Dave whistled as he made his way out of football practice. Man, was he in a good mood.
Sun was shining, he'd made some awesome plays and tonight he was getting his mack on with his secret boyfriend. Third base. That was so happening.
He sneaked a look at his watch. He was set to meet Kurt at seven, which gave him about three hours to get home, showered and changed. Dave's father had to work again, and screw Wes, Dave was inviting him round. He was running out of places to take Kurt and, hell, it wasn't like all of Lima would be chilling out next to Dave's bed. That was pretty still covert. Wes could shove it. He was sick of asking how high whenever Wes yelled jump. He needed a damn night off.
Yeah, life was pretty sweet, despite everything that had gone on, because there was something missing from Dave's palette of late. Disgust. He didn't wake up scared of the person he was becoming; he didn't clench his fists so tight that his nails dug into the flesh of his palm and married blood whenever Sam Evans wriggled by in those tight Levis, he didn't feel like every second of his life he was dodging in his own shadow. And it was because of Kurt Hummel. His boyfriend.
Not that he was becoming an Elton John or anything. No, just bi-curious or something. That's all. He was becoming relaxed with his sexuality, and so what if he hadn't had any feelings for girls before? That was bound to come soon enough. He could, like, experiment in college or something.
Dave turned the corner, approaching a couple leaning against the lockers. Hmm, his nerd radar was tingling.
"-likes a cheerleader, you know?" He heard the goth friend of Kurt's saying to someone. "And Brittany's so pretty. Why wouldn't he?"
The other figure had his back to Dave and was nodding sympathetically, and he was, like, all up in her personal space. Wasn't she dating Chang? Looks like Goth Chick was stepping out in her tap shoes. Dave smirked, he could have some fun with this, he could-
Oh. She was one of Kurt's closest friends. He remembered she'd cushioned some of Kurt's locker slams once or twice. And Kurt sure wouldn't appreciate Dave ragging on her pigtails. Fine, whatever. Dave was an awesome boyfriend. He could keep his mouth shut. Hell, maybe he could even, like, bond with her or something. That would impress Kurt.
Seemed all Dave wanted to do was impress Kurt of late. And weirdly, he didn't even care what the fuck that meant.
"-very pretty yourself, you know." The guy was saying. "Seriously, you could be a model. Are you?"
Jesus! Who was this? Fabio? Dave waited for Goth Chick to kick the guy to the crunch but instead she gazed down shyly, a blush rising on her cheeks. What the fuck? Was the eyeliner seeping into her brain or something?
"Thank you. I should probably get going. I hope you find your friend."
"Hey, don't go. Listen, do you fancy maybe getting a coffee or something? You look like you need someone to talk to."
Man, this guy was laying it on thick. Fuck, he sounded almost as smug as- as-
Dave began to walk towards them fast, not bothering to hide his approach. On reaching them, he clamped a hand down on the slender guy's shoulder and spun him round.
"Oh, hello, Dave," Wes smiled up at him. "I was waiting for you."
"He's your friend?" Goth Chick's nose twitched in disgust.
Wes shrugged and rolled his eyes as she hid another shy smile.
"Fuck off," Dave said feeling a little breathless. "Go sacrifice something."
"Dave!" Wes admonished. "Language!"
Dave took a step towards the girl. "I said fuck off. Get out of here!"
She glared up at him with angry eyes and then glanced over at Wes. "Your friend's a jerk!" she huffed before turning and storming down the corridor, her thigh-high black boots kicking the shit out of the floor.
"Well, you just charm people wherever you go, don't you?" Wes smiled sweetly. "And what exactly was that little display in aid of?"
"I told you before! Keep away from my school. And keep away from her!"
"Her?" Wes turned and watched her retreating back. "Pretty isn't she? I might recruit her myself. I don't usually but rules were made to be broken. "
Dave frowned. "Recruit?"
"Oh, come on, Dave. Don't be naïve." Wes brushed at his shoulders, not even wincing when Dave shrugged him off. "She seems lonely. It's not nice to be lonely, is it?"
"What the fuck are you going on about?" Dave grunted. "Why are you here?"
"I came for an update about Mr. Hummel. I'm sure you have some haiku you'll want to share." He arched an eyebrow. "Is he in love with you, yet?"
"After four dates? Do you think this is a fucking Richard Curtis movie? No, he isn't."
"Why not? You are."
Dave took a wounded step backward. "Don't be fucking ridiculous. I'm only running around with him because you made me!"
"I didn't ask you to enjoy yourself quite this much, though, did I?" Wes sighed heavily and leaned against the lockers. "You need to get a move on, Dave. The merchandise is still missing and I'm getting a little sick of this town." He glanced down the corridor. "Despite its perks."
"Move on for what? I don't get what the fuck all this is! Help the—the-" He swallowed and kicked the words from his throat. "-fag kids get laid or what?"
Wes bunched his eyebrows together and looked him over slowly. "Oh. Oh! You really are that naive."
Dave pressed his index fingers to his temple and gritted his teeth. "Just tell me what the hell you expect me to do! I don't know where Blaine ran off to, okay? I'm sorry but I don't know! What more do you want? I'm dating Hummel for you, aren't I? Saying all the weird shit you tell me to say and taking him to fucking dives. To satisfy your weird ass kink—"
"He's a replacement, you idiot."
Dave ground to a halt. "A replacement for what?"
"What do you think?" Wes shook his head. "For Blaine."
For a moment, Dave could only stare into the smaller man's eyes, nonplussed. He broke into a harsh laugh, unable to choke out the words.
"I'm not joking. Before you go through that cliché. You lost something expensive. Something that took an entire year to prepare before it was deemed acceptable for the market. Do you know how much effort and cost went into making him perfect? And you lost him in a fucking week." For the first time Wes looked rattled. "So, yeah. I'm taking the sweet little virgin you've been dry humping in the back of your car, and while I'm at it I'm taking the piece in the boots. Think of it as collateral damage. Then we are clearing out of this shitty little town."
"No," Dave breathed out. "You can't—You said—The catalogue, you can't just take real people to replace a bond-servant! There are laws!"
"I don't exactly operate within the law, Dave. Your father knows that. It's time you did."
"My—My father? What does he have to do with this?"
Wes grinned and took a step closer. Dave towered over him but he had all the strength and they both knew it. "Daddy wanted to make Dave's little problem go away, but Daddy couldn't afford one of those top of the range numbers. So he went for something cheaper. Something where not as many questions were asked and the paperwork was minimal. He even got a complimentary pen."
"I don't understand."
"Stupid, aren't you? Your father looked the other way. He didn't want to know what he was buying. He didn't care."
"What does this have to do with Kurt? Or Tina?" That was her name. Tina. "So, my dad bought a cheap bond-servant? Big deal. That doesn't excuse you kidnapping people!"
Wes grabbed at own his face and screamed in irritation. "Do I need to draw a diagram on a fucking chalk-board!"
Wait. No. He wasn't saying that, was he. Please God, don't let him be saying that.
"Ah, he gets it." Wes nodded. "So you see why I'd rather get this over and done with as quickly as possible? All of Dalton's finest are out looking for Blaine. Most likely he skipped town or is dead in some trucker's back-seat. I'm hoping for the latter, if I'm honest—"
Dave wasn't listening. He couldn't if he wanted to. The blood was thundering around his head and his brain was screaming every filthy word and accusation that he could. His eyes were filled with Blaine's face. Blaine's tears that he had pretended not to see. Blaine's whimpers. Blaine.
He'd thought he was a criminal. He thought there was nothing wrong with what the fuck he was doing!
"—chip activated and we'll be on our way and—Oh, for goodness' sake, Dave. If you must be sick aim away from my shoes."
"You—you lied to me." Dave dropped to his knees, his jeans smearing the vomit. "I thought he was—I thought it was okay!"
Wes glared down. "Don't be such a fucking coward. Just accept what you are. I know what I am because I'm not scared to face it. You think it makes a difference whether he was in the system or if he was taken? Really?"
He was right. Jesus Christ, he was right. It didn't make a difference. Even if Blaine had killed ten men, that didn't give him the right to do what he had done. What Dalton had done. What Dalton did
Kurt!
"I won't let you take him." Dave stared up at him. "You can't have Kurt, or Tina!"
"You are quite possibly the most stupid boy I have ever had the misfortune to encounter." Wes knelt down, careful of the vomit staining the floor. "You talk? You try and stop me? You and your father will go to jail right along with me."
"But we didn't know!"
Wes shook his head with a sad grin. "Not the version I'll be singing. Hey! Maybe you'll end up in Dalton Reform yourself! They could trim you down, give you a few tucks here and there. I'm sure you'll appeal to someone." He considered. "Probably."
"No, stop it, please."
"Your dad's over the hill, though. Just a plain old prison for him. Tell me again what happens to people in prison who get their jollies with kids? I always forget!"
"Dad never touched Blaine!"
"Again, not a feature in the remix." Wes leaned in close. "Are we understanding each other?"
Dave tried to maintain the stare, tried to curb the shaking in his limbs. Tried to stop fucking crying. He lost. Bowing his head, he jutted his chin in affirmation.
"Good. That's good." He stood up. "Sorry, I had to be so rough with you, but you simply weren't delivering the goods. Speaking of, I want Kurt tonight. We haven't the time to make it look the way we wanted it but it'll have to do. I'll have to forget about the lovely Tina, too."
"The way you wanted it?" Dave asked dully.
"Doesn't matter. It would take a week explaining to you and you'd end up shitting yourself or something. Honestly, Dave, where's your self control?"
Dave wiped at his face with his sleeve. "Fuck you."
"That's the spirit." Wes turned his back and began to make his way down the hall. "Kurt Hummel tonight at your house. 9pm. Be there or, well, be fucked."
