Chapter 3.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…!" Kurt nearly screams. "Are you insane, Karofsky? Why didn't you look where you were going?"

And this is not what Kurt had in mind when he chose to get back into Dave's life.

Because Dave had been stupid and no looked where he'd been going, and Kurt had started to back out of the parking lot, but Dave just had to come out of nowhere on a skateboard and zoom right behind Kurt's car in his blind spot, ultimately getting hit, rolling over the trunk before sliding across the asphalt until his hand and ass got scraped up, the centripetal force somehow enough to tear Dave's sweatpants and grind pebbles into his skin, tearing it open.

"Fuuuuuuuck! That fucking stings like a sonuva bitch!" Dave shouts, and almost no one is in the parking lot anymore, and Kurt is panicking.

"Shit, you need to get the rocks out, and stop the bleeding, and –"

"Then do something about it, Hummel! Don't just stand there staring!" Dave grunts as he heaves himself to his feet, limping. "Get back in the damn car," he hisses between clenched teeth. "And take me to your house. It's closer than mine or the hospital."

And he's right, so without thinking any further, Kurt slides back into his ajar door and buckles himself in while Dave stumbles into the passenger seat, leaning on one side where he hadn't landed and skid.

"How fucking fast were you pulling out that you didn't fucking see me?"

"Well, how fast were you skating that you didn't see me?" Kurt retorts hotly as he races out of the parking lot and wheels down the street.

"Uhg! It doesn't matter!" Dave curses. "But this is the second time I got hurt because of you, Hummel!"

"Hey, the first time wasn't even my fault, you did that yourself! And besides, maybe this is karma's way of slapping you back to your senses, since you refuse to see things clearly."

"And how's that?" Dave grinds out lowly.

Kurt sighs through his nose. Quieter, he mutters, "You seem to fail to realize how much you miss me."

Dave rolls his eyes. "This again? I told you, we're done with that. I grew up. You grew up."

Childishly, Kurt murmurs without any anger this time, "But you promised me that we'd stay friends."

Dave is about to reply, but he cuts himself off before he can utter a sound. His mouth closes. He turns his head and peers out the window, his hand and ass and part of his side aching and stinging and burning. Kurt's right. Karma is smacking Dave because Dave won't cease the abuse directed Kurt's way, won't be a man and own up to his true self.

He shakes his head. With a passive voice, he mumbles, "Promises aren't always meant to be kept."

"That one was," Kurt whispers. He pulls into his driveway. Louder, he says with a flat expression, "Hurry up and get inside. We have to tend to your wounds."

Dave obeys, and the next thing he knows, his hand is all gauzed up below his splint and his shirt is off and his pants, too, and he's wearing a towel and lying on Kurt's bed, pretending that this isn't intimate as Kurt uses tweezers soaked in hydrogen peroxide to pluck out the gravel after the wounds had been cleaned with water.

"Ouch, dammit! Can't you hear me say, 'ouch'?" Dave shouts.

"Shut up. This isn't easy. Your ribs look bruised and there are chunks of asphalt under your skin. So suck it up and let me work, you big baby," Kurt grumbles as he makes his way down Dave's back and over one cheek of his rear to pluck out all of the gravel. He acts like he doesn't want to run his ands over the expanse of skin, doesn't want to make Dave forget the sting of scraped skin by instead making him moan Kurt's name –

The singer shakes his head disapprovingly at himself. He instead focuses on his job. He cleans the wounds, patches them up, and soon, Dave is standing again, examining himself briefly in the mirror before moving to the bathroom to get his clothes back on.

But Dave walks out of the bathroom, holding up his clothes. "I can't fucking wear these! They're soaked with dirty slush and there are holes everywhere."

Kurt shrugs. "You can borrow my dad's clothes."

"That's awkward."

"It's the only option you have," Kurt reminds icily. He takes a step closer. "Unless you want to walk around outside completely naked."

Dave narrows his eyes. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? In fact, I'm starting to wonder if you hit me on purpose just so you could touch my ass."

Kurt makes a scoffing sound. "Like hell I did! It was an accident and you know it, and as for touching you…" He smirks. "I was only doing what you asked. But maybe you didn't notice, but I crossed 'the line.'"

Dave visibly turns to stone. He stands there, dropping his clothes as his hands grip the towel around his waist. "Don't, Kurt. Don't go there."

"No, I think I need to," Kurt utters lowly, cautiously. "I still remember, Dave. And I guess it didn't matter to you, but it was special for me. You were my first kiss. You gave me my first orgasm. You were everything to me then, David."

And Kurt doesn't miss the way Dave flinches, wincing at the word 'orgasm' and shuddering when Kurt says his full name. "Please, Kurt. If you know what's good for you, you'll shut the fuck up right now."

But there isn't any real threat in Dave's eyes, so Kurt ignores it when he hear it tinge the edges of Dave's voice. He steps closer again. He's inches from Dave. "Where's the line now, Dave, years later? Is it still here?" And Kurt traces Dave's bare stomach, right below his belly button, watching as Dave's face loses some of its hardness. "So… if it is… that means I can touch you here?" And Kurt brings a hand up to place against one of Dave's pectorals, his pointer finger lying over Dave's collarbone, stroking idly. "Or… here?" He says softer, and drags his knuckles and the backs of his fingers down the center of Dave's abdominals, hidden by a thin layer of fat, but still hard beneath.

Dave is quaking where he stands, swallowing his desire and staring Kurt down. "Don't, Kurt. I mean it."

"I don't think you do," Kurt retorts. "I don't think you ever meant it. This whole war between our kinds, or at least the war between the labels others have slapped onto us… I don't think your heart is in it at all. I think your heart is still here," and he taps Dave's sternum, feeling the organ pound under his finger, beneath the bone, between the slowly quickening lungs. "With mine."

Dave refrains from reacting. He closes his eyes tightly, not wanting to continue seeing the intense, determined, moving gaze directed at him. Not with Kurt's face attached. Not when Dave is so close to caving in and kissing the boy in front of him.

Kurt leans in, his mouth a breath away. "Say it, Karofsky. Say that you want me."

At his sides, Dave's hands fall from the towel and the fingers that aren't bandaged twitch in the air. Opening his eyes, Dave looks down directly into Kurt's blue orbs. He rushes forward, pinning Kurt against the wall of the hallway. He pressed his lips aggressively to Kurt's neck, his teeth grazing the skin. "And what if I said that I wanted you, huh? What would happen then?"

Kurt uses a hand to tug back Dave's head, his fingers nestled in Dave's hair. "Things can be right again," he informs quietly. He releases Dave's head and holds him with his gaze. "I'll help you fix what you've broken, in order: my heart, your rightful social status, and the war between the jocks and the gleeks. Just three words, and you can have me as a friend again, or as a lover, and I'll gladly accept and forgive."

Dave's brows lift for a second. "That so? Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Then…" Dave murmurs, placing one hand on the wall and leaning in. He says against Kurt's lips, "I want you."

And just like that, he's attacking Kurt's mouth and Kurt is hungrily, viciously returning the kiss, his hands wandering Dave's body, ever mindful of his scattered bandages. Dave moans, and Kurt presses closer, hands trailing down Dave's front. Dave pins one leg to the wall, trapping Kurt beneath him, their pelvises nearly touching. Kurt shuts the gap, his hips jerking forward as his tongue dips into Dave's mouth with more vigor. Dave moans again, muffled but loud, and grips Kurt tightly against him.

They part for air, panting, and as Dave descends down Kurt's throat and peels off his shirt, Kurt is moaning in between pants, "I've missed you so much… Used to… lie awake, remembering you… Go to school every day, wishing… praying, even… that you'd come back to me."

And he's rambling again, spilling out secrets just like he did when Dave touched him when they were younger. But Dave doesn't want Kurt to be the only one pouring his heart out. Dave confesses between suckles and kisses, "I… used to convince myself that it never happened, that I didn't… need you so damn much… but fuck, Kurt… you were my whole world for years, and I haven't forgotten. I'm so sorry. So fucking sorry, I could fucking die."

Kurt whimpers and starts grinding against the spot of warmth he can feel through Dave's towel, the only thing covering him up. But Kurt doesn't want it there. He wants to cross the line again, wants to feel Dave in his hands, feel what he does to the poor, confused jock –

"Kurt," Dave breathes, "When is your old man supposed to be home?"

"Nnhg… not until… later…" Kurt pants, his arms wrapping around Dave. "Please, Dave. Touch me again, like you did when we were younger. I need to feel it again, to make sure this is real."

And it sounds so pathetic and uncharacteristic compared to Kurt's usual diva-like confidence that Dave realizes how vulnerable he makes Kurt, always has, and how much he wants to do precisely that.

"Okay," he tells the shorter male, and spins Kurt around, unbuttoning his skinny jeans from an easier position before shrugging them down and reaching into the confines of Kurt's boxer-briefs. Kurt sputters something incoherent. He bucks forward when Dave finds his stiff member, so much larger than he remembers because of the years of growth between. But it feels just as good as he remembers it: hot and tender-but-hard, and this time, leaking pre-come, making it feel slick in his hands.

Dave moans under his breath at the sensation and starts moving his fist coiled around Kurt's shaft, pumping and teasing and thumbing the slit at the top. Kurt whines, sinking back against Dave's chest, one of his hands gripping the back of Dave's thigh for support, skimming skin beneath the towel.

It doesn't take long for Kurt to burst, his entire body shivering delightfully against Dave, and the meatier boy can't help but feel a little smug and a little satisfied that once again, he's reduced confident Kurt Hummel to a puddle of boneless mush.

Kurt falls backward against his recently re-obtained friend and is caught easily. Dave kisses the back of Kurt's neck and turns him around to lazily kiss at his mouth. Kurt clings to him, his slim fingers reaching under the towel as if it were a skirt. Dave gasps when Kurt finds his arousal and starts to return the favor.

"K-Kurt, you –"

"Shh," Kurt whispers. "You'll ruin it." And he slinks downward, kissing along Dave's stomach as the towel drops to the floor. Kurt is on his knees, and holy crap, Dave know what that means. He backs up, starting to cover himself. But Kurt drags him back, muttering assurances until his lips are around the tip of Dave's length, and Dave can no longer think.

Kurt's mouth is far too talented, probably because he'd been unknowingly practicing with lollipops and Popsicles for years.

Dave can't control himself. He doesn't look at Kurt when the boy every so often peers upward, and he can't stop his hands from going up to his head and tugging, because Dave is trying his hardest not to grip Kurt's head instead and thrust, because it feels so damn wonderful. Kurt is licking up the main vein and swirling his lips and tongue around the head and letting his teeth gently brush the base and over the slit in a way that shouldn't feel so icily, painfully blissful, and yet does.

And then Dave has to bite his hand to keep from crying out when Kurt takes as much of Dave has he can into his mouth, bobbing and shaking his head, deep-throating him.

Dave comes hard and fast, and Kurt pulls away, using a hand to milk Dave of his seed and help him ride out his orgasm. And Dave is wailing in a soft tenor that Kurt didn't know Dave possessed, and vaguely Kurt wonders if this means Dave can sing as well, which is an odd thing to think, yet Kurt does anyhow.

And when they're both spent and standing there silently in the hallway, Kurt slips into Dave's arms effortlessly, fitting as if he belonged there (which he does, he knows); and Dave returns the embrace just as passionately.

They stand like that for a while, their heart rates and breathing returning to normal as their bodies cool down to relatively normal temperatures.

"So… this mends everything?" Dave murmurs into Kurt's ear.

"It's a start," Kurt replies. "Now… let's get you some clothes. I'll call my dad and tell him that we'll be having a guest for dinner. He won't mind that it's you; you used to practically live here, and he's been asking for a while now why he doesn't see you around anymore. He'll be happy to see you. We'll have to explain that you're wearing his clothes because I hit you with my car, though." He adds with a small smile.

Dave laughs softly. "Yeah. That might help make things less awkward," he says sarcastically.

"Like I said," Kurt teases, "It's a start."