Part 3

"I just want some damned Twizzlers." Kurt curses under his breath and pushes his cart around the cardboard display of candy hearts. The abundance of pink and red is pressing against his nerves like a bad knot. The jar of tomato sauces falls from its spot at the top of the frozen vegetables and crashes into his bread as he jerks his cart to the side, narrowly avoiding an accident with a bleach-blonde woman and her toddler. "Can't anything go right?" He grabs his bread and looks at the smashed side. A sigh escapes his lips as he contemplates the fight back to the bread aisle.

Why I did I wait until the day before Valentine's to go grocery shopping?If it had been just him, Kurt would have gotten by with the bottle of pineapple rum, the bag of celery, and the box of Raisin Bran in the pantry. Shopping for Burt and Carole, plus stocking the small kitchenette at the shop is a whole other story. He's been at Giant Eagle for the better part of an hour, and only half the items on his list are in his shopping cart. I'm to need a cocktail when I get home.

Kurt tosses the a bread back into the cart and glances down the aisle towards the display of Twizzlers. There's a gray-haired woman with a mountain of dog food, browsing leisurely through the Kit-Kat and Snicker's shelf. Her cart blocks half the aisle. Further ahead, a step away from the Twizzlers, is a broad shouldered man in a Buckeye t-shirt. Kurt grits his teeth and attempts to ease his cart around both the old woman and man. He makes it past the woman with a little fancy driving, but the edge of his cart clips the man's, forcing a collision with the guy's hip.

"Sorry." Kurt yanks his cart backwards as the man turns.

"Kurt?" the guy says. "Kurt Hummel?"

Surprise flutters through Kurt's chest and he looks the man over. He's a little softer in the middle, and he has a little less hair, but it doesn't take more than moment recognize him. "David?"

Dave's eyes crinkle as he smiles. Any lingering doubt of the man's identity vanishes. "Holy shit. I didn't expect to see you here!" He eases around his shopping cart and holds out his hand. Kurt gives in to the social nicety and shakes.

"I'm in town helping my dad with the shop," Kurt says.

Dave smiles again and drags his hand through his hair. Kurt can't help but notice that there are no rings on his fingers. His hand drops to his side and he says, "How long are you in town? We should get coffee and catch up."

Coffee with David Karofsky, Kurt thinks. A strange sort of tickle rattles through his stomach. "Uh, sure," Kurt says. He glanced at his watch and winces at the time. "I really need to finish shopping, and I need to spend a few hours at the shop, but how about tonight? Sevenish?"

"Sounds good," Dave says. He pulls his phone from his back pocket. "What your number in case anything comes up?"

They exchange numbers and Dave slides his phone away. "Can you do me a favor and toss me a package of Twizzlers?" Kurt asks.

Dave reaches out and grabs a bag. His biceps bulge under his shirt. A flash of heat burns behind Kurt's ears. It's been too damned long since I've had sex, Kurt thinks. "Thanks," he says as Dave holds out the candy. "I've been jonesing." Kurt lays them over the cans of Diet Coke and watches as Dave tosses a bag in his own cart.

"I pretty much like any candy," Dave says. He smiles, and Kurt finds himself returning the gesture.

Kurt tugs out his grocery list and glances at what he has left. "Wish me luck," he replies, waving his list.

Dave snorts. "Good luck. The grocery store is a dangerous place."

"It is!" Kurt defends. "The people here are vicious!"

The old lady shopping the chocolate up the aisle says, "Excuse me," stealing Kurt's attention.

He moves his cart, letting her by, and turns back to Dave. "Well, I'll see you later."

"I look forward to it."

###

Lima Bean is just as Kurt remembers- delicious smelling and full of teenagers. "The rumor mills will be flying tomorrow," Dave says. He sets Kurt's coffee on the table and takes the opposite seat. "Mr. Karofsky meeting with a strange man at the coffee shop."

Kurt takes a sip of his soy latte, letting the heat warm his insides. "My dad told me you're working at McKinley," Kurt says. It's more of a question than a statement.

"Yeah, its my third year as Athletic Director. I coach football and hockey and all of the other sports you hate," Dave jokes.

"Hey, I played on the football team!" Kurt says with a raised eyebrow.

Dave tiles his head, eyebrows dipping towards his nose. "Oh yeah, I forgot about your short little stint as the kicker. How long did that last? A couple of months?"

"Three weeks." Kurt takes another sip of his coffee.

Dave snorts. "You sports fanatic you."

A laugh tumbles from Kurt's lips. "When did you become so funny?"

"About the time I lost my virginity in college."

Coffee cartwheels down his windpipe. Kurt coughs until he can breathe again. "Wow, wasn't expecting that." He takes in the grin on Dave's face and says, "You've really lightened up over the years."

"It was either that or live a maniac cycle of depression and grief," Dave says with a shrug. "After high school I started seeing a therapist. She helped me accept myself. I started dating out in the open- keeping the people who brought me down out of my life. I've even been to a few Prides in Columbus."

Kurt shakes his head. "You'll have to give me a minute to process this new Dave with the one I remember from high school."

Dave drags his thumb along the edge of the table. "The bully Dave." His eyes are glued to his coffee.

"The sad, scared Dave," Kurt replies. Dave raises his head, looking at Kurt with disbelief. Kurt lifts his fingers. "Don't get me wrong. I remember those shoves into the lockers, but I forgave you for that a long time ago."

Dave ducks his head again. Pink colors his cheeks. After a moment he looks up and says, "You haven't changed at all. You're still the smartest, noblest man I know."

Butterflies explode in Kurt's stomach. Coherent thoughts slide from his ears to the tiled floor below. Unable to grasp words, Kurt does what he always does. He jokes. "I wouldn't say that I haven't changed." He pats his stomach. "I've gained like fifteen pounds in the last ten years."

A grin pulls at the corner of Dave's mouth. "Don't worry, it's a good look for you. I always thought you were a bit too skinny."

Kurt's face goes warm. His eyes flicker from the table to his cup and finally back to Dave. "Thanks," he says. "That's sweet of you to say." It's been ages, hell years, since Kurt's flirted with someone he knows. The two one-night stands he's had since Blaine were encouraged by gallons of alcohol. Before their split, well, Blaine was always the jealous type.

"So, uh," Dave says softly. He's sitting back in his chair, wrists against the edge of the table. "How have you been otherwise? I see your dad every so often, but we don't talk much. How's life in New York? And the husband? Did you leave him home to man the house?"

The question is a punch in the gut. His whole body tenses, and his jaw aches as his grinds his teeth together. Kurt has to force his mouth open to relieve the pressure and suck in air. Dave is looking at him, head tilted questionly. Did you leave him home to man the house? "Actually," Kurt says. Each word feels like an anvil. "Blaine and I divorced about nine months ago." His eyes begin to burn.

"Shit." Dave rubs at the back of his head. His eyes flicker to Kurt's left hand. Kurt catches the glance and drops his arms under the table. "I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"No," Kurt says, "I know." A laugh breaks out from a group of girls at the table behind them, and barrels into Kurt's chest like a battering ram. "I think I should go." He stands. "Thanks for the coffee Dave. It was great to catch up."

"Wait, you don't have to do that." Dave jumps up and holds out his hand.

"I really think I do." All of the earlier humor is gone from Dave's face, and he looks like he just killed his mother's cat. "Look, it's not your fault. Like you said, you had no idea. I just..." A boy walks past wearing a black blazer with red piping. His hair is dark and curly. "I need to go."

He bumps into the table next to them, mummbles sorry to the couple sitting there, and keeps going. "Kurt," Dave calls out. Kurt keeps walking.

"Kurt," he hears again.

I'm sorry, Kurt thinks. Guilt wells in his chest, but it's nothing in comparison to the grief choking his throat. He stuffs his hands into his coat pocket and heads home. He doesn't look back.