Chapter Four: On cloud 9

I woke up Sunday morning to the sun poking at my eyes through my window shades. My alarm was blaring, so I rubbed my face with the palms of my hands, -just an old wake-up habit- then slammed practically my whole arm down on the annoying little machine. But a smaller bleep still echoed through the room. What the hell? Ugh, not now. Who would text me so early? At first, while my brain wasn't quite turned on yet, I brushed off the "You've got mail" indicator as just another drunk text from Azimio. It is Sunday. He was probably out last night partying or something. But as soon as I remembered Saturday's events, my whole body shot up and I grabbed my phone with the hardest grip I could muster. Then I flipped through my inbox and found it. 1 new message. From: unknown sender (263-2867). So I took a deep breath, and plunged right in to whatever it had to say.

Thanks for giving me back my pocket square. You could of washed it though. It was kinda dirty and smelled like jock sweat.

~ K.E.H

P.S. See you at 3:30.

Such a short little message. But hey, I thought, smiling, At least he got the letter. And look, he even wants to meet with me! But oh holy hell, what am I going to wear?

I was almost positive that if my mom or dad had come into my room while I was getting ready, I would have subsequently been thrown out. Fussing over an outfit for a lunch date (wow, a date with Hummel...) wasn't exactly the most hetero activity to waist most of the morning on. And if I tried to make an excuse, I'd probably either (a) end up tongue tied, or (b) say something totally stupid. So I just prayed that they wouldn't walk in on me, and luckily they didn't. But I was still cautious as I snuck down the stairs at around 3 PM, slowly making my way out to my car and beginning what would probably be the longest car ride of my entire life.

I tried to take deep breaths as I got on the highway. My concentration was way off and right then was not a good time for a car accident to happen. A migraine started rising up in me as I got off the exit to Pike Village and turned the corner on to Main Street. Even the quaint setting of the town wasn't enough to put my mind at ease. My breaths quickened as I spotted the sign for the coffee shop at the very end of the road, and I decided to park about two blocks away so I would have a minute to get my shit together.

C'mon Dave, don't be such a baby, I told myself, Since when has cowardice brought you anything good?

"Well, so far, it's kept me from being humiliated by my peers. Not to mention the fact that I haven't said anything stupid in front of Kurt in a while is probably because I've been too much of a pussy to talk to him at all," I lashed back, cupping a hand over my lips after realizing I had just fought with myself. Out loud. My god, I really am gay.

I sighed, scrubbing my face with my callused palms and trying to figure out what to do. Should I leave? Should I go meet him? What the hell, this should be so easy! I couldn't just leave without letting him know I had arrived in the first place. That would be totally douche-y. But then again, text messages explaining how much of a pussy you are aren't really a good idea either. It seemed I had no choice but to be a man and talk to him. But about what? I asked. Would I have to explain my feelings? Would I just have to apologize? Would he ask all these personal questions about my home life, like therapy? Oh crap, I don't even know! At this point I was so scared-shitless of the inevitable that I was physically shaking in my seat, my hands jerking the steering wheel and my eyes twitching between its leathery skin and the coffee shop down the street. Kurt's super-fly jet black Lincoln was no where in sight, and at that point I was even starting to fret about whether or not he would have the guts to show his face. Of course he would! I slapped myself mentally, Kurt has enough balls for every guy at McKinley High. I mean, a convincing death threat is a pretty solid basis for a transfer. But he's physically gone through much more than that. There were the slushies that ruined his beautiful clothing and made his gorgeous glass eyes all squinty. There was that time we threw pee balloons at him and his face got all red in embarrassment -a cute cherry red that made his dimples pop. And those locker slams were just brutal, probably bruising his tender, pale skin more than once. After all of that abuse, he always came back for more. But you on the other hand, you are a disgrace. How could you, a 200 lb football and hockey player, be so afraid of a chat with a little kitten like Kurt Hummel? I sighed, closing my eyes and shaking my head around in an attempt to get out all of the raw energy I was collecting from my rant.

"Alright Dave, you can do this," I said proudly, "You can be strong just like Hummel. It's only a matter of deciding whether or not you are going get up off your ass and into that coffee shop or not." After taking several deep breaths, I grabbed my keys, my wallet, and my phone, then made my way towards the little Cloud 9 sign that was gently rocking in the breeze about two blocks away from my car.

When I had finally reached it, I took a moment to make sure everything was perfect. Was my fly undone? Were all the buttons on my shirt in the right order? Was my shoelace untied? Then it was time. I took a firm grip on the little metal door handle, let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding, and then just like that, I opened up the door and stepped right inside. A little bell on top of the door frame rang as I stepped into the space, echoing its previous sound as I let go and let the door fall shut. I looked around, and was consumed by the strange warmth of the place. Murals of flowing faces and wild colors I didn't even know existed were on every wall. One of these walls contained several large windows overlooking a wooden plank terrace and a grassy courtyard. There were little tables and chairs, but the foggy weather kept them damp and unoccupied. A bit off to the side but still fairly central was the coffee bar. A bunch of metal stools circled around a large, round, bar. Behind the endless ring of counters were two workers preparing lattes and adding the whipped cream to people's hot cocoa.

I looked around at the tables and booths, scanning them for the short, pale-skinned boy that I had come to meet. But I did not meet his gaze, or even catch a glimpse of any of his body for that matter. I sighed looking down at my scuffed-up sneakers. I should have known all along, I clenched my fist at the thought, Hummel wouldn't dare to come near me. He'd rather stand me up and spend time with his stupid prep-school fancy haircut perfect little flamboyantly-gay twerp of a fake boyfriend. Oh, what the hell! Who cares anyways? If Hummel's gonna be an ass and blow me off, he deserves to find out the truth about that sleaze-bag himself! After my inner rant, I closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths to calm down. Still, I really wish I could have apologized. At this, I let a tear slip absently down my cheek. Kurt had no idea how much I cared about seeing him, and I had no idea how much he cared either! I'm so stupid, I told myself as I wiped the tear away and turned back towards the door, Why would he even want to see me? Even if I put my heart on my sleeve for him he's still gonna hate me. I'm just using him to torture myself at this point. I should just give up and go home.

I kept my head down as I neared the door, only letting it tip back upwards at the sound of the bell ringing again. I was about to just look back down and step aside for the café's next patron, when my heart literally stopped. I double-taked at the sight of the fashionista before me, attempting to respond but failing utterly and freezing myself as I stared at him. He was decked out in a knee-length black sweater and tight grey skinny jeans that, I must admit, hugged his legs in all the right ways.

"Umm... can we get a table now please?" He timidly swung back and fourth, his hands clasped behind him. I snapped out of my stupidity and nodded, walking over to the coffee bar with him waltzing along infront of me. I guess he's a little more confident considering I haven't strangled him yet.

"I'll have a large hot cocoa with extra whipped cream and some chocolate chips on top, please," Kurt kindly asked the waitress on the opposite side of the counter.

"Make that two," I said, coming up behind him. He flinched a little, so I placed a firm hand on his shoulder and he seemed to calm down, letting out a little moan. My mother had always said I had a firm, comforting hand. Apparently not when I shoved poor Kurt into those lockers everyday.

"For here or to go?" She asked as the other staff member, a not too shabby looking guy with jet black hair, started preparing our drinks for us.

"For here," I told her warmly, making sure to smile. She swooned a little, and I cursed to myself on the inside as I was immediately reminded of Charlotte.

The woman eyed me flirtatiously a little before turning towards the cash register and pressing a few buttons. "That'll be ten forty seven, please," She announced as the register rung with our total. I could see Kurt sticking a hand down into his messenger bag for his wallet, and I immediately moved my arm down to his wrist to stop him.

"Don't worry. I invited you here. Drinks are on me," He looked up at me with that shy little smile, covering one of his cheeks with an adorable little hand as an even cuter blush crept up his face. But of course, I wasn't getting away without a snide remark of some kind.

"I didn't know a guy like you had the capacity to be a gentlemen," He told me as I placed a twenty down on the counter.

"Well I guess you learn something new everyday, now don't you," I snapped back. I flinched for a second when he didn't respond, so for a moment I thought I had taken it a bit too far. But as I took the portion of my change that was in coins and dropped it in the Childhood Cancer Research bucket on the counter, that adorable little smile came back and I knew I was safe, for now.

I led the way to a nice, sunny little two-person booth overlooking the courtyard, making sure to stop and let Kurt pick his seat first, just to keep up the gentlemanly act and all. For the first few minutes the only sounds were either coming from that absolutely adorable little noise Kurt made while he sipped his drink, or from the art school students and indie-rock band members occupying the rest of the café. But I knew that eventually I'd have to start a conversation. So, after about half of Kurt's humongous cocoa had been devoured by the tiny boy, I cleared my throat and grabbed his attention.

"Kurt," I began, trying to keep myself from word vomiting and messing up my entire speech, "I'm really sorry for all of the shit I put you through. It's just, you were so proud. And I was so jealous. Not to mention I was confused about my feelings for you. And then after the kiss, I was so scared you were going to tell people the truth that I threatened to kill you. I know now that saying things like that isn't okay, and I want you to know that when I say what I'm about to tell you, you need to trust me that I am telling you the truth, and that all I want is for you to be safe." I took his hands in mine and looked right into those glassy blue eyes. "Can you do that for me, Kurt?"

He slowly nodded, cueing me to begin. "I know why you transferred to Dalton. It wasn't just to escape me or to be guarded by their zero-tolerance for harassment policy. You were chasing after Blaine, that boy that you introduced me to on the stairwell after the kiss. And, let's just say we happened to run into each other again, and this time he didn't really recognize me. Well, we were talking and..." I took a deep breath, still not prepared enough to break the news to him. "he said some really awful things about you. I'm really sorry Kurt, but I don't think he likes you the way you like him. I just want you to know that, okay?"

A tear was slipping off of his cheek, and I went to wipe it for him, but he gently brushed my hand aside and wiped his eyes on his own. "It's alright," he smiled, ignoring the sadness and the tears, "I got to find out all by myself when I came back to Dalton late yesterday and overheard him talking about me in the Warbler's practice room." I reached out for his hand again, but he pulled it away and looked down. But when he looked back up, he was different. He emanated confidence and his smile was brighter than ever. "Don't worry about me so much, Dave," using my real name for the first time I could remember, "I'm returning to McKinley, where I'm wanted and needed. And I'm going to help you overcome your fears and come out to the student body."

"Thank you so much," I told him honestly. I reached out for his hand again, and this time he took it. I could feel something in it too. It was small and thin, probably a piece of paper. We released from each other and I unfolded it in my lap.

"That's my email address, my home address, and my home phone number, in case you can't reach my cellphone. Feel free to call whenever you need to," His voice was so calm and soothing, it was hard to believe he had been crying moments ago. I grinned, looking down at the paper and noticing a third and final number scribbled at the bottom.

"What's the last one for?" I asked him.

His mouth curved upward and he let out a little laugh, "That's the Trevor Project. You can call them 24/7, 365 days of the year, and someone will always be there to talk to you and listen to your problems. Because you may know me personally, but being a diva like myself means I need time to catch up on my beauty sleep."

"A beautiful boy like you doesn't need beauty sleep to look good," I told him, hoping my sudden flirty-ness wouldn't cause him to bitch-slap me 'till the end of time, which usually happened to Azimio when he came on to strange girls in public.

But Kurt just giggled and stood up, coming over and standing at the end of my side of the booth, "Not quite yet, lover boy. You have to be out and proud before we can start dating." I frowned, trying to be cute, but froze at the outcome of my puppy-like expression. Kurt Hummel leaned over and planted a soft, tender little kiss on my cheek with those beautiful pink lips of his, before waltzing out of the restaurant, leaving me completely frozen in my seat.

That boy definitely knows how to land me on cloud 9, that's for sure. Now, what to do about it?

Hi you guys! It's done! Sorry that I took so long. Forgiveness? (P.S. Sorry for the cheesy-ass ending, but what can you do?). Also, I wanted to add this last little contest in (p.s. the one from chapter three is still open). What do the first three digits of Kurt's phone number mean? And since no one has yet to solve the last one, I'll offer up another chibi-devil-Blaine cookie for anyone who can solve this one too.

The last four are too hard, so I won't make you guess. I spelled the word "wink" and then went up to the nearest number to the left on my keyboard. I got w-2, i-8, n-6, and k-7. I know it's confusing, but I was running out of numbers!

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this fic. I will definitely write a sequel, but also other stuff so vote on my Author's Page to help me pick what to write first. Maybe I can even do a Henry spin-off or something. Thank you for favoriting, alerting, and reviewing. Those things = love! So keep it up. Thank you so much for reading and please help yourself to my other stuff. I have a great little short story on my blog right now, but you don't need to read it. I totally messed up the ending.

I lesbians you all (can you guess what that's from?),

~ Sea-Pig-Out-Of-Water