AN: And here we are at the prom. I've known about a few things happening here since the start, and I finally get to see them implemented! This is kind of exciting! And this chapter in its original form tipped the scales at almost 10,000 words, so I decided to split it into two this time. Sorry! :)

I am also so pleased that there are worries about Klaine. That means that I'm doing my job, especially since (in case you've forgotten) many of the scenes between Blaine and Kurt happened with Kurt and Dave in canon. :) I've always wondered if the canon Klaine would be a little more interesting if there were a halfway legitimate possible alternative (that wasn't a conniving asshole). Maybe that's something I'll experiment even more with in a possible sequel in Season 3...

Okay, serious question: I've seen some authors take a completed story and post a "chapter" that's basically a sequel announcement, in order to, well, alert everyone with an alert on the completed story that there's a sequel. What's the general POV on whether that's kosher, or even tolerated? Or is it just annoying?

The Warblers were clustered around the open door, staring.

"Wow," Thad breathed, shaking his head.

"Is that our future?" Barry Sorenson asked with a touch of awe.

"Are you like this before you go out with Callie?" Justin Baylor asked.

"No!" David cried.

"Nah, my man isn't like that," Callie said, patting his arm. "He's probably worse." Her boyfriend glared at her, then returned his stare to the scene in front of him.

Dave's room was a mess. It looked like a tornado had sucked up the contents of a Macy's and injected all of it inside at once. Shirts covered every available surface. Ties hung over chairs, open drawers, shelves. A dozen pairs of pants were scattered across the entire area. In the center of it all was Dave, seemingly not even noticing anyone else was there, staring frantically at the shirts he held in each hand.

"The shade on this one is a little light... but this one is the wrong cut... God, I'm never gonna figure this out!"

"Did anyone know that Dave had this many clothes?" Wes asked.

"Should I go with a string tie? Bolo tie? Nah, too cowboy. Maybe a bow tie? Ugh, never in a million years..."

"He's going to explode soon if we don't do something," Trent remarked, his arms crossed as he leaned against the door jamb.

Justin gave a disbelieving look. "Do you want to go in there?"

"No, but we can't just leave him like this. I mean, look at him!"

"Shoes, shoes... Fuck, I forgot the shoes! Do they really polish them with spit or is that just a phrase...?"

"I can order someone to go in," Wes said in an even voice that somehow sounded threatening.

"I quit!" Barry blurted out, throwing up his hands.

"Me too!"

"You try to make me, I'm out of here!"

Callie rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "Stand aside, boys," she declared, pushing her way past the Warblers and into the room. "This requires a woman's touch." She marched right over to Dave, who was pulling at his hair in frustration. She touched his shoulder gently; he almost literally jumped at the sensation. "Calm down, Dave. Take a deep breath." Callie stared at him; he stared back. "I meant that. Take a deep breath. Now." His tension starting to drain simply out of confusion, Dave obeyed. "There. Feel better?"

Dave paused, taking stock of his mind. "Y'know... I kinda do."

"Good. Now, what's the first thing Kurt taught you?"

"That the sum of the parts is more important than the parts themselves," he replied in an almost mechanical tone.

"Good," she repeated gently, as though coaxing a kitten out from under a car. "Then why don't we start with what you already know you're going to wear. You didn't mention needing a jacket...?"

"No... I only have one decent dress coat. It's that one." He pointed to a lone jacket draped over a chair, half-hidden under a couple of shirts and a tie.

Callie gently extracted it and shook it out, holding it up in front of them. "So now we have a starting point. Did Kurt go over how shirts and coats look together?"

"Yeah... yeah, he did. He said that with this style of jacket..."

And so it went, with Callie leading Dave over each part of the outfit, each lesson from Kurt, letting him remember what he was taught and make his own choices based on that. The Warblers watched in awe.

"Dude..." Justin whispered to David, "I think I'm in love with your girlfriend."

"You so much as hint that again and I'll kill you," he whispered back.

Before Dave (or the Warblers) knew it, the room was perfectly clean again, all clothes in their place, except for one outfit laid across the bed. Dave stared in speechless shock, the Warblers in even greater awe than before, and Callie with almost smug satisfaction.

"I think you've got it," she said with a nod.

"Love." Justin muttered under his breath. David elbowed him in the ribs.

Kurt stared at himself in his full-length mirror (an absolute must for anyone concerned with personal fashion), running his hands up and down the breast of his coat to smooth out the lingering wrinkles. I look good, he told himself. I look really good. But good enough for Dave...?

He shook his head, banishing the thought from his head with some difficulty. Dave was on his way to weaning himself from that mode of thinking; no sense taking it up in his place.

Besides, this was supposed to be a no-pressure situation. It wasn't a date of any kind. Just two friends supporting each other. That's all.

Yeah, right, a voice in his head sneered. Just two friends going to a prom. That just screams casual friendship.

And that voice had a point, really, despite the perfectly rational justifications he, Dave, and Finn had tossed around. If he'd actually wanted to keep some personal distance between him and Dave, he would've never even considered asking him to the prom in the first place. But then, that was the problem, wasn't it? It seemed that he'd already made a decision about Dave on some level, but was it really the healthy thing for either of them? Was he running headlong into getting hurt again, or pushing Dave faster than he was ready to go? Was he too easily dismissing the harm done to him? If he was, what did that mean? Too many questions... He was acutely aware that doing things for the wrong reasons could drive them apart before they ever had a chance.

It didn't help that this prom felt like a first step of sorts on a path that led to... what exactly? Kurt wiped his suddenly clammy, sweaty hands across the front of his blazer. Could he really tread as carefully as he needed to? Could he really take on all the risk that simply going down those stairs entailed?

And when did he start opening the bedroom door?

There it was again, the sense that the decision had already been made a long time ago. Kurt sighed, and just let his muscles take him where they would. It was almost amusing, the sense of detachment as he felt his body walk down the hall and start down the stairs. His ears picked up conversation from below.

"Thanks for letting me jam with you guys." It was Dave's voice, and once more Kurt's body reacted without thought, mostly with heat in his cheeks and a pounding in his heart, even as his cooler mind recognized with some chagrin what those reactions meant.

"No problem," Finn replied. "We were having problems filling out the whole evening with songs as it was. Besides, it gives us more of a chance to spread out."

"I'm glad you're helping out with the back-up on my song, by the way. Sorry about that; I'll bet you and Quinn wanted to hit all the slow dances..."

Here Quinn's voice spoke up. "It's okay. We'll have plenty of time together anyway."

By now, Kurt was descending the stairs as the living room slowly slid into view. Carole was already prepared with her digital camera, smiling from ear to ear. "Ooh, there he is!" she squealed (the very idea of Carole squealing would've been alien to him just months ago, but his new family was surprising him more and more every day - it was still wildly out of character, though. Perhaps something about the prom or the season was bringing out this side in her). At the exclamation, Finn and Dave both rose from the couch, turning as they did so.

That was the moment that both Kurt's descent and his heart stopped.

Dave was wearing a black suit, with a shirt so red it was almost crimson, its richness only interrupted by the stripe of black that was his tie. His shoes shone like a promise, and every inch of him was obviously freshly washed and shaved. The look fit him perfectly, the ensemble fit together perfectly, it was just... perfect. It was almost funny how Kurt's very first thought was, My God... I am the best fashion teacher ever.

It took him a minute to realize that Dave was staring back, slack-jawed. "K-Kurt..." he finally managed to gasp out.

Kurt's own paralysis was quickly broken by a flash of light in his eyes. He blinked as Carole held up a finger. "Just one more!" This time, Kurt managed to not look directly into the burst. Burt and Quinn appeared from elsewhere in the living room, the latter joining Finn as the former stood next to Carole, a wistful look on his face. "Group picture!" she said eagerly, nudging Finn's shoulder. "You... two stand over there. Hurry up; don't you have to meet your friends at Breadstix? Kurt and Dave, stand to their right... No, closer! Perfect! Oh, come on, you're all going to the prom! Bigger smiles! Hold hands!" Finn rolled his eyes good-naturedly and took Quinn's hands in his.

"Oh, wait! I almost forgot." Dave jogged back into the living room and almost immediately returned with a clear plastic box. "No prom outfit's complete without one of these." He carefully pinned a corsage of white miniature carnations onto Kurt's left lapel.

"Very nice," Kurt muttered in admiration as he returned the favor with the second, identical corsage in the box.

Carole's voice took on an almost drill sergeant tone of commandment. "All right, everyone ready? Finn, stop slouching! Dave, turn a little to the left... no, a little more... perfect!"

"Sorry, dude," Kurt heard Finn say to Dave in a low voice. "She usually isn't anything like this."

"No problem."

"What are you boys talking about?" Carole snapped suspiciously.

"Nothing, Mom!" Finn yelped.

"I hope not. Kurt, Dave, come on now, hands!"

Dave turned to Kurt and shrugged. "You heard the lady." He took Kurt's hands; the grip was warm and his skin a little rough still, but gentle. Kurt squeezed, which seemed to send a bolt through Dave; his eyes widened and his smile twitched.

"Okay, everyone, look at the camera! Smile!" All four teenagers blinked back the flash of light that burst into their faces as Carole looked at the screen of her camera with an almost teary smile. "Oh, Finn, so handsome... Kurt, your outfit's stunning... And Dave - very distinguished! You all look very nice!" Quinn's smile faded; Kurt felt a stab of pity for her. He could almost hear Carole planning how to crop Quinn out of the photo. I suppose she still hasn't quite gotten over what happened last year, he thought. Not that he could blame her, but it was still uncomfortable - Quinn was still a friend of his. The group began to disperse, much to Carole's displeasure. "What are you all moving around for? I need one more!"

Finn didn't even bother to stifle his groan. Kurt looked up at his father, who just shrugged helplessly.

Carole, fortunately for all involved, was oblivious to all this; she was too busy frantically adjusting settings on her camera. "All right, now, I want to see teeth! Smile! Wider, Finn! Ready? One... two... three!"

Flash!

Rick Nelson shuffled his feet, kicking up gravel that clattered across the McKinley High School parking lot. As he watched various couples and groups climb out of a seemingly endless stream of cars and enter the gym, he wondered for the hundredth time what he was doing out here, and why he wasn't inside with his date, Vickie Fishman.

He turned to his future teammate, Scott Cooper, who was busy talking in a low voice with Nate Parkman, another varsity hockey player. "Dude," Rick called out, which sent Scott turning towards him in annoyance at the interruption, "what the fuck are we doing out here, and why am I not inside with Vickie and her awesome, tight..."

"I told you," Scott snarled, "we're waiting for Hummel."

"What if he doesn't show up? Why the fuck do we even care?"

"He's gonna show. I overheard one of his Glee Club buddies talking about it. And he's bringing a date." There was a silent pause as Scott glared at Rick's blank look. "You know, a dude?"

"Oh." Rick's face twisted in disgust. "So who is this guy?"

"No idea. That's one reason why we're out here. To... meet him."

"And the other?"

"To give them a big old McKinley welcome. You know, the old fashioned kind."

"What about the Bully Whips?"

Scott snorted. "That's the best part. His friends wanted to escort them in, but he refused. Said something about it 'not being needed' and 'we can survive walking a few feet' or something. So they're all inside. Besides, we're not gonna push 'em around or anything. Just... remind them what we think of their kind around here, in case the thing later doesn't get the message across. Y'know, talk."

Rick shifted uncomfortably. "I dunno... I mean, if they squeal to the Bully Whips, we'll still get in trouble..."

"Then we convince them to keep their mouths shut. They're just a couple of prancing fags; how hard could it be?" Scott's glare vanished as he slapped Rick's shoulder in a warm display of camaraderie (at least for him). "Hey, come on. We're gonna be teammates next year. You saying you want to spend another season in JV?"

"Well, no..."

"Then you gotta learn how to get along with us varsity players. Think of this as a team building exercise." Behind Scott, Nate nodded eagerly. "Like I said, we're not gonna do anything to them... nothing that leaves a mark, at least. We just gotta prove we're still top dogs, y'know?"

Rick stared for a moment before finally nodding. "Okay. Fine."

Scott grinned. "Good call, noob." The sound of a motor made them all turn. "There's Hummel's car. Let's go." The three approached the vehicle as it slid expertly into an empty space. They simply stood together a few feet from the driver's door as it opened, and Kurt Hummel emerged... in a skirt. "Woo, nice skirt, Hummel," Scott taunted.

To the surprise of all three, Hummel didn't seem to react in the slightest. He just nodded. "Gentlemen."

In reality, Kurt's mind was churning a mile a minute. The real reason he'd rejected an escort (he'd told Dave the night before; he, of course said it was "okay" without further comment, which Kurt wasn't quite sure if he should believe) was that he didn't want to give in to the fear of a repeat of the Sadie Hawkins dance, as if preparing was akin to acknowledging that it could happen again. He wanted himself and Dave to enter as just any other couple (even though, objectively, they were anything but). For a moment, staring at those three hockey players, he wondered if, in his pride, he'd made the most foolish mistake of his life. But the parking lot was better than deserted; it still had couples arriving and chatting with each other, albeit many feet away - in other words, witnesses. Besides, Kurt had long experience with bullies, and figuring out how they thought. These yahoos weren't out for blood. Which meant he could have some fun.

"Fine evening, isn't it?" Kurt continued mildly. "Are you the prom welcoming committee?"

"In a way," Nate sneered. "We never really got to welcome you back to McKinley properly."

"Well, no, but I assume that had something to do with the Bully Whips." Kurt emphasized that second to the last word with particular venom, as if it mattered to them.

"You're right," Rick chimed in, his voice a little tremulous with uncertainty. "But now we have the chance to... y'know, talk."

"And meet your date," Scott chuckled. "Hear he's from Dalton. One of those pretty boys, eh? Sure seems like you got a type, Hummel."

"I suppose I do," he replied with a serene smile. He turned back towards the car. "Dave? Come on, or we'll be late meeting the others." With that, he dropped the hand signal he'd held behind his back that kept Dave in the car.

To Rick, it was as if the ground had fallen out from under him. The passenger door of Hummel's car opened, and this... monster emerged. This brick building of a teenager was wearing a black suit with a red (blood red) shirt and a white flower in his lapel similar to the one in Hummel's. The worst part was, he knew this guy. That's why his knees turned into jelly.

"K-Karofsky...?" he stammered.

The addressed young man got a wicked grin on his face. "Well, well, if it isn't Ricky Nelson. I forgot you went to McKinley!"

"You know him?" Scott whispered harshly, his own countenance distinctly pale. Nate's eyes were already darting about, searching for an exit. The shock of losing their easy target, and so badly, seemed to have rattled them above and beyond the norm.

Rick nodded. "He... he's in my hockey league."

"Him? Is he good?" Rick answered the question with another nod. "You know he was a...?"

"Uh... Kinda? But I had no idea he..."

"How's the shoulder healing up?" Dave interrupted, his grin showing even more teeth as he leaned casually over the roof of Kurt's car. "Sorry about that check, dude, but you know, in the middle of a game... adrenaline and all that."

"Yes, Dave does get a little violent when he's... excited." Kurt shrugged. "It's been lovely talking to you boys, but surely your dates are missing you? Why don't you go inside and we can maybe chat again some other time?" As he spoke, Dave circled around the car and planted himself between Kurt and the hockey players, arms crossed with a dangerous glare.

"Y-yeah. Later. Sure." Scott turned to go, seeing at once that Rick and Nate were already practically running for the gym. Cursing them under his breath, he followed, very quickly.

Kurt watched them go, breathing a sigh of relief. "Well, why don't we..." He stopped. Dave was staring after them as well, an odd, pinched look on his face. He hadn't moved a muscle. "Dave...?"

"I did it right..." he whispered, a note of wonder creeping into his voice.

"Dave?"

"It... it happened again, and I did it right this time. I did it right and I protected you and you're safe..." He whirled towards Kurt with a desperate expression, as if searching for any hint that this wasn't reality. "You... you're okay, right?"

"I'm more than okay, Dave. In fact, I'm dying to dance."

The tension went out of Dave's posture at once. "Then we can't keep them waiting." He crooked his right arm, offering it to his date. Kurt smiled and took the proffered arm, and the two walked towards the gym together.

The decorations were sparse and a bit gaudy, but Dave expected that. The food was getting a little cold and the punch a little warm, but he expected that too. The music, however, was outstanding - and that too he expected, once he heard who was performing.

He only knew of four songs on the "official" set list, but various members of New Directions were planning on performing all evening, much of it numbers they'd already done at Sectionals or Regionals. At the moment, though, Puck, Artie, and Sam were performing that one YouTube song Trent had forwarded to all the other Warblers, and making it their own, in a weird way. He watched the writhing, jumping dance floor, his fingers tapping on his leg in rhythm with the music.

Kurt sat down next to him, the table empty except for the two of them. He carried a cup of punch and a small plate of finger food. "This," he pronounced, "is why we ate before we came."

Dave looked at the collection of pigs in a blanket, cheap and soggy french fries, and jello squares. "Yyyyeah, I'm good, thanks."

They watched in silence as Rachel took the stage. The band started up "Jar of Hearts," and the couples began holding themselves closer together.

I know I can't take one more step towards you...
'Cause all that's waiting is regret...

Kurt was deciding whether to dare a nibble of a greasy-looking chicken strip when an upturned hand intruded into his field of vision. He looked up to see Dave standing before him, smiling shyly. "Can I have this dance?" he asked softly.

"I..." Well, there it was. Decision time. Kurt knew he could say no, stop this right now, and Dave would understand, especially if he explained himself. They could get through this evening as friends and go home as friends, and let everything happen when it was meant to happen. He could be saving them both a lot of pain if he said no right now. It was certainly the rational, sane thing to do.

So, of course, he took Dave's hand and followed him to the dance floor. He wasn't even surprised anymore.

Dave's left hand clasped in Kurt's right, and their opposing arms around each other's waists, the two swayed gently with the other couples, surprisingly lost in the crowd. Not a single glance was spared at either of them that they could see, but part of the reason may have been dancing around them: Finn and Quinn to their left, Mike and Tina to their right, Blaine and Santana in front of Kurt, with Sam and Mercedes in front of Dave. Kurt nodded towards them; Dave returned with an "I saw them too" nod. Then they let the music take over once more. The only sensation they could feel was warmth: of their hands together, arms together, bodies together (well, not together together, but definitely close enough). It was almost, but not quite, uncomfortable.

"You... wanna know a secret?" Dave finally said softly.

Kurt looked up at him. "Hmm?"

"This... uh... this is the first time I've ever danced with a guy. Like this, I mean."

"Really? But..." Then Kurt remembered: Dave never got to that dance, did he? Kurt swallowed; a lump was in his throat all of a sudden for some reason. "And? How is it?" he managed to ask slyly.

"It..." Dave broke out into a warm smile. "It feels fucking awesome."

"Well, good. I'm glad I could give you that experience."

"Me too."

As they slowly turned, Dave found himself facing Blaine and Santana, who were clinging to each other like any normal two young people in love. "Is it true what you were telling me before... about Santana and... her name was Brittany, right?"

Kurt nodded. "They don't hide it as much with us."

"I... I'm not sure how to put this, but... Those two..." He nodded towards the "happy" couple. "...are a lot alike."

"Yes. They are."

Dave watched the other couple dance for a while longer. "But... they sure don't act like just a couple of beards, do they?"

"No," Kurt admitted.

"So what's going on with them...?"

"I have no idea..."

It was only seconds later (or at least, that's how it felt to them both) that the song ended. The two reluctantly parted, clapping for a teary-eyed Rachel with the rest of the floor. Santana replaced her to start up "Valerie" as Kurt and Dave returned to a table.

"That... that was..." Dave wiped his face with one hand. "Thanks, Kurt. This is already one of the best nights of my life."

Kurt felt a blush coming on. "You're welcome, Dave. I'm enjoying myself too."

"So... out of curiosity, who did you vote for prom court?"

"Finn and Quinn. Many dear friends were running, but I had to go with blood ties, such as they are."

Dave nodded, his smile fading a little. "Um, I'm not sure I should be bringing this up now, but... I have to admit... I'm kinda confused. No, I'm really confused. This... thing we have. You. Me." He waggled a pointing hand between the two of them. "I asked before what Santana and Anderson are to each other, and... I'm not sure I know what we are either."

Kurt groaned aloud. "I have a confession: I'm just as confused as you are."

"I had a feeling." Dave leaned back in his chair, the cheap plastic folding thing playing merry havoc with his back. "So what do we..."

"Do? We have a good time. We enjoy each other's company. We continue having the best night of your life, and maybe mine as well. Then we go home, we sleep, and we deal with our confusion with clear heads another time. And I promise that we will. How about that?"

"That... sounds pretty good, actually." Applause interrupted their reverie; Santana was giving a nod to the crowd and leaving the stage. The gathered dancers dispersed as the band tuned their instruments.

"I gotta go," Dave sighed reluctantly. "Get ready for my song."

"Break a leg," Kurt replied cheerily. With one last, longing look, Dave disappeared into the crowd; Kurt followed with his eyes as long as he could. When he couldn't anymore, he began searching for Finn and Quinn. Ah, there they were, next to the punch bowl. Finn was casting his own looks, as dirty as Santana's mouth, towards Jesse St. James and Rachel, who were standing near the stage. Now that was trouble; Kurt could feel it in his bones. He considered getting up and warning Finn, but decided it would be the ultimate in futile gestures; he just had to hope that Finn kept a lid on his temper.

A minor scuffle sounded behind him. He turned just in time to see Sue Sylvester forcibly wheeling Artie out of the room. He frowned; his eye caught Puck standing nearby, a look of panic evident in his features. What that was all about, he didn't know, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

After a few minutes of lounging and people watching (it was a twisted sort of fun, mercilessly judging the fashion tastes of high school girls), the band started up again. Kurt stood; Dave was on stage, Finn and Sam behind him. The music went up, and Dave began to sing.

AN: Lousy place to leave off, I know, but it's the halfway mark, and it seemed appropriate. :) One lesson I've learned, BTW: I will not be posting a chapter next Tuesday or Wednesday (if I'm still posting these by then). No more getting lost in the shuffle for me!

The rest of the prom next time!