Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of the characters mentioned, and I sure as hell am not making a profit off of it.

Author's Note: This is set somewhere after Dave and Blaine met on the stairs for the first time – everything else that happened after this canonly is null and void for the purposes of this story. It was first uploaded on LiveJournal and I'm loading it on after a few tweaks (by which I mean, a few words here and there).

"Where the hell is it?" Dave yelled out, gaining a 'watch your language!' from his mother downstairs. Right now was not the time for her to be scolding him. He couldn't find his favorite shirt! He'd gone to hunt it down earlier that morning to wear it to school (Tuesday was plaid day for him—and no he didn't plan his outfits ahead of time, he just liked to wear plaid. On Tuesdays) and it wasn't there. He loved that shirt (probably the best Christmas present his Aunt had ever given him) and now it was gone. As a matter of fact, he hadn't seen it since the laundromat incident on Sunday. What if he had left it there? Some hobo was probably wearing his favorite shirt right about now!

Dave tried to control his rage. He'd just have to play some Halo or something to take out his frustration on innocent ten year olds. He logged into his Facebook, changing his status to something about 'pwning n00bs on xbox live' and if anyone wanted to join, he gave them his gamertag. Then he noticed the message notification in the top left hand corner. What did Azimio want? After all … that's pretty much the only person who messaged him anymore … and even that was few and far between. He secretly wondered if he was giving off gay-vibes now and Azimio had caught on.

Between Blaine Anderson and You

Hello David,

I managed to find your Facebook page after a bit of searching. I'm sorry if I upset you the other day. Perhaps we could meet—

Dave deleted the message.

He couldn't even finish reading the damn thing. What did that bastard want with him? Hadn't he bothered him enough in the laundromat? He went to close the page before he saw a red dot appear on his screen.

Another notification. A friend request.

From him.

Was he fucking serious? Dave slammed his laptop closed as if that was going to solve all his problems right then and there. He needed some serious game time. Moving over to a beanbag on his floor, he plopped down and grabbed his headset, turning his xbox on. Taking a few deep breaths, he calmed himself down before scrolling through and going to find a room to play in. He raised a brow as he saw there was someone requesting to start a room with him. The gamertag, buck3y3sf4n, didn't look familiar but he shrugged and figured it must have been someone from school, after all, he knew a lot of Buckeyes fans, and entered the room. After all, if it was someone from school and he whooped his ass … Well, that was even more satisfying because he could just rub it in the other's face as soon as he found out who it was.

"Hello David," came the voice through his head set.

"You have got to be shitting me," Dave said out loud, gaining a laugh from the other end. Seriously, what the fuck was going on? Was this some sort of big joke that no one had let Dave in on. Checking over his calendar to make sure it wasn't April first, then looking around his room to make sure that he wasn't on some sort of hidden camera show, he still was on edge. He was sure that it was possible that this was all just some sort of cruel joke. Don't get him wrong, he loved jokes and pranks … but he hated being on the receiving end of jokes. "How the fuck did you get my gamertag?"

"… Your Facebook isn't set to private … So I could see your wall …" the voice on the other end said, "Did you read my message?"

"No, I deleted it. What the fuck are you doing, stalking me now?" Dave questioned. "Hummel not man enough for you, so you're trying to get it elsewhere—newsflash: I'm not gay."

Another laugh, "David, we both know that's not exactly the truth. Either way, I wasn't exactly trying to ask you out on a date. I was trying to return something to you."

"How the hell would you have something of mine? You didn't sneak into my house did you? I swear to god, if you did—"

"Calm down. You left behind your shirt at the laundromat."

His shirt. He had Dave's shirt! Did he even want it back at this point? Well … It was his favorite shirt.

"… You have my shirt?"

"It's actually quite comforta—"

"You WORE my shirt?"

"Ah … I'm sorry. I just wanted to see if—"

"… I don't care WHAT the hell you wanted to see! That's MY shirt! You don't just fucking put it on!" Dave's hands clenched around the controller; he was so close to breaking it. He couldn't believe that not only had the bastard stolen his shirt, he wore it too! Maybe he should just let the shirt go. He could always call his aunt and see what store she'd bought it from and go buy another one. There were two problems with that: One, they could've stopped selling it and two, that shirt was already worn in.

"I washed it again, don't worry. It's not covered in gay or whatever it is you must think. I was wondering if you wanted to meet up to come and claim it on—"

"You can't mail it to me?"

"David, please stop interrupting me … " Blaine's calm, patient voice came over the headset, followed by a sigh. "I will not mail it to you. I'll give it back to you on one condition."

"Now there's fucking conditions for getting my clothes back?"

"… Yes."

Dave was silent for a few moments. He took the headset off, to pace around his room and calm down before he seriously broke something. He was on the verge of snapping. Why couldn't he just be left ALONE? Was that too much to ask? After he calmed down a bit, he finally moved back to the xbox and picked up his headset. "… Fine. What is it? And it better not be something gay."

"… Well I guess I just won't say 'date'. Come have coffee with me. Friday at four o'clock."

A damn coffee date? "I actually have to sit and have a coffee with you?" He said frowning.

"Yes, and a civilized conversation … if you can manage it. Then you can have your shirt back. I promise that you won't hate it that much. There is obviously a lot going on and it seems you have no one to talk to … "

"Look, I just want my shirt back. I'll go have some damn coffee, but I'm not going to be happy about it. We're not 'friends' and I have nothing going on that I'd need to talk to anyone, especially you, about."

The head set was quiet for a while before Blaine's voice finally came back, "Fair enough. Perhaps we can just talk about football?" He said and Dave could hear the smile in the other's voice. Seriously, did this guy shit rainbows? He was always smiling. Even when Dave had grabbed him and pushed him against the fence …

Dave shook his head to get the picture out of his mind.

"Fine. Whatever. Give me the address. And like I said. No. Gay. Shit," Dave made sure to reiterate.

He wasn't gay. No. He wasn't.

Sure, he'd kissed Kurt Hummel, biggest fairy in all of Lima, but that didn't make him gay. Neither did the continuous thoughts of said kiss, or the thoughts of the other's dainty hands on his chest, pushing against him to get away. Even the secret stash of pictures guys kissing in his laptop folder marked 'HOT GIRL ON GIRL ACTION', that was password locked, didn't make him gay.

He wrote down the address of the Starbucks the other wanted to meet at before tossing the paper to the side. He'd find it later. "Since you went through the trouble of stalking me on here, at least let me kick your ass a few times. Maybe that'd make me feel better."

And there was that god damn smug smirk again. He could hear it in the other's voice. He could picture it. The way that Blaine's lips quirked up just slightly … Dave shook his head. The thought just pissed him off more.

"That's if you can beat me."

"That's it, fucker. I'm kicking your god damn ass. I've had enough of you."

That was the first time Karofsky had lost. He'd never even lost against Azimio, and he was convinced the guy breathed Halo. Of course, the fact that he lost only pissed him off further. He shut the xbox off without saying goodbye before flipping his laptop open and hunting down Kurt's Facebook page.

The happy smile on the other's default picture made him stop. That happy face … He'd never seen it. Well … he'd never seen it directed at him. Dave's chest tightened before he found the 'Send Message' button in the top right hand corner and quickly typed out a short but sweet message and sent it.

Kurt rose a delicately shaped brow as he sipped at his tea. He had a message? He clicked on it and nearly dropped his tea cup. A message from Dave Karofsky. Karofsky was going as far as to torment him on the internet now? He supposed it wasn't beyond Dave, but Kurt had thought that the internet was his safe place away from the bully. Kurt nearly immediately deleted the message but something in the 'preview' message made him click on it.

Between Dave Karofsky and You

Tell your boyfriend to leave me the hell alone.