A/N: Ideas are pouring, I'm so glad! Thanks everyone for the awesome reviews, I've never gotten such a positive response so quickly to one of my stories!

Marilyn: Thanks for the really nice review! We apparently have the same views on the Dave/Kurt relationship; I hope you'll like what's coming next! Don't worry, I won't wait for more to happen, I'm actually trying to get as much written now as I can, in case they scrap that storyline and my muse leaves me!

Tuesday is a good day this semester. No class before 11 a.m., always a perk. Unfortunately, little Chloe has no reason to respect the only morning that Dave can sleep in. It's barely 6:15 and yet she's fully awake, chattering away. Her word range is still quite limited, which doesn't mean she's not a stickler for practice. He ponders the idea of burying his head under the covers to muffle the sound. Can't help hoping to steal a few more hours of sleep. However, he knows from past attempts that there are no chances of that happening. Sure enough, not ten minutes later, a galloping sound resonates in the hallway, followed by the creaking of his bedroom door. The pudgy intruder doesn't hesitate and runs straight to his bed. Grabbing the sheets and tugging them vigorously, she yells happily.

"Up, up, up, Davey!"

"Not so loud, Chloe, please…" he groans, feeling the blankets fall off his body and slink on the floor. The cold A/C air flowing on his body finishes waking him up. He peeks under his eyelids, seeing the curly head of his roommate's daughter resting on his mattress and observing him with expectant eyes and a wide grin.

Dave starts to chuckle and swings his long legs on the side of the bed, careful not bump the girl's head doing so. In one swift movement, he gets up and unceremoniously throws Chloe over his shoulder. She squeals out of both fear and delight. Heading for the kitchen, he pretends to hurt as she bombards his back with her tiny fists.

Kara is already there making toast. The rich aroma of brewed coffee is lazily spreading through the room. He deposits the toddler in her high chair and playfully bumps his roommate, nudging her to grant him access to the hot beverage. She grumbles and takes a step sideways, barely acknowledging his "good morning". He doesn't say much, just advises her gently while pouring her a cup and slowly sliding it in her direction.

"You have to become more of a morning person. She's obviously one herself…"

She nods and takes a sip before answering. "F… I know. I try but her f…. energy is making it hard to compete with. I tell you, I can't f… wait for her to be a teenager, you know, always sleeping off parties and s….!" A smile creeps up on Dave's face as he watches her wave her hands emphatically whenever a swearword would have been heard. While she keeps her voice low enough to prevent young ears to hear, she still stops herself from cursing, albeit barely in time. Ever since Chloe had uttered her first word ("Jew", although she was probably aiming at "juice"), Kara had been incredibly careful with her language. It had proved hard to achieve; Dave had never met a more foul-mouthed girl in his entire life. But he also knows that her rough and hotheaded exterior hides a caring, sometimes unsure, mother and a true friend. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he hugs her tightly, a small supportive gesture he knows she can appreciate.

Letting her go, he sits at the table and hands Chloe her cereal. The breakfast passes leisurely, with Kara slowly emerging and Chloe concentrating on her Cheerios. Once his coffee drank, it's off to a quick shower and out the door, ruffling the hair of both girls when he crosses the kitchen, which earns him oddly similar yelps of protest.

New York in the early morning is great. Just enough people to make the streets busy enough without feeling overcrowded. It's barely 7:00, nothing special awaits him. His steps then almost automatically lead him to his usual hanging spot, a quaint restaurant wedged between two boutiques. It's almost unnoticeable, certainly unremarkable. But they make the best cream cheese bagel he knows, plus it's always calm. The September sun is surprisingly warm, so he carries his order to the small terrace out front. He skims the New York Post as he eats, forcing himself to concentrate on the national news. Deep down, he knows he won't be able to remember one article. His eyes flicker constantly towards his cell, carefully placed within range on the glass table. It rings just as he's looking at it, making him jump sharply. Out of habit, he checks the caller ID and answers immediately, his greeting barely audible.

"Hey David, how are you this fine morning?" Blaine asks, his tone syrupy.

Dave rolls his eyes, already exasperated. "Come on Blaine, don't mess with me! There's only one reason you're calling this early so fess up! What did he say?" Man, I sound so desperate! Way to prove you've moved on!

"Really, you think I have something to report? I seem to remember that he was a no-no subject between us." his friend replies. "Anyway, it wouldn't be fair to him so you won't have any details from me. That discreet side of me that you appreciate so much? Well it goes both ways. I have your confidence but also his. I couldn't betray that…" There's something the way he says the last sentence that alerts Dave. Leaning back on his chair, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Shit man, what did you tell him…"

"Not much, don't worry. I left that to you. I simply evened the odds. I figured since you've always known about Kurt and me, he should too. So basically now he knows we've been friends since senior year." An eloquent silence ensues. Blaine continues, with a hint of apology in his voice. "Don't worry too much about it. He was more pissed off at me than you. After all, you didn't owe him anything, but I do."

Dave sighs, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Yeah, I guess you're right. How bad was it?" he wonders. "Well, I've had nicer conversations," Blaine replies, "but at least he let me apologize without too many interruptions. He's still very much the drama queen sometimes! So we did the expected analysis of your meeting, and no, I still won't tell you more about that, I explained myself and then he left. I went down much faster than I imagined, just over 3 hours…" Blaine chuckles.

"Damn! Guess that makes you friend of the year or something?" Dave says.

Blaine scoffs. "I don't know, but one thing I'm sure of, is that you better be there whenever I need you to, no questions asked!"

"No problem." Dave can fell himself relax. He sits straight and starts picking at his plate. The familiar chime of an incoming text rings uncomfortably close to his ear. Before he can look at it, his friend quickly starts talking again.

"Oh, before I forget, Kurt asked me for your number and I gave it to him. Talk soon bye!"

Dave stares incredulously at his now silent phone, and the few words blinking on the screen.

I think we should talk. Kurt.

Sitting in the library, Kurt is staring at his phone too, has been since he hit the "Send" button. It took him nearly 20 minutes to figure out what to write. What exactly do you say to a guy who made your life a living hell for years, only to make you question everything in one heated moment? What's up? Don't think so. He finally settled for the bare minimum, postponing the rest to a potential face–to-face meeting.

Regardless of the early hour, he's expecting an immediate reply. He is tapping his foot impatiently on the carpeted floor. It's not the annoyed look from the few students sitting near him that makes him stop, rather the "New message" icon that suddenly appears on the screen.

"Sure, when, where?"

"Tonight, 8, front of the admin building?" he rapidly texts back. Once he gets the acknowledgment, he switches his cell off and buries it at the bottom of his bag. As if hiding it would help him think about something else, anything but Karofsky.

Back-to-back classes are suddenly a blessing, especially if they're demanding. He can't believe how fast they make them dive into the subject. When he exits his last class for the day (French), at 4:00, his mind is wonderfully tired. "Plutôt stimulant, en fait!" he thinks, surprised by how much he's learned in a few hours. Right then, just when the stress leaves, the memories take its place. His vision blurs, and how he manages to make his way back to his dorm room proves impossible to recall.

The questions are all that remains. Those about himself for starters. There's just cause to question his motives. After all, the point of reaching out to Karofsky is anything but clear. It's not out of long-harbored feelings, that much is certain. "I just want to know why, why and how." he somberly tells himself.

"Why he continued to torment me after that desperate kiss? How he could have become friends with Blaine? Why he couldn't make peace with what he is, and with me for that matter?" By then, he reaches his room. The wondering persists while he rummages through his pockets to find his key. "Why is he here, when he could have stayed back there, with the rest of that depressing past? How come he seems so different, so… collected?"

He's made it into his room, finally. A whiff of unfamiliar smells (wood, cleaning products and, he thinks, old orange peels) greets him, silently pointing to him that he still has to make this place his. He sighs and hangs his light jacket and bag on their respective hooks. He might be preoccupied, but it would take more to stop his reflex of order. His computer is already turned on; therefore it isn't long before cheerful music fills the small space. He selects a techno playlist and lies on his bed. Maybe, just maybe, a synthetic, superficial sound can lead his thoughts back to simpler things.

A/N: I didn't get where I had planned with this chapter (it tends to happen to my stories a lot!), but juicier stuff will happen in the next one…