AN: This time, I want to touch on something interesting that I'd mentioned earlier, brought up in a couple of comments: the issue of dramatic desires versus character. I do realize that the argument was resolved pretty quickly; my original plan (and one I was extremely tempted to do anyway) was draw it out into "A Night of Neglect" - after Regionals at the least. However, I encountered here the same problem I did with the other plotting issue I mentioned in an earlier chapter: I simply couldn't seem to properly justify Kurt and Dave letting it fester for that long. Between their fathers, their friends, the closeness of their friendship, and the fact that Dave still had to give Kurt the letter (once that happened, I felt discussion of the underlying issue was inevitable), most justifications I could think of for letting it go on for longer than it did just seemed like asspull excuses. In the end, I felt that their personalities, not to mention the pressure their loved ones would undoubtedly bring to bear, made quick resolution the most logical course, unless I wanted to deepen the enmity by making the argument even MORE vicious, but that causes a whole bunch of other problems. It would not have been my first choice, but I decided that, much like Spock, logic had to win out over emotion in this case.

Enough talking shop. On with the show.

Dr. Macey's pen tapped against his notepad. He was a bearded man with a grandfatherly air, even though he was only Dave's dad's age, with a burly body that had not gone to seed even with his years. His voice was gentle and soothing, a surprise coming from someone with such wide shoulders and meaty hands. When he and Dave had first started sessions together, he'd mentioned something about a past with some government agency, but Dave couldn't remember now what it was. Still, as Macey always told him, very little of that mattered; one of a therapist's best weapons, if that was the right term, was their ears, and damn him if he couldn't listen. Dave always felt like Macey was lost in whatever Dave was saying, even if it was stupid shit like a blow-by-blow of his last hockey game.

Dave had just finished talking; it felt as though his words were still hanging heavy over the entire room. Macey seemed to be still absorbing it all. "You said," he finally started, "that you wanted to change. To really make the effort."

"Yeah."

"Is this for Kurt? Are you hoping that if you do, he'll agree to a relationship with you?"

"That's part of it. I can't deny that. But… I guess I'm starting to realize that I can't go on the way I have."

Macey nodded. "We've talked about motivation before, Dave. About how hard it can be to find it, never mind keep it up. If it were easy, everyone would have PhDs and be at their ideal weight."

"I know. But believe me, coming this close to losing the best thing in your life forever is a pretty big fucking motivator. I swear I still have nightmares about it."

"You understand why Kurt felt manipulated."

"Yeah, I do. But you gotta believe me, I wasn't consciously trying to. I don't think so, anyway… Arrgh, I can't believe my own fucking head is confusing me."

"The human mind is a complex machine. Sometimes the right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing, especially when emotion is involved. It does all make sense in the end... in a way. But it takes a lot of self-examination and honesty before you get to that point, and sometimes even then..."

Dave groaned. "Why can't it be easy? Just for a little while?"

Macey chuckled. "We all ask ourselves that. I'd personally love it if I were getting all the unfair good luck for a while." He put his pen and notepad down on his desk. "Mind if I pass on some advice?"

The question made Dave laugh. "I'd hope you would, or my dad's insurance is wasting our money."

"Okay, then. Forget about Kurt. I mean..." He held up a hand to forestall Dave's protests. "Forget about what he thinks of you or your relationship with him. Sure, use it as your motivation, as you said, but otherwise, focus on yourself. Be a happier person. Be a better person. We've gone over this again and again: your self-image frankly sucks."

Dave wrinkled his nose. "What kind of therapist says 'sucks'?"

"One with three teenage children who love to talk? But that's getting away from the point. You have the motivation now to actually try some of those techniques we've talked about, to stop living in your own head so much. Being in your glee club has done wonders for that part; you've improved immensely since you started seeing me. But you're not quite there yet. Once you've decided to (pardon the cliche) love yourself, I think everything else will fall into place."

Dave turned the words over in his mind for a moment. They, or similar, had been said to him in this office before. Every other time, he'd leave musing on them, maybe even try out his advice, but soon slide back into his old habits, his old thought patterns. It was just so... easy to do. This time, though... it felt different. As he'd said to Dr. Macey, getting the scare of your life did that to you. It felt like this time, he'd actually not only listen, but maybe fucking do for once.

Dr. Macey seemed to read this on Dave's face, and nodded. "So, do you have any ideas for how to make this happen?"

"I... I think so. I had this idea... I was thinking about Kurt..."

"One more thing I'll have to thank this Kurt for if I ever meet him, I'll bet," Macey said with a smile.

"Join the club. Anyway, I was thinking about what's important to him - y'know, the gay stuff - and it sort of occurred to me that even though I'm gay and fine with it, that maybe... I have a responsibility too... to other kids like me. To help others like Kurt wants to. Pay it forward, help others who don't have the awesome family I do."

"Just because you're part of a group, any group, doesn't necessarily mean you owe anything to it. But at the same time, we're social animals, and there's nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah. I was thinking of..." He paused for a moment. "I dunno, though. I feel like my motives are... tainted, I guess? Like maybe I'm unconsciously doing this just to get Kurt? Like I'm still being selfish?"

Dr. Macey played with his pen as he spoke. "Some psychologists and philosophers think everything we do has some so-called 'selfish' motive in it, even altruism. I'm not sure about it myself, but I don't think you should let it stop you, or feel guilty about it. 'The universe is run by the complex interweaving of three elements: energy, matter, and enlightened self-interest.'"

"Who said that? Freud or someone?"

Dr. Macey smiled. "G'Kar, Babylon 5."

Dave snorted a laugh. "You and Kurt's friend Sam would have a lot to talk about."

"I'm not sure that's a compliment, so let's pass that by for now. Continue with your idea."

"Well, I think I know where I need to start..."

At that moment, Kurt was having a weighty conversation of his own. "I'm sorry. You're a great guy. But..."

"Say no more," Gavroche replied. "I completely understand. If the chemistry isn't there, then there isn't much point to trying to mix it up in a little beaker, is there?"

Kurt felt ridiculously relieved, snapping his head back as he downed the rest of his coffee as if it were a shot of rotgut. "Thanks... It's been a bit of a rough few weeks..."

Gavroche nodded sympathetically. "It's David, is it?"

"Yes, but how did...?"

"We've been friends for a while. I'd heard about the gay-bashing and Dave's boyfriend from my cousin as it happened, so when he asked me to watch over Dave when he moved here, how could I say no? We do the girl talk thing occasionally. And the shoulder-crying thing, a few days ago." Gavroche's lean face seemed heavier, his usually sparkling eyes duller. "It really hurt me to see him like that, you know," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't worry about it. Actually, I think a lot of what happened is my fault."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Yours? How?"

"This isn't the first time he's tried to push someone away doing the 'I'm not worthy' bit. I think he's afraid that if he's not on top of things all the time, the next guy he loves will be in a hospital bed the same as his boyfriend. I should've seen what he was doing as soon as he asked me to take you to coffee as a favor. But you were just so adorable..." Here Kurt couldn't help but blush. "I just ignored every instinct I had screaming at me to stop. And look what happened..."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm much more flattered than upset. And I'm going to tell you what I've told Dave many a time: don't blame yourself. We're all big boys now; we can make our own decisions." Kurt sighed. "I just wish Dave would realize that..."

"Making our own decisions? Applied to you, or himself?"

Kurt blinked; he had neither expected the question nor even thought of it. "Both... I suppose. Though maybe more himself..."

Gavroche looked around the room, as if expecting Dave to suddenly appear at any moment. Satisfied, he leaned forward with an almost conspiratorial air. "Mind if I dish a little about Dave?"

Kurt grinned wickedly. "Please do."

"Oh, it's nothing exciting like embarrassing stories of him as a child. Just my opinion. But have you ever seen As Good As It Gets?"

"I have. Greg Kinnear isn't quite my type, but he's cute enough."

"I know! Anyway, remember that one scene with Jack Nicholson and Helen Hunt?"

Kurt rolled his eyes before he could stop them. "There were lots of scenes with Jack Nicholson and Hel... Wait." He paused, the mental light bulb growing warmer and brighter. "You mean...?"

He didn't even have to finish the sentence; Gavroche merely nodded sagely. "'You make me want to be a better person.' I think... you're Helen and Dave's Jack."

"Helen Hunt... Hmm. Could do worse, I suppose." Kurt turned his cup over in his hands even as he was turning the thought over in his mind. "You really think so?"

"Like I said, Dave isn't exactly my closest friend, but I've known him long enough, and I've never seen him like this before. He's going to try. I have no idea if he'll succeed or not, but he's going to try."

"I hope he does," Kurt replied quietly. "He deserves to be happy, and I hate seeing him standing in his own way."

"I feel the same."

"I know I've sounded really harsh on him, and I don't mean to, but... like I said, it's been a rough few weeks. I really hope you're right about him making an effort. Because I think once he starts, it'll be hard for him to stop."

"Like peanuts?" Gavroche said with a grin. "Or potato chips? Or Nicki Minaj?"

"Kind of," Kurt laughed.

"Mmm, I'm going to miss you when you move back to Lima. Talking with you has been just so refreshing. Almost like I had a long-lost twin brother!"

"Agreed. Maybe that's why we couldn't get anything going. Too incestuous."

"Ah, but I love Flowers in the Attic." Gavroche chuckled. "Still, at least we have each other's contact information. And we have so much more to talk about."

"Like?" Some part of Kurt wanted to turn the topic back to Dave. But at the same time, he knew he couldn't obsess. That way lay madness and potential disappointment. It wasn't just Dave that had to give Kurt some time; the reverse had to be true as well. It was unreasonable, he knew, to expect Dave to become a new man overnight, no matter how convenient and happy that would make everyone. Patience. He had to have patience. And there were so many reasons to hope, Kurt found himself having to tamp down his expectations. Still, there was such an edge of anticipation where Dave was concerned that he almost couldn't help it. And did he want to...?

Gavroche interrupted Kurt's train of thought with a wide smile; he rubbed his hands in an odd air of anticipation. "Well! Have you ever heard of a school called NYADA...?"

"25,000 times...?" Tina frowned at the board, opening her mouth to say something. But she stopped. What would be the point, really?

"That's... a lot of saltwater taffy, Mr. Schue," Mercedes remarked.

"But if we knuckle down and work hard, we can do it!" Will Schuester replied enthusiastically.

"How?" Lauren asked. "Even if we sold four to everyone we met, we'd still need to sell to five thousand people. Are there even five thousand kids here who like taffy?"

"Well, they don't have to like it to buy it. What about your Bully Whips clients? I hear kids talking about you guys all the time in the halls; you're getting really popular now with a big segment of students." Will's face was practically glowing; it was finally happening. The Glee Club - his Glee Club - was not only going to Nationals, but they were becoming liked - sometimes even adored! Granted, it happened mostly because of something outside of performing, and this popularity definitely didn't reach all or even most segments of McKinley's student population, which was tragic, but he wasn't picky. Popularity in any amount meant more attention. More attention would lead to more money and auditions in the future, which in turn would lead to even more. Yes sir, the future was looking brighter than he ever could've hoped. "If you asked them to... what's the matter?"

The entire room, it seemed, was shifting uncomfortably, except perhaps Santana, and even she had a bit of one of her looks on her face.

"Really, guys... What's the problem?"

Rachel raised her hand slowly. "Mr. Schuester... I don't think it's right."

"What's not right?"

"We didn't join the Bully Whips to be popular or to get benefits for ourselves," Sam chimed in. "We did it because it was the right thing to do. Because..." He trailed off.

Because we failed Kurt, and we had to make up for that. No one said those words. But they might as well have belted it out in four-part harmony at the top of their lungs.

Will's face softened. "Look, I understand. And I'm not asking you to start giving the hard sell to someone you just rescued from a slushie. But I think the people you help will want to give back. You should let them."

Here Quinn spoke up. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not going to have my hand out begging for pocket change. We should be better than that. I have my pride." There were a few murmurs of agreement, but Will could see that generally, the expressions he saw on his students' faces were more along the lines of hesitation and indecision. "I mean, taffy? Could it be more obvious that we're desperate?"

"We sort of are," Will answered. "If we're going to Nationals, we need..." He stopped; Brittany had leaned over towards Artie, and was madly whispering in his ear. The other was replying in snappish hisses, and both their voices were becoming louder.

"Tell them!" Brittany was saying.

"We can't add to their problems! We can handle..."

Will cleared his throat. "Uh, Brittany? Artie? Is there something the matter?"

"We need $250!" Brittany burst out. Artie shot a glare at her.

"Why?"

"For the Brainiacs," Mike replied, his voice heavy with reluctance. The cat's out of the bag. Might as well. "We got to the finals of the Academic Decathlon, but we don't have the money to go."

"So when Brittany said 'we'..." Quinn began in a confused tone, "you mean she..."

Tina shrugged. "She's the reason we're in the finals to begin with." Disbelieving stares erupted throughout the room (though no one noticed that Santana's was more along the lines of awe, if the emotion even had a name). Tina had been about to explain further, but something about those looks stirred a wicked impulse in her. She decided to let the matter hang that way. "It's true."

"Well, I'm not about to let your dreams go by the wayside either," Will said with a firm nod. He went back to the board and adjusted a figure. "Our goal is now $5250."

"That's even more taffy," Lauren said with a bit of an eye-roll.

"Yes, I know. If anyone has a better idea right now, I'd love to hear it."

There was now nothing but silence.

Burt had been muttering under his breath during the entire drive to McKinley. Kurt couldn't quite make out some of the words, but as far as he could tell, it was a sort of stream of consciousness rant about both Blaine Anderson and his son's "bright ideas." When they arrived at the school, Burt nearly twisted the ignition switch out of the car when he turned it off. He faced his son with a sour look. "You're really sure you want to do this?"

Kurt sighed. "For the hundredth time, Dad, yes."

"Don't care about the money," Burt said insistently. "Don't even start to think about it. We can figure out..."

"Dad! It's all right. Really. Now can we go in?"

His grumbling starting again, Burt led the way to Principal Figgins' office. The administrator was sitting behind his desk with a beaming smile. Blaine Anderson sat nearby, alone; Burt gave him an evil glare. To the older man's surprise, the teenager seemed to shrivel a little under the look; Burt had expected the little punk to put on one of those defiant sneers he remembered so well. Before he could ponder this oddness, the two Hummels were in their seats, and Figgins was speaking.

"I am so happy I could preside over this occasion," Figgins began, looking very much like he was that happy. "Young Mr. Anderson has been doing so much to make this school safer. And now a student who left is returning thanks to his influence!"

It was only with effort that Kurt bit back the dozens upon dozens of responses that flitted through his mind. One glance at his father told him that he too was having difficulty staying silent.

"I wanted to apologize to both Kurt and his father for everything," Blaine began. "I understand the hardship I put both of you through, and I'm working hard to make up for it, make sure it doesn't happen again." Here he turned to Burt, who was, despite himself, impressed at the way Blaine was able to look him in the eye. "For what it's worth, sir, I want to give you my personal assurance that Kurt will be safe, especially from me. I chose the Glee Club to be my main Bully Whips staff precisely for that reason, among others. Even if you don't trust me, you can trust them. But I'm a different person now." Kurt vaguely remembered similar words in Blaine's letter, though of course he hadn't shown it to his father.

"I for one believe him completely," Figgins said with confidence. Of course you would, Kurt thought. Though why would Figgins need to believe Blaine if he was as innocent as he'd once claimed? Kurt was sure that the logic never occurred to Figgins, and probably never would.

"It's not that easy," Burt said bluntly. "You terrorized my son in a way that went above and beyond anything I think is normal. I had to spend money I didn't have to keep Kurt safe. From you."

"But in the end," Kurt interrupted with as firm a voice as he could take, "I believe it should be my decision. At the very least, I should have a say. I've been talking it over with my father, and I do want to return." He paused. "However. I would like to speak with Blaine in private for a moment."

Blaine tried to keep his face impassive. Was that the first time he's called me by my first name? I don't remember...

Burt didn't even make that effort. "Are you sure...?"

"Yes," Kurt sighed, "I'm sure. You can wait right outside; if anything happens, even a false word, I'll end things at once."

Figgins was already rising from his chair. Burt rubbed his face and wondered for not the first time if he'd been a little too good at raising Kurt to be able to stand on his own two feet. "Fine. But the instant I see any funny business..."

"Glass walls, Dad. I'll be fine." He waited until the two adults left the room and the door snapped closed behind them. For the first time in months, Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson were pretty much alone together. They stared at each other for a long while; Kurt noticed that the other's eyes were wandering nervously towards the glass wall, behind which Figgins was trying to talk to Burt, who was glaring intensely back at the two. Looks like I'll have to start... Kurt cleared his throat. "I'd like you to tell me the truth."

"A-about what?"

"Why. Why are you doing this? The Bully Whips, the letter... Dave was right about one thing: you aren't doing this on your own out of the kindness of your heart." Kurt winced inwardly; that was a little harsher than he'd intended. Still, there were some honest emotions being displayed here, so he might as well go all the way. "I mean, it's so different from what you've done before... You owe me the truth."

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. I guess you deserve that at the least." He sighed, running his fingers through his curly hair. "It's Santana. She's blackmailing me."

"With wh...?" Kurt stopped; of course it would be that. "Why? What's in it for her?"

Blaine opened his mouth to speak, only at the last second abruptly realizing that he simply couldn't say everything. Not that he owed Santana anything - quite the opposite in fact. But he couldn't help simply saying, "She thinks she can win prom queen with the Bully Whips, especially if you come back."

"I see. I have to admit, I have a grudging respect for her capacity for plotting. A Latina Eve Harrington."

Blaine was about to ask who that was, but he was suddenly seized with a certainty: if he didn't say what he wanted to say right this moment, he never would. So he stumbled on, his tongue nearly tripping over itself in eagerness. "But... this is going to sound crazy coming from me, but... being in the Bully Whips... It really has changed me, Kurt." Kurt sucked in a breath; he remembered how Blaine addressed the letter: by his first name. It really was a big step. Acknowledging Kurt like that, even in that small way... He was starting to get out of the isolating mentality that kept him thinking of Kurt as an other with nothing to do with him. "I'm really not the same guy I used to be. I'm still not sure if I'm really... y'know..."

"Gay. It's just a word, Blaine, you can say it. Gay." Kurt pointedly did not mention that he got the distinct impression that the uncertainty really wasn't as deep as Blaine was making out. But that was a matter for another time; he didn't want to interrupt Blaine's train of thought too much.

"Yeah. Okay..." He paused for a moment, but just barely. "Gay. But either way, I just... I don't think I can imagine going back to the way I was. I didn't realize it at the time, but it was just so... empty. Now... I'm actually making a difference. A real, positive difference. I didn't think it'd feel so..."

"Good?"

"Yeah. It's like what I get from the other guys by slinging slushies and pushing people around, only... it's real."

Kurt nodded. "I believe you."

"You do?" The wild hope in Blaine's voice stirred some kind of thought or feeling or something in Kurt, but it was elusive; it was gone almost before he even realized it was there. Was it pity? Or...?

"I do. I'll return to McKinley. On one condition."

Blaine's shoulders sagged. "Which is?"

"The Bully Whips and your change of heart are all well and good, but there needs to be more, especially if things are to keep getting better beyond our graduation. You will help me found a GSA here at McKinley."

"A what?"

"Gay-Straight Alliance. It's a student organization that supports gay students and creates a safe environment for them." He continued on even as he saw panic bloom on Blaine's face. "See, there's your out right there; it's not a Gay-Straight Alliance without straight people. Like yourself." A small smirk came over Kurt's face before he could stop it; he quickly and irritatedly stomped it down. "You help me found it and run it. That's all. You don't have to start singing show tunes in the halls or anything of the kind. And who knows; maybe you'll learn something doing it. Something important. Something valuable."

Blaine was leaning forward in his chair, his hands clasped, his forearms resting on his knees. One of his legs jumped and twitched, as if already preparing to launch him to his feet and out the door. Finally, he spoke. "Yeah. Sure. I can do that."

"Excellent! Then you can spread the news to the other Bully Whips: I shall return!"

"Swell." Blaine had meant that to be at least mildly sarcastic, but he was startled to realize he actually meant it. Of course, he didn't say or give any sign of that. Why would he?

AN: Stopping here because (a) I haven't gotten the second half written yet thanks to new work-related gig and other stuff, and I wanted to put something up and (b) I think what's happening next is important enough that it deserved being in a chapter all its own.

Until next time.