Dave sat on the couch, alone except for Pascal, who was lying on the other side looking at him. He had a book, but he hadn't really been able to focus on it. His attention kept wandering, mostly in the direction of Puck, as it had for most of the last twenty-four hours, but he couldn't even think about that properly. He didn't know what to start. It was all scenes and feelings, with no beginning or order. He'd tell Pascal about it, but the questioning look he gave him wasn't really enough to get him started.

There was one person who knew how to get him to talk, and wouldn't mind hearing some details. Dave took his phone from the table and, before there was time to change his mind, called Kurt. He picked up after a few seconds. "Hey," Dave said, "what are you doing?"

"Sitting still on the highway. It's almost pointless to have these speed limit signs when nobody goes faster than ten miles an hour anyway." Kurt didn't sound too perturbed, though. "And you?"

"Um, nothing much. Trying to read, but I thought I'd call you instead." He didn't quite know what to say. Kurt would probably know something was up - he was usually the one who called Dave, and not usually at this time - and they'd get to it eventually.

"It's good to hear from you. Regale me with tales of your new romance, David. I could use the inspiration of a good love story. Presuming things are still going well?"

"I'm not sure." He tried to massage some of the tension out of his forehead. "I mean...it's kind of new, and really confusing, but... it's good, too."

"What's the confusing part? Not that I'm an expert these days, but I'm happy to share my limited knowledge."

"Damn." Dave laughed. "I was counting on you to be the authority on dating guys. You know I always thought of you that way."

"That's very sweet, David, but I'm sad to say the life of a screenwriter isn't particularly conducive to romance. The hours alone play havoc with my moisturizing routine. Not much time for dinners or evenings together, either. But enough about me... you're getting along well? Tell me how it all started."

"Well...I'm not sure how much I told you the last time, but you know he's in my class. He brought me coffee, actually. And it just sort of...started from there. Dinner. The usual stuff. I guess except the part where he showed up in my office." Dave took a deep breath, not really wanting to go into detail about that. "He took me home to meet his sister. And. Um. Beth."

"Oh... Dave." Kurt sounded awed. "That's a big deal. Are you handling it reasonably well? I know how you are... you're not freaking out, are you?"

Dave snorted. "Not all the time? I mean, it happens. There were a few days...I was an idiot, didn't even call him, you know how I get. But he...I think he actually forgives me for that. You know, he's older and wiser now."

"I'm having a hard time imagining an older, wiser Puck. Tell me about him."

There was that grin again. Dave tried to compose himself. "Okay. Older, like you said. A little calmer than he used to be, I guess? You know he has his own business? Teaching karate? He's really good with the kids. It's kind of amazing to see him with..."

"David. David." Dave hoped Kurt was keeping his hold on the wheel, he sounded so agitated. "This isn't a few dates and some casual sex. What is going on here? Are you in love?"

"Um - yes?" The inner teenage girl who seemed to have taken over his brain was probably giggling or something. Saying it out loud, to someone else, made him giddy all over again. "Yeah. I guess it's really too soon to say that, but...yeah. I love him."

"Well." He heard Kurt take a deep breath, like a sigh. "I suppose, in a way, you've known him a long time. And I'm pleased to hear you're not trying to deny how you feel. That's very healthy. And I'm happy for you. I'm just... concerned, perhaps. I don't want you to get hurt, jumping into something you might not be prepared for."

"What, you think he's going to break my heart or something?" Kurt's sudden lack of enthusiasm was an almost painful change in mood, but Dave was mostly offended. "Because actually, if you should be worried about anyone, it's probably him, not me. He's not who you remember from high school, Kurt. Or, you know what? Maybe he is. Maybe we were just wrong about him back then."

"Whoa, there, partner. You're going somewhere I really wasn't intending to go with that." Kurt was far too calm for someone sitting in Los Angeles traffic. "I didn't mean anything about Puck. I'm worried about you. You're my friend. New relationships can be challenging, even under the best of circumstances. I just wanted to be sure you were doing all right."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry." Dave sighed. "I guess I've turned into one of those guys. You know, what did you say about my boyfriend? There was an...incident, with a tow truck driver."

"Your - what?"

"My what - oh. Boyfriend. Yeah. I didn't mention that, did I." Dave was suddenly nervous that Kurt would declare that was silly; nobody had a real boyfriend after two weeks. He wanted to defend himself, but...should he really have to? What if Kurt was right?

Kurt cleared his throat. "Well... it sounds like you're doing more than all right. I never thought... you've made a lot of progress since we last talked. I'm proud of you, honey."

"Thank you." Really, considering what Kurt knew about Dave's earlier attempts at relationships...he couldn't blame him. Dave glanced at the flower arrangement on the table. It had arrived that morning, along with a note that read Sorry for the confusion, thinking of you. "He, uh, sent me flowers. I really don't know what that's all about."

"All right." Kurt sighed. "What did you do?"

"What did I do?" Dave felt a little indignant. "He's the one who sent me flowers."

"Yes, and obviously, if you don't know what's going on, you did something. What was it?"

Dave put a hand on Pascal, feeling him start purring immediately. He rubbed against Dave's fingers. At least somebody here knows what he wants. "Um. I guess I freaked out again. I just...I couldn't do what he needed me to do, and I almost just left him there. He had to calm me down."

"What did he need you to do?" Kurt sounded curious, but surprisingly not too pushy.

And there they were again, running into the exact thing that got him in trouble in the first place: Dave's inability to just say things, like a normal person. "He - I guess sometimes he needs me to be in control? And that's fine, but...he asks me to tell him what I want, and I can't do it."

"You can't ask him, or you can't figure out what you want?"

"Mostly I can't get the words out. Or even put them together in my head." Dave sighed. "I mean, it's not like I always know exactly what I want, but... there are things, even if I'm not sure exactly which one, and...obviously I want things. That's not really the problem." So what the hell is your problem? All you need is to get over yourself and stop being such an idiot.

"David. I think you need to be patient with yourself, here. For how many years did you struggle with being able to even say what you wanted at all, much less to ask your lover for it?"

"Yeah, I guess." He didn't really want to go there, but Kurt had a point. It had taken years to even admit, to himself, in his head, that he might like to kiss a boy. How could this not be hard? He just wasn't very good at any of it.

"Yes. And although I can't begin to imagine the reasons why Puck might need... what you said, I do think you have the strength to give it to him. If you really want to." Kurt's voice was gentle. "But I really think you need to ask yourself, are you're doing it for yourself, or for him?"

Dave groaned. "How would I even know? I'm too fucked up to try."

"Hey," snapped Kurt. "Quit that. This is me, right? You're no more fucked up than anyone else."

He took a deep breath. "What? Of all people, you should know. God."

"You think you're the only one to be confused by things you want? Really, David, I struggled with that for a long time, too. Desires aren't really rational, are they?" He sounded a little bitter. "You're a compelling man, even under challenging circumstances. Lots of people would have told me I was crazy for wanting you after what happened between us. It didn't stop me, though, did it?"

"Um." Dave had never quite been able to believe that, even if he sort of knew it was true. "I kind of think that was crazy. Maybe a little fucked up. After what I did - that was so far over every line."

"You said it yourself, that night in Breadstix. You were finally able to start asking for what you wanted. That was a huge step, don't you think?"

Dave laughed bitterly. "If that's what asking for what I want is? I don't think I should be trying too hard to learn. I'm still sorry I did that. It was...clueless and inappropriate and I should never have put you in that position."

"Oh, I don't know. I think it was kind of romantic." Kurt was clearly teasing, but he could hear a note of seriousness, too. "If you hadn't done that - I mean, yes, the consequences were terrible, and I never would have wished that on you, or anyone - but I wonder if we would have even been friends, if you hadn't. And that would have been a shame."

"Yeah." Maybe more of a shame for him than for Kurt, but...they'd had that argument enough times.

"My point is, David, you stood for what you wanted, no matter how much you were struggling with it. If you want someone - something so much, you really need to say so. You need to figure out exactly what it is you want, with Puck, or anyone. And you're the only one who really knows that." He paused. "You said you love him?"

Dave had no idea what to say to any of that, but he could handle a simple question. "Yes," he answered, maybe a little impatiently.

"And you're attracted to him. You want him?"

"What do you think? Of course I'm attracted to him. He's...yes."

"There's no accounting for taste, David. If I recall correctly, there was a time you were attracted to me, too. All right. So if you sat down and made a list - not that I'm asking you to do this, exactly - of all the things you like about him, that are appealing to you, I bet you could find a way to... appreciate, perhaps, all of those things. Then you'd have a chance to ask, or in this case, to tell, him what you want." He sounded a little tense. "Does that make sense?"

It should make sense. It sounded logical. "I guess." He wanted, a little bit, to be whiny and stubborn and say he couldn't imagine ever doing any of that, which was true, but he didn't really have the patience to listen to it, even from himself. "It's just really hard for me. But I think the only way is to suck it up and do it."

Kurt sighed. "I just wonder, David... if it's that hard, if it's that challenging for you... is it worth it? Is it really what you want, or are you just trying to convince yourself of that?"

"You mean...look, Kurt, this isn't really about Puck, or about what he wants, is it? It makes it really obvious, yeah, and I'm sure - I could have ignored it, if I was with someone who didn't ask...but it would still be a problem."

When he wasn't freaking out, the rational, mature part of him knew that. He kind of hated that part, sometimes, but it was usually right.

"In that case, this sounds like a perfect opportunity for you to work through this. If it's something you want, and he wants, then... that's good, right?" There was a muffled sound. "David - I'm sorry, I think I have to go. I'll call you later this week and - and see how you're doing."

"Okay," Dave said, a little startled. "I'll be here."

"All right. Good luck." The call cut off, and Dave was left staring at the phone, wondering what had happened.

Whatever it was, the feeling he was left with - ignoring whatever what up with Kurt - was that he needed to talk to Puck. He had to face this head on. Dave suddenly saw that he'd been so absorbed in his own freakout, he had barely worried about Puck, except as a source of more guilt. He didn't even put the phone down, he just found Puck's number and called.

"I was wondering if you were going to call me," said Puck's voice, warm and smiling. "Or maybe I should have - but thanks."

"No, I should have called sooner. I - um, I got your flowers. So...thank you. But, listen. I thought...I wanted to apologize, I guess, for freaking out, and for not explaining? Because the flowers sort of seemed like you thought something was your fault. And...I don't think so. So, I don't know. I know it's a long drive but...if you wanted to. I'd like to see you."

Puck sounded pleased. "Yeah, yeah, I want to. I can be on my way in just a few minutes, if that's all right. This rental car has a much better sound system than my truck. An hour and a half - that's going to feel like nothing."

Dave let out a relieved breath. "Okay. Great. I'll see you then."

Dave tried to fill the intervening time as best as he could, with a quick run and a shower. Regardless, it definitely felt like longer than an hour and a half by the time Puck rang his doorbell. Dave had a fleeting image of himself, handing Puck a house key, but that vanished quickly into the realm of really stupid ideas. Dave smiled, holding the door open for Puck, and accepted his kiss as he stepped into the family room.

"Hey, man," Puck said easily, but Dave recognized the relief on his face, and knew he had been worried. "I wasn't sure if it might not be another one of those weeks when you disappear for a couple days and I don't hear from you."

"Not this week," Dave said with a smile. "I must be learning."

"Must be," Puck agreed. He walked over and touched the flowers on the table. "Hey... they did a good job. It looks a lot nicer than I'd expected. What did you think of the Fibonacci arrangement?"

"The... what do you mean?"

Puck raised an eyebrow. "Man, you really must have been out of it for you not to have noticed. You know how the Fibonacci series shows up in nature all over the place, fractals and all that. I was reading about it, and I figured, a flower arrangement, right?" He shrugged. "Well, I couldn't figure out a way to represent the 1, 1, 2 part of the series, so I had them throw in one each of an orchid and an iris, and two roses. Then there's the lilies, with three petals. The pinks have five. Delphiniums have eight petals, marigolds have thirteen... aster have twenty-one, chrysanthemum have thirty-four and the two kinds of Michaelmas daisies have 55 and 89 petals. I haven't found anything that has a hundred and forty f- mmmmph."

Dave didn't let him say anything after that for a long while. The next words spoken between them came from Dave, and by then, they were wearing significantly less clothing.

"That was really fucking awesome of you, you know that?"

Puck chuckled, a little breathlessly, which was no wonder considering his position. "Well, you know, it's easy to do stuff like that, when you love somebody."

Dave touched his face with his free hand. "It's not always easy," he said. "But it's always worth it."


There was no way Dave would have answered the phone for anyone else at three in the morning, but it was Kurt's ringtone, and after that awful day, they had promised each other they'd always pick up each other's calls. He scrambled for his robe, which was still on the chair instead of on its hook, because Puck had left it there the other night and neither of them had had any reason for robes last night. "Kurt? What's going on? It's the middle of the night."

"Always the master of the obvious, David." Kurt's voice was swimming in that caustic humor it sometimes got when he was trying to impress somebody, or make them believe he was more confident than he really was. Dave couldn't imagine anyone would be there at three AM for Kurt to impress. Although it was only midnight there, so maybe...?

"Are you alone?" He eased the door shut behind him and stepped into the hallway, tying the belt of the robe around his waist.

Kurt's laugh was genuine, enough that Dave smiled at first without knowing why. Then he heard the hurt behind it, and he stopped smiling. "Always, David. You shouldn't even bother asking by now. And I know the answer you'd give if I were to ask you the same question."

"Yeah. Uh, he's asleep, though, so... what's up?" He tried to imagine why Kurt might be calling him at midnight on a Saturday. "Didn't you go to that club tonight?"

"Another question with an obvious answer, if you were to see how I'm dressed. Or if you were to smell my breath." The word breath was spoken long and drawn out, almost as though it had another meaning. There was no double entendre Dave could ascertain there, but he paused long enough to think about it that Kurt began reassuring him. "Oh, don't worry your pretty little head over me. I was perfectly safe. I took a cab, and I didn't drink a ridiculous amount."

"How much did you drink?" he asked, uneasily.

"Just enough, David. Just enough."

Kurt was cryptic enough when he wasn't drunk. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing I'm not used to dealing with. It was a banner night at Circus Disco. I got hit on by three complete losers, one hot Lothario and one closeted businessman. I danced for two and a half hours and drank four overpriced drinks - well, almost four; I spilled a little of the fourth one on the businessman so I could escape; god, David, his hands - and then I called a taxi and came home. Alone. Again."

"Yeah. You know I don't really get why you do this." Dave switched on the dimmest light in the kitchen, just enough to keep him from tripping over Pascal's food dish, and poured himself a glass of water from the tap. "It never sounds like a fun way to spend a Saturday night to me."

"Well, you know what?" snapped Kurt. "It's not."

Dave paused with the water halfway to his lips. "Okay," he said slowly. "Kurt... it's too late for subtlety. Can you just tell me what's going on?"

"Mmmm. That's a very good question, David. What is going on? I would say it's the same thing that's been going on for seven years. I'm very sure it hasn't stopped going on." Kurt hummed a few bars of that old Celine Dion song from Titanic, and Dave wasn't sure if he should laugh or not, but he did, anyway, because it was Kurt and Kurt loved an audience.

"What goes on?" he asked doggedly. Eventually Kurt would get tired of this game and explain it to him. Until then, he just had to -

"I'm in love, David."

Dave set the water glass down, carefully, on the counter. "Really." He tried again. "That's great, Kurt. Tell me about him."

Kurt laughed again. "Well, that's the funny thing. I don't know if you'd even recognize him anymore. He's changed a lot. Matured, you might say."

"This is a guy I know? Knew? You're - Kurt, don't tell me you're trying things again with Blaine." Dave pulled a chair out from the table and sank into it, all set to talk Kurt out of it again, but Kurt's derisive snort let him relax a little.

"I hope I learned my lesson the last time. No, Blaine and I are really better friends than anything else, no matter how many times we - ahem."

Dave didn't believe Kurt's polite cough for one second. He was as full of innuendo as any other guy; he just made it sound prettier when he told you dirty jokes. "So, not Blaine. I don't think you want me to go down the list of guys we both know from our past? I mean, more than half of them are straight and the other half hated my guts."

"Well, this one still hates your guts occasionally. Probably more than is healthy. But he's definitely not straight." Now Kurt sounded tired. "You know what? I think I'm too drunk to have this conversation."

"I think you're too drunk not to," Dave protested. "Come on, Kurt, you can't dangle this in front of me at three in the morning and then not give me something."

There was a pause. Dave thought Kurt might be laughing. "There's... just no good answer to that, David. Not one that won't get me into a whole hell of a lot of trouble."

"Well, of course it's your business. I mean, you know that I know all about secrets. If you can't tell this one, I get it... but if you want to talk, I'll listen, and I won't tell anybody."

"Oh, you'll tell. You wouldn't be able to not tell him. He's in your house right now."

It was as though someone had dumped the entire glass of cold water over Dave's head. He sat straight up, feeling the heat come from inside his gut. "No. No way. You - Puck?" And for one awful, horrible moment, he could see it: Kurt's teasing smile, holding out his hands to Puck, flirting shamelessly back and forth, trading casual insults, both so fucking beautiful he could just scream, their arms around each - no. He gritted his teeth. Please, for once, can't I be the guy who gets what he wants? "You can't be in love with -"

"Jesus Christ, it's not Puck." Kurt was pissed now, and Dave stopped, because he had no idea what was going on. "I swear, you're such an idiot sometimes."

"Hey," Dave said, stung. Then he heard the noise again, and he realized Kurt wasn't laughing. He was crying. "Hey," he said again, more softly this time. "It's okay."

"It's not okay," Kurt said. "Not okay by a long shot, David."

It took much longer than it should have, but very slowly, it all clicked into place. Damn. Okay, maybe Kurt had an excuse for making this so hard. "You mean...Fuck. It's me?" It was hard to believe, but it had to be. There was no other explanation, and Kurt wouldn't sound like that if he wasn't serious.

"Give the man a gold star," muttered Kurt.

"Kurt," he whispered. "Why didn't you say something?"

Dave heard him sigh bitterly. "You're not the only one who has trouble asking for the things you want."

He had no idea what to say, but questions were flooding through his mind. He asked the first one. "How long... ?"

"What, you want an exact date? I suppose I could let you read my diaries from high school, if you want to dredge all that ancient history back up. Let's just say... a long time."

"But - all the way back then? You could have... you could have said." He felt almost petulant. "I mean, we could have..."

"Yeah. David. Let's try imagining this conversation with my dad, because God knows I've replayed it enough times in my head. Me: Dad, remember that boy who used to torment me and draw on Finn's face with permanent marker? Yeah, I can't stop thinking about him. Dad: all right, Kurt, I'm going to make an appointment for you to see my psychiatrist." He laughed, entirely without humor. "Me: No, Dad, I'm telling you, I'm in l-"

"Kurt," Dave interrupted, feeling a little panicked.

"Uh-huh. Wait, it gets better. Dad: What about Blaine? I thought you guys were, like, a forever thing. Me: Well, the funny thing is, when Blaine told me he was in love with me, I kind of freaked out and couldn't say anything. And when David told me he was in love with me, I kind of - do you see a pattern here?"

Dave tried to swallow, but he couldn't even make his fingers lift the glass of water.

"So now, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to hang up, and go to bed, and in the morning we're going to pretend I never -"

"No," he protested.

"Trust me, David, it's better this way. It'll all be okay; we've been friends for too long. Give me a few days and it'll be like I never drunk-dialled you with this hopeless sob story. Really, it wouldn't even make a good movie, and I know what I'm talking about there."

"No -", he began, because it was all wrong, it shouldn't be this way. "No, Kurt..." That was as far as he got, though, because really, what could he say.

"Yes. It has to be like this. Unless you can tell me, right now, that you'd rather be with me than with... anyone else." He sighed. "And I know you can't tell me that. So - goodnight, David, and please, don't worry about me. It'll be all right."

"Yeah, I know you will, but... I'm just sorry, that it's not different."

"Me, too. Thank you. Let's both see if we can get some sleep, okay?"

The kitchen was silent for all too short a time before Dave heard sounds on the stairs. He didn't turn around to look.

"What was that all about?" Puck asked, pulling up a chair of his own and flipping it around to sit backwards at the table. Dave was somewhat relieved he'd paused to put on his boxers, because Puck was distracting enough without a shirt on. "That was Kurt, wasn't it?"

Dave nodded. He was still a bit stunned. "Yeah."

Puck watched him for a moment, then reached out and touched his hand. "You okay?"

"Sure. Yeah." He actually thought he was, now. "He'd just...I guess he'd been drinking a bit, and was thinking about the past." He shrugged. "It'll be okay."

"Well, whatever it was, it can wait until morning, huh?" His tired eyes were steady on Dave. "You want me to make you some tea, or can I get you to come back to bed?"

For a bare second, Dave saw Kurt sitting there at the table, Kurt reaching out his hands to touch Dave's, Kurt offering to make him tea, to take him back to bed. Then the image was gone, leaving a very real Puck there in front of him. "Yes," he said, smiling a little. "You can."