Sorry for the long wait, you would not believe the things that have happened in my life. I mean that almost literally. I've actually had this chapter written for a while now, I just didn't feel satisfied enough to post it. It's a bit fillerific, which is to say that not much happens in it. Fortunately the next two are way more fun and not too far off being finished, so hopefully you can endure until then!
I really want to thank all of the people who have left reviews so far, especially if I haven't PMed you to say so yet. wasn't letting me reply through the review alert emails shortly after posting the last chapter, and a few days later I wasn't getting alert emails for anything whatsoever. Nevertheless, I want you all to know that your reviews and messages mean so much to me, and letting each of you know that personally is the very least I can do—so please accept my honest apologies and sincere appreciation if I haven't done so yet.
His stepbrother had been acting off all morning, but it wasn't until he actually skipped a red light recklessly endangering our lives but never mind that Finn resolved to ask the touchy sopranist for an explanation.
"Kurt, what is wrong with you today? Did you even sleep last night?"
"I think I might be coming down with something," Kurt grumbled reluctantly, eyes fixed on the road.
Finn's brows furrowed with concern. It was hard to tell, but Kurt did look a little paler than usual this morning. He worried a lot about Kurt's health. And why shouldn't he? His stepbrother put up with a lot of crap at school—heck, Finn had been responsible for some of that crap—and it had taken Burt seeing it personally to put a stop to it. After being rightly chewed-out for not looking after his brother, Finn was determined that next time Kurt had a problem, he would know about it and be there to fix it.
Besides, Kurt worked way too hard for a kid his age. Finn couldn't remember ever having to make dinner or do the laundry while he lived with Mom, but Kurt would cook almost every night if no one stopped him and knew far more than any teenager should about the many uses for club soda.
So yes, Finn was going to look out for Kurt whether he wanted him to or not.
Adopting a suitably brotherly tone, Finn pressed some more. "Is it, like, a fever or something? Are you sure you shouldn't be at home?"
"Finn, I'll be fine…"
"No, seriously, if you're sick you shouldn't push yourself. Mom says you work too hard anyway, and I think she's right. You need to give yourself a break, you'll get better faster."
Kurt gave him a sideways frown. "Finn, I promise that if things get really bad I'll just go see the school nurse and you can drive us home when school lets out. And what do you mean, Carole says I work too hard?"
"Well, you and Mom are always arguing over who gets to do the laundry and stuff, and you're always cooking all that healthy cra… Um, food—" Please don't have heard that…
Ignoring his silent prayer, Kurt cut him off. "Crap? You think my cooking is crap?"
Finn winced and meant it. He could see Kurt already powering up for Queen Bitch Mode.
Which meant, essentially, oh dear God.
Contrary to popular opinion, Kurt wasn't really prone to tantrums, and half the time when he started bitching it was almost funny. When he did throw a fit, though… Well, he reminded Finn of that little Chinese guy who stood in front of those tanks that one time.
Finn knew it was already too late, but he had to forestall this if at all possible. "That's not what I meant—"
"It's exactly what you meant! If you and Dad had your own way, you'd eat pizza and bacon seven days a week! You know that Dad needs to look after his heart, right? And as for you…"
Kurt is a very careful driver, Finn reminded himself when a thin finger stabbed his bicep with surprising force. Kurt would never let his car get so much as a scratch on it just because he's so angry he's forgotten about personal safety and oh God he's not looking at the road any more and he already skipped a light…
Kurt continued, heedless of Finn's inner monologue or concern for their safety. "You're meant to be an athlete! If Carole and I let you fend for yourself, you'd be as wide as you are tall in a month! Heaven help you when you go to college, you'll probably have to hire a forklift to carry you into classes…"
As Kurt's tirade descended into nonsense, a realization took shape.
Finn knew he probably wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, but he could be insightful at times and he was getting pretty good at knowing when Kurt was deflecting.
For example: right now, Finn was mostly sure that Kurt had been lying about having a fever.
He waited a few seconds for Kurt to lose momentum before interrupting. "Is something up with you and prep guy or something?"
Kurt blinked, surprised, before remembering to glare. "His name is Blaine, and no, he hasn't done anything. Stop trying to change the subject—"
"Dude, I'm not the one trying to change the subject here. I'm pretty sure something's up and you're not telling me. I know I'm not going to win any prizes for best brother of the year, but I can tell when something's bothering you and I know it's not just that I'm sick of polenta or whatever the heck it's called."
Kurt opened his mouth to contradict him or maybe tell him off, but nothing came out. He closed it again and fixed his eyes on the road ahead (Finn sighed very quietly at that), trying not to look at his brother.
Taking this as encouragement, Finn pressed some more. "Kurt, I don't know what's up, and maybe it's… Well, like, gay stuff that you don't think I can deal with. But I promise I'm here to listen to you if you want to talk, OK? I know what it's like having relationship trouble, and maybe I'm not so great at dealing with it either, but at least you'll have someone to talk to. Not that Mercedes isn't great," he continued, anticipating the obvious objection, "but sometimes it's good to have a guy's perspective, right?"
For the briefest moment, Finn was sure he saw his brother's impeccable facade crack.
Kurt knew from the off that it was a bad idea to play the "sick" card with Finn. It wasn't like he had been completely lying (if you counted a really bad case of crazy-stalker-bully porn) but he wasn't about to tell Finn that the reason he hadn't slept was because he was worried that today a 200 pound jock was going to ask him if he had enjoyed watching him stick his fingers up his ass over the Internet.
The problem was, ever since Dad had found out about the bullying, his stepbrother had apparently appointed himself Kurt's official guardian, which was in equal parts sweet and tiresome. Finn wasn't going to let go until he was suitably reassured that Kurt was genuinely going to be OK.
Still staring at the road, Kurt did his best not to betray the surge of warmth he felt for the tall boy sitting next to him. Finn was so… Genuine, not to mention unexpectedly (albeit inconveniently) perceptive at times. Maybe it would be good to talk to him about the situation. Heaven knows Finn had been putting up with Rachel's persistent advances for long enough, it wasn't like he had no experience with this sort of thing…
No, stop right there. Finn's situation was nothing like this. Sure, maybe Rachel's antics were crazy and overblown, but it wasn't like she was sending him naked pictures or anything. (Or at least, he hoped not, and there's a train of thought he's never getting on.) And it wasn't like she'd bullied Finn constantly for the best part of two years. Whatever Finn thought was going on, this was a whole different level from what he could deal with.
Still, it would be nice to have someone to talk to about things, even if not… this. He couldn't just blow off his brother's sincere attempt to build a bridge between them, either.
He let a small, guarded smile show before speaking.
"Thank you, Finn. I don't want to talk about it just now, but I'll keep the offer to talk in mind." As an afterthought, he added, "The same goes for you too; if you need someone to talk to, I'd like to be there for you."
Finn rewarded him with a grin. "Sure thing, Kurt."
They were only a couple of minutes from the school, but Kurt turned the radio on and tuned it to a station that Finn liked. They spent the rest of the journey singing together, and when they pulled into a space and Kurt turned off the engine, they smiled at each other before getting out, savoring the brief spell of brotherly bonding.
Before they parted ways, Finn patted Kurt on the back. "So, are you making something healthy for dinner tonight?"
The last traces of Kurt's earlier irritation faded; he could never resist that hopeful note in his brother's voice. "Well, we were going to have quinoa salad, but I was thinking that maybe we could pick up some steaks on the way home instead. I know Beastie has you doing extra practice with the championship games coming up, so I figured you could do with some decent nourishment now and then…"
Finn's face lit up like last year's Christmas tree, and he surprised Kurt by grabbing him and squeezing his shoulders. "Kurt… You. Are. Awesome."
Embarrassed and touched, Kurt shrugged off Finn's hands and laughed. "Just remember, tomorrow it's quinoa."
In spite of the culinary threat, Finn seemed happy enough when they parted ways for their respective lockers. Kurt occupied himself by thinking about what he was going to cook tomorrow. He'd originally planned a salad with herbs and pomegranate, but they had some chicken breasts in the 'fridge, and he was sure there was some Cajun spice mix left in the cupboard. There was a recipe for Cajun chicken quinoa that he hadn't tried yet, and maybe it would give him a chance to convert Finn and his Dad to the fluffy superfood.
He grabbed his books for the next couple of classes, frowning as he picked up his French notes and textbook. He had French just before break, and judging by the last two classes it wouldn't be pretty.
He could feel Karofsky's eyes on him as soon as he came through the door. Somewhat prepared, he manged to avoid eye-contact almost completely, although as he walked to his desk his gaze skittered across the jock's face long enough to make out a painfully hopeful expression.
Kurt did his level best to ignore the immanent threat to his survival for the next fifty minutes. Finally, class let up and he started packing. He heard someone drop their bag on the desk behind him and he knew without looking that it was Karofsky. Still, he almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a large body brushing up against him.
"Can we talk?"
Kurt risked a sideways glance. Karofsky was facing the desk behind him, stuffing a book into his bag. His head was inclined towards him, though, and Kurt had to remind himself that even serial killers were probably capable of puppy-dog eyes.
"About what? I was going to catch Mercedes for a soda, so…"
"It'll only take a couple of minutes. Please?" A note of pleading entered Dave's voice, reminding Kurt so much of Finn that he had to shove down his pity and remind himself of last night's resolution.
Sighing, he zipped up his messenger bag, muttering, "Fine. Just make it quick."
Kurt heard Karofsky let go of a breath he must have been holding. The jock shrugged his bag back over his shoulder, turning towards Kurt, and suddenly Kurt felt an arm reach around his back to press a hand against his side, encouraging him to move. He grabbed his bag and clutched it to his chest as he was walked briskly towards the door. When they got into the corridor Karofsky followed behind without removing his hand, returning to his side and steering him gently through the crowd of students.
At first he wondered if Karofsky was going insane. Wasn't he scared that people would see? He could feel Karofsky's thick fingers curled—very visibly, he imagined—around his abdomen. His black sweater was thin enough that he felt the warmth from the palm pressed to his waist. Yet, looking around, no one met his eyes or more than glanced at the two of them before looking away. Why did no one notice that the most homophobic jock in McKinley had his arm all-but-wrapped around the resident queer? For that matter, why was Karofsky suddenly so comfortable touching him in public?
The answer came to him soon, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth: they probably just supposed he was being bullied again. Between being shoved, dumpster-tossed and otherwise manhandled on a regular basis, it was hardly unusual to see Kurt in Karofsky's clutches. If they gave it a second thought, it was probably to thank whatever deity they believed in that it wasn't them.
And if it had been a while since any of them had seen Kurt being seriously imperiled, well, the school fag was probably due some violence by now, he mused bitterly.
Kurt's guts clenched when he noticed that their walk had led them to the locker room. Instead of letting go, Karofsky pulled Kurt even closer so he could push the door open without letting go. The door swung shut behind them and Karofsky led him behind a row of lockers, presumably so they couldn't be seen if someone walked in unexpectedly.
Karofsky was fully against his side now, his arm firm against Kurt's back so that they were basically in a sideways hug now. Kurt wasn't accustomed to other boys touching him, and he found himself strangely reluctant to move away from the soft warmth pressing against him. Still, he didn't want to give the wrong impression, so he stepped away and looked up expectantly.
Karofsky's looked at his fingers for a few seconds, as if mourning the loss of contact. Finally, his arm dropped slowly to his side. He took a deep breath, and Kurt wondered if he had prepared a speech or something.
"Did you watch it?" he blurted out.
OK, maybe not a speech, though he had obviously been waiting all morning to ask. And God, he reminded Kurt so much like Finn when he said that, damn his traitorous brain…
Kurt schooled himself to be calm before responding, and consciously assumed the sort of firm, measured tone he might employ for speaking to an upset five-year-old. Or Finn.
"Watch what? The video?"
"Yeah, I… yeah, the video."
"Why would I?" Kurt asked levelly.
"Huh?" Karofsky looked off-balance. He hadn't expected that answer. "Um… Right. I just sort of thought, you know, you might have checked up over the weekend?"
"And I ask again, why would I? I've already seen the video, so why would I want to see it again?"
Karofsky looked worried now. "You said you liked it."
"Sure, I liked it at the time. But that was when I was…" Kurt grimaced before continuing. "Well, I was looking for porn on the Internet, do I really need to spell it out? I'd probably have enjoyed watching rutting antelopes at that point."
Karofsky didn't answer. His lips were compressed dangerously; Kurt recognized this as a sign that the boy was either angry or on his way to getting angry, and decided to wrap things up before it erupted.
"Look, I only watched it because I was curious. It's not like I've even thought about it again all weekend." Liar. "I mean… I don't even remember what you're called there," liar, "and I'm not going to go looking for you," liar liar, pants on fire, "so the best thing for us to do is just forget about it."
He crossed his fingers and waited for Karofsky's reaction.
For his part, Karofsky looked stricken. His mouth was still pressed shut, but his eyes were vocal, speaking plainly of regret. Finally, he turned and slipped his backpack off his shoulders and onto a bench.
"Wait there," he said, rooting around for something.
Kurt waited, and presently Karofsky pulled out a pen and a notebook. He scribbled something on the paper, ripped half a leaf off and folded it, passing it to Kurt.
Unfolding it, Kurt saw "hockeyjock2010" inscribed in small, round letters. Karofsky's handle. He had been lying when he said he didn't remember it. He'd been lying about a few things today.
"That's my username. Check it out."
"But why would I—"
"Just do it, OK? Please?"
Realizing that he wasn't getting out of this, he resigned himself to the fact that at least now he had a couple more days to collect his thoughts. He nodded, hoping that was the end of it, but Karofsky wasn't finished.
"Will you check it out tonight?"
No way, thought Kurt. I need more time. "I'm meeting Rachel tonight," he fabricated easily. "We're doing our toenails, it'll be late when I get back."
"Tomorrow night?"
"I'm…" I'm still thinking of an excuse, just give me a second…
"Check it out tomorrow and we'll talk about it on Wednesday after French." Karofsky decided with an air of finality.
Desperate, Kurt gave it a shot anyway. "Wait, please, just… What do you want to talk about? I've already seen it, I don't want to see it again—"
"Yes you do. I mean, maybe you don't, but…" Karofsky's face twisted, struggling with indecision. "It's not the same video, OK?" he conceded at last. "There's another one, I made it for you. I just want you to see it. If you don't like it, I promise I'll leave you alone and never mention it to you again. Deal?"
Kurt couldn't look at Karofsky any more, not when he was making a needy expression that reminded him of Finn when he wanted something badly. Instead, he focused on the clammy hand being held out to him. Gulping down his fear, he reached forward and took it.
Big fingers closed around his own. "Deal," he mumbled.
Karofsky sighed with relief, squeezing Kurt's hand a little tighter. "Thanks Kurt. I hope… I hope you like it." He let go and frowned. "Um, didn't you say you were meeting Mercedes or something?"
Aw shoot! He hadn't made that part up. Mercedes was going to be pissed. "Yeah, I should be going. I guess I'll see you…"
He backed off a few steps before turning around so that Karofsky couldn't surprise him from behind, which he seemed to be making a habit of doing lately. When he got into the corridor, he whipped out his phone and grimaced to find a missed call and two texts from Mercedes, and set about composing a quick apology.
A muffled crash came from the locker room behind him, and he picked up the pace a little.
Wednesday. He had just bought himself two more days until he was totally screwed.
Dave managed to wait until a few seconds after he heard the door close before he broke down.
Kurt hadn't seen it… He hadn't even thought about him all weekend! He'd pinned all his hopes on Kurt seeing that video, enjoying it, hopefully jacking off to it, and he hadn't even thought about the first one he'd made.
FUCK! He smashed a fist against the row of lockers, ignoring the throbbing pain it brought to his knuckles.
He knew it was crazy to imagine that Kurt would suddenly care squat about him or actually look forward to seeing his naked body again, but he had. He totally had. Last night, he went to sleep fantasizing about what might happen today, and in his sleepy mind's eye it all went so differently.
"So… Did you do anything over the weekend?" Dave asked, playing it cool.
Kurt smiled; he knew exactly what Dave wanted to hear. "You mean the video you made for me?"
"Did you like it?"
Dave hardly dared to breathe when the other boy stepped closer, his light footsteps echoing in the locker room until he was standing perhaps a foot away from Dave.
"No, I didn't like it," Kurt whispered, shakily.
Trying to conceal his disappointment, Dave nodded and prepared to say that it was no big deal, he would try harder next time…
"I loved it," breathed Kurt, leaning forwards and tilting his head up very slightly so that Dave was looking right into those gorgeous eyes—not afraid like they usual were, but burning with a very different emotion.
Dave was almost shaking with emotion, but he controlled himself. Barely. "Tell me, Kurt. Tell me what you liked best about it."
And Kurt laughed, gently, leaning in further. There noses brushed together, sending a shiver of electricity down Dave's spine.
"OK, I'll tell you. But first, you need to let me show you my appreciation." His lips were on Dave's almost as soon as he finished, soft and inviting, begging Dave to take them, suck on them, pull them into his mouth and taste them, and again he wondered what flavor lip balm Kurt wore, because he tasted amazing.
They pulled apart, and Kurt's body just melted against his own, fitting him perfectly, his soft lips showering gentle kisses on Dave's face and neck.
In between the kisses, Kurt whispered against his skin:
"I think you're so handsome."
"You're not fat at all."
"I was lying, you're totally my type."
"I can't wait to see your body again."
"You're perfect, Dave. Just the way you are."
Dave wiped away his tears and sat quietly, hugging himself for the rest of break.
