The gay bar was supposed to be their adventure together; Kurt and Blaine taking the "Homosexual Ohio" world by storm, meeting new people and doing things they've never done before. Yet Kurt Hummel was leaning against a wall in the corner of the bar while his darling boyfriend Blaine chatted drunkenly away with Sebastian and the other Warblers.
He had definitely done this before.
"Do you want to come with me to get a refill?" he asked, stepping into the circle of conversation. Sebastian had just made some comment about the mediocrity of Dalton's mixed chorale, and Blaine was laughing a lot harder and more flirtatiously than any man in a relationship should, even in his inebriated state.
"Blaine!" Nick shouted over the music of the bar, nodding in Kurt's direction once he has gotten Anderson's attention. Blaine slowly turned towards his boyfriend, flashing a sloppy yet still dazzling smile.
"And what can I do for you, beautiful?" he stage-whispered.
Kurt rolled his eyes. "I asked if you wanted another drink. Although, in your state —" he gestured to Blaine's unkempt hair and untucked, wrinkled shirt — "maybe seeing if the bar has any food would be better; you're moving far too quickly from 'buzzed' to 'blitzed'."
His boyfriend stuck out his bottom lip, pouting overdramatically. "C'mon, darlin'," he slurred, "We're supposed to have fun! Stop raining on my parade." Blaine's eyebrows shot up suddenly, and he opened his mouth wide —
"Don't even think of singing Barbra drunk, Blaine. The woman deserves far more respect than that."
"Fine." Blaine swept his gaze across the room. "Those guys have peanuts over there. But I don't want to taste like nuts… not yet, anyway." He winked at Kurt, who silently quirked an eyebrow, finding the innuendo more appalling than appealing. "We should get French fries; check to see if anyone has French fries."
"Yes, your drunkenness."
Kurt scanned the room for a minute, finding himself drawn more to the people lounging around the bar than what they were eating. There was a couple in a corner booth making out furiously, a few women chatting animatedly with a drag queen who had legs that rivaled Brittany's, at least three regular customers at his father's shop, and —
"Oh my God. Blaine, look!"
"What? Did you find fries? Is there chili?"
"No, look. Over there." Kurt took hold of Blaine's shoulders and pointed him in the right direction, towards the opposite corner of the bar, where a young man in a black polo shirt and jeans sat alone, nursing a bottle of beer.
"Blaine, it's Karofsky."
"Oh."
Kurt gasped. "'Oh'? 'Oh'? That's Dave Karofsky, you know, the guy who made my life a living hell out of his own self-hatred, the guy that failed to show up at McKinley senior year, the guy no one has seen or heard from since May. And he's here, at a gay bar."
Blaine's eyebrows knit together as he scowled. "And your point is…"
"My point is, well, don't you want to know what he's been up to? Where he goes to school now? If he's out of the closet or has picked some new kid to project his self-hatred on?"
"Not really, no," Blaine snapped. "I don't like him; I don't want to talk to him. I… I want to have fun tonight." He gazed back at the Warblers, longing evident in his eyes.
"Okay, fine," Kurt relented. "Tell Nick he's to monitor your drinking until I get back there." Blaine's attention shot back to his boyfriend, concern coming through strong enough to momentarily sober him up. Kurt smiled. "Relax, I'm just going to talk to him for a couple of minutes, make sure he's not suicidal or anything and I'll be right back to hang out with you guys. Okay?"
Blaine nodded even as he shot daggers in Karofsky's direction. The man in question hadn't looked up since Kurt noticed him, going back and forth between his beer and his iPhone.
"Yell if you need me," Blaine said, sloppily kissing Kurt on the cheek before returning to his old classmates. Kurt wiped off the excess saliva as he took a deep breath and made his way across the room. He paused for a moment when he was about five feet away, trying to plan out his method of attack. Finally he decided to dive in head first, striding over to Karofsky's table and putting his hand on his former bully's shoulder to get his attention.
"Hey."
Karofsky turned and momentarily choked on the mouthful of beer he had just begun to swallow. "Holy shit."
"You could say that again," Kurt smirked.
"Believe me, I'm about to," Karofsky laughed nervously. "Um, sit down, yeah. Hi." He smiled, unsure let still friendly.
"Don't mind if I do." Kurt took the seat on Dave's left, and the two sat in silence for a minute, both clearly thinking of something non-confrontational to break the ice.
"So…," Kurt began, hoping that he'd find something to say if he just jumped in and started talking. "Um… I know Coach Beiste has been really sad to see you go; Finn said she's having a hard time finding a new… whatever position you played."
Dave laughed softly, putting Kurt more at ease. The Karofsky in front of him seemed so relaxed, and Kurt wasn't so sure it had anything to do with the alcohol. "That sucks; I miss her, and football in general. It's about the only thing I miss about high school."
Kurt raised an eyebrow, confused. "Wait, we're in the same year. We won junior prom last year, remember?"
"Couldn't forget that if I tried to," Karofsky sighed.
"Then we should both be seniors…" Something clicked in Kurt's head, and his next few words came out in a not-so-sober slur. "Wait; did you drop out of school? Did something happen, did you get kicked out again, did my dad say something to Figgins behind my back, I didn't know—"
"Dude, chill." Dave put his hand on Kurt's arm to pull him out of his rant. "I'm fine. I'm good, actually. Really good."
"But, you're not in high school."
"That's what so great about it; I'm in college."
Kurt's jaw dropped. "I beg your pardon?"
Dave sighed. "High school sucks," he began, chuckling when Kurt muttered, "I've noticed". "And it turned me into… well, a jackass. My parents didn't like who I had become, people at school didn't like who I had become, and I just fucking hated myself, man. I hated what I did to people. To you, especially," he added, sending an apologetic look Kurt's way.
"And so after prom and after the end of junior year, I told my parents that I hated that McKinley and peer pressure was turning me into this bully, this complete asshole, and I asked to be done with it. My dad agreed — he's always thought that the bullying was the school's fault, not mine, which is kinda true and kinda bullshit —and I got my GED over the summer. And, yeah."
Kurt smiled, somewhat shocked by the wave of information. "David, that's… that's amazing. Really, good for you, I'm glad you were able to stand up for yourself and remove that negative influence. Wow… where are you going to school?"
"Edison State. It's just community college, and I'm going to try to transfer to Ohio State for next year — they've got a really good psychology program — but it's honestly a whole other world." Dave couldn't stop his grin from covering his face. "College is amazing, You can be whoever you want; all that high school drama shit goes away. You're going to love it."
"If I can get in, that is," Kurt quipped.
"Where are you looking at?"
"NYADA. New York Academy of Dramatic Arts. It's highly competitive, but it's the perfect program for me."
"That sounds…"
"Gay?" Kurt offered, smirking.
"…I was going to say expensive. That's what happens when you get to college: you think about nothing but money, and how you never seem to have enough of it." Kurt watched Karofsky start to close in on himself upon hearing the "g-word".
"Not to state the obvious... but we are in a gay bar," Kurt said softly.
"I know that," David scowled. "You don't have to actually say if you're gay or not here; people just assume."
"So, you haven't come out yet?"
David sighed. "Not to my parents, or any of the McKinley guys I still talk to. Most of my friends at school, like the guys I improv with, they… they 'know', even though I've never officially said anything.
"I'll get there… eventually. Maybe sooner than later. We'll see."
Kurt nodded. "We've all got to start somewhere."
"Yeah." Something behind Kurt's shoulder caught Karofsky's attention. "Ah, I see you're still with Barney."
"What?" Kurt turned around, only to see his boyfriend staring at them from across the room. "Oh, Blaine. Yeah, he's great. Completely trashed right now, but great."
"Cool. You deserve to be happy." Dave finished off the rest of his beer and turned to face Kurt, smiling through some darker feeling. "You really do deserve it, Kurt; you deserve everything."
Kurt smiled warmly. "Thank you, David. I wish you the best of luck as well." He took a quick glance back at Blaine, who was getting rather close to Sebastian. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to stop some tramp from hittin' on my man. But we should definitely stay in touch; let me get my phone."
"Or I could just, you know, write my number on your arm, show 'your man' that he's not the only one in this bar that could get anyone if they wanted to." David winked, pulling out a pen. Kurt grinned.
"I like the way you think."
He rolled up his sleeve and offered his left arm to Dave, trying hard not to laugh like a madman at the irony of the situation: it was just about a year ago that Karofsky's bullying made Kurt think of slashing that very wrist. Now here he was, getting a phone number — Dave Karofsky's number, no less.
"Red alert," Karofsky said, bring Kurt out of his reverie as he began rushing the last four digits. He gestured towards the Warblers, where Kurt saw Sebastian wrap his arm around Blaine's waist and pull him close.
"Oh, no. He did not just do that," Kurt whispered, dangerously quietly.
"Want me to help you clear a path to get over there?"
Kurt laughed coldly. "You seem to have forgotten who you've been talking to. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
David laughed. "Give 'em hell. And… call me, okay?"
Kurt smiled and waved before putting on his game face and marching away, telling himself that if the situation he was walking into ended up a disaster, at least one good thing came out of tonight. At least he met a brand new person.