A/N: It's like 2:30 in the morning and I'm half asleep. But I had to get this last one out of me (I sound like I'm squeeszing out a terd... haha! Funny) Anyway I apologize if this chap isn't up to my usual standard. Again, sleep was punching me in the face while I wrote but hopefully it's not really noticeable. Enjoy! And as always, please review.


"When's Dad gonna be home?"

Dave shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the pot of mashed potatoes currently steaming under the pot lid.

"Don't know kiddo. Guess he's running late again."

Danny sighs, her eyes returning back to the PSP game she'd been trying to beat her latest high score on. Dave noticed that anytime she seemed to be in a sour mood, her hand held console would make an appearance at the dinner table. Sometimes he thinks his sister really is too much like him at times.

Dave takes a sip from his beer as he shifts the pot lid over, giving the steam just enough room to breathe out. He pops open the oven and evaluates the Salmon, making sure to monitor for any scalds on the skin or general dryness before closing it back and leaning on the kitchen counter.

"I know he wants to be here. Sometimes he just can't be."

"Yeah. Whatever."

Dave tips his beer back again, watching his little sister sulk with a saddened expression. He can remember countless nights that his Dad had done the same thing to him. He thinks that there are some things that will maybe never change.

"How was school?"

"Fine."

"Really?"

"Yes. I said it was fine."

Dave holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Jesus, relax. I was just asking."

"I don't need to ask how your night was."

Dave scowls over at her, taking another long sip before responding. "What does that mean?"

Danny clicks off her game and places it on the table, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. Okay, she also definitely had some of those Paul Karofsky mannerisms down packed to a scary degree.

"You came home at 3 a.m."

"Yes I did. I'm also an adult."

"Did you meet anybody?"

"What?"

"Did. You. Meet. Some. Body?"

"No. Not really."

"Then who was that guy who was helping you on the porch?"

"What?"

"I'm not blind you know. Hence these stupid, freaking, gigantor glasses. I saw you pull up with some guy in a taxi."

Dave found himself sitting across from her at the table, his heart starting to pick up speed like a revving car engine ready to explode.

"You were supposed to be asleep."

"I was. At first. But I couldn't help it. Plus it's a little hard to stay asleep when I could hear you stumbling around and laughing like an idiot. So, who was he?"

"Just some guy I knew from high school."

"A friend?"

"Are we playing twenty questions for a reason or - "

"I just wanted to know."

Dave sips his beer, his eyes carefully trained on her, trying desparately to divluge her intentions. "Yeah. Sure. He was a friend."

"He seemed nice."

Dave chuckles. "You've never even met him."

"No. But Dad said he paid for your taxi. That seems pretty nice. And he walked you to the door when you were like, out of it and probably could've crushed him like a can if you would've fell over. Most guys I see on TV shows and stuff don't do stuff like that for other guys."

"Yeah. Well I guess Kurt's a bit different."

"I know him. I've seen him before."

"What? Where?"

Danny is no longer shooting him scathing looks. She seems more relaxed, at ease with the flow of the conversation.

"Outside my school. He was picking up this one girl. A cheerleader."

"Is her name Jamie?"

Danny looks stricken, her eyes widening almost comically. That easy going aura melting away almost instantly. She nodded.

"I saw her Dad today. Finn Hudson. We went to school together too."

"Sweet Merlin, this town is small."

Dave rises from his chair with a laugh, tosseling Danny's hair as he makes his way back to the oven to check on the fish.

"My sentiments exactly kid."

Later when Dave has finished plating everything and has dished out helpings to both Danny and himself, Danny takes it upon herself to break the silence.

"Do you think you're going to ever bring a girl here?"

"How do you mean?" He questions around a mouthful of mashed potato.

"Like, a girl that you're dating."

Dave chews slowly, considering his response.

"Dunno, kid. Maybe."

"So you and Lisa are really done?"

"Can this be the last question that you ask? And I swear I'll answer it if it is."

Danny smiles and nods her head frantically as if Dave would suddenly decide to revoke that last term.

"Yes. Matter of fact, I got word from the realtor that a bids been put on the house so I -"

He stops mid-sentence. Shit. She doesn't know about that. Neither does his Father. Holy hell.

"You're selling your house?"

Too late to backpedal now, he decides.

"Yep. But that stays between us, Danny. Dad doesn't know about it."

"Are you gonna tell him?"

"Yeah. Just - not yet."

"So you're gonna stay?" She asks excitedly.

"I thought we said the Lisa question was gonna be the last?"

"Yeah but there was a technicality. So that just changed the rules."

Dave can't help but smile as he throws a dinner roll over at his sister who ducks and throws hers back without missing a beat.

"Yeah. I'm gonna stay. For a while anyway."

Danny beamed throughout the rest of dinner; even when their Dad failed to show up for dessert.


He's sipping on his seventh beer when his phone buzzes. He'd been staring at the McKinley yearbook again while laying out on his bed. Danny had went to bed a few hours before, his Dad only just hauling himself upstairs in a zombie-like state before knocking out. And so he found himself alone with his own scrupulous thoughts.

His eyes for once, are surprisingly not glued to the face permanently outlined by a heart, but a face a few pictures over from it.

That stupid 'Finn grin' plastered securely as ever on the semi-tanned skin; that damn shark finn overwhelming the brunette locks with fervor.

He looked so... naive, and eager. Like a dude who's future hadn't yet been decided by fate. A guy who still thought throwing a winning touchdown pass could change the world.

The Finn he saw today, it wasn't the Finn he was currently staring at now. Underneath the same lop-sided grin, was a man who'd met life head on and came out emotionally worse for wear. Dave was certain he'd seen that in the flash of his dark orbs when he described the experience of losing his comrades... a loss of something in himself that you just couldn't get back with goofy grins and reminiscing about past high school memories.

Dave's never been to war, but he thinks he may know that feeling.

He picks up his phone and squints down at the number. He doesn't recognize it. He reads over the text message in his inbox.

Greetings David Karofsky. I wanted to make sure that you did in fact live through the night. It's Kurt by the way. - K

Dave suddenly felt a jolt that nearly sends him toppling off the bed. He looked at the phone so closely that his nose was practically touching the screen. This had to be a joke. No fucking way...

In case you were wondering how I got your number, I got it from the client information at my Dad's shop. Finn has a big mouth. - K

Dave wasn't sure what to text in reply. Kurt had actually gone out his way to get his number and then check up on him. What he could say to that? He exhales, then his fingers slowly tap the keys until he's hitting send.

Isn't it a bit late? It's like half past booty call hour. A guy could get the wrong idea. - D

Dave waited with bated breath. Maybe he should've just thanked him and said good night. But he was on his seventh beer...

Oh, I'm sorry. I would think your hand would be tired all ready but apparently you were able to text me back so... - K

Dave chuckles as he settles back down on the bed. Smart ass.

I'm alive and well Hummel. Thanks for asking. And I can text at the same time. I'm talented like that. - D

Less than thirty seconds later a reply lights up his screen.

Talented or grossly sad? I'll be the judge of that... And, yep, it's the latter. I have spoken. - K

Dave chortles, then immediately shoots back, So what did you want again, Fancy? - D

Now the texts become fluid, the words rolling off the pads of his thumbs; their conversation building as naturally as if they'd been doing this for years.

To try my hand at being a good samaritan. How am I doing? - K

I think you've taken the silver medal for best display of stalker tactics. - D

Whaaat? No gold? For shame. - K

You seem to have time on your hands. You not working tonight? - D

Actually no. And excuse me for wanting to make sure you didn't croak. See if I bother in future. - K

Are you implying that there will be a future with you and I? - D

Damn it. He knows that last one was maybe a bit too much. That it could easily misconstrued or taken out of context. He figures that might even be the case as this has been the longest it's taken Kurt to respond since they've started.

A future where you stalk me after I have a drunken romp at the gay bar? - D

He waits, hoping that this clears up the awkward air following his other proclomation.

How can I say no to you when you use the word 'romp' and' gay' in the same sentence. That must be a first for you. - K

Probably. - D

David, why are you in Lima? You never really told me. - K

Dave feels torn between the truth or making some asinine remark to effectively change the subject. He bites his lip, contemplating his next move.

Well, remember when you told me that New York didn't work out? - D

Yes. - K

My life didn't work out...

He looks over the message, then promptly deletes it. He then re-types another comment and hits send.

I've had some setbacks too. One being my wife as you know. I'm just here to give myself a break for a while. - D

Did you love her? - K

Yes. Just not like I was supposed to. - D

Why were you at Scandals? There are straight bars everywhere in Lima. - K

Call it me taking a break from myself for a while. - D

You seemed in your element there if I do say so myself. - K

You just want me to go screaming to everyone that I'm a big homo, lol. - D

No! Well maybe... A little. But only when you can proudly do so. - K

I'm not... I think I better say good night. I've got to wake up early tomorrow. - D

There was a noticeable pause, and then a new text appeared on his screen.

Oh. Ok. Good night, David. - K

Night, Fancy. - D

He felt guilty for ending it so abruptly. But it was just becoming too much. Talking this way, implying that he was gay, being honest about his failed marriage and his feelings, especially with him of all people. He tossed his phone on the night stand and rolled over on his side; hoping that sleep, by some miracle, would claim him.