Story: Rumor Has It /Someone Like You – 3/8
Fandom: Glee – Written for the Kurtofsky Reverse Bang
Author: ibshafer
Rating: R – for language and non-explicit sexual situations
Characters: Kurt, Dave, Blaine, "OC" Gwen
Disclaimer: I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.
Summary: [Written for the kurtofskyrebang using jennybliss's art and story concept.] In the end, Kurt got everything he wanted out of life and Dave fulfilled his own dreams, so why aren't they happy? A chance encounter in NYC brings the boys together again after many years. Can they help each other deal with their pasts (and their futures) and finally figure out what they truly need to be happy?
Length: 30,000+
Literary License #1: One scene in this story takes place at a Barney's Warehouse sale in New York City. For the purpose of the story, I have – incorrectly, I know – set it at Barney's 5th Avenue location (it's a Central Park/Kurt-and-Dave special place thing) even though I know the Barney's Warehouse is actually on 17th Street. Apologies for bending geography (or whatever it is I'm bending) to my will for the sake of a story. ;)
Literary License #2: Mention is made of Industrial Age photographers Bernd and Hilla Becher (who are really wonderful and worth looking up if you're into photography!), but while I state that Dave in fact met both Bernd and Hilla at a lecture in Berlin, this is not possible since Bernd passed away in 2007. I'm sure no one will care about this but me, but in the interests of accuracy, I had to mention it. :)
Literary License #3: I have combined the art installations of DIA:Beacon and the Storm King Art Center, whose collections enrich the lovely Hudson Valley in which I live – but are on opposite sides of the Hudson… .org/ .org/ (I LOVE ART!)
Rumor Has It /Someone Like You – 3/8
~ibshafer
[From the previous part…]
He didn't know what it meant or what he wanted it to mean, he only knew that those few hours with Kurt had been the first time in more years than he cared to remember (did it go back to that night in Scandals, a lifetime ago?) that he hadn't had to pretend to be anyone or anything.
Even if he never saw Kurt again, he would always be grateful for that.
[SECTION BREAK]
The next morning found Dave with a serious emotion-hangover, struggling to make something out of the day. After so many years of repressing and denying and pretending, that few hours of un-stemmed emotional overflow had been draining; a relief, but an exhausting one.
He was ass-deep in the specs for the Rothman renovation, an expansive, multi-level co-op in the Dakota, when he heard voices in the hallway outside his office.
Voices in the firm weren't unusual, this wasn't a library after all, but there was a timbre of excitement to the tone that was just, well, off – architects were, as a rule, a low-key bunch, and the voices just sounded downright…theatrical.
Glancing at his watch, Dave blew out a breath; he hadn't realized how late it had gotten.
It's probably just the sandwich guy…
His stomach groaning, hoping for turkey and avocado on whole wheat, Dave rose from his desk.
Hand on the knob, he was just about to open the door when there was the briefest of knocks, more of a quick scratch, actually, and the door flew open.
Dave and his secretary Celie, the originator of the scratch-knock, each let out screams of surprise. (Dave's was more of a bellow, if we're going to be accurate.) Breathless with shock, they stood staring at each other. Those co-workers within eyeshot, gaped into the open doorway, expressions ranging from bemusement to mild annoyance ("damn office hijinks!") and somewhere nearby a woman was laughing.
"What the hell, Cee," Dave growled. "I thought we talked about giving me a chance to answer before you open the door."
Celie gave Dave an impish grin, smoothing her blouse as she composed herself.
"Right, Boss-man," she said, nodding. "But you have a visitor. You never have visitors. And Gwen doesn't count, since her dad owns the building..." She grinned at him. "It's been a slow morning. I guess I got a little over excited." She bounced on her toes.
What the…
"Is that any way to behave in front of a client," he said, voice low as he straightened his tie and peered around the lobby.
"Oh, he's not a client, Boss. He says he's a friend of yours…"
Now that was odd (where was that woman and what was she laughing at?) because Dave was pretty sure he didn't have any friends in New York. When had he had time to make any? All he did was work and go to the gym. If it weren't for the occasional shopping trip…
The laughter finally stopped.
"David! Hello!"
Across the lobby at the front desk, Miri the receptionist was huddled with Kurt Hummel; it would appear they had been flipping through a glossy fashion magazine that Kurt had found quite amusing.
Dave experienced a pure moment of panic, rendered all the more confusing by Kurt's attire – baggy, faded blue jeans, a simple navy sweater (wholly devoid of any animal or mineral adornment), a worn black leather biker's jacket, and…
Is he wearing work boots?
"K-Kurt Hummel? What brings you here," Dave called out as casually as he could manage, what with his heart beating triple time and his stomach trying to find a way out of his body, through his feet, through his mouth – it didn't care how…
"Oh, you know," Kurt drawled, a strange flattened tone to his voice. "I was in the area and thought I'd see if you were free for lunch." He of the strange voice raised the canvas tote he was carrying, shaking it enticingly. "Picnic?"
Sure that his cheeks were going to ignite the surrounding tropical plants, Dave waved in the direction of his open office door.
"C'mon in, Hummel," he said, placing pointed emphasis on the name. "Lemme check my calendar—"
"You're free for lunch, Boss," Celie supplied helpfully, again bouncing on her toes. "You don't have anything scheduled until tomorrow morning, actually."
Gritting his teeth through his plastered smile, Dave pretended this was the best news ever.
"Great, just great! Thanks, Celie. You're the best…"
To his credit, Kurt merely watched the exchange with a bemused look on his face; no snarky Fancy-esque comments, no up-tempo Broadway tunes.
Dave clapped a hand on Kurt's manly, leather-clad shoulder and steered him into his office.
His heart was still beating like a hummingbird's and he could feel his face flushing like it was on fire, but at least behind his closed door – and thank goodness the blinds were drawn – it was only Kurt who could see. Being embarrassed in front of Kurt Hummel was old hat to him by now.
At the moment, though, he was more annoyed than embarrassed.
What had Kurt been thinking? Hadn't he heard what Dave had told him yesterday?
Everyone in the office thinks I'm straight!
He felt himself revving up to give Kurt a well-deserved stern talking-to – this was his life, after all – but when he turned to look at the man he stopped short.
"What's with your hair? It's…"
"…boring?" Kurt offered with a grimace, then a sigh. "Yes! Don't you get it – the hair, the clothes, these lovely dun-colored boots?"
Dave was still recovering from the shock of finding Kurt outside his office, so his intellect wasn't firing on all cylinders at the moment.
He shook his head, frowning. "Get what?"
Kurt's grin was triumphant as he swept a delicate hand across himself.
"Don't I look straight," he whispered.
Now it was Dave's turn to laugh, though to his credit, he swallowed most of it, knowing damn well the office crew was likely still lurking just outside.
"No…" he said, with a faint smirk. "You look like one of the Village People."
"The Village- I'll have you know," Kurt hissed, whispering despite his pique. "That I borrowed these-" Again, the expansive gesture to his costume. "-from an actual straight man!"
Dave's response was a burst of air through his nose. (If he was not mistaken, that non-verbal cue was most commonly labeled as "snerk!")
Dave wanted to be mad, he really did, but this was just too funny. Not Kurt's desired impact, he'd grant, but still, a welcome change of pace.
"Straight men don't invite other straight men for picnics, Fancy," he said, biting his lip and trying desperately not to laugh.
Kurt stood blinking at him for a full five seconds before dropping the bag into the trash with a flourish and swinging Dave's office door open.
"Get your rear in gear, Karofsky," he growled over his shoulder as he stomped back into the hallway. "I made a reservation at the sports bar down the street. If we're late, they'll give it to some other NASCAR fan…"
Dave was shrugging into his suit jacket, holding his black wool under one arm, when Celie, who was, indeed, still in the hallway outside Dave's office, stepped in to straighten his collar.
"Have a good lunch, Boss," she said, beaming her cute little face off. She held his coat for him as he slipped into it, then patted his shoulders.
Dave grunted in response, feeling quite certain that the "water cooler" was going to have a crowd around it for at least the next hour…
He loped off after Kurt's retreating black-leather back, all the while noting – and hoping no one else noticed him noting it – that Kurt still looked fabulous, ill-fitting "straight guy" clothes and all.
Once outside of Spillman and White's cool, modern offices, away from the slow-news-day crowd, Dave breathed a sigh of relief.
A few feet away, Kurt stood facing the elevator, spinning the large garnet ring on the pinky of his right hand, shoulders set tensely.
Over the years, Dave had gotten better at dealing with his emotions, not that burying them, forgetting them, or denying them was the best tack to take, but at the very least he'd learned that anger was rarely constructive. Quite often the object of your anger, the recipient of that anger, was merely guilty of making a simple mistake.
Or trying too hard.
Heart in the right place; brain on Pluto…
"Kurt," Dave said softly. He saw the man flinch, took that as a response, and continued. "I'm sorry I laughed at you. I know you were trying. I do appreciate that – thanks."
There was a pause and then Kurt shrugged, a second later, turning around, the corner of his mouth quirked.
"If I know anything," he said, his timbre regaining its usual lilt. "It's how to build the perfect costume." Pulling a rich turquoise scarf from an inside pocket, he looped it artfully around his neck, checking himself over in the mirrored tile beside the elevator as he did so. "Unfortunately, I've been told," he drawled, using his fingers to try to coerce some height from his hair. "It's my actual performance that is a little lacking."
"No way," Dave said quickly, biting back a smirk.
"Yes way," Kurt said, his reflection winking at Dave as he stood beside him.
Watching Kurt primp in front of the mirror, remembering the understanding on his face as Dave spun the sad tale of his sad, and former, gay existence, Dave suddenly realized how very grateful he was that he'd run into Kurt yesterday. And that he was there with him now, dragging him, almost bodily, out of his office for food and company. Dave may have been, for all intents and purposes, the consummate straight guy, but it was still a relief to know that someone knew the whole story.
That it was someone from whom Dave would never have expected such understanding, just made it all the more precious.
"You know," he said, eyes twinkling. "I have a little more experience at…at this, so I can give you some pointers if you want."
Kurt folded his arms across his chest, black leather creaking deliciously.
"Such as?"
"Well, generally," Dave began with a shrug and then a slow grin. "People, straight or otherwise, don't make reservations for sports bars…"
Chewing the inside of his cheek, Kurt considered this for what seemed like an inordinately long period of time, making Dave wonder if he'd accidentally, and unwittingly, used some sort gay slang. It might have been the lighting, but Kurt's face did seem to have taken on a slightly pinker hue.
When he finally spoke, he seemed quite serious.
"All right, then how about the next time I come, I bring an actress friend of mine so we can make out on the couches while we're waiting for you…"
Unsure how to react, Dave just did his patented deer-in-the-headlights, and then Kurt was grinning and rolling his eyes at Gullible Dave.
And yet…
And yet Kurt's cheeks were still pink for some reason.
"So…um, this isn't a one-time deal," Dave asked, his heart beating stupidly – it was clearly pleased for some reason.
There was a pause and then Kurt shook his head, blush spreading down his neck as he looked away.
"No," he said, softly. "I don't think it is."
tbc…
[A/N: Sorry this part was so short, but the next scene is a monster and much too long for lj. - ibs]
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