Author's note: Hi – I have been having major issues with keeping in the same tense (switching between current and past). This is something that really bugs me when reading a fic, but only because I like consistency. Seeing as I can't seem to consistently write in the past tense, I'm going with the current tense. Sorry for the previous two chapters being a bit all-over-the-place. It's like wearing training wheels. Also I haven't had time to proofread this chapter either, so my apologies for that too.
Thanks for all the reviews/alerts/favourites etc.
Warning – smut and swearing. Nothing that the M rating doesn't already imply.
CHAPTER THREE – AUGUST 2025 (part 3)
Kurt hides in his room most of Sunday. He can hear Mercedes stomping around and swearing. He's pretty sure that because she's so careful to never swear at work, when she's not at work she (sometimes) makes up for it. In spades. He can't recall her swearing around Mike though. Probably trying to come across as lady like. While she's at church Kurt takes the opportunity to go for a run, have breakfast and make some sandwiches he can stockpile in his room. He just wants some quiet time to himself, and Mercedes knows what his closed door means.
He does some work, flicking e-mails to various suppliers, organising fabric samples to be delivered so that they're waiting for him when he gets back to LA. He's at the start of two new projects, which is unusual, normally he has three jobs, each at a different stage. He sketches out some ideas, his mind not really focussed on either job, but he'll at least have something to e-mail Sandy tomorrow. He sends Cassie a carefully worded e-mail saying that he'd love to have her around for coffee when he's back, but refrains from inviting Marcus.
He phones his Dad and tells him that he and Alex have broken up, and no, there is no chance of reconciliation. He doesn't want to go into the particulars but his dad draws them out of him slowly, like thorns in his side. He cries again, but soft soothing words reassure him that he's strong, and he'll get through this, and Alex isn't worth a second more of his time.
Carol comes on the phone briefly and asks him when he'll be back in LA, and also when he's next coming to visit. There is no censure in her voice, just love, and wanting to know when she'll next see her other son. He promises a weekend visit in September, knowing that by then his new niece or nephew should have arrived, so he can justify the trip to his work-obsessed brain.
Monday passes in a blur. Mercedes returns to work, and Kurt takes the opportunity to actually think about the two jobs he has, one a period film set in the late-1800s, and the other a science-fiction film which grants him far more artistic licence. The harder he focuses on work the less he needs to think about anything else. He knows he's meant to be on holiday, however too much time and nothing to do is just a recipe to make him miserable. So he works. He sort of feels like he's being more productive here, with less distractions, but it's hard to tell, but he knows he'll be able to judge his productivity when he's back in LA.
When Mercedes finishes her evening music classes she drags out her old Xbox and tries to put in rock band. Kurt laughs at her when it doesn't work and she retaliates by throwing the cordless controller at him. He decides he'll go out and buy a new gaming system tomorrow, as long as it has a game or something they can sing with. He mentally reminds himself to ring Finn and ask him. He still plays a stupid amount of Xbox. Enough that Melanie, his wife, is always saying she already has two children. Considering how much of a baby Finn can be about certain things, Kurt agrees with her.
Tuesday passes much the same way as Monday, except Kurt gets a taxi into the city centre and goes shopping again. He finds the latest model Xbox and the sales assistant must work on commission, because he loads Kurt up with a set of drums, two guitar controllers, two microphones, two microphone stands (so they can sing and play an instrument at the same time apparently), and five different games involving music and/or singing.
He turns down the offer dancing and singing games combined. Singing and dancing was easily done fifteen years ago, now they're more likely to do themselves an injury tripping over a piece of furniture. He unpacks it all and sets it up once he gets back to Mercedes'. He places the old Xbox, controllers and games in the recycling bag provided by the shop assistant and tests out the system, singing the first song that pops up on the screen, by some band called Sferics.
In the early afternoon Mercedes calls him and asks if it's alright if they go and do something that evening with Mike. Kurt says he's quite happy to stay by himself, he doesn't need to be a third wheel, but Mercedes assures him he won't be. And when the evening comes and Kurt finds himself sitting with Mercedes on grass at the side of a football field named after some guy called Bill he knows why Mercedes wanted him along.
They're here to watch Mike train, and it's no hardship for Kurt to watch forty grown men run around with their shirts off (although there are a few he wishes had left their shirts on). It's a blistering hot sticky summer evening and his jeans are getting more wear this week then they have in the last year. Why he'd agreed (i.e. bribed) to come with her to watch football training and why he's wearing jeans in this heat, well, he's not sure what possessed him on either account.
Actually, the promise of dinner and drinks after the training had influenced his decision, a lot, when Mercedes had finally told him where they were heading (she obviously thought he wouldn't jump from a moving vehicle. And she's right. Mostly). However, he doesn't think he'd have needed the added incentive of dinner and drinks if she'd mentioned that the guys would be running around shirtless. So all in all, he can't regret his decision.
Kurt's fairly certain that his sunglasses hide his eyes well enough so as not to feel overly perverted. He can feel the very slight breeze coming from the small lake behind them, and wonders how long it will take him before he gets bored. Staring at eye candy is all well and good, but it's also reminding him of the wholly embarrassing incident from Saturday night, and becoming turned on while sitting next to his female best friend is just… well, it'd be weird on several levels. Not to mention awkward.
His knowledge of football is sketchy at best. He's endured more games then he cares to remember, and he learnt pretty early on to stop asking questions. His dad has endless patience for everything. Except football apparently. Even Carol likes watching football, which baffles Kurt. He's yet to find a sport which he likes watching and has resigned himself to just not being interested. He can live with that.
"They seem pretty relaxed about Dave and Keegan being on the team," Kurt stated, having watched as Dave and Keegan both received back slaps and shoulder punches at various times. That male-male body language which Kurt has always found eluded him. Finn used to try with fist bumps, but quickly gave up under Kurt's withering disbelieving scorn.
"Apparently it's meant to be a gay team. But they didn't have enough guys, so opened it up to straight guys. Mainly close friends and family. So most of those guys you're pretending not to perve on play for your team," Mercedes replies, trying to hold in a giggle as Kurt's eyes widen behind his sunglasses as he views the field with more interest. "Stop drooling Kurt."
"I am not drooling. Really though? How many? I mean, what percentage are we talking here?" he asks, and he knows he's just blown any chance at feigning disinterest. Mercedes will be using this as ammunition for years. God, he hopes Finn never finds out.
"About seventy-five percent, depending on the shifts the guys are working. I should have mentioned that, rather than dinner huh?"
"What?" Kurt asks, not hearing her past the first few words, because suddenly he's watching the male-male body language with a whole new set of eyes. There is obviously at least one couple out there, because despite his lack of football knowledge, he knows it doesn't involve the occasional kiss or butt pinch. Well, maybe the butt pinch, he's not sure. He throws a cheeky smirk at Mercedes before settling down again to watch, intrigued.
They have to wait for the guys to shower, and Kurt is insanely curious as to whether they all shower together as one happy football team, or whether they split up. Either way, he's grateful for the fact that they are showering, he doesn't want to dine with so many sweaty men, no matter how attractive. Only 'a handful' of guys are coming to dinner according to Mike, but Kurt has never known how to interpret that, after all, a handful of sand and a handful of popcorn result in two completely different numbers.
When approximately fifteen players finally join the three of them at a large table in a sports bar-slash-restaurant that is all dark wood, large TV screens and soft down lights, Kurt feels slightly overwhelmed. He's glad that he knows Mike, Keegan and Dave already. A quick glance at Mercedes shows that she's feeling pretty smug, being the only female at the table.
They're both introduced around the table, both as friends of Dave's from high school, and Mercedes as Mike's girlfriend. Kurt doesn't bother trying to remember so many names, particularly when he'll likely never see these men again, or be able to talk to them over the large table anyway. However he is a bit miffed when none of them eye him with anything more than polite interest.
He knows he doesn't look his best right now. After all, he's in a pair of jeans from last season and a slightly crumpled shirt that was sticking to him uncomfortably less than half an hour ago. But surely he doesn't look so bad that there isn't even a single flicker of interest from any of them. He feels his heart sink, a heavy weight in his chest. Maybe he's past his prime. Maybe he is just meant to be alone. He slumps a bit in his seat.
A waitress comes and takes drink orders, and the easy banter between her and the guys make it clear that this is part of their routine. She's back a few minutes later with the drinks and asks if they want their usual meals. Mercedes and Kurt both order a chicken dish, and Kurt waves off Mike's comment that maybe they want to order smaller meals, or even entrées. Mercedes gives Mike such a fierce look he promptly shuts up. She excuses herself to use the bathroom and Mike scoots into her vacant chair so he is sitting beside Kurt
"I have a favour to ask…" Mike starts and Kurt frowns. Most good things don't start this way. He gestures at Mike to continue.
"It's Mercedes and my two month anniversary on Friday, and I was wondering if I could take her out to dinner. I know it's your last night in town, so thought maybe you'd have special plans, and if you do I can take her out on Saturday, but I just thought I'd ask…"
Kurt is both amused and touched that Mike feels the need to ask his permission. He could have simply asked Mercedes, and she – Kurt stops mid-thought and grins at Mike, his head shaking.
"You're asking me because I'll put Mercedes first and say yes. Because if you asked her, she'd put me first and say no," Kurt surmises, and knows he's right when Mike nods, a little shamefaced.
"Go, take her, I'll waste away in front of her TV eating myself into an early grave, gorging on too much ice cream and chocolate."
"I doubt that very much," Mike says, voice wry.
"You could come hang out with me. We didn't really have a chance to have a proper catch-up on Saturday. We could go out clubbing or something."
"Clubbing? At our age?" Kurt asks, and he doubts they'd find much out about each other in a club. However his stomach does a little flip at Dave's invitation and he wants to roll his eyes at himself. He's convinced himself that Saturday night was an anomaly, his body desperate for any form of release. It was simply a coincidence.
"Hey, we're in our early thirties, not geriatrics! And I said or something," Dave replies, and Kurt can't help himself but put lots of filthy innuendo on those last two words, regardless of how innocently Dave meant them. His body and sub-conscious mind seem determined to make everything Dave says and does somehow sexual.
"See as I am being abandoned in favour of a romantic dinner, I suppose I can grace you with my company," Kurt says.
Keegan snorts beside Dave and shoots Kurt an amused look. Kurt smiles back at him coyly, and for some reason this causes both Dave and Keegan to let out loud snorts of laughter. Kurt frowns, feeling a bit hurt at the response, but not knowing whether he'd be over reacting if he called them on it. He keeps quiet simply because he's felt like enough of a drama queen in the last week as it is, without adding to it.
And despite the fact that he really doesn't care what Dave thinks of him, he still doesn't want to give him any additional cause to think he's more unhinged than he's already feeling. Even if he feels like a sexless waste of space right now and wants to rant to the world about the injustice of it all. He draws into himself a little and lets the conversation at the table wash over him.
The meals arrive and Kurt eyes it in disbelief as it is placed in front of him. It's massive. No wonder the football team eats here. The amount of food on the plate would easily equate to three evening meals for him, and he doesn't starve himself. Mercedes is looking at her plate in equal parts horror and delight, and Mike is obviously biting back an 'I told you so'. The others are enthusiastically devouring their meals, and Kurt supposes the majority of them were all running drills for nearly two hours.
"I'm not going to have room for dessert!" Mercedes moans quietly, and Kurt snorts.
"There's always next time," he replies as he starts his meal. The food is good. Not overly fancy, but it is tasty and hot and there's a lot of it, and that's what counts right now. At least to the majority of the table. Kurt wishes he'd listened to Mike.
Wednesday the humidity reaches unbearable levels and when the threatening thunderstorm finally breaks Kurt revels in the sound of heavy fat drops hitting the roof. He takes a luxurious feeling afternoon nap and wakes up to a text message from Dave. They'd left dinner last night without making any concrete plans. Kurt hadn't wanted to push it, especially if the offer had been made with the intent for it never to be truly accepted. Kurt had resigned himself to that idea when Dave hadn't bought it up again.
However the text message in front of him asking him 'You still keen for Friday?' tells him the offer was genuine. He quickly sends back an affirmative response and gets a 'Come to my place at 7. We'll figure something out' back within a few minutes and he can't help but grin like an idiot for the rest of the afternoon.
Kurt allows Mike and Mercedes to drop him off at Dave's apartment, reassures Mercedes he'll be fine and is perfectly capable of not only getting a cab home by himself, but he can also go to the bathroom on his own now as well. She pokes her tongue at him but waves cheerily as they drive off. She's told Kurt not to expect her home tonight and Kurt really doesn't want to think about what that entails.
He buzzes in to Dave's apartment, feeling a bit odd to be coming here by himself, to catch up with a guy he sort of knew back in high school, but has almost become friends with. This will be their third meal together in a week. That's more meals than Kurt's had with his family in Lima in the last six months. He wonders what they'd think if they knew where he was right now.
He knocks on the door to Dave's apartment and doesn't have to wait long before it's thrown open and Dave is standing there, a surprisingly wide smile on his face. Kurt can't help but smile back. It's just one of those types of smiles.
"Hey, you made it," Dave says, and Kurt wonders if maybe Dave is slightly nervous. There was a very slight waver to his voice. He dismisses it.
"Yeah. Mercedes and Mike dropped me off. Made me feel like a teenager. Only thing she didn't do was impose a curfew," Kurt says, toeing off his shoes to match Dave's barefoot look.
"You guys seem pretty close," Dave remarks, heading back into the kitchen, where Kurt can smell something divine cooking.
"Yeah, we've been through some pretty rough times together. What are you making?" Kurt asks, and if the subject change seems abrupt to Dave he doesn't comment on it. Kurt doesn't want to think about those rough times right now.
"It's a new recipe. You're my guinea pig. Mango-glazed chicken on couscous with salad. Nothing too elaborate. Can I get you something to drink?"
"Well, it smells great. What are you having?"
"I've got a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc to go with dinner, but I'll probably have a beer right now."
"I'll have a glass of Sauvignon thanks," Kurt says, and watches as Dave expertly opens the bottle and pours Kurt a glass.
They walk into the living room again and Kurt takes up his position in the same chair that he had on Saturday night. Again the photos catch his eye, and this time he feels free to ask.
"Who are the kids in the photos?"
"Hmm? Oh, them? My niece and nephews."
"You have siblings?" Kurt asks, a bit taken aback. He'd thought he'd known that Dave was an only child, like himself. Until Finn became part of his family, but still.
"Yeah, two sisters. Both older."
"Huh. Weird. I always kind of thought you were an only child."
"Well… I suppose I could be called an only child as well. I mean, Pat and Jen are around a decade older than me and we never lived together, so… yeah."
"What do you mean?"
"Um, well, my Dad was a bit of a douche when he was younger. He cheated on his first wife. Uh. He cheated a lot. With numerous women. Not with my mom, but others. Pat and Jen are his kids from his first marriage. He divorced their mom when Pat was nine, and then he met my mom about two years later. He's older than her by like sixteen years…" Dave pauses and looks at Kurt only to find him listening intently.
"Anyway, they hooked up and got married. My mom's a doctor. Very career driven. Kids weren't in her plans at all, so when she found out she was pregnant with me… well. She wasn't a big fan of having Pat and Jen stay either. Two teenage girls and a baby son were not her idea of a pleasant weekend. I didn't see much of Pat and Jen until I was older. I'm pretty close to them now though. Jen lives here. In Chicago I mean."
"Did your mom leave you?"
"What? No… Oh. You think because she didn't want kids? No. My mom… she's not one of the most maternal women in the world. I mean, she loves me, but I think she'd have been perfectly happy to never have me. My dad calls me the best mistake he ever made. For mom it was a mix up between antibiotics and the pill and they took a risk…"
"Still, that's kind of sucky…"
"No, it wasn't bad. She was at all my games, came to school camps, is always there for me. She never made me feel unwanted or unloved. She's great. But I always got the impression she would have been quite happy if I'd never been born as well. I think she makes a better friend than mom though. One of the perks of being an adult now – we get on great. She's relaxed about Jen and Pat too. I think when she was younger they were maybe a bit of a threat. That and they're only like twelve years younger than my mom."
"Oh," Kurt murmurs, feeling a bit bewildered by Dave's explanations and wonders how it might feel growing up knowing you're not wholly wanted. He wonders also whether Dave always knew how his mom felt, or if the realisation came to him, pieced together as he grew. Either way, Kurt suddenly feels a bit heartened by the fact that he knows he was loved and wanted always and unconditionally by both his parents.
When Dave returns from the kitchen and tells Kurt that dinner is ready he's glad. He's just finished his second glass of wine and is feeling decidedly light headed. They've talked about movies they've seen and want to see, with Kurt admitting he's lost a lot of his awe of movies now that he works in the same industry. He's learnt that Dave plays the saxophone, something his mother wanted him to do so he'd be better rounded. Kurt can't help but be amused by that, but likes the fact that the saxophone in the corner of the room is not simply for show. He's learnt that Dave is a bit of a wine nerd, and all his travelling has predominantly been to vineyards in various parts of the world, and from the sounds of it his ex-boyfriend Greg the photographer footed the bill, being a specialist photographer of vineyards apparently. It gives the large canvas print of a vineyard in Dave's lounge a lot more significance.
He follows Dave through to the dining room and does a double take at the table. What had been a very large square table on Saturday is now a much smaller rectangular table set for two. It's obviously one of those tables which size can be altered. He feels a little squirm in his stomach at how couple-ish it feels. Like a romantic date. Then he realises that he's going to need to use the bathroom at some point and he holds back an embarrassed groan as he sits down.
"I've made a dessert as well," Dave says as he places a plate in front of Kurt, salad and couscous in separate bowls in front of him.
He sits as well, and Kurt can't help but notice how Dave's arms look in his t-shirt. The other man is only wearing jeans and t-shirt, having mentioned to Kurt he'd spent all day in his uniform so just needed to relax for a while. Kurt hadn't minded. Still didn't mind in fact. The jeans and t-shirt aren't loose and baggy, so provide Kurt with a glimpse of muscled thigh beneath denim, and firm chest and stomach beneath cotton. Not a date, not a date, not a date Kurt starts the chant in his head.
"More wine?" Dave asks and Kurt nods. He's not driving, and if they do go out clubbing then he'll need all the Dutch courage he can consume.
Through dinner Dave keeps the conversation flowing with amusing stories about his nieces and nephews. Kurt has a few of his own about his own nephew. Dave obviously has a lot to do with his sister Jen's kids, because it's their bedroom in the hallway. The meal is over, dishes cleared to the dishwasher in the kitchen and they're halfway through the second bottle of wine and Kurt feels decidedly relaxed.
"Have you ever been cheated on?" Kurt asks, and he knows he has the wine to thank, but also doesn't want to take the question back or apologise. He wants to know. Dave looks at him, a sympathetic look on his face.
"Once. About ten years ago. It really does… just suck."
"What did you do to him?"
Dave laughs then, head shaking.
"Not as simple as that, really. I'm still friends with him. Good friends actually. It forced us to talk to each other and realise we weren't working any more. Hadn't been for a while."
Kurt is gobsmacked.
"You forgave him?"
"Well, I punched him first, but yeah, I forgave him. Eventually. New boyfriend helped," Dave grins, and Kurt huffs in amusement.
"That it would. Always seems to help ease the hurt doesn't it…" Kurt muses, and he thinks back to the complete lack of anything from the men on Tuesday night and frowns. His chances of having a one-nighter to make himself feel a bit better seem slim to non-existent. At least here in Chicago.
"You okay?" Dave asks,
"Yeah, just a bit down. Sorry, didn't mean to bring you down as well."
"It's okay," Dave replies, shrugging. "So, you ever consider getting back together with your first love?" Dave asks.
"Who? Blaine? Ew… no. Just, no. I mean, we're friends now, and I love the guy, but we just don't click..." Kurt says, a blush appearing on his neck, and Dave cocks an eyebrow. Kurt wonders why he never noticed how perfectly shaped they are.
"But he is your first love, right? Good that you've managed to stay friends with him after all this time. Sometimes people are together, break up to grow up, and then get back together. It happens."
"I don't think that's going to happen. Not for me and Blaine anyway. Is that what you're hoping for with the first guy you loved?"
"Uh...no. I don't know. I mean, I was never with the first guy I loved, so we wouldn't be re-kindling anything... it'd be starting something from scratch, which would be impossible. He's... moved on anyway. So, you and Blaine don't gel in the sack huh?" Dave asks, his grin mischievous. Kurt feels his blush reappear and rolls his eyes.
"He was… nice to learn things with. I wasn't… passionate about him, but it was an experience that I'll never regret. We learnt together, and had a lot of fun. But we realised once the learning was over that there was… nothing there, once the excitement of trying something new had worn off, you know? He was safe…"
"Yeah, I get what you mean. That's kind of why Keegan was my first boyfriend. I wasn't afraid of breaking him."
"Wait, Keegan Keegan?" Kurt asks, mind conjuring the tall, broad-shouldered, friendly but still quietly reserved man. Good looking as well. Dark hair, striking blue eyes. He's a bit taken aback. Hell, he's a lot taken aback. He'd kind of thought Dave would go for… well, men more like himself, not fellow jocks. Keegan would be a couple of inches taller than Dave, and equally broad shouldered.
"The one and only. I'm his type, but he's not mine. Especially after I punched him."
"He's the one who cheated on you?" Kurt asks.
"Yep," Dave replies, and finishes his glass of wine and then refills it. "I've learnt that even nice people do shitty things. My dad. Keegan. Me," and he catches Kurt's eyes with his.
"If you're referring to high school then it doesn't count. Everyone does shitty things in high school. Me included."
"Yeah well, to shitty things we did in high school," Dave says, raising his glass in a toast and smiling grimly. Kurt smiles and raises his own wineglass.
Dave has gone to get a third bottle of wine and dessert. Kurt's fairly sure that the idea of clubbing has gone out the window, and he's grateful. He has never been a big fan of the club scene, and the rate Dave and he are going they're going to end up lying on the carpet in his lounge staring at the ceiling and giggling.
"OW!"
Dave's loud exclamation has followed the sound of something falling and splattering, and then a string of swear words that would do Mercedes proud. Kurt is up out of his chair, only slightly unsteady, and moving swiftly to the kitchen.
Dave is standing there, empty pie dish on the floor and hot (what used to be) pie spread all over the floor, as well as Dave's feet. He's trying to ineffectually wipe the pie off his feet on the back of his jeans. Kurt cringes at how painful that sort of rough fabric would feel against freshly burnt skin.
"Stop," Kurt orders, flying in to motion. He sidles around the splattered pie, grabs the tea towel and rinses it under cold water in the sink before passing it to Dave.
"Thanks. The dish just slipped. And I dropped it right onto my foot," Dave mutters, obviously not impressed with himself.
"Go and run cold water over your foot. I'll clean up in here," Kurt instructs, and Dave nods before gingerly removing himself from the pie splatter zone.
Kurt moves quickly, a bit disappointed that the rhubarb and raspberry pie he'd been smelling for the last hour was now gracing the kitchen floor. He uses paper towels to wipe up the hot sticky mess, and then wet ones to remove the last of the sticky residue. He places the empty pie dish in a sink filled with water to soak and goes to check on Dave.
Dave is sitting on the edge of the bath in the bathroom, cold tap running over his now bright pink foot. It looks viciously angry to Kurt as he stands in the doorway, trying not to think about what he did in this bathroom last Saturday night.
"How does it feel?" Kurt asks, and Dave looks up at him.
"Sore. I think the cold water is making it look worse than it is though. Pretty sure I can feel a lump coming up already, and I'm pretty sure that there's a bruise forming," Dave replies, pointing at his foot. Kurt steps a bit closer and notes the small black bump.
"Ouch. At least nothing is broken. I've cleaned up as best I can."
"Thanks. And I'm glad nothing's broken either. Lamest injury ever. I dropped a pie dish on my foot. Doctors in the emergency room would crack up."
"Still, it looks fairly painful. You need to keep it there for at least ten minutes. I'll go and get our wine glasses."
When he returns to the bathroom Kurt thinks this has to be one of the most surreal evenings of his life, sitting in a bathroom sipping wine and talking to Dave Karofsky about the loss of pie.
Twenty minutes later they're back in the lounge, bowls of ice cream and left over pie filling in their hands. Dave makes some comment about how it will ruin the taste of the wine, but being too drunk to really care. Kurt agrees, but it doesn't stop him devouring the impromptu dessert.
"You're pretty down tonight."
Dave's comment brings Kurt out of his reverie and he smiles sadly, feeling bad that he's turning out to be such miserable company tonight. He knows that the thought of returning to LA tomorrow is weighing on his mind, and the alcohol is letting his usual façade slip.
"Sorry. Just thinking about going home tomorrow. Not looking forward to it. Feeling pretty shitty all round really."
Dave grimaces at the vulnerability in Kurt's voice.
"I mean, on Tuesday night at dinner none of the guys even looked at me sideways, it was like my dad was standing behind me with his shotgun."
"Uh… yeah. About that… I may have said something to them."
"What?"
"I didn't want any of the guys to make you feel uncomfortable. You've just broken up with a guy, and I didn't think you'd want a whole bunch of guys hitting on you," Dave explains, but he also thinks that maybe he hadn't wanted to see any of them flirt with Kurt, just in case Kurt had flirted back.
"Well… that was… sweet of you. But unnecessary. I could have done with some attention. I just...I wanted to feel desired. Sexually."
"Oh. Sorry. I just…"
"Kiss me," Kurt demands and Dave looks at him in disbelief.
"What?"
"Kiss me. Just…make me feel like I'm a desirable man."
"I really don't think that's a good idea. I mean, we have nothing in common. You're attractive enough – "
"Excuse me? Attractive enough? Well screw you too!"
"Shit, that came out wrong. Look…" the pause was long, and Kurt could see Dave thinking through what he wanted to say. Kurt hoped like hell it was an improvement on what he'd just said. Shit, he wasn't asking for a life commitment, or even sex. Just a kiss. Which would probably (hopefully?) lead to a make out session, but still, nothing serious.
"We're barely friends. Acquaintances at best. And while I find you attractive, very attractive, hell, Kurt, you're the archetype of my type, but I need more than that before I sleep with someone. And you're fresh out of a relationship. How long had you been together with him?"
"Four years. I'm not –"
"Holy… that's a long time. You need to grieve for that relationship Kurt. Allow yourself to be angry and hurt and numb. Don't be little something you spent four years on by jumping into bed with the next available guy. You're allowed to be sad you know."
Kurt's torn between annoyance (hell, he's pissed!) and being strangely touched by Dave's words. He also wants to sort of kick him in the shin again.
"I'm not asking to sleep with you. I'm asking for a kiss."
"I think that's a bit naïve at our age don't you?"
"Maybe, but I just… need this. Please."
The heartfelt plea in Kurt's voice, and the sad and slightly desperate look on his face break something inside Dave. He stands and holds a hand out, intending for Kurt to stand in front of him, which he does, slightly hesitantly. Dave takes the opportunity to drink in Kurt's features, fingers going feather light to brush over Kurt's cheekbones, down his neck.
"You have this effortless sexuality. You're so confident in who you are and what your body is capable of, that it just rolls off you in waves. It's so hot. Even in high school you just...you knew who you were, and nobody was going to tell you any different. Fuck it was sexy. You want to know the number of times I jerked off to thoughts of you? Not dirty filthy thoughts, but just you walking, the sway as you walked, the way you stand with a hip jutting out... I can't tell you the number of times. It was a lot. And the fucking dreams. God, you haunted me. And you had no idea what you were doing to me. No idea what you were doing, and that was sexy as hell. Still is."
Dave's hands were on his hips, hot breath on his neck as the words washed over him, tugging him closer so that they were standing chest-to-chest.
"There were at least three guys who were pissed at me on Tuesday night when I said you were off limits. So it's not just me saying this to make you feel better. You are…so fucking hot. When I saw you on Saturday, you'd gotten hotter than high school. Everything about you… the way your fingers hold the stem of a wine glass, how when you smile you smile with your eyes."
He's going to say more, but instead his lips are on Kurt's. The taste of wine, fruit and ice cream mix between them as Dave nibbles slowly, almost hesitant in his slow exploration of Kurt's lips. Kurt responds fervently, his tongue darting out to lick at Dave's lips, before he opens his mouth, takes Dave's bottom lip between his teeth and sucks.
Dave groans, glad that Kurt isn't a passive partner in this. He has one hand on Kurt's hip, the other on his neck, both firm in their desire to pull him closer. So he does. His hand on Kurt's hip moves around to squeeze an arse cheek and he grinds against Kurt as his tongue slides into Kurt's mouth, past teeth to trace the ridges on the roof of his mouth.
Kurt's body is both languid and determined. One hand is in Dave's hair, changing between tugging and stroking, and the other hand is on Dave's back, his hand having navigated past the t-shirt with ease to find warm bare skin. He can feel Dave's cock, hard against him, and the idea that he's turning Dave on is intoxicating.
"Bedroom. Please. Not sex, just… please. I need…" Kurt's words are disjointed and breathy and Dave can feel Kurt's erection pushing against his hip. He knows this isn't a good idea, but his mind is hazy with alcohol and arousal. He continues to kiss Kurt, even as he moves, stepping carefully, tugging Kurt's body as he moves.
They make it to the bedroom intact, and Kurt is tugging at Dave's t-shirt, mumbling 'off off'. Dave obliges easily enough and Kurt returns the favour by quickly unbuttoning his own shirt and throwing it onto the floor. Dave takes a brief moment to appreciate the creamy flawless skin, fingers running from Kurt's hipbones, up, over his stomach and chest, to cup his head and reinitiate the kiss.
The bed is beside them, and if Kurt's mind wasn't focussed so completely on Dave's hands, lips, body, he'd be having a good look around Dave's bedroom. Instead his hand is palming Dave's cock through his jeans, and Dave's hips are bucking towards him. Dave's breath is hot and damp against his ear, where Dave is now nibbling a trail from earlobe to lips and back again, voice moaning 'so fucking hot' over and over.
Kurt reaches for one of Dave's hands and places it on his still clothed and covered erection, a low heartfelt 'please' whispered brokenly as Dave starts applying firm consistent pressure. And then Dave's fingers are lowering the zip and undoing the top button. Kurt helps then by arching his hips off the bed and tugging his pants and underwear down.
He's rewarded by Dave's hand wrapped around his cock instantly and Kurt groans at the sensation. Large, slightly rough and cool feeling against the heat of his sensitive skin. Dave's hand moves assuredly and Kurt can't help but thrust to meet Dave's hand.
"Fuck yes…"
The angle is awkward, but Dave has had practice, and Kurt is trying to not come instantly. It's not a good look. Their lips are battling again, and when he can Kurt drags his lower lip over Dave's cheek in appreciation of the coarse hair there. His body is rushing towards its orgasm, and a small part of him wants to draw the whole experience out because it might be the last form of intimacy he has in a while, thanks to Alex, and suddenly he's coming, and crying and he's crying because he's crying. Fuck, I am completely unhinged!
For a very brief second Dave thinks that Kurt is laughing, but then realises he is crying. Dave does what he always does when faced with this sort of pain, he holds Kurt to him, cradling Kurt's body to his as Kurt cries, large sobs wracking his body. Dave rocks his body ever so slightly, hoping that the movement is soothing. He assumes it is, because after a few moments the cries quieten and lessen, and Kurt's body becomes a dead weight in his arms, asleep.
Dave wakes the next morning to an empty bed. He doesn't need to go looking to know that his apartment is lacking one Mr. Kurt Hummel. He also doesn't know what the hell to make of the previous evening, but decides that he can think about it later.
Later he will find a note on his kitchen bench:
Dave,
Thanks for last night. For everything.
I hope your foot is okay.
Keep in touch. You have my number.
Kurt.
It doesn't help him decide what to think.
TBC.
Author's Note 2: I hope you American peeps enjoy Glee on the 20th. I'll be over here hiding under my rock. *sigh* Also, these first three chapters were meant to be one chapter, so that "cliff hanger" in the first chapter was never meant to be a real cliff hanger... this one however, yeah, maybe. See you next week! (Anyone else watching the Rugby World Cup?)
