'll be sure to put an end to that." Kurt's heart beat a little faster and Rachel squeezed his hand with happiness. They were one step closer to achieving their dream.
"That's great to hear, Mr. Anderson," smiled Will, toothily. "Would you like to take a room tonight? I'll be sure to put you in the best we've got." Kurt's breath hitched in his throat. In all the civility he forgot all about the real reason he'd been selected to talk to Blaine. He was now his own personal whore.
"Who says romance is dead, right?" Kurt calmed a little at Blaine's light-hearted joking. "I think it'll be fine for now, Mr. Schuester. I just want to talk to Kurt alone, if that's okay?" Will nodded and ushered the girls away from the booth to give them more privacy. Rachel shot Kurt a worried look, but he just smiled at her reassuringly.
xXxXxXx
Dave, while doing his duties when necessary, had been watching Kurt like a hawk all night. Blaine hadn't tried anything gratuitous, but there had been subtle touching here and there. Dave was glaring at the hand that had been attached to Kurt's knee for over an hour when Santana slid into a bar stool.
"Looks like I'm not getting any business tonight. Damn Rachel and her talent." She glanced at Dave who hadn't paid her any attention; his focus absorbed solely on trying to make out what the hell was so funny that Kurt had thrown his head back in laughter. She waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him from his glare.
"Sorry, uh, what?"
Santana rolled her eyes, "stop staring, hamhock, you won't do yourself any good like that."
"What do you know?" He regretted the words before they'd even snapped from his lips. He knew full well the torture Santana had to go through whenever she saw Brittany take on a new client. He sighed deeply and rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry, I didn't mean that."
"Yeah, yeah, just get me some absinth, quickly." Dave obeyed, his eyes only lingering on Kurt for a moment before he prepared Santana's drink.
"It could be worse," started Santana as she watched him work. "Word in the club says they wont be sleeping together... Tonight at least."
"So it'll happen eventually," a statement, not a question. "Sorry for not being reassured by that thought." Santana tapped the top of his hand with hers.
"Honey, you don't even realise." At his questioningly raised eyebrow, she continued. "For all the time you've been glaring at Blaine, you haven't seen Kurt staring at you, have you?"
Sure enough, when Dave jerked his head up, he caught Kurt looking over. As soon as he noticed, though, his head was already whipping back around to stare at Blaine; his cheeks stained pink. A small glow of hope warmed Dave's heart. Santana gave him a bittersweet smile.
"I can't understand why you think he hates you so much. He doesn't, y'know, he's just... weary." He turned her attention back to her, nodding his head slowly. "Maybe you should treat him like you did earlier all the time. I think you two would be good for each other." Dave smiled at her, leaning forward to place a small kiss to the corner of her mouth.
"What would I do without you, 'Tana?"
"You'd be in a gutter somewhere drowning in absinth," she grinned. And it was only half true.
Kurt glared at the back of Santana's head. She and Dave were so close; was there honestly nothing between them?
"Is something distracting you, Kurt?" Kurt turned his attention back to Blaine, a well trained smile on his face.
"Not at all. I was just recalling a conversation I had earlier."
"Oh?" Blaine flashed him another white smile that Kurt couldn't help swooning over just a little.
Blaine was everything he would choose for a lover. So why couldn't he shake the horrible jealousy he felt whenever Dave showed Santana even the smallest bit of affection. He told himself it was only because it was so rare to see Dave act like that. In all the years he'd known Dave, they'd never really been all that close. It wasn't that Kurt didn't want to be close to Dave; that wasn't it at all. But whenever the opportunity rose for them to become closer, Kurt found himself being pushed away. He wondered, perhaps a little self-centredly, if Dave felt a little attraction to Kurt and was threatened by that. He had admitted, after all, that he had a romantic interest for a man, so the idea wasn't completely absurd. Besides, it all made sense. The fleeting looks, the heated cheeks; would it be completely out of the question for Kurt to think Dave might be even the slightest bit attracted to him?
"Kurt, are you okay? Your face is red." Kurt snapped out of his thoughts and covered his cheeks with his hands.
"Y-Yes, I'm fine! Perhaps I've had just a little too much to drink," he tried to giggle in a way he thought might have been endearing, but it came out in harsh little bursts of laughter, fuelling his face to turn even more red. Blaine smiled at him, raising a hand to rub at his shoulder.
"We'll just have to take it a little slower for the rest of the night then."
Kurt just smiled.
xXxXxXx
It was twenty past three in the morning when Dave was finally able to crash into his makeshift bed. Santana had managed to get herself a willing patron and left him quite early into the night; alone to stare at Kurt and Blaine, both of which clearly had no tolerance of alcohol and had decided to dance together all night. He'd glared at Blaine when he wrapped an arm around Kurt's slender waist and pulled him in close. Dave had decided soon after that that fuming at the bar would do him no good and pointedly decided to ignore them. Of course, his eyes decided to betray him and he found himself closely checking on Kurt whenever he could, which only served to fuel his jealousy further.
Dave stared up at the dark ceiling of the men's room, imagining what it would have been like to be in Blaine's place. What would have happened were he the rich patron and Blaine just a lowly bar man. He imagined being able to freely dance with Kurt, not caring about the looks other men would cast him or the hushed whispers he'd have to endure. He imagined what Blaine would have done were their roles switched. Blaine wouldn't be as cowardly as him. He was sure Blaine would have already confessed his feelings to Kurt and they would have a beautiful romance with the backdrop of Paris. If Blaine were Dave, he would already have wooed Kurt into submission.
But if Dave were Blaine? He was sure he would still have zero chance. He would have sat with Rachel and secretly pined over Kurt. He would have kept his opinion and his feelings to himself and he would have gone to bed with Rachel. He would have had one night at the Moulin Rouge and he would never have returned, forever lost in what ifs.
He let out a self deprecating moan and quickly silenced it. The men's room was small and filled with other workers. He didn't need one of them to be stirred awake and ask him what was wrong. He was terrified he'd tell them.
Not half an hour later, he heard the door slowly creaking open. The muffled sounds of drunken stumbling filled the silence. Dave knew who it was instantly. He turned to the wall and tried to shut off his brain. He held his breath when he felt the mattress shift next to him; a sure indication that the drunken man had decided to lay down next to him. He hesitated for a long time before turning to face him.
"Kurt, are you drunk?" A redundant question. Kurt looked up at him with those huge eyes of his that always seemed to make Dave's heart beat faster. He grinned lazily and tried to nod his head before realising it would not help his room spinning situation much.
"I most certainly may be." Dave stared at him.
"Why are you in my bed, Kurt," he repeated his name, loving the way it felt when it rolled off his tongue. "Don't you usually share with Hudson?" The men's room was cramped and had a limited supply of beds. Quite often, the men would have to share the small mattresses littered around. Dave was lucky enough in bulk that most men couldn't share with him without enduring uncomfortable body contact. That and Dave was a notorious cuddler. He'd never had the opportunity to share with Kurt in all the years he'd known him. He was both disappointed and grateful for that. He didn't know how his body would react from being in such close proximity to the one he secretly harboured feelings for.
Kurt blinked. "Don't you want to share with me, David?"
"That's not it," he all but shouted in a harsh whisper. "I was just... curious, I suppose."
"You suppose," repeated Kurt, his eyebrow raised. "Well, suppose away, I'll be sleeping here tonight."
"Kurt," smiled Dave, "you are the weirdest person I know."
"Oh, so now you think I'm weird?"
"Maybe not weird," corrected Dave, quickly. "More like you're interesting."
"Hm. Interesting." Kurt took a moment to contemplate Dave's words, glancing up to the ceiling. He nodded to himself curtly and turned his attention back to Dave. "I think the most interesting person here is you, David."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, it is so. I find you simply... fascinating." Dave took note of the slightly slurred words. He wondered how Kurt could be quite so eloquent while in his inebriated state. When Dave didn't respond, Kurt continued. "I discovered today that you are attracted to men, am I right?"
"Kurt..." Dave glanced around the darkened room, hoping no one had overheard Kurt's statement.
"Yes, yes, I know, it is probably a taboo subject for you, but I want to talk about it. Indulge me. Please." Dave stared hard at Kurt's face before nodding slowly. Kurt was drunk; he could smell it on his breath. Chances were he wouldn't even remember their conversation in the morning, so Dave decided to, in fact, indulge him. Kurt took his chance to continue. "So, what with you being homosexual and I being homosexual... You did know I was homosexual, right?" Dave nodded again. The way Kurt was saying that word so easily did something to Dave. He though it was almost... sexy the way it slipped from his lips. He bit his lip and waited for Kurt to continue.
"Well, anyway. You are homosexual and I am homosexual. We have established that at least. Now, what was my original point...? Oh yes! We are both homosexual. And it was curious... It was curious the entire time I was with Blaine, who is gorgeous, by the way." Dave narrowed his eyes. "It was curious why we have never had the chance to talk about it before tonight. You have certainly kept it secret, my dear boy. But when I found out, I couldn't help but wonder. Have you ever had romantic feeling towards... me?"
Dave stared at Kurt. Yes. A thousand times yes, he'd had romantic feelings towards Kurt. He'd had them since the first time he'd laid eyes on the boy, dirty and begging on a street corner. Kurt took Dave's silence as a no.
"Ah, yes. I'm sorry. That was really quite presumptuous of me. I'm sorry; I'll go sleep with Finn." Kurt sat on the edge of the bed, about to leave its warmth when Dave grabbed his wrist. He stilled for a moment and turned to face the man, staring down at him. Dave took a deep breath, attempting to steady his beating heart. He wondered, idly, if Kurt could hear it from where he sat just centimetres away. A squeeze of the wrist told him of Kurt's equally fast paced heartbeat and he relaxed just a little.
"No, you're... you're not being presumptuous. Not at all. Honestly, Kurt, from the moment I knew I was... was that... I knew that it was only..." he stumbled over his words, nervously, trying to sum up his feelings. "It will only ever be you." Silence stretched out between them where Dave thought maybe Kurt hadn't heard him. He was about to repeat himself, when Kurt lurched forward, planting a sloppy kiss to the side of Dave's mouth.
Dave was stunned for a good few moments. Never in his wildest dreams, or fantasies for that matter, had he ever though Kurt would willingly kissed him. He glanced around the room, checking everyone in it was actually asleep before pulling Kurt towards him, planting his lips on top of his. He shifted their bodies until he was straddling Kurt, his knees on either side of the slighter man's hips. He continued to attack Kurt's jaw with kisses, revelling in the sound of Kurt's gentle, muffled moaning.
"Mm, David. Wait, David. I'm too drunk for this." Dave froze in his ministrations. He moved off of Kurt, to lie next to him, panting towards the ceiling. Yes, Kurt was drunk. They were also in a room filled with other men who could wake up at any moment. If they were seen sleeping in the same bed, it was fine; they did it all the time, but if they were caught kissing, or doing more? Dave shuddered at the thought. He would be ostracised, he just knew it. He wasn't cute like Kurt, he couldn't get away with his feelings as easily as the other man could. No one would want to share a bedroom with him and he would be banished to walk the streets of Paris, penniless and alone. No, it was most definitely not a good idea, whether Kurt was drunk or not.
Kurt twisted his body, resting his head on Dave's chest. Unconsciously, Dave moved his arm to wrap around Kurt's shoulders and draw him closer.
"I'm sorry."
"Its fine," laughed Dave. "There will always be a next time."
He blushed at his own words and pulled Kurt as close as he could, resting his nose in his hair and breathing in the scent that could only be Kurt. They soon fell asleep, not letting go of each other.
[End of part one]
I believe this is called the calm before the storm? C=