A/N: Originally co-written with snicksness mid season 3.
Take a Chance On Me
Part 1
'Kurt!'
Dave saw a flash of red and, Christ, canary yellow pants moving to the side and slipping through the crowd. Maybe he hadn't heard. 'Hey, Kurt!' he shouted louder, shoving a Freshman out of the way. 'KURT!'
Okay, he'd definitely looked back that time. Dave had seen him! His face all snooty and his lips twisted in a sneer just at the sight of Dave. What the hell? It was 9am and the first day of term! Dave hadn't had time to piss anyone off yet.
Well, unless you were counting all that stuff from last year. Which, yeah, Kurt probably was. Heartfelt apology or not, those things probably tended to eat away at you. Which was why Dave wanted to speak to him, before this whole year began again.
He just wanted the chance to clear the air so they could get on with their lives without one worrying about the other: Kurt worrying about Dave slamming his face into a locker and Dave worrying about what he was going to see whenever those eyes landed on him in the corridor. You know, fear could be addictive. It was great to play the big man, watching the younger, smaller kids tremble in his wake. He'd only recently learned that fear and respect were two completely different things.
'Kurt!' Dave grabbed at the other boy's shoulder, spinning him round to face him. Kurt's eyes flashed as they first stared at Dave's arm and then into his face. The fire in them was enough to make Dave pull back and shove his hands into his jeans. 'Kurt, hey. I was yelling.'
'Were you? I didn't notice.' Kurt widened his eyes and moved his head in a go on motion.
Dave gritted his teeth and forced his face into a smile. He thought maybe he and Kurt had come to some sort of understanding before the summer, maybe that Kurt had started to see he was trying. Judging from the way that Kurt was glaring at him, he was wrong.
'How was—your break?' Dave nodded, a little too enthusiastically. 'Your summer! I want to know how it was.'
Kurt paused. 'It was fine,' he said after a moment. Some of the aloofness eased and Dave sighed with relief. He realised he'd been holding his breath. 'I've had better but, yes, overall. It was good. You?'
'Awesome!' Okay, dial it down a notch, Dave. 'Just really fucking great.' Or dial it up, you idiot. 'I didn't really do much. Just hung with Azimio. Went fishing with my dad.'
'And did you and your dad talk about anything? I mean, while you were fishing?'
'Yes. Fish.'
'That wasn't what I mea—'
'Bait? Rivers? Tackle? '
'What? No, I mean—'
'I know what you mean!' Dave sighed, irritated. 'No, he doesn't know. Not yet. Why the hell should I rush into this? It was six freakin' weeks, Kurt. Did you think you were going to come back to me draped in a rainbow flag and cradling Madonna's greatest hits?'
Kurt shook his head and gave a bitter laugh. 'Believe it or not, I had my own life to lead this summer, Karofsky. I didn't give much thought to you at all!' Kurt flinched at his own tone and his face softened. 'It's your life. I just wondered is all.'
'The next PFLAG's meeting on Thursday,' Dave blurted. 'Are you going?'
'I've missed a few,' Kurt murmured. 'Hang on, you've been going?'
'That was our deal.' Dave shrugged. 'I don't welch on a deal.'
'Right, right.' Kurt chewed his lower lip and Dave's gaze fought the urge to follow it devotedly. 'Then, yes, I'll be there. I guess.'
That was stage one. Talk to Hummel without tears, inappropriate advances or shoving his face into an urinal. Now for stage two.
'Look, I was just wondering, you know, if you want,' Dave rubbed at the back of his neck, his stare fixed to Kurt's chin, 'after the next meeting, we could maybe catch a movie. Something where a chick with a fat ass gets the guy, because she's mental or something. '
'What?' Kurt asked, his voice shocked.
'Oh, fuck sorry. Some curvy-' Dave made speech marks with his fingers, 'loud woman gets the guy because she's kooky and falls over a lot.'
'Are you—are you asking me out?'
Something twisted roughly in Dave's guy and he winced. No, this wasn't a date. Just like, a friends thing. Friends went to the movies all the time. And hell, Dave was short on friends at the moment.
'In your very wet dreams, Garland.'
'You want to take me to see a romantic comedy.' Kurt raised his eyebrows 'Kinda sounds like a date.'
'Keep your voice down!' Dave hissed, glaring at Jacob Israel who quite rightly leapt into a locker in his haste to get away. 'It's the movies, not a freakin' Pride parade.'
Kurt pressed his lips together and watched Dave's face for a moment, seemingly searching for the catch. Evidently not finding one , he sighed and shook his head. 'No, Dave. I'm really proud of the way that you're doing all of this, and the Bully Whips etc and when you're ready to come out, I'll support you but—' Kurt looked genuinely regretful. 'But I don't want you to confuse that with some kind of friendship, Karofsky. You—There's still a lot of bad blood between us.'
Well. That hurt a hell of a lot more than he expected. And what the hell had he expected? After everything they had been through already, why had he been playing this scenario repeatedly in his head since Prom? In his mind Kurt had been reluctant, but Dave had charmed him round (Dave was always on key in his head) and convinced him to go. They went to the movies, sharing popcorn and laughing at something dumb, most probably not the film since Cameron Diaz was probably stinking it up and then their hands would brush and—
Wake the fuck up, Dave.
'—complicate things and—' What? Kurt was still on this?
'Whatever, Hummel,' Dave shrugged. 'I wasn't wanting to whisk you off to New York. Calm yourself.'
A muscle twitched in his cheek and Kurt smile icily. 'Fine.'
'Yeah, good.' Dave turned to stalk off in the opposite direction but stopped on mid heel spin.
'Wait, is that your—'
Kurt followed the direction of his stare and openly winced. 'Yes, that would be Blaine. Here. At McKinley.' Kurt nodded. 'Isn't that great?'
'Did—I—he transferred?' Dave couldn't stop staring at the boy who was making his way towards them with Puckerman at his side. 'Just like that?'
'Yes. Just like that.' Kurt wasn't returning Brylcreem's grin and Dave wondered at the little spark of hope that jumped up in his gut.
'So, like—to be with you and shit? That is so weird!'
'Thanks for that, Karofsky, but no. It wasn't for me.' Kurt smiled almost sweetly. 'In fact, we aren't even together anymore so—'
'Wait, Polly Pocket dumped your ass?'
'You should run some sort of talk show. You clearly have the sensitivity and tact of Oprah and Ricki rolled into one,' Kurt said. 'Blaine's here to fight personal demons or something. We haven't really talked since—' Kurt blushed. 'We just haven't talked, that's all.'
'But why did you—'
'Shut up,' Kurt hissed as they sidled up next to them. 'Hey, hey,' he smiled at Blaine, shyly. 'Hey.'
'Hey,' said Blaine. He glanced at Dave and gave him a bland smile.
'Ladies,' said Puck severely.
'So how are things, Blaine?' asked Kurt.
'Fine. New school, taking a look around, networking, all that jazz. Puck's showing me around.' Blaine gave Puck a warm smile; Dave was amused to see Kurt narrow his eyes in response. Well, sort of amused.
'I didn't think you'd be interested in helping,' said Kurt icily.
'Well, duh. It's Pascal's Triangle in math today,' said Puck with a shrug. 'I don't do triangles. I thought I'd made this clear when they tried to shove that trigonometry propaganda down my throat. Two months - two months of my goddamn life wasted on three fucking lines!' He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Twinkie, biting into it savagely. 'I couldn't eat pie for the longest time, unless it was in squares. And then they tried to force pi down my throat.'
'But why would they do that?' asked Blaine, horrified. 'Did they think force-feeding you would help?'
Puck frowned. 'What are you talking about, son?'
For a moment everyone looked at each other one. Then at the floor. Puck coughed.
'So, Kurt!' Blaine said brightly making Puck and Dave jump. 'How was your summer?'
Kurt's eyebrows flew up and several expressions flitted across his face. Dave was willing to bet that he swallowed at least several acidic comments. It seemed Blaine felt the same; he looked uncomfortable.
What exactly happened? I wonder if it was like Tom Cruise facing off against Perez Hilton. I wonder if there was fighting. Physical fighting, I mean. And Kurt getting all sweaty and- stop, Dave! Stop.
'It was- fine, thank you.' Kurt smiled tightly. 'Great.'
Blaine nodded. 'Ah, good. Good that it was great, I mean. Yes.'
Puck sighed. 'I am soglad that I take the other bus. You know, the bus that you guys got off to go on the other bus. Chicks just get angry and then tell everyone you have herpes when you break up with them. Chicks I understand.'
'Thanks for that, Puck,' said Kurt.
'Yes, thanks!' said Blaine. He smiled at Kurt, who positively beamed back.
They were good together, Dave realised. On the same wavelength and stuff. Again, he wondered what had happened between them.
'You know what you losers all need?' said Puck. 'A party. How about it?'
'You're throwing a party?' asked Kurt.
'Totally, but I'd never invite any of you. No offence.'
Blaine shook his head. 'Then why did you ask?'
'Because it's someone else's party I'm inviting you to! Chang's! This Friday.' He turned to Blaine. 'You up for it?'
'Sure! Sounds neat!'
'See, expressions like that are why you'll never darken my home,' said Puck. He turned to Kurt.
'How about you?'
'I guess,' said Kurt. His eyes slid from Puck to Blaine. 'Yeah.'
'Awesome!' Puck grinned. 'This is going to be great. I've invited like the entire school. Chang better be grateful to me.'
'I'm not invited,' said Dave, offended.
Puck froze. 'Oh.'
'Yeah, I can maybe swing by,' he said with a smirk. 'Santana will probably want to check it out.'
'Uh, um. Yeah, be glad to have you.' Puck bit his lip. 'Does this mean you're still with Santana, though?'
Dave didn't miss the way Blaine and Kurt's eyes met at that. 'Yeah, we're still going together. In fact,' he glanced at Blaine and Kurt, 'it's going awesome.'
Puck scowled. 'Thanks, bro! Now I have to find some other project!'
'You don't want anyone cramping your style,' said Kurt consolingly.
'Actually,' Blaine cleared his throat, his eyes on Kurt. 'There was someone I'd quite like to- well, bring. If that's okay?'
'Oh?' Kurt pressed a tongue into his cheek. 'A special friend?'
'I-um, I met him at the Tosca production. He was just crying over E Lucian e Stelle and it was the most profound…he seems nice. I…of course, I understand if you'd rather I-'
'Don't be ridiculous. You're overestimating my interest, Blaine.' Kurt inspected his nails. 'Bring him.'
Now Puck and Dave were the ones sharing the awkward gazes.
'Great! I'm so glad you understand, Kurt!' Blaine smiled wide and clapped Kurt on the shoulder.
Kurt laughed. A little too loudly. 'I was actually going to fetch someone myself. I wasn't sure, you know, in case it made you uncomfortable-'
'Oh, no, I'd be fine!'
'-or something,' Kurt continued through clenched teeth.
'You're bringing someone?' Dave asked, trying to keep his tongue disinterested. Great. Blaine 2.0. 'Who?'
'Just- Just some guy. That I met in my dad's garage. In a car.' Kurt shrugged. 'You wouldn't know him.'
'Kurt! You have to tell me everything!' Blaine looked delighted and Dave concluded he must eat sunshine and wishes for breakfast because damn.
'He- He goes to college. He's super hot.' Kurt was getting redder by the second. 'In fact he's also a model, you know, in his spare time.'
'Really?' Blaine shook his head. 'He sounds-'
'Lame. He sounds lame.' Puck yawned loudly. 'I actually can't take any more of this. I'm going to Math. Think about that. I would actually rather be in Math with that fucking triangle than here. With you.'
'If there's one thing I like about this school,' said Blaine, 'it's that everyone here says exactly what's on their mind.'
Dave scowled. 'You're such a prick.'
'You're late,' said Santana, standing up. She'd been sitting on the low wall outside Chang's house. She glanced at her cell. 'If my mascara's run because I've been waiting in this humidity for you for the past hour, I'm going to crush your balls.'
'Sure you weren't crying bitter, bitter tears over Brittany?' Dave asked, annoyed. Not one word about his smart clothes or his Old Spice scent; he'd made a special effort.
'Aww, what's the matter?' she asked, flicking her hair. 'Have you had another wet dream about Tom Cruise? Which one was it this time? The unicorn?'
'Careful, sugar tits,' he said in an undertone, following her up the path to Chang's house, 'none of your brilliant wit here.' He put his arm around her and gave her a very enthusiastic hug. Perhaps a little tooenthusiastic: she began to choke.
'Hey, Tito el bambino!' she sneered, pushing his chin away, hard. 'That's just what this party needs! Some closet macho posturing.'
'You're doing a swell job yourself!' said Dave, patting her on the shoulder.
'Just try to blend in, okay?' She slipped her hair over her shoulder. 'Hunch or something.'
Taking a deep breath, he paused at the threshold. 'Ready?'
'I'm always ready.' She pulled him in.
Santana had ditched him within minutes. They'd done the token mingling, pretending to be all over one another, and then of course that dimwit Brittany had been dancing a little too close to Tina for Santana's liking and now there was some embarrassing Glee Club dance-off going on in the den.
Dave made his way to the kitchen: time for some crappy beer to drown out these morons. Aw, shit. Total downer. Hummel was in there, looking lost. For a change.
He picked up a beer and handed one to Kurt. 'I know it's not a Daiquiri but maybe it'll cheer you up,' he murmured.
'Not now, Dave,' said Kurt. 'I'm not in the mood for your verbal assaults.' He put the bottle down and continued to stare at the other room.
Dave followed his gaze. Of course, it was Blaine he was looking at. But why? He looks more like Alf the Alien than ever with that stupid damned 80s sweater.
'He's so happy,' whispered Kurt, almost inaudibly. 'I hate it.'
'But why do you even care?'
'I don't,' said Kurt, frowning. 'What makes you think I do? I'm happy. I'm at a party, aren't I?'
'And your shoes aren't accustomed to this hard concrete?' asked Dave.
'Mmm,' said Kurt.
Dave was both offended and concerned. Offended because that had been a solid joke, concerned because it was simply not like Kurt to miss a good pop culture reference.
'Look, do you-' he began, but Kurt was already marching over to Blaine.
With a sigh, he followed.
'Hey, Kurt!' Blaine said happily as they walked up to him. 'This is Parker.' He turned to the guy next to him. 'And this is, uh, Dave.'
Parker frowned. 'Wait, the one that-'
'So! Kurt!' Blaine cried. 'Where's the date?'
'Outside.'
'Outside?'
'Yes, outside,' said Kurt, annoyed. 'That's where I said.'
'But what's he doing outside?'
'He's... meditating.'
'Mediating? I see,' said Blaine.
Condescending prick, thought Dave. I should punch him right through the wall and let him meditateabout that.
'You wouldn't understand him,' said Kurt. 'He's studying Taxonomic groups.'
'Really?' asked Parker. 'I'm studying Zoology myself! What a small world.'
'Maybe,' said Kurt, 'but he's studying taxes, like, financial stuff. So way better than what you do.'
'But...'
'You heard him,' said Dave, towering over Parker. 'Over yourhead.'
Parker raised an eyebrow at Blaine, who looked away politely. Parker began to snigger.
Kurt, furious, turned and stalked away. Dave quickly followed, ignoring Blaine's confused voice calling after them.
'Kurt,' Dave began reaching as he entered the kitchen. 'You alright?'
'I don't need your help, Dave! You're the lastperson I need help from.'
'Don't take it out on me that Preppy brought Kelly Kapowski, Screech.'
'What are you even-' Kurt went to grab at his hair, remembered it was full of products and dropped them to his sides in fists. 'Just go away!'
'Why?' Dave crossed his arms. 'In case George Glass comes in and gets jealous?'
'Who are all these people!' Kurt turned and began to mix a drink angrily. 'Look. Stop following me around, you shaved bear. Go find your girlfriendor something.'
'I was trying to be knowing and postmodern; I know how you like that shit. But fine. Whatever. You try to be fucking nice to a guy who goes around moping because some idiot who never deserved him dumped his ass! Try and be his wingman. Well, I don't need it.'
Snatching up the drink that Kurt had just finished mixing, Dave turned and headed out to the party.
'Wait-' called Kurt.
'Just shut up,' he called back over his shoulder.
Fuck you, Kurt Hummel.
Dave moved through the party, trying to find a clique he could slip into easily. No, not Hudson and Berry. He wasn't drunk enough to suffer that. Maybe the Goth chick and Chang, uh no, he was dragging her out with a quirk in his eyebrow and Dave wasn't joining that scene. Maybe in College. Okay, he didn't know any fucking body here.
Finding a wall that didn't bear him a grudge, he leant against it and looked out into the sea of faces. That Blaine kid was clearly into the hot guy that he'd brought with him. Every time the guy opened his mouth, Blaine would throw back his head and laugh like a drain, while his date just looked confused, if slightly pleased. This must be killing Kurt, Dave thought, he had been really into him. Quickly, Dave sought him out in the crowd, his mouth running dry when he was found.
Instead of lying on the floor in a heap of tears and unrequited love, Kurt was laughing just as hard as Blaine, and flirting with some blond snub nosed fuck.
Who the hell is that loser?
Dave could feel the paper cup crushing in his fingers as liquid began to spill over onto the floor. The blond was leaning into Kurt now, his hand pressed tight against his lip and his mouth to his ear. Kurt's face curved into a self conscious smile and he nodded slowly.
A pure red hot rage burned up Dave's chest and seemed to explode in his head. Jealousy. Oh, God. Dave was jealous! Over someone touching Kurt fucking Hummel. This was not good, this was a fucking disaster. And the blond was still touching him.
Dave began to move away from the edge of the crowd and towards the pair. He wasn't going to say anything. Just, you know, see what was going down. Mingle, like Santana had yelled at him before running off with Brittany. Well! He was going to mingle all over this kid's face.
That either sounded really menacing or really sexual, Dave was a little far gone to decide.
'—can't believe the fag's falling for it,' a voice laughed at his side and Dave stopped dead, eyes searching out the speaker. Backed up in the corner was a group of leering guys. It took Dave a moment to recognise them, Big Mesa High kids. McKinley had played them a few times last season. God knew who had invited them.
'He won't do it! I bet you fifty bucks, he won't!' A nasally voice insisted. Four of them stared over the other side of the room, their faces a mixture of delight and disgust. 'There is no way he is going to kiss him!'
'Hey, it's a forfeit. That's the rule. Maybe next time he'll down the damn thing in time.'
What the fuck? A forfeit?
Dave looked at Kurt, at his eyes lighting up. The way his head was tilted and his lips slightly parted. There was a rich pink flush in his cheeks that could have been put there by drink but Dave knew better. He was happy, enjoying himself. He was excited. In his head, Dave could hear the change in Figgins' voice as he read out Kurt's name Prom night. The realisation, disdain and regret as he had broken Kurt's heart in front of a crowd. Dave remembered Kurt's face.
He couldn't see that again. He just couldn't.
Dave closed the distance in mere seconds, shoving himself in between the two. 'Beat it,' he snarled.
'Karofsky!' Kurt squeaked indignantly. 'What are you—'
'You deaf? Walk the fuck back over to your friends and then get the hell out of our party.'
The kid licked his lips, his eyes darting between the two. Slowly, he assessed Dave's bulk and the fact that he looked mad enough to kill a car with his face, and began to back away, his hands raised.
When he was far enough for Dave to be satisfied, he turned back to Kurt. Who looked ready to remove his kidneys. With his teeth.
'What the hell are you doing? I cannot believe that you just humila—'
'Hey! Queers!' Kid's flirting friend had found his voice, and apparently it was all the way over there on the other side of the room. 'Suck this!' Dave and Kurt were treated to the sight of the blond grabbing his crotch and gyrating as his friends laughed and high fived each other.
'Oh,' Kurt nodded, his ears turning pink. 'I—I get it.'
'It's not exactly high brow shit.' Dave waited for the fear to lace into his skin, he had just been called a queer in public, after all, but curiously, nothing came. Just a dull, sad feeling as he watched Kurt's face slowly merge from confused, to hurt, to resigned. 'Hey, man. Come on. You don't care about stupid shit like that, do you?'
But Kurt was already shaking his head and moving through the crowd, his walk ungainly for once. Drink or shock, Dave didn't know. But he wasn't going to bail this time. With a hard glance at the hollering jackasses, he flew after him.
tbc
