Author Notes: This is kind of a sad chapter. Or maybe I'm just hormonal. Kinda made me cry a little, actually. Yeah, I'm probably hormonal. But I really, *really* wanna hug Dave right now... It probably also didn't help that I was listening to Nelly's 'Just a Dream' while writing this. *sniffles* "I swear now, I can't take it, knowing somebody's got my baby..."
Just FYI on my WIPs: I hate reading WIPs because I always feel I can't trust the author to write more, LOL. Therefore I make myself update my WIPs at least once a week, sometimes more often. So if I haven't updated in a timely manner, please feel free to bug my lazy ass. I've been way distracted playing Puck on a Facebook RP, hehe.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Belongeth to the creators of Glee and such. Ryan Murphy, don't bother to sue me, I ain't got nothin' to take! (And I don't wanna go to jail, either!)
NOTE ON CONTENT/RATING: In this story there will be mentions of physical and sexual abuse, attempted non-con in the future, language, boy/boy sex in the future. This version will be edited down to an R rating to fit the R/M guidelines of . I will make a note on any edited chapters. If you are of legal age in your area of residence and would like to read the unedited version that includes the smut, you can find this version at:
sparklybat [dot] livejournal [dot] com [slash] tag [slash] cellmate
(Replace the [info in brackets] with the correct symbol.)
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Chapter 7: Survivor
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The lights flashed on. Another morning.
A delicate little snore came from Kurt's bunk. Amazing how Fancy managed to sound pretty even in his fucking sleep.
Dave let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Another day. One down, two point five to go. At least there had only been two attempts to claim the princess' butt for the Gangsta Kingdom. They were doing pretty good.
And Kurt hadn't added any scars to Dave's already impressive collection. Probably didn't want to get blood under his nails. Ladyface had practically had a breakdown when he'd been informed he couldn't bring his moisturizing products into lockdown. He probably didn't want his beauty-rific game plan or whatever fucked up, spoiling his pores with bodily fluids.
Dave woulda done it. Not so much because anything hardcore had gone down but just on principle. No juvie trash would have taken his manhood.
Of course, just because he didn't have any new marks didn't mean that Pretty wasn't dying to off him. He probably just knew that if he put Dave in the infirmary, pretty boy's ass would be open season.
Dave sat up and yawned as a guard walked by, dragging his stick along the front of the cell. "Up and at 'em, boys!" He smacked one of the bars. "Hey, princess! Wake up!"
The little homo sat up abruptly, glancing around nervously with wide eyes, his face all pink and his hair sticking up all over the place. Dave hid a grin. Fancy pants would probably have a freak out if he could see himself in a mirror right now.
Kurt rubbed at his face, looking tired as he yawned widely. Dave parodied him, unable to stop himself-fucking yawns-as he stretched, popping his neck. Way too early to be up on a Saturday.
God, he really needed to piss.
Dave rolled out of bed, padding on bare feet over to the toilet in the corner, snorting softly at the distressed sound Fancy made when he pulled out his dick. For fuck's sake, girlie boy's sensibilities were more delicate than a china fucking teacup. God help the kid when he figured out that, eventually, he was gonna have to take a shit. In front of Dave.
Dave's lip turned up in amusement as an image of Kurt flashed through his mind, Fancy sitting on the pot, hiding his face as he rocked back and forth, practically comatose from the absolute horror of having to take a poop in public.
Welcome to lockdown, sweetheart. TP really *was* like goddamn gold.
He let out a little sigh as he pissed. Hmmm. Yeah, that was better.
Dave shook it off and stuffed it back into his boxers as he turned around, grabbing the clean scrubs the guard had tossed into their cell. "What?" he said, feigning innocence as Kurt stared at him with an offended look on his face. Little miss priss.
"At least warn a boy before you just urinate all over the place, would you?" he asked in an irritated voice, his little button nose shoved in the air like the fucking Queen of England.
Dave gave a laugh. "Urinate all over the place? Dude, I peed in the toilet. That's fair game, princess. But if you wanna see me piss all over the place, I can do that, too. I have very precise aim."
"Gee, aren't we quite the comedian this morning?" Kurt replied with a sniff.
Snotty little bitch. "Seriously, you want me to pee all over the place? You're officially my girl now, so you'll be the one on hands and knees, your scrawny little ass in the air, as you mop it up."
Whatever witty retort Fancy had been forming was cut off when he snapped his mouth shut, a slightly horrified look on his face.
Dave smirked. Yeah, that was what he thought. "C'mon, Ladyface. We ain't got nothing to do, but they don't let us sleep in, so get your ass outta bed. I want some food and getting a waffle in this place is like dancing through a warzone. I can't have you holding me up."
The princess stared at him for a moment, face reddening slightly, then tugged the covers closer. "Uh, we have to get up? Now? Can't I just stay in bed for a little while? I know that attempting to get beauty sleep is fruitless for someone who looks like you, but some of us rely on a full sleep cycle to give our skin that natural shine."
Dave rolled his eyes. Prissy little bitch. Always with the attitude. Probably needed twelve hours of sleep a night to keep himself from growing hair down there or something. "No. It's time to get the fuck up or we'll miss breakfast. It's free food. I'm there. Get your glittery ass outta the damn bed or I'll pick you up, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you to the cafeteria in your panties. I effed with the G Kings to keep 'em from tattooing the words 'insert here' on your butt cheeks and if you get grabbed because you're shaking your flaunting little fairy hips all the way to chow, it'll be my rep that gets the smackdown. So get up or I'll make you get up. Clear?"
Okay, pretty boy's face was now officially the color of a baby's butt after you slap the shit out of it with a spatula. What the fuck was his problem?
Dave moved over to Kurt's bunk, grabbing his boots. "What's the deal?" He collapsed back onto his mattress, roughly yanking on his boots. "Just get up already."
Fancy shifted nervously, and Dave glanced up raising an eyebrow and the boy shoved his chin prissily in the air, even as his eyes got wider than that freaky guidance counselor's had after Dave dropped a used condom in her hair.
Kurt cleared his throat, shifting around as he tugged his blanket tighter. "I… Um, I have… Uh…"
Oh, come on. What were they, nine? "For fuck's sake, quit blushing like a forty year old virgin in a titty bar and just tell me the problem. You're starting to piss me off and the cheeks on your face aren't gonna be the only ones the color of a tomato if you don't just spit it out."
Kurt sat up very straight, clearing his throat as he carefully combed out his hair with his fingers, staring pointedly at nothing. "This is… somewhat uncomfortable."
Dave sighed in annoyance. Once again with the delicate sensibilities. "What? You gotta take a shit or something? I solemnly swear I will not look at you while you crap, okay? It was weird enough that time at McKinley when Azimio and I were hiding in a bathroom stall, waiting to jump that creepy Jew-fro kid, and Az suddenly decided he was gonna sit down and poop. And he's all, 'Hey bodily functions happen, dude!'" Dave grimaced. "I have no urge to spy on you while you go number two, okay? It's, like, prison etiquette. Look in the other direction and plug your nose."
The look of absolute horror on Fancy's face was truly beautiful.
"What? Oh my God, we have to poop in front of each other? That's… just yuck. But no. No, that's not the problem. I'm just, erm…" He cleared his throat again. "Okay, please do not murder me. I'm just a little… awake. Alert, even. In a boy way, if you get my drift." He winced.
Dave blinked. Alert? In a boy way? Oh. OH. Entirely without his permission, Dave's traitorous eyes dropped to Fancy's crotch, his breath catching slightly as he saw the tent in the thin bedding.
The homo was hard. The homo was *hard.* Dave's face grew warm as he felt a slight… something… in his groin.
Motherfucking hell.
Dave gritted his teeth. No, no, no. This was not happening. No, no, no.
"What, you getting off on the idea of me standin' around flashing my ass while you give yourself a fag-happy?" he snapped, clenching his fists at his side. "That it, homo?"
Kurt's eyes flashed. "Screw you, Karofsky. The last thing I want to look at is your fat ass."
"Oh yeah?" Dave shot back, heart pounding a little too fast. He shifted slightly, not liking the feeling between his legs. This was *not* happening. "Why else you be rising and shining, faggot? Huh?"
God, what the fuck had he been thinking, playing share and tell with the little fairy last night? Fuck the guilt—where had his sense of goddamn survival gone? Fancy obviously thought he was a fag now, and if he could have gotten Dave neck deep in shit just mouthing off about that time in the locker room when he had practically raped Dave's lip, oh God… Knowing all about Dave's part time job was like handing the homo a nuclear weapon.
"Look Hummel," he snapped. "Keep your fag to yourself. All that shit last night? That's on a need to know basis—and nobody needs to know. And just 'cause I've been around the block doesn't mean you use me for eye candy. Find someone else to star in your head porn."
The little bitch's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "Oh, go to hell Karofsky! For the last time, *you* are most *certainly* not the sort of man I dream about late at night! Except maybe in my *nightmares*! In the words of your Neanderthal buddy, bodily functions happen! Now, I don't know much about prison etiquette-and Ms. Manners most certainly did not cover this situation-however, I suggest you turn your oversized butt around and stare at your broken fingernails or something while I… handle the problem. Then, when said problem arises for *you*, I'll just turn my astoundingly attractive and fashionable butt around and lament over the sad state of my cuticles. That sounds fair to me!"
"The problem is not going to *arise* for me!" Dave snapped back, clenching his jaw. It wouldn't because he wasn't a faggot and nothing would happen. *Nothing.* Because he felt *nothing*.
Dave's eyes dropped back down to the… problem that had arisen, his face flaming as his cock twitched again. He gritted his teeth. This was all that prancing princess' fault, always flaunting himself around. It was a fucking homo disease. Like AIDS, only you just had to breath the same damn air to catch it.
Kurt laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "You know what? I'm not afraid of you. Turn around, stand there and watch—*I* don't care. *I'll* do as I please!"
As if he ever did anything else.
Kurt suddenly shoved his hand under the blanket, making a soft moaning sound.
Dave choked, his face twisting up in disgust as he whirled around, grimacing at the sudden rush of blood to his dick. Dammit! No, no, no, no, no! This wasn't happening. This couldn't be *happening*!
"Shit, Hummel! What the hell happened to you having shame?" Shame. Ha. Who the fuck was he to talk about shame. Why should he be surprised that this little queer was just like the rest. A wave of pain washed through him. It didn't matter where he was or who he was with, it followed him, just like his old man had always said. Shit, shit, *shit*!
"I don't wanna hear you yanking your junk, faggot!"
"What can I say?" Kurt replied flatly. "I will stop short of nothing to piss off your homophobic ass, Karofsky." He laughed and Dave's face grew even redder, if that was possible. Princess thought this was funny? Fuck him. Fuck him to hell.
Another moan. "Oooh yeah."
Dave's cock twitched. No. No. No! He bit down on the inside of his cheek. Anything to distract his fucking body, his sick body, always betraying him. He was not a homo!
But it always fucking came down to this, didn't it? His heart was pounding too fast. No. Had to hold off the panic. Give into the panic and you might never come down again. Why, why, why did it always come down to this? Why couldn't he ever escape? Trapped on a bed with a nameless man, trapped in a house with a short-term father, trapped in a ten by ten box with his homo cellmate. What was it about him that they always, always found him?
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"What, don't you like it? I like it. I like it *a lot*."
Dave sat there in silence, staring straight ahead, hugging himself tightly as he pretended to watch the TV. Fuck the bastard. He wanted a reaction? He could go to hell.
"Mmmmm, that feels goood. You do this, David? Of course you do. You're a boy. All boys do this." Loud laughter. "Aw, aren't you cute? Fourteen with an attitude. Come on, take a look. You know you want to."
He wanted the bastard to put his dick back in his pants and let him watch the fucking movie. God, he hated foster homes.
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"Dammit, homo! Will you please stop?" Dave's voice came out a little higher than usual and he gritted his teeth. The sound of pitiful desperation. So. Not. Cool.
He had to get back in control. He should just turn around and beat the bitch down. He didn't have to just stand there. He didn't. He was in control. There was no reason to panic. Just because he was locked in with the faggot didn't mean he wasn't in control. It was just a cell. Just a cell. He wasn't tied down. He was bigger than Fancy. And the queer didn't have any tricky cards up his sleeves to play if Dave decided to fight. There was nothing keeping him from just knocking the princess senseless. No reason to panic. He wasn't trapped. He *wasn't*.
Dave made a small sound of distress.
A giggle came from behind him, building up into a full fledged laugh. What the fuck?
He didn't want to look. He didn't. But why was he laughing? Did he think it was so fucking funny? Of course he did. They always thought it was so fucking funny.
There was a gentle weight on his shoulder and Dave stumbled away from it, blinking in confusion as he turned around to see a smirking, fully dressed Kurt standing behind him.
What…? What the fuck?
Kurt giggled again, shaking his head, eyes filled with amusement. "You know, Dave," he said, laughter in his voice, "believe it or not, we are't *all* cavemen who must instantly answer the call of our bodies or die of blue ball syndrome. Some of us more developed beings have an interesting anomaly in our genes that they call 'self-control.'" He laughed again and Dave's face burned in humiliation.
The little bitch, making him feel… making him… Dammit!
Dave lashed out suddenly, shoving Kurt hard, sending the smaller boy tumbling back onto his bunk, his eyes wide.
"Not funny, faggot! It's not funny!" Sweat was building up on his temple and he wiped it away, swallowing down the sick feeling in his stomach. "You think you're so funny? Fuck you! Fuck you! I don't want nothing to do with that shit! Who the hell are you to get all tearful in the shower then come and flash your junk at me, homo? Got me trapped here and now you have your chance, is that it? Can't fucking escape," Dave smacked one of the bars, "so it's time to put the finishing touch on your faggy plans to put me down?"
Kurt stared up at him, looking a little shocked. "Dave… I was just kidding…"
Dave sucked in a deep breath, clenching his fists. God, he'd love to put one in someone's face right now. But the only someone available was staring up at him with those pretty fucking eyes… Dammit!
Dave turned and slammed his fist into the wall. The pain would help beat down the panic. Not trapped. He wasn't trapped.
Dave yanked off his bandana and flung it to the ground, running his hands through his hair as he took deep, steady breaths. The last traces of panic were saying their farewells, but the fucking feeling between his legs was still there. Why was the faggot doing this to him? Why did he want to make Dave feel like a sick fucking homo? Why? Was this revenge?
He spun around, face tight. "This you getting back at me, Hummel? Huh? I mess with you, you mess with me? 'Cause that ain't happening! Flaunt it all you want. I will fucking slit my own throat before I let you put your fag hands on me!"
Kurt opened and shut his mouth, looking a little stunned. "Dave… Dave, I'm sorry! I was just kidding. I wasn't actually doing *anything,* okay?" He held up his hands. "I wasn't trying to… get back at you? I didn't mean to upset you so much. It was just a joke…"
A joke? Is that what he was to him? A big fucking joke? Is that how he got his laughs, tearing Dave down, piece by piece with his pretty smiles and his stupid little bow ties and his cute dance moves?
"Who the fuck do you think you are? You call me the bully?" Dave gave a choked laugh. "I say you're the bully, with all your faggy crap—the joke's on Dave! I just wanna be left the fuck alone! Is that so much to ask for? That's all I ever asked for! For them all to leave. Me. Alone! But they never do." He moved over to Kurt's bunk, grabbing the boy by the front of his shirt and hauling him to his feet, staring hard into those frightened eyes, shaking those delicate shoulders a little. "Please, just give me a straight answer, Hummel! Do the one thing nobody else has ever done. Just tell me why they can't all just leave me *alone*? Why the hell do have to be up in my face all the time, prancing around, looking all fancy? Making me think weird shit? Messing with me? Why can't you just leave me alone?"
Kurt stared at him for a long moment, then his tongue flickered out, licking his lips nervously. Dave flinched as the memory of their faces pressed together flashed through his mind. Fucking lips.
"Dave… I'm sorry. I… don't try to make you think anything. I'm not trying to hurt you. I was never trying to hurt you." He hesitated for a moment then reached out, laying a hand on Dave's arm.
Dave flinched slightly but didn't push him away. Let the homo touch him. Who gave a fuck? He *was* trapped. And it didn't have anything to do with this fucking cell. He couldn't protect himself. He never could. Not from them then and not from this pretty little bitch now.
How the hell had some scrawny little queen gotten so much power over him? Dammit! There was just something about him... He just couldn't hurt him. He couldn't. Not the little princess. And Dave had learned young that if you weren't willing to hurt them, it just meant that they could hurt you. And they would. And you would just let them. Because there was nothing else you could do.
*That's* when you were *really* trapped.
"Dave, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you would be so sensitive—"
"I'm not sensitive," Dave cut in sharply. He was fucking tough, not sensitive. Not some whining, crying bitch. "I'm not a girl, homo."
Kurt shook his head. "Okay, I just meant, I really didn't mean to freak you out. Please, please don't think I've been trying to hurt you. I don't really understand how you feel about me, but I never meant to, I don't know... lead you on? Is that how you feel? Honestly, I never really thought much about you at all until you started shoving me into lockers constantly. And then, well, I was just pissed off. Okay?"
Okay? Was the fag really claiming he didn't know what he did to Dave? If he didn't know how bad it hurt him, then why did he *do* it?
"I know you hate… gay men. And I know that day in the locker room must have really freaked you out." Kurt shook his head. "But I didn't mean for it to happen, and neither did you. So why don't we just, I don't know, try and pretend it never happened?"
Dave stared at him for a moment then let out a bitter laugh, abruptly collapsing onto his bunk, dropping his head into his hands. As if he hadn't tried that. "Yeah, well, Fancy, that ain't working so well for me, okay?"
Kurt leaned over his arm brushing Dave's shoulder and his breath caught. He stared up at the smaller boy. His face hadn't changed. Nothing had changed. Was he really... was he really innocent?
Did the homo really not know what he did to him? No. It couldn't be true. Kurt was lying. He had to be. He *had* to be doing it on purpose. He couldn't really be that oblivious to the way his hips swayed, the way his eyelashes fluttered, the way his cheeks dimpled. He couldn't. Because if he was, then it really was just Dave.
Was it really just Dave?
No. No, no, no. It couldn't just be him. Because that was sick. And he wasn't sick. He wasn't. He wasn't a sick faggot. He didn't want it. It was sick. He didn't… He couldn't… He…
Dave looked back up into Kurt's face. He was just so damn pretty. Fucking Fancy.
Oh, God.
Dave blinked rapidly, hugging himself. "I don't want to be sick," he said miserably. "I… I don't want it. I don't want to be sick. I can't… I can't be sick." Because then it would be true. All of it. True.
No. He couldn't be sick. It couldn't be true.
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For fuck's sake, how many was that tonight, boy?" When Dave didn't answer his Pops reached out and smacked him across the face. "I'm talkin' to you! How many?"
"Six," he said, voice dull and hoarse. He hurt all over, his ass was burning like someone had shoved a flamethrower up there, and his mouth tasted like sex and sweat.
"Fucking sick. Why the hell do I ever let you live under my roof? If you weren't my son, I'd shoot you in the head just for being such a sick little faggot. And you barely earned me two hundred bucks. How the hell we gonna pay the rent if you keep turning 'em for so damn cheap? You like it so much that you wanna spread it out? That it, you sick little slut?"
"I-I tried to charge forty, I swear. I just… I didn't always get it—"
"Shut the fuck up, boy. I don't want to hear your fucking excuses. And don't look at me like that, all pitiful. Sick one like you would sure as hell be out there getting some anyway, so you might as well bring home the cash for your slut efforts. Sick little cocksucker." He shoved Dave out of the way, popping the top off his beer as he headed toward the apartment's one bedroom. "Now get the hell outta my way. I wanna go to bed."
"G'night, Pops," Dave said quietly. The door slammed shut behind him. "Love ya."
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"Dave, you're not sick." Kurt sank down next to him on the bed, leaning his small frame against Dave's shoulder.
His stomach turned. He should shove the little bitch onto the floor. Kick his homo head in. Show him what happened when you fucked around with Dave Karofsky. Show Fancy just how tough he really was.
"I liked it." It took a moment for Dave to recognize his own voice. Had he really just said that? Oh, God. "When you kissed—when *I* kissed you, I liked it. I-I liked it." His voice cracked slightly and he tried to swallow, his mouth suddenly so, so dry. He turned toward Kurt, staring him down. "Tell me how that's not sick, Hummel. *You* thought I was sick. I could see it all over your face. When I kissed you. Like you'd never seen anything so disgusting in your life. Like maybe I gave you a disease or something." He gave a choked laugh. "I don't wanna be sick. But every fucking time I look at you, I get sick thoughts. But if I *am* sick, then he was right all along. Every time. Every fucking time some dude touched me… I wanted it. Deep down, I wanted it. I really *was* begging for it. Because I'm sick like that."
God, It felt nice, Fancy pressed up against him, their knees touching, those thin fingers brushing Dave's. It felt so, so nice.
He was so fucking sick.
"Dave, I didn't think you were sick." Kurt sounded shocked. "Crazy, maybe, since all you'd ever done before then was push me around and, suddenly, you're kissing me. But I didn't think you were sick. You're not sick. I…" There was a pause and Kurt brushed a hand along Dave's face.
Dave would have broken anybody else's fingers for doing that.
"I liked it, too," Kurt said quietly, blushing. "And that didn't make me happy. Not because you were sick but because you were a bully and I was supposed to hate you but every time I closed my eyes that kiss would just play over and over and over. And I tried to pretend that I *didn't* like it, that it was just because I'd never been kissed before. But… I liked it too. It's not sick. And liking a kiss doesn't mean that you're sick. Or that you wanted… whatever happened to you. Okay? That's not how it works. It's different, Dave. I promise, it's different."
There was a long silence then Dave spoke, voice quiet. "Everybody talks about their first time like it's some big deal. Shit, when Azimio got laid for the first time he wouldn't shut up about it. You'd have thought he'd won the damn lottery." He let out a bitter laugh. "I don't even remember my first time. It's all just kind of a blur. And it's confusing, because I didn't always know what it was, y'know?"
Kurt wrapped his hand around Dave's, squeezing gently. "I don't understand."
Dave shrugged. "I didn't know what it was. I mean, nobody sat down with me and was, like, 'Okay, Dave, we're gonna have sex now.' Things just happened and I didn't know what it was. I was a kid. I think sometimes people forget that you aren't born knowing what it means to fuck. It was just something that they did to my body. I had no control. The first time the state took me from my Pops, they asked me why I never told anybody. But how are you supposed to tell someone about something if you don't even know what it is?" He licked his lips nervously as he stared into Kurt's eyes. "And when I kissed you… I didn't know what it was. It was… out of my control." He gestured vaguely toward himself. Why were his eyes watering? "This, all of this, is out of my control. What are these feelings? I don't know. I don't understand."
He choked slightly and bent forward, shoulders tight. Kurt's arm wrapped around him. It felt safe. Why did it feel safe? This was Dangerous. There was Danger in these feelings.
"I don't know what's happening and I don't know why's it's happening and I tried to pretend it was you who was doing it." Dave choked again, a quiet sobbing sound coming from him. "But you're right. You're fucking right. It's me. It's me, but I don't know what I'm doing or what I'm supposed to do, or even what to call it.
"What is this? Why is it happening? What do I do now? It's like I'm a little kid again and there's this weight on me and it won't get off and it makes me hurt and I don't know what or how or why… And I don't want to fight it 'cause if I do the hurt might go away but the warmth might too. And then I'll be all alone. Which is what I want. To be left alone. But I don't really want to *be* alone. But I don't think I can have both, and I have to choose. And I don't know what the hurt is or why it happens to me or what I did to make it happen, but I can be tough. I was tough. I was so tough. I didn't even cry. And now… now it's like it's happening again. Just when I had things figured out, that weight is back and I don't know what it is and I'm afraid it will hurt but I just don't know and all I can do is wait, 'cause it's happening and I can't stop it. Because this time the weight is me. It's all me."
A sob filled Dave's throat. There were tears on his face. Where did they come from? He didn't cry. What the hell was wrong with him? What the fuck was he doing, sitting here crying like some little bitch into Fancy's arms? And why did it feel so good? Why, why, why?
"Shhhh, hey, it's okay, Dave… It… Oh, God… I-it's o-okay." Kurt's voice cracked and Dave swallowed down the sobs as he looked up, blinking away tears. He flinched. The way Kurt was looking at him…
He saw it now, how sick Dave was. He'd have to be blind not to. Who wouldn't be disgusted, knowing that someone like Dave felt that way about him? Dave was through lying to himself. Homo or not, Kurt had never been the sick one. It had always been him. Always. And it always would be.
Dave grabbed at the hem of his shirt, wiping almost violently at his eyes. This was insane. He didn't cry. He was tougher than that. He had to be tough. If he wanted to survive, he had to be tough.
Of course, that was based on the assumption that he wanted to survive.
"You need… you need to stay away from me," he said hoarsely, not looking at Kurt. "You need to stay away from me. This… this is wrong. It's wrong. It was never you. It was always me. We… we'll deal with this weekend and we'll get you out of here. And then you'll never have to see me again. I promise. You will never see me again."
"Dave," Kurt said, voice choked. "Dave, look at me."
Dave turned his face away. He didn't want to look. He didn't want to see the disgust in those eyes. Not again. That image had been burned into his mind the first time he pressed his lips against Kurt's. He didn't need a reminder.
"Dave, look at me." Kurt suddenly appeared in front of him, kneeling down and cupping Dave's face in his hands.
Why was Fancy crying? What had he done to make him cry? He hadn't even hurt him. He didn't even want to hurt him. But he had, somehow. Everywhere he went, hurt followed.
"Dave," Kurt said, voice prim even through the hoarseness. "I swear to God that if you try and make good on that promise I will shave your head in your sleep. And, coming from me, that is the ultimate threat. I don't know who you think you are, trying to ditch me now, but it's not happening. You were my first kiss. And that's special. I can't say that I fully understand what this is either. But I do know what I want to do now. I know that."
He smiled gently and Dave shuddered a little as Kurt leaned in, laying a soft kiss on his lips. So warm. So gentle. So safe.
Dave made a small sound as Kurt pulled back and the smaller boy wrapped his arms around Dave's neck, his breath soft against his skin. They stayed like that for a long moment, then Kurt broke the silence, voice soft. "And maybe we'll just try and figure it out from there, okay? I'll help you, okay? You won't be alone anymore. We'll figure it out together."
Together. Together was Dangerous. Relying on anyone but yourself was Dangerous. That feeling of safety when Kurt wrapped his arms around him-there was Danger there. You had to be tough. Expect nothing from anyone. Only the tough survived.
But that was based on the assumption that he wanted to survive. All alone.
There was a loud buzzing sound and the cell lock clanked open. "Okay, boys," came a voice over the loudspeaker. "Breakfast in ten. Get to the cafeteria."
Kurt let out a nervous little laugh as he released Dave, wincing as one of the dozens of boys who had just poured into the hallway made a crude motion. "This, of course, all depends on whether or not I make it through breakfast."
Dave gave him a reassuring smile. He would keep the Danger away from Kurt. He would do everything he could to keep him safe. And if he wasn't tough enough to survive the gentle Danger sitting in front of him, at least he would be the only one who got hurt. "Don't worry, Fancy. I'll take care of you."
