OOC, future, AU, ridiculousness….How about All? Think of a warning. Apply it.
I don't own Glee, The Today show, or anything else. No money is being made.
I adore Regis but I can't figure out how to write him. And when I think Kelly Ripa, I think Amy Poehler as Kelly Ripa. Other than that, I hope this moves the story along to your satisfaction.
That afternoon found Kurt at the Laundromat, washing his sheets and fuming as he read more of Karofsky's book. Luckily the Neanderthal hadn't revealed any smutty details of their…encounter, just generalities. That wasn't causing him to mutter under his breath in public, however.
"He asked why I kissed him in the locker room that day, if I'd been attracted to him or if it was because I didn't know anyone else who was like us. I told him I thought he was hot, because, well, I'd been drinking and he'd been drinking and I was pretty sure it would get me some action. Besides, he didn't give me the option of 'I'd never seen you as anything other than unaffected before, and knowing I did that to you was an aphrodisiac.' For once, I had the upper hand."
"For once he has the upper hand," Kurt mumbled sarcastically. "Lying bastard!" He turned the page. "He totally wanted me," he announced to no one in particular. "Probably followed me up the stairs like a damn stalker."
"It was fast, frantic and better than any time I'd had with any girl."
"You're damn right it was."
"Luckily I was spared the awkardness of a morning after. I woke up hungover, and found myself not only alone, but without pants."
"Mine were ruined. Cum isn't good for leather. And bring a belt next time, I had to keep yanking them up."
"And so, equally exhilarated at having got laid and terrified that someone would find out it was with a guy, I walked downstairs and past any one who'd spent the night, in my boxers and tee shirt. The nice thing about being the biggest guy in the class, with a reputation for creative torture, meant no one said a word about it."
Kurt continued reading and scoffing until his wash cycle ended. He scurried to shove everything in the dryer and get back to that stupid book. When he turned around, an older lady in a flowered dress was exclaiming over it.
"Are you reading this, young man?" She crowed.
"Yes," he admitted.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH" She continued to fawn, "I just love the author. He covers all the Monsters games, and I do love hockey." She sighed dreamily. "All those nice young men, with all those muscles…." She trailed off, and Kurt was left standing there awkwardly, not sure whether to be polite and wait it out or throw the mother of all bitch fits.
He decided to wait. He was NOT that anxious to know what went on in the mind of Dave Karofsky anyway.
"I saw him," the old lady pointed to back of the book, apparently done thinking about muscle bound hockey players, "I saw him on the Today show this morning. What a good looking boy he is. Makes me wish I was fifty years younger." She sighed again. "And had a penis."
Luckily, she decided to move on at that point before Kurt was forced to think of a reply.
"I give all the credit to the alcohol for that first time. There was no way Kyle would have slept with me otherwise. I knew his type, and chubby boys who sweat too much weren't it. I chalked it up to a one time thing, and when we got to school on Monday and he acted like nothing happened, I did the same. To be honest, I was relieved. I may have accepted the fact I was gay, but I still wasn't comfortable with anyone else knowing."
"Kyle was standing at the door when I answered. He looked me up and down slowly and sighed. "I overheard you say you're parents were away," He explained, and then he kissed me.
Before I knew it, we were making out on the couch and every time I got my head together long enough to ask him why he was there he'd find a spot to lick or touch and I would be distracted all over again."
"For the next two months, we continued our weird rendevous. One of us would let the other know when and where. We'd meet up, have sex, and go about our lives. We never talked about it; he would never admit to letting me screw him and I would never admit to screwing him. The arrangement worked quite nicely for both of us."
Kurt finished making his bed, mulling over what he'd read while his laundry dried. Karofsky may have left out the smutty details, but the past two chapters had chronicled their…Kurt wasn't sure what to call it. Their mutually beneficial agreement, for lack of a better term. Karofsky described it as two teenage guys getting each other off and going their separate ways. For two months, it had been just that.
He remembered it vividly, ten years later. Remembered fighting to stay away. Remembered the first time he showed up unannounced, unwilling to admit that the first time at Santana's birthday haunted him.
Since Blaine had dumped him, he'd walked around in a haze. Nothing affected him the way it used to. He couldn't bring himself to care about the stuff he usually cared about. He was counting the days until he got to New York and could leave this stupid place behind.
He kept waiting for someone to say something, to notice that even though he was going through the motions, he wasn't there. No one did.
He continued the marathon shopping trips with the girls, but rarely purchased anything anymore. He practiced every song and dance routine for the Glee club until it was perfect, but he wasn't feeling it. He filled out his college applications, and did his homework, and passed his tests. He matched his accessories impeccably and he watched his father's diet and he explained things to Finn patiently and he did the laundry so Carole could relax after work. Meanwhile, he was hollow inside, and cold all the time.
He would wake up in the middle of the night still murmuring Karofsky's name. Sometimes, he'd swear he could even feel lingering warmth around him, and when he realized he was alone the cold was even more bitter.
Overhearing him telling Puck his parents were out of town one weekend shouldn't have affected him one bit. At least, that's what he told himself while he looked up the address in the phone book, gave his father an excuse, and drove himself over.
It was still winter, and getting dark early. The sun was nearly down when he knocked. When Karofsky opened the door, he was wearing sweatpants and a wife beater, all those fabulous arm muscles begging out to Kurt.
The rest happened like Karofsky would write it. They made out on the couch, humped at each other until they both came, then straightened up and Kurt went home without explaining why he was even there. And they continued in the same vein for several weeks until it wasn't enough anymore.
Kurt would have lied if anyone had asked. It was a cliché, it was overused, it was just plain stupid. But there was only one thing that made him feel warm, and that was being near Dave Karofsky. God help him, he actually LIKED kissing the damn oaf. Liked his hands and his mouth and all that body heat. Liked it when they were fooling around in the back of his car (because it had the bigger backseat) and Dave took off his jacket so Kurt would have something to put under his head. Liked the taste of him, liked the size of him.
Liked the fact he knew how to keep a secret. At least until now.
Kurt shook his head violently, as though doing so would shake the memories out and he could forget them entirely. The stupid book was bringing up things better left buried. He resolved not to read it anymore that night.
He made himself a quick dinner, and tried not to think any more, but it didn't work well. As he sat down he glanced at the photo collage on his fridge, and it reminded him that everyone in his hometown was now learning that when Kurt Hummel was depressed, his Prozac was sex. Which brought him right back to thinking about sex with Karofsky again.
"Stupid asshole," he thought to himself, "Finds a way to mindfuck me even after ten years."
He decided to try and go to bed early, but all he did was replay everything he'd read over and over. He felt….something. He couldn't quite explain it. Like there was a piece to the whole Karofsky puzzle that was missing. He remembered the old lady in the Laundromat. Damn, she was strange. Didn't she mention the Today show?
Ten minutes and a quick search later, he found it that it wasn't the Today show at all, but Live with Regis and Kelly. He found a link and soon, Kurt was watching it on the computer. Regis and Kelly irritated him, and he waited for their prattle to end. FINALLY, they got around to introducing Karofsky.
"A sports writer, for the Cleveland Sun News, this guy," Regis started, "this guy had recently published a book called "The Hate Shield," about being a bully. He's here today to talk to us, Dave Karofsky!"
The audience cheered and clapped, but Kurt didn't notice that. Because he hadn't seen him since graduation and so his memories of Karofsky involved a slightly chubby 18 year old with bad posture. So who the hell was this guy? His face wasn't so chubby anymore, his cheekbones and jaw line were a little more defined. He definitely carried himself more confidently, head up, shoulders back. The jeans and jacket uniform of high school had been replaced with a well tailored suit.
If Dave Karofsky was handsome in high school, he was drop dead gorgeous a decade later.
Kurt stared, jaw comically dropped, for the better part of the interview. He didn't even hear what they were talking about. He watched Karofsky smile and laugh, flashing white teeth and Kurt's heart was pounding so hard he thought it was going to end up outside his chest and ruin his sweater.
Regis was pointing to the book cover. "So Dave, this is you in high school?"
Karofsky smiled. "Yeah, that's my senior picture."
"Look at you!" Kelly squealed. "So cute in your jacket." The audience, apparently, agreed. Karofsky smiled at them.
"I don't know, I kind of like this one better," Regis remarked, pointing to Karofsky's suit, "You look good!" The audience agreed with that, too. Karofsky smiled again, one of those big teeth showing grins.
"Do you ever stop smiling?" Kurt asked him snarkily, knowing full well he was alone. Still, it felt good to form words.
"Yeah, my best friend picks out all my clothes. Otherwise I'd only ever leave the house in jeans and a tee shirt. She makes me see an actual tailor."
"I thought all gay guys had good fashion sense!" Regis remarked.
Karofsky laughed. "Not this one," he admitted, "I'm clueless."
"Finally," Kurt muttered, "It only took how many years to admit it?"
"So are you seeing anyone?" An audience member yelled out, and Kurt snapped his laptop shut before he could hear an answer. The show sucked anyway.
When he finally got to sleep that night, he dreamt about Karofsky again. Only this time, instead of replaying old memories, it was Dave from the Today show, crawling into bed and waking Kurt up slowly with kisses and those big hands. He would have a shadow of stubble by then, and Kurt imagined the feel of it under his lips when he kissed back.
It was unhurried, the opposite of high school. Dave rolled over, pulling Kurt on top of him so he could run his hands down his back, to his ass, and back up again. Their legs entwined, and Kurt kept his hands in Dave's hair, gently scratching the scalp with his fingers and relishing the way Dave whimpered when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.
Dream sex meant he was already prepared when he shifted his hips and lowered himself onto Dave's cock. He moaned happily at the way it filled him, perfect and familiar. His fingers moved in silky chest hair, as he moved himself in a slow, steady rhythm. Meanwhile, Dave's hand wrapped around him, stroking him in time to his thrusts. The expression on his face was sex personified, eyes hooded and dilated, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, and staring at Kurt like there was nothing more beautiful in the world. Right then, he felt it. He leaned down to kiss Dave….
And woke up. Miserable. Alone. Cold. And forced to face the reality of the situation. He still wanted Dave Karofsky.
NOTE; Well, I didn't really like this chapter either, but there it is. Maybe it's because I don't feel good. I've got a fever, and the only prescription is….reviews! (Hey, its worth a shot.) And the picture I'm going by for all this is (hopefully showing up) on my profile page.