A/N: FFN badly ruined the formatting of this story. If having some things look awkward will bother you, I suggest you read it at:

sparklybat[dot]livejournal[dot]com[slash]tag[slash]homefieldadvantage

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NOTE ON CONTENT/RATING: Most of this story is an R-level rating. What smut there is has been edited down to a R/M rating. I will make a note in these edited chapters. If you are of legal age in your area of residence and would like to read the un-edited story, you can find it at sparklybat [dot] livejournal [dot] com [slash] tag [slash] homefieldadvantage

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ˇChapter 10: Out of Bounds

"Wow…" Kurt said as he glanced around the cafe. "This is… nice." And it was nice. Very nice, with brightly lit seating against a glass wall that overlooked the field below, each table draped in expensive cloth and laid out with gold plated cutlery. Very, very nice. He had sort of expected Dave to take him to a drive thru.

"Is it?" Kurt smiled slightly at the nervousness in the other man's voice. It really was adorable. "I mean, yeah it is. I guess. Rich people like it, I know that. So it must be nice. Should I stop trying to speak now? Because I have this sinking feeling that I'm making an utter fool out of myself. And yet I continue to speak. And so now I think I should stop. Speaking, that is. Kurt, please do the world a favor and stop my nervous monologuing because this is beginning to look like a bad skit, as if it didn't already considering that I am wearing a pair of cutoff jeans and you're wearing a suit and a pink silk tie."

"Oh for goodness' sake!" Kurt said with a laugh, shaking his head as he linked arms with Dave. "I'm surprised they even let you in here, silly boy. I'm fairly sure that cutoff denim is not dress code for a place that serves water in wine glasses."

"While our coachers have about as much respect for us as they do the piece of shit on their shoe, the general population still allots us some level of individual worth," Dave said dryly, smiling down at the smaller man. "If I can't get in the Platinum Club at a football stadium then I should just give up and get a job at McDonald's." He shook his head. "But don't be surprised if random people walk up and start talking to us like they're family—just smile and nod. When people pay fifty thousand dollars a year for seats at football games they get this strange idea that it makes them like a second cousin twice removed to every player on every damn team. Even the big black guys with tattoos and dreads who speak in a language they don't understand."

"What? An African language?" Kurt questioned, a little confused. He hadn't really thought about international players…

Dave snorted. "No. I-Grew-Up-On-Less-Than-12k-a-Year-ese."

Kurt laughed at that, then smiled as the maitre de gestured for them to follow him off to a little two person table in the corner overlooking that wide expanse of unnaturally green grass below.

Dave paused before the table, glancing over at Kurt a little nervously. He smiled. Really, he was kind of cute absolutely out of his comfort zone.

"What is it, Dave?" Kurt prodded after a moment of watching the enormous man teeter back and forth from one foot to the other, studying the table as if it was some sort of complex puzzle.

"Uh, am I supposed to pull out your chair? Katie always makes me pull out her chair in places that have cloth on the tables. Though she usually does it after I've already sat down so it might just be an attempt to make me look like a doofus. But then you're not a chick. Well, not literally anyway. I mean, I guess you could count as a sort of an honorary chick…"

Kurt had to cover his mouth with one hand to hide his laughter. "It's okay, David. I can pull out my own chair."

"Really?" The huge man relaxed visibly. "Good. That's good. 'Cause it's always kind of weird and sometimes I push too hard and shove her boobs into the table. Not that you would have that problem, of course… I'm babbling again, aren't I?"

When you took his Neaderthalism with a grain of salt, the hulking giant was really kind of adorable. Like a little boy almost. A very, very handsome little boy, anyway. It was kind of nice. Going out to a fancy place with Blaine was always a little stressful. After all, what was dinner without a silent contest over who could seem the most upscale?

Kurt patted Dave's arm comfortingly as he moved around him, tugging out one of the chairs and gesturing toward it with a little flourish. "Would you like to have a seat, David?"

The other man blinked, then chuckled, switching the nervous mask that he'd been wearing since they had parted ways with the others outside the stadium with an open grin. Kurt couldn't resist smiling back. It was just so bright and uncontrolled—no worries about whether or not something was in his teeth or if it would look good in a headshot. It was kind of hunky, actually, that relaxed smile. You didn't see those much amongst the thespian types. They tended to smile so hard it looked like they might be passing a gall stone, or else just frown ambivalently in an attempt to seem suave.

"Uh, thank you, sir," Dave said as he kind of plopped himself down in the chair, which wobbled a little at his weight.

Kurt giggled as he tried to push him forward. "I'm afraid that you're going to have to give me a little help here, darling. The closest I come to bench pressing is grabbing up designer shoes at Nordstrom's."

Dave grinned up at him and scooted his chair forward. "Yeah, I'm probably a little out of your range."

"So," Kurt said conversationally as he moved around the table to sit daintily in his own seat, "what's good here?"

Dave snorted. "Uh, the nachos at the concession stands? With a chili dog to top it off? I don't usually wine and dine before a game." He glanced over, smiling a little uncertainly as a waiter wearing a rather heavily starched shirt approached, offering them their menus, already opened to the entree section. Kurt had to hold back a laugh as Dave just about dropped the thick, leather bound menu when he took it just by one side and it flipped totally open, nearly knocking his water glass over.

It was funny how things that would have made him curl his lip in disgust just a couple of days ago now just seemed so, well, *cute.* Cute Dave. An interesting combination that left Kurt unsure whether he wanted to pat the man on the head like a puppy or squeeze that bulging arm muscle. Rawr. Okay, that was off topic. Time to concentrate on the menu.

Kurt cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away from the eye candy sitting across from him with an uncomfortable look on his face, and mulling over the menu. It had a nice selection of items, especially considering it was inside of a stadium. After a few minutes he set his menu aside and rested his hands on the table, smiling at Dave who was still staring down at the menu like it was written in Japanese. Or maybe I-Was-Raised-On-More-Than-100k-a-Year-ese.

"You ready?" he asked finally, a little amused by the concentrated effort Dave was putting into reading the menu.

He looked up sharply, blinking as he glanced over at the waiter, who was hovering nearby. "Hm? Uh, yeah… I guess…"

Kurt subtly motioned for the waiter, flashing him a big smile. "I'll have the vegetarian ziti, please." He glanced back over at Dave, raising an eyebrow as the other man continued to stare at the menu. "...Dave? ...Dave?" Kurt gave him a light kick under the table and he jumped, looking sort of embarrassed.

"Um, can I just, like, go get something from the concession stand and bring it in?"

Kurt tried to hold the laughter back. He really did. He just wasn't very successful, and he felt a little guilty when Dave blushed and dropped the menu.

"I'll just have whatever he's getting," he murmured and Kurt shook his head, reaching out to pat the other man's hand.

"Oh, don't be silly." He looked back to the waiter. "Don't listen to him. Just run out and get him nachos and a hotdog, would you? We wouldn't want our Cowboy to go hungry before the game!"

The waiter frowned, shutting his little book. "Um, I'm not sure we can do that…"

Kurt sniffed and waved a hand in the air. "It's a one minute walk to the concession stand. Considering that I could buy an entire bottle of wine for what you're charging for a glass here, I think that you can afford the effort. And while we're on the subject of drinks, I'll take a frozen margarita, too. Classic." As long as he was going to be hanging out with the commoners he might as well get something that tasted good. God knew he'd had enough nasty tasting wine on his dates with Blaine.

Dave ducked his head slightly, still looking embarrassed. "Uh, yeah. What he said. That's my new answer to everything. 'What he said.'"

The waiter stood there for a moment, looking like he was teetering on the edge of laughter, then shook his head, smiling. "Um, okay, I'll see what I can do…" He glanced around behind him then knelt down a little. "And in the meantime, you think you could sign something for me, Karofsky? You know, you're awesome, man. That touchdown play at the Redskins game? Beautiful."

"Um, thanks man."

"Though you totally should have been blocking better last Sunday. How many times did the quarterback get sacked?"

"Er, several."

"Yeah, that was crazy."

Kurt chuckled as Dave quickly signed a scrap of paper for the man, more of a 'D' and a 'K' than his actual name. He shook his head, watching as the waiter headed off. "They really do think they're your buddies, don't they?"

Dave shrugged, flashing him a half-grin. "He's the twelfth man-always there if we need an extra man on the field. They're all the twelfth man. Part of the team, at least that's what they think. But, hey, where would we be without the fans? That's what makes the game. No point being snobbish about it. We have jobs because they love football. Otherwise I'd probably be hosing down your septic tank."

"I dunno… I think you might have been able to pull off managing a rendering plant."

Dave grimaced. "Please don't talk about that. Don't forget—Sue sent us football boys to a slaughterhouse last time we tried to 'reunite' or whatever. And, of course, Puckerman sent Hudson marching into a room full of horse parts. The kid screamed for two hours."

Kurt gave a choked laugh. "Oh, dear God."

Dave tossed him a grin and grabbed the bread from the basket the waiter had left, tearing off a piece and stuffing it in his mouth. "Yeah, it wasn't pretty. Here, catch." He tossed the bread in Kurt's general direction, causing him to shriek as he nearly caught it and then dropped it into his water glass.

"David!"

He grinned. "Hey, gotta prove that I have *some* skills you don't. I totally would have caught that."

Kurt laughed, shaking his head. It was strange just how adorable he was finding Dave when just yesterday he had been ripping apart every thing he said and commenting cruelly upon his caveman-like social skills. Okay, yeah, carrying a woman over your shoulder *was* kind of Neanderthal-ish, but the man hadn't really done anything all that offensive. He hadn't actually done anything offensive at *all* if Kurt had just taken the man's foot-in-mouth moments with a grain of salt. He frowned a little.

Was that true? If Dave had been a stranger would he have upset Kurt at all? Maybe he would have rolled his eyes a little at the other man's manners—or lack thereof—but he did that with the manners of quite a few people he held near and dear, including his dad and his step-brother. Of course, his dad and his brother hadn't *tormented* him as a child—

Kurt halted that thought abruptly. How long, exactly, was he planning to hold that over Dave? Hell, Finn hadn't exactly been all nice and sweet to him, at least not until sophomore year. Before that he'd tossed him in the Dumpster everyday. Of course, Finn wasn't the brightest Crayola in the box, but still… Would *he* want to be judged entirely on what he'd been like in high school? He may not have been a bully but he was pretty sure he'd made Rachel cry at least a couple of times after making a few choice comments regarding her sweaters. For God's sake, it had been ten years. If you couldn't forgive someone ten years later for the things they'd done back in the days of acne breakouts and hormonal induced insanity… that was just kind of sad. And he was many things, but he was *not* sad. Bitchy, prissy, and full of himself, perhaps. But not so full of himself that he couldn't see beyond his own damn nose, unlike certain people who travelled an hour to the local teacher's supply store every weekend just to pick up another batch of gold stars.

"I'm an asshole."

The water that Dave had just sipped apparently decided that it didn't want to go down because he began to cough, eyes widening slightly. "Excuse me?"

Kurt shrugged, hiding a smile. "I'm an asshole."

Dave opened his mouth, cocked his head to the side, then shut it again, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Okay, just to make it clear: Me being gay does *not* mean that I know how to respond to *that* any better than the average straight guy can handle a swift 'does this dress make me look fat?' to the gut." He paused, seeming to consider his words for a moment, then winced. "Not that your outfit makes you look fat! Just an example…" He trailed off, face reddening. "Okay, I'm gonna stop now because if I continue I think your designer shoes just may find their way between my legs and I haven't put on my cup yet."

Kurt let out a laugh, shaking his head at the other man. "Don't worry, it's not a loaded question. I've been an asshole the last couple of days. From the second I laid eyes on you in Breadstix I've been looking for ways to be pissed off at you. You haven't done anything but be friendly—if occasionally stupid—and I've been calling you a Neanderthal or a caveman or whatever just because you're different from me and because we had some… bad history. Which is not really fair considering that I wasn't exactly an angel to you back then, either."

Dave licked his lips nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Nah, man, I was a schmuck. Even when I wasn't trying to be."

"Yes, well, I'm pretty sure I remember calling you 'hamhock' a few times in there, and I think that 'imbecile' might have slipped past my lips once or twice or a thousand times."

"Yeah, well, I'd say you were kinda spot on there," he replied with a good natured smile, shrugging.

"David, I seriously doubt you're an imbecile," Kurt said, carefully buttering a piece of bread. "No matter how much politesse you are lacking. I don't even think my brother is an imbecile, and he still insists on having his birthday parties at a roller rink so that he can do the Macarena on roller skates."

"Okay, well, maybe I'm just an imbecile when it comes to dating, then," Dave said with a laugh. "I'm telling you, going to one of the most hippie football colleges in the nation saved my butt. At least I could just go to a gay bar and get laid. Wining and dining is not really my forte."

Kurt smiled, resisting the urge to reach out and pinch that cute, chubby cheek. The cheek on his face. *Not* the other one. Okay, time for a Thought Redirection. Exit pants, return to upstairs brain. "I don't know, I think you're doing a pretty good job today." His lip twitched in amusement. "You at least offered to pull out my chair."

David laughed. "And you ordered my meal for me. From the concession stand, even."

"I'm not sure I could afford to feed you from this menu the way you eat, big boy!" Kurt smiled at him, then frowned at the embarrassed look that passed over Dave's face. He was only teasing…

"Yeah… I know it's hard to believe, but I don't always just stuff anything digestible in my mouth." He sounded a little defensive. "I just kind of eat when I'm nervous. Or upset. Or, hell, anything but cool and collected. And this trip hasn't exactly been the most stress free endeavor." He shrugged. "I guess I'm just lucky that I have a job that depends on me working out 24/7. Otherwise I'd probably have a butt so big it could have its own zip code. Not that it's not big enough as it is."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. He actually thought it was a rather nice butt. If it was wide it was only because Dave had wide hips—there was definitely not anything flabby about that tight end. Ha. Tight end. That was his position, wasn't it? Kurt held back a laugh. Okay, he *really* needed to get his thoughts back on track.

"Mercedes does that too, sometimes. Seriously, when Sue took away the tots at school that time, she just lost it!"

Dave grinned. "Oh, man, me too! But at least they still had the tacos, even if Sue did take out all the meat. There's nothing like the crunch of a taco shell to make me smile!"

And a nice smile it was. Kurt grinned back. "So what else makes you smile, David?"

The other man paused as he visibly tried to switch tracks. "Huh?"

Kurt laughed. "What else—besides tots and tacos, as delicious a gourmet meal as that sounds—makes you smile?" He grinned then shrugged at the look on the other man's face. "Think of this as a course on wining and dining. Only replace the wine with margaritas because, in all honesty, as common as it may seem, I like them better than wince. The first non-threatening, partner encouraging activity one tends to partake in is idle chit chat. Totally useless, but a good excuse to stare at your date's lips without looking like you're considering them for a Chapstick commercial." He raised an eyebrow. "Though I must say, your biceps do a good job of distracting me from your lips, which is quite impressive considering I find the way you tongue your cheek when you're nervous quite attractive. How much *do* you lift?"

Dave let out a huff of laughter, began to tongue his cheek, then pointedly stopped, looking a little uncomfortable. "Um, three-twenty."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Wow. You could bench press me all day."

Dave grinned at that. "Would it be against the rules of Miss Manners to make a crude joke right now?"

"Absolutely!" Kurt replied with a huff, sticking his nose in the air for a moment before he leaned forward, smirking. "But that's okay—I think I can figure it out for myself.

"Aw, are my jokes *that* obvious?"

"No, I just have a dirty mind." Kurt smiled. "So, really, what *do* you like besides food and football?"

Dave chuckled. "Um, probably nothing that would interest you at all."

"You might be surprised. What's that song about liking 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'? And how that's one thing that they have in common?"

"Uh, never actually saw 'Breakfast at Tiffany's.' Or heard that song."

"Hm…" Kurt tapped his fingers on the table. "Weeell, I like Monty Python movies."

Dave blinked, then laughed. "I guess *that's* one thing that we have in common. I would have thought of you more as the indie art movie type."

"Well, I was," Kurt said seriously, leaning in as if telling a secret. "Though, truthfully, I just liked the heavy emphasis on what indie directors call the 'artistic aesthetics of the human form' and I call 'a bunch of naked guys.' But I kept that info on the down low. Didn't want anyone to think that I was anything short of an art snob! *Then* I went to see Spamalot and was hooked forever."

"Spamalot?" Dave asked, sounding amused.

"The musical version of 'Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail.'" He laughed. "'His name is Lancelot, he likes to prance a lot, dance a lot, and sing! Who would ever have thought that this outrageous foe would bat for the other team?'"

Dave chuckled. "Oh my God, that's classic. Right up there with 'Bravely bold Sir Robin rode forth from Camelot!'"

"'He was not afraid to die, oh brave Sir Robin!'"

"'He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways!'"

"'Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Robin!'"

They both cracked up, and Dave was still wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes as the waiter came up, balancing two margaritas on his tray.

"I have arranged with the… concession stand… for your nachos and chili dog, sir," he said politely, looking like he was having to work double time just to keep a straight face.

"Thank you so much," Kurt said with a big smile, reaching out to rest a hand on the man's wrist. "You are a doll."

Dave smirked as the waiter stared down at Kurt with wide eyes. "Don't worry, kid. That's a compliment."

Kurt shot him a glare, kicking him under the table again, and Dave made a little whimpering sound, sticking out his lower lip as he pouted.

"You are such a silly head," Kurt said as he rolled his eyes.

"Dude… did you just call me a silly head?"

Kurt smirked and took a sip of his margarita. "Well, it's what you are!"

"I'm a silly head." Dave laughed. "Ooookay. Should I be offended or proud of that?"

"Well, new experiences are always good, and I've never been on a date with a silly head before, so I suppose it's a good thing." It certainly was a cute thing, anyway. He smiled at Dave who blushed slightly, dropping his eyes.

"Uh, yeah, well, I mean, it isn't like this is really a date…"

Kurt held back a snort. If this wasn't a date then he didn't know what it was. They'd been flirting since Dave had offered to pull out his chair. "Really? Because it seems rather date-like to me. Despite the fact that you are wearing cut off denim."

Dave raised his eyes then dropped them back down to his margarita glass, staring into it like maybe it held the answers to the world. "Well, I mean, since you're with Blaine and all. I mean, going back to live with him and all."

Right. Blaine. Couldn't forget Blaine. And who would want to forget Blaine? He was wonderful. But, God, it had been a long time since they had been together. And an even longer time since they had been happy together. He wasn't entirely sure he could *remember* the last time they'd gone out and just had a good time, no stress. Not that he didn't adore Blaine. It just… took so much *work*, being with Blaine. It was nice to just… relax.

Kurt shifted in his seat, a little uncomfortable. "Blaine and I have been apart for a long time, David… I mean, you're right. This isn't like, a *date* date, I guess. Because I do love Blaine. But I… just…" He shook his head. But what? What was he doing? He loved Blaine and here he was flirting with Dave Karofsky—God help him—like he hadn't already started making plans to move back in with Blaine. What was he thinking? Really, since when did silly head puppy dog eyes and big biceps make him lose his mind?

There was a somewhat awkward silence where they just sort of looked at each other then Dave spoke up, smiling in a kind of forced way. "Blaine's a good guy. I, uh, talked to him at the hotel last night. He really cares about you."

And yet managed to go for *years* with no more than a text a month just to let Kurt know he was alive.

Kurt forced his own smile. "Yeah. I'm sure he does. I just hope I'll fit in with this grand new life he's starting."

Dave looked down again and began to play with his napkin, seeming sort of unsettled. Kurt frowned. What was wrong with him?

"You… you shouldn't worry about that. Hell, I bet all that famous-rich stuff isn't even set in stone yet." He laughed, sounding nervous. "God knows that *I* never count on anything. Hell, I could be out the next game. All it takes is one bad fall."

"Well," Kurt said dryly, "there isn't quite as much physical danger to cutting a record."

Dave chuckled. "Yeah… but still, fame is a fleeting thing, right? I mean, when I was getting drafted for the NFL, I couldn't sleep for a week. And I was one of the lucky ones. I mean, I'd been nominated for a Heisman, which is rare for a tight end, so I was a top pick and got taken in the first round on a five year, 18 million dollar contract. But some of my buddies weren't drafted 'til later rounds, even though they are awesome players. My boy Joey is backup to the backup of the quarterback for the Redskins. Hasn't even played a game yet, in two years. He's an amazing player—was a huge star in college—but he's a rookie compared to the guys they got." He shook his head, laughing. "We go onto that field knowing that if we play like shit, we could be off the team next week. I bet Hollywood's a lot like that. Here today, gone tomorrow or whatever."

Kurt smiled. "Well, it is a tough game, I can tell you that."

Dave shrugged and flashed him a smile as he continued to play with his napkin. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "But, anyway, I think you and Blaine will be happy together."

Kurt smiled back, though he really didn't feel like it for some reason. "I hope so." He watched as Dave scraped some of the salt off of the rim of his glass then stuck that big finger into his mouth, sucking on it. Wow… that was… something. Something very, very distracting. He blinked. What had he been talking about? Oh, right. Blaine.

"We just… had some tough times in there. Blaine is just so amazing, you know? So talented. And, obviously, I love that about him. But at the same time… at the same time I kinda wonder what he has that I don't."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Why do you even worry about that crap, Kurt? Blaine doesn't have anything that you don't." He smirked. "Except maybe a strange obsession with using glue to style his hair."

Kurt laughed. "He's just the one everybody notices, you know? The one who's on everybody's A-list, that everybody wants to know."

"Kurt," Dave said flatly, "you light up a damn room when you enter. You don't notice 'cause you just figure that the lights were already on before you stepped through the door. But truthfully? The disco ball follows you, Fancy. We're all just sittin' around with one of those little keychain flashlights, then you walk in and it takes ten minutes for our eyes to adjust. Blaine only seems so shiny because he's reflecting your light—which he damn well knows, so don't think he doesn't. Seriously, I have seen *stadium* lights that would be blinded by you. And you don't gotta be famous or whatever to shine. It's just how you are. It's how you were in high school and it's how you are right here, today. Me, Blaine, even that Rachel chick—we gotta work to shine. I run five miles a day, Blaine spends three hours in front of a bathroom mirror, and Berry sticks a gold star next to her name like that actually means shit. You just kinda mosey through the door and we're all putting our sunglasses on." Dave laughed, shaking his head. "Why do you think I harassed you so much? Every time I turned around you were glowing like someone had turned a damn spotlight on, and all I really wanted to do was, like, stare at you for hours. Not a very manly line of thought and *definitely* not something I wanted to share with Az or Noah or Finn."

Kurt's cheeks grew warm and he glanced away from that relaxed, honest gaze. "Yeah, well, for someone so bright I sure get out shone a lot."

Dave made a very rude noise, causing Kurt to shoot him a Look. "Seriously, considering how full of yourself you are, you're really dense sometimes. Who do you think people look at when you walk in a room? Blaine? Yeah, he's handsome, tall, well built. Very attractive. I wouldn't mind humping him on a dance floor. But would I bother to get his number? Probably not. Remember his name in the morning? *Definitely* not." He grinned. "But you? Would I get your number? HELL, no. I'd be too scared to walk up to someone like you and make a big fool out of myself. What would I say? Would you think I was stupid? Ugly? Fat?" Dave laughed. "But would I remember your name in the morning? Yeah, if you bothered to tell me what it was before you blew me off and went out with some slick, handsome dude like Blaine."

Kurt shook his head in disbelief. "You know, while we're talking about guys who don't know their own light, you're not exactly at the bottom of the handsome scale yourself, Karofsky. I don't know why you think guys like Blaine are such a catch. You really think you're the sort that someone tosses back?"

"Hey, I never claimed to be nothing more than a sweaty, chubby hamhock," Dave said with amusement, holding up his hands.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You know, when I called you those things I was *trying* to piss you off, David. I didn't actually mean for you to take them to heart for the rest of your life."

Dave laughed, waving the words away. "Hey, I deserved whatever you called me."

"Maybe," Kurt said doubtfully. "But I still shouldn't have said stuff like that to you. The fact that you were an asshole to me didn't give me free rein to be an asshole back."

"Really?" Dave questioned, eyebrow raised. "Cause that is totally *not* what the Guy Code states."

Kurt smiled. "I think we all know that I suck at interpreting the Guy Code. But I'll introduce you to the Girl Code sometime. It's hardcore. Girls may not punch you in the face, but they are *vicious.*"

Dave laughed. "Dude, my best bud is a cheerleader. I *know*."

"She a backstabber?" Kurt asked with a smirk.

Dave rolled his eyes. "Only when it comes to me waxing my chest." He shivered. "I can never pick 'Dare' in Truth or Dare again. God, she is evil."

"Oh, it's not that bad!" Kurt said with a giggle. "It's just hair!"

"I seriously doubt you have as much chest hair as I do," Dav replied solemnly. "I know you've got less chest. So speak not unless you have felt the full extent of my agony."

"Dave," Kurt said, amused, "I wax my balls. I think I win."

The other man's eyes widened and he winced visibly. "Uh, yeah, okay. You win."

Kurt smiled primly. "That's what I thought."

"Sirs, I have your food."

Kurt held back a laugh at the wide grin that spread across Dave's face as the waiter dropped an enormous cardboard container of nachos and a chili dog the size of Kurt's forearm in front of him.

"Is there anything else that I can get you?" the waiter asked as he set down Kurt's carefully arranged platter of ziti.

"No, I think we're fine," Kurt said, shaking his head as he watched Dave stuff the chili dog into his mouth.

"Mmhm, mm gwood."

Kurt smirked. "Yeah, that's a thumbs up."

The waiter laughed and moved away as Kurt dug into his pasta, tossing another smile at Dave. Really, this whole little madhouse adventure had turned out to be a lot more fun than he had expected.

Kurt couldn't actually remember a time that he'd felt more relaxed outside his own home. Dates, no matter who they were with, were usually a strictly choreographed danced of I Do This and in return You Do That, an intricate ballet of who should say what and when in order to craft the perfect atmosphere of dignified politesse and mature sensibilities. Just sitting there cracking stupid jokes and watching Dave act like an oaf was really kind of fun. He had always dated men more like himself—highly artistic and very driven. Dave was just… something else. Laid Back. He might stick his foot in his mouth every two seconds but at least Kurt didn't have to worry much about what to say. Dave just didn't need impressing, and not even because he was a Neanderthal. Just because he didn't really seem to care whether or not Kurt tried. He was very… accepting, which was strange considering what a small minded teen he had been. Of course, Kurt had been pretty small minded in his own way, too. He had been so fixated on hating Dave for the way he treated him that he hadn't even stopped to think that, just maybe, what the bullying boy had really needed was a friend, not another enemy. A friend like Kurt.

"Do you think it would have helped if I'd talked to you?" Kurt asked suddenly, studying the man across from him.

Dave looked up from his meal, brow furrowed in confusion. "Talked to me about what?"

Kurt shrugged. "Anything. That time in the locker room. Just… about life. Did I mess it up? Should I have come up to you, when you got all weird about the kiss? Should I have tried to talk to you—not in the middle of the hall, obviously—instead of calling you names and running away? Would it have made a difference?"

The other man took a deep breath, leaning back away from the table a little bit, his tongue flicking out nervously. God that was cute. Like tongue porn.

"Kurt… you did the best you could. I don't know how I would have reacted if you had tried to talk to me alone. I was very confused. More confused than you know. I might have hurt you. I had sort of lumped all of my problems with my sexuality together and stuck a picture of your face on it. I mean, I never really wanted to hurt you—I just kind of wanted to intimidate you away, if that makes any sense. I know you saw me as, like, super violent. But I really wasn't. A bully, yeah. Out to really, honestly hurt anybody, no. I was really messed up, though, so I don't know what I might have done if you had tried to confront me. I know that I tried to hurt myself, thinking that if I just hurt myself then it would solve all my problems." Those big shoulders shrugged. "I figured I wouldn't have to deal with all that shit anymore and no one else would get hurt. At least until I got a big smack in the face informing me that hurting myself *did* mean hurting other people. Or, actually, it was a *kick* in my face with Azimio's oversized Nike, after he finished screaming at me for an hour." He sighed. "We can't go back and change things that happened. History's over. Maybe you reaching out to me would have helped, or maybe I would have lashed out in anger. It doesn't really matter now, though, because we'll never know. But I appreciate you asking. It's always… nice… to know people care." Dave chuckled darkly. "Especially when so many people out there don't seem to give a fuck."

Kurt frowned deeply, not liking what he was hearing. "What do you mean, you tried to hurt yourself?"

Dave stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. "It doesn't matter now, Kurt. It was a long time ago. I moved on. My friends moved on. My family… well, my dad and I still aren't on the greatest of terms, but at least I'm welcome for Christmas." He picked up another nacho, chewing on it as he gazed at nothing. "I think I was jealous of you, Kurt. I mean, I wasn't thinking about it that clearly, but I just remember feeling this overwhelming bitterness when I would see everybody cheering as you danced around covered in glitter, making love to a rainbow Care Bear, and yet at the same time knowing that if *I* said Drew Brees was hot everybody would look at me like I'd lost my mind." He met Kurt's eyes again, smiling and shrugging. "The point is, you did help me, even if we weren't friends. I…" His face reddened slightly and he ducked his head. "I had a picture of you that I tore out of the yearbook. I stuck it in my locker when I was playing for the Longhorns. And when I was drafted into the Pros, it came with me in my little cardboard box of locker stuff." He laughed. "I remember freshman year the quarterback walked up behind me and asked if it was true what my frat boys were saying, that I liked dudes. I just looked at that picture, then back at him, and nodded and asked him if that was a problem. He just shook his head and said that his sister was gonna *love* this."

Kurt laughed. "His *sister*?"

Dave smirked. "Head of the campus PFLAG group. I think I walked in about a billion pride parades—and I don't even *like* pride parades. Way too much purple for my senses. But Austin's kind of a hippie town. *Lots* of gay pride shit to be found." He shrugged. "But when I needed courage, I always looked at that picture."

"Wow," Kurt said quietly, a little taken aback. "That's… a lot to live up to." He gave a little huff of laughter. "How am I doing?"

Dave grinned. "Not *too* bad. But I'll rate you higher if you'll have sex on the floor with me right now."

Kurt nodded knowingly. "Yeah, that always adds a few points onto my scale, too."

"I get a point for my abs, right? Not all of us are naturals like Chang! I worked for these babies!" He gestured vaguely toward his chest, laughing.

Kurt flashed a smile. "Oh, definitely! And you even get another point just for those big arms of yours. I think they could swallow me whole!"

"I should get a politeness point for not responding to *that* comment in the way I really want to," Dave shot back, grinning. "Swallow you whole? Ha."

"Oh, such a bad boy! But that's okay—I like my boys bad. And I *will* give you a point for your failed attempt at producing manners. The puppy dog eyes and the cute round face get you one, too."

"I think that point is probably offset by my cut off shorts, though," Dave said, feigning sadness.

Kurt laughed. "Yes, indeed. But don't worry—just the way you look in football pants wins you a clothing point, so you are tied with all the fashionless men out there who refuse to wear bow ties."

"Oh, Fancy, you're just gonna have to accept that you have to be a special kind of man to pull off a bow tie!"

"And what kind of man is that?" Kurt asked with a raised brow.

"Either Kurt Hummel or Pee Wee Herman."

Kurt burst into laughter. "Oh, God, you are *so* bad. Comparing me to Pee Wee Herman?"

Dave grinned. "Does this mean I get another bad boy point?"

Kurt snorted. "Only one bad boy point per bad boy. And you get another point off for your eating habits."

"Aw, c'mon!" Dave said, pouting in a rather adorable way. He really was like a very, very, very handsome little boy sometimes. "You can't knock it 'til you've tried it!" He pushed the container of nachos toward Kurt with a grin, causing the smaller man to wrinkle up his nose in distaste. There was no place to even grab a chip that wasn't covered in chili and cheese.

"I don't think so. Not really my thing."

"Uh-uh! You cannot review the cuisine until you've tasted it!"

Kurt chuckled. "Okay, okay!" he reached out, biting his lip as he tried to figure out a way to pick up a chip without destroying his manicure. After a moment Dave rolled his eyes and just picked up one of the chips, holding it out for Kurt to bite.

"Just eat. You don't have to touch. Just eat."

Kurt couldn't help but giggle at the sheer absurdity of eating a dripping, cheesy chip from Dave's fingers. Oh, what the hell. Might as well live a little before he returned to the land of fine dining where using less than four different forks in one meal was considered obscene. He opened his mouth and ate the chip, licking at the chili on his lips. Hm… that was pretty good. Really. Frighteningly good.

"Wow. That… actually wasn't bad."

Dave sat back with a satisfied smirk. "You liked it."

Kurt scowled. "I didn't say that!"

"But you diiiiid! I can teeeell!"

Kurt laughed. "Okay, okay, I liked it! Though it's just clogged arteries waiting to happen."

Dave chuckled and grabbed another chip. "Cheap and tasty. Two of my favorite things."

"Wow, there is yet another naughty joke waiting to happen," Kurt said with a smile as the waiter set down two more margaritas. "Thank you."

Dave glanced at his watch, then grabbed the waiter's arm before he could walk off. "Hey, man, can we go ahead and get the check?" He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing a credit card to the waiter. He smiled apologetically at Kurt. "I have to get to practice in an hour."

Kurt frowned, reaching forward to pluck the card away from the waiter. "I'm paying for this meal, remember?"

"Aw, I don't mind. I'm the one who brought you to the overpriced diner here. And they probably charged us the price of a steak for that chili dog." He smiled. "I know that teachers are very underpaid, especially those that have to work with Sue Sylvester, God bless your souls."

Kurt sniffed. "I'm doing fine." He smiled. "But I won't be making 18 million in five years anytime soon, so if you really want to pay then I won't fight it." He laughed. "A true date."

Dave looked uncomfortable again. "Ah, not that this is really… I mean, it's… We were just having lunch. Cause of that bet. Or whatever."

Kurt's brow furrowed slightly. Did Dave not *want* it to be a date? Because he really *was* bad at dating if he thought this had just been lunch. Mixed signals was an understatement. He would definitely never have eaten a chip from Puck's hand. And not only because he knew damn well where that hand had been.

"Well, I'm glad we're even then," Kurt said primly, not caring that he sounded prissy. "Because heaven forbid we have lunch together just for the fun of it."

Dave flushed. "I didn't mean… I just meant that—dammit!" He sighed. "Look, I just don't want to hurt your, y'know, thing with Blaine. I don't want you to be, like, cheating on him. Because of me. Or anything."

And there was Blaine again. When, exactly, had they become best buds? Last time he had checked, they were hardly speaking civilly to one another. Kurt scowled. "You know, Dave, I'm not sure we *are* even, considering that you manage to say something stupid enough that it should really earn you a smack on the head every five seconds. I am not cheating on anyone. I am just having lunch with someone I would *hope* considers himself my friend."

Dave rubbed at his forehead. "You're right. You're totally right. I'm sorry. God, I really suck at this dating stuff. Or not-dating stuff. Or just being in social situations without coming off as a doofus."

Kurt laughed at that, smiling as Dave took the check from the waiter. "Well, since you *are* a doofus, I can see how that would be difficult." He stood, reaching down to grab his bag.

Dave stood as well, smiling back. "With the way I stick my foot in my mouth? I'm not sure we'll ever be square."

"Well, there might be *one* way to even us out," Kurt said, a wicked little smile growing on his face.

Dave chuckled. "And what would that be?"

"You really want to know?" Kurt asked with a grin.

"Oh, yes," Dave said sagely. "Share with me, oh wise one, what can I do to earn the forgiveness of Obi Wan Kurtobi?"

"You really want to be even?"

Dave laughed. "Yeah, I wanna be even."

Kurt smirked. "Okay," he said sweetly as he leaned down and picked up his half-full glass of frozen margarita. A grin spread across his face as he swung the drink, almost in slow motion, at Dave, watching with amusement as his eyes grew wide and his mouth opened in disbelief.

"Oh my GOD! Dammit, Hummel!"

Kurt cracked up, almost doubling over in laughter as he watched the slush run down Dave's gaping face. "NOW we're even!" He leaned forward suddenly, tongue flicking out across Dave's lower lip, lapping up a bit of the margarita before he pulled away and turned on his heel, a huge smirk on his face as he left a stunned, slush covered Dave staring after him in disbelief.

Oh yeah. Totally even.