Kurt's car pulls into the darkened driveway of the Hummel's' split-level, and he turns off the engine and the lights. Dave sits in the seat; uncomfortably aware of how wet he is relative to the back of his chair. The rain is still coming down in buckets outside. The heater is blasting stale, hot air at his face as they pull in. It continues to do so until the moment Kurt opens the car door. The cool, damp air circulating through his lungs reminds Dave of where he is and what, exactly, he is doing: preparing to enter Kurt Hummel's house, and presumably, to meet his family.

Dave's mind is in a state of panic.

Kurt goes around the back of the car and opens the trunk.

"Are you just going to sit there? Come help me with these groceries." He pulls a half-gallon of milk and two paper bags from the back of the car. Dave throws open his door and rounds the car with his backpack, grabbing a carton of eggs, a package of paper towels and a bag of coffee filters. Having something to carry makes him feel less anxious; he has something to do, a reason for being there, a purpose. He is helping Kurt with the groceries. Once they're all out of the car—there aren't many—he shuts the door to the trunk and follows Kurt to the front steps.

As Kurt rattles the key in the lock, though, Dave shifts his weight from foot to foot. He isn't sure about this. He has not been sure about anything these days. The soles of his shoes suction to his feet; his socks are soaked through with rainwater from his walking earlier. Kurt hastily throws his scarf over his shoulder as he picks up the grocery bag again, and he steps inside the house.

The Hummel house is…average. Dave doesn't really know what he was expecting, but it doesn't look much different from his family's own. The furniture, which is more or less ordinary, is centered and arranged around a flat-screen television in a living room off the entryway, and there are family photos hanging in the hall, many of them featuring a woman who must be Kurt's mother. Kurt's dad, a big man in his mid-forties, is on the couch, watching the television, and he looks up at the sound of the door.

"Hi, Dad," says Kurt as he and Dave enter, and he walks toward the kitchen briskly, arms laden with groceries. His strut is matter-of-fact, and he seems unconcerned about his father's reaction to having a stranger in the house. Dave makes an awkward wave and gives a smile that comes out more like a grimace as he follows Kurt into the kitchen and sets the bags on the counter. He makes eye contact with Kurt for a second as the smaller boy goes about putting the perishable items into their respective compartments in the refrigerator. Kurt gives a little shrug, which Dave doesn't really know how to interpret. He sits on a wicker stool by the marble-topped counter, since he doesn't know where anything goes. His feet drip water and mud onto the floor, but Dave doesn't notice.

In the living room, Burt Hummel decides to address the situation that has presented itself, without warning, in his home. He doesn't get up, but remains on the couch, legs propped up on the coffee table.

"So Kurt," he yells into the kitchen, over the sound of the game, not even bothering to mute it, "I sent you out for coffee filters and you bring home a boy. Am I going to get an introduction?"

Kurt breathes through his nose, pressing his lips together and shoving a head of lettuce into its respective refrigerator compartment. He finishes the groceries, not looking at Dave, and takes his time folding each bag up and putting it under the sink, delaying the inevitable. When he's done, he takes off his scarf and hangs it over a lamp. He pulls Dave with him into the living room.

"Dad, this is Dave Karofsky."

Burt raises his eyebrows and nods toward Dave, putting out his hand in Dave's direction. They shake hands, and Dave mumbles a greeting, wondering if Burt Hummel knows his name, wondering if Kurt's told him about all of the bullying. He can't look the man in the eye, thinking about all of the times he's thrown Kurt into dumpsters. "Nice to meet you," Burt says, almost sincerely, if a little edgily, and Dave thinks that Mr. Hummel probably doesn't know a thing—if he did, Dave figures, Dave Karofsky would be out on his sorry ass in the rain again. He gets the sense that Burt Hummel isn't one who takes kindly to people who mess with Kurt.

"Dave," says Burt. "Okay." Now he turns to the television, where white-clad sportsmen vie for control of a football, and puts it on mute. "How do you know Kurt? Are you doing a school project with him or are you his, uh," he pauses, looking at Kurt, saying nothing else, the last noun implied but not stated for fear of embarrassing someone. Kurt shakes his head sharply, and so Burt finishes with, "…friend?"

Kurt smoothes the front of his shirt, and he shows only the barest hint of anxiety. "Dave's a classmate," he says, which is true. "He's a friend," Kurt adds, which isn't, or at least isn't to Dave's knowledge, anywhere remotely near the truth.

"Okay," Mr. Hummel says. It is not approval, but a prompting, a query for more information.

Kurt pauses, not sure what the script is past this point, and looks at Dave, and turns back to Burt Hummel. Dave doesn't say anything, and hopes he won't be asked to say anything. He avoids Kurt's eyes, looking instead at the game on the screen. Kurt rolls his eyes toward the ceiling, looks at the floor, and finally moves to sit next to his father, crossing his legs and resting his hands on top of his knee delicately, like a female talk show host. His hair, still slightly damp, droops across his forehead.

"Dave's parents just kicked him out of the house," Kurt says, making it real for Dave again as he says it, "and he needs somewhere to stay tonight. I know it is on short notice, but he really doesn't have anywhere else, and it's raining out. I didn't want to be responsible for his getting hypothermia and dying like an idiot when he tried to sleep on someone's porch."

Mr. Hummel looks over at Dave, who confirms the first part of the statement with a halfhearted nod. He feels like he should add something to the dialogue, as he hasn't said anything. "I'm sorry about this," he says, the third or fourth apology he's made in twelve hours. "You really don't know how much I appreciate it." His smile is still forced, and Dave sees Kurt looking uncomfortable.

Mr. Hummel looks Dave in the eye carefully and turns back to Kurt. "Why'd he get kicked out?"

Kurt's self-conscious smile turns into a halfhearted wince. He looks strained. He glances uneasily over at Dave, who sits on the arm of a chair, picking at a piece of lint on his shirtsleeve. Dave swallows, trying to work up the balls to say it aloud. He can't, though, and shrugs instead. He looks apologetically at Kurt. He is hoping that Kurt won't feel any pressing need to give Mr. Hummel details on why Dave's parents aren't happy with him. Kurt seems flustered and uncrosses, then re-crosses his legs. He looks at Dave again, helplessly, as Mr. Hummel looks between the two boys, an expression of suspicious concern on his face.

"Look, Dave, I don't know you," he starts. "I trust Kurt's judgments, and I am not denying that you might be a nice guy. But I have to say, I do think that I should have some input as to who is allowed in my house. Since you've already been invited, I won't turn you away…" he turns his head and looks over at Kurt with a mildly accusatory glare, and Kurt lowers his eyes. "But I do need to know why your own parents don't want you around. Most people don't throw their kid out unless it's for a good reason. What did you do?" Mr. Hummel turns so he faces away from his son and toward Dave.

Dave shifts in his seat and slouches. Kurt is staring at him with wide eyes and mouths help me out here. Dave bites his lip.

"It's… tough to talk about." He pauses, not sure how to continue. "It's sort of..."

Burt Hummel isn't one to beat around the bush. "Does it involve illegal activity or drugs?"

"No." Dave is pretty sure of this, though if you told him it was illegal to look at other guys in the locker room, he might have believed you.

"Well, good," Burt says, leaning back a little onto the couch, a note of relief in his voice, and he looks at Kurt, who nods. Kurt opens his mouth, looks at Dave, and raises his eyebrows. Can I say something? Dave nods, or shrugs, and Kurt says,

"It's sort of a difference in personal values. They don't see eye to eye, and have not been up to discussing the issues with Dave. Rather than deal with the differences in opinion in a civilized manner, they refused to let him into their house." Kurt looks pleased with his rendition of the facts, which is the truth, albeit minus some key points. Burt Hummel looks at Kurt, and at Dave, and shrugs in a way that suggests there is not much more to be said on the issue. He gets up from the couch and shuffles down the hall.

"Okay," he says. "Just be… be responsible, Kurt, and don't stay up too late. I'm turning in soon. This game has been just about shot to hell anyway. There's a Netflix movie on top of the television, if you want to watch it." Just like that, Mr. Hummel makes his exit, and Dave is left feeling as if he's avoided stepping on a landmine. He wasn't really afraid of Mr. Hummel—after all, this is a man who let his son come to school in a silver dress and Marquis de Sade wig- but of himself.

Dave has never said, "I'm gay."

Dave has never actually said anything, not "I like guys," or "I'm queer", though by now, he supposes, several people assume it. Admitting it aloud, hearing the words coming from his own mouth, would make Dave fall apart. At the same time, he thinks, it might let people see more of him, and let Dave become closer to whole than he has ever been.

But it's getting close to midnight now, and Dave doesn't think about anything so philosophical when it's this late. He falls asleep on the Hummel's couch, hours after Kurt has gone downstairs. He lets the television run on in the background. It's a voice in the dark, and it's a comfort to Dave, even if nothing tangible is behind it, even if nobody real is talking to him.