Chapter 4.
After a few more nights of confusing, all-consuming, and even sexual dreaming about Kurt, Dave wakes with a start as his alarm clock goes off. His head races and in return, his lungs work overtime to calm his heart down. He takes a few ragged breaths, wiping at the sheen of sweat from his brow. He glances over at the window, finding the day sunny and inviting.
Dave glances over at his roommate, and he's thankful that he wound up getting classes earlier than Kurt (even though he initially didn't want them; he wanted to sleep in until, like, ten or noon, but the thing she wanted to take were strictly morning classes), because this means he can get the hell out of dodge before Kurt wakes up and showers.
Throwing off his covers and getting up stiffly from bed, the jock stretches. He idly scratches at his chin before stumbling into the bathroom to run a toothbrush over his teeth and rinse out that disgusting morning-breath flavor from his mouth with Listerine.
He re-applies deodorant, sprays on a touch of cologne, and gets dressed in the bathroom (too self-conscious to have Kurt stir awake and catch him changing). Then he's grabbing his backpack, already full of supplies, and heading out the door with his keys in his hand, locking it politely behind him.
And he's on his way to his first class, thankful that he decided to scout out his schedule before college actually started, because now he knows precisely where he's going.
XXX
Before his class that follows lunch, Kurt stops into the mailroom to check for any packages, since he still wants his stuffed rabbit, and he got an e-mail just yesterday from his parents saying that they shipped Bunny-Hops to him.
Sure enough, when he checks his assigned mailbox, there's a cardboard box in there, and Kurt gleefully takes it into his hands and trots back to his dorm room temporarily, if only to hide his treasure. He doesn't want to open it later when Karofsky might be around.
Unfortunately, the universe seems to hate poor Kurt Hummel, because as soon as he unlocks the door and springs into the room, Karofsky is there, switching out books from his backpack.
"Oh. Hi, Hummel," Karofsky addresses vaguely as he glances up briefly. His eyes return to his task. "What cha got there?"
"Nothing of your concern," Kurt replies suspiciously as he hides the object behind his back. He struts over to his bed and stuffs the box into the small compartment above his bed with a sliding door in the wood, a lock on one side. He locks it up. "Just a package from home."
Dave raises an eyebrow. "That so? And how come I can't see it? Are you so distrusting of me that you refuse to let me see what your parents sent you?" Suddenly, the jock grins devilishly. "Unless it's not from your parents at all, and it's actually from a magazine or the web, and it's some sort of sex toy for yourself," and he laughs like it's absurd, imaging Kurt being dirty.
Kurt flushes a deep, rich crimson. "Shut your mouth, Karofsky! It's nothing of the sort! How can you even think I would, no, that I could bring myself to ever even purcha–"
"Chill out, Hummel," Dave snorts, zipping up his backpack with force. "I was only kidding."
Kurt sputters for a second, and then places a hand on his hip. "Well, I highly disapprove of your sense of humor," he sniffs, "It's inappropriate and disconcerting."
"A joke is a joke, Kurt. God. Not all of my jokes are like that. It's just amusing to think you'd want to hide something from me; sorry if I mistook your sneaky behavior for keeping something less than innocent when it's in fact something plenty innocent."
"I just… don't want you to steal it," he lies, because really, he just doesn't want to get teased and embarrassed. He would probably get the same treatment if the package truly were something akin to a vibrator or a dildo or something, but it's not, so… Kurt shakes his head. "I've got to get to class." But as he starts to make his exit, he freezes. "Did you call me 'Kurt'?"
Dave pauses. "So what if I did?"
Kurt blinks, turning to peer over his shoulder at his roommate. "Nothing. It's just… nicer than hearing my last name or some homosexual slur."
The taller boy blinks as well, and then slings his backpack over his shoulder. He takes a few steps toward Kurt. The boy steps aside to let him pass, but before Dave does, he says, "You know, the same goes for me, too. It wouldn't kill you to call me 'Dave.' It's better than some reference to my intelligence you clearly think poorly of, since as you can tell by the way I'm talking right now, I'm actually not a moron. I read. Partly because I have to, and partly because, before you showed up at McKinley, I was actually a pretty smart kid."
And then he exits, pacing down the length of the hallway past all the other dorm rooms. And once again, Kurt is left standing here, wondering what had just transpired.
XXX
"How're things working out?" Mercedes asks over the phone to Kurt later that evening. "Your first day of the full college experience was today, I remember you tellin' me."
"Yeah…" Kurt sighs. "I already have homework, but it's minor. Didn't college start for you last week?"
"Yup," Mercedes chimes in. "And I've been having tater tots in their cafeteria all week. It's awesome."
"If you're not careful, Merce, you could gain the Freshman Fifteen."
"Honey, I already gained the Freshman Fifty before high school. At this point, do you really think I care?"
The boy laughs. "No, I suppose not."
"Exactly. And anyway, there's this cute guy in my Psych 101 class, and he asked me out. So take that, America! Who says I need to go on a diet to get guys to like me?" she says sassily, and succeeds in making another giggle erupt from her best friend.
"Okay, okay," Kurt laughs, "You've made your point. And speaking of points, where's Miss Angular, your skinny, makes-Barbie-look-like-a-fat-whore roommate?"
"Oh, Angular Angela as I've been so fondly calling her, is out at the moment, probably snogging her boyfriend; if you don't mind the British phrase being used," the other relays with an obvious eye-roll in her tone. "What about you? Is Killer Karofsky giving you some time to yourself, too?"
Kurt snorts. "Hardly. I'm the one who's out at the moment. He's might be in a class – I don't know, we didn't really compare schedules outside of 'when's your first class in the morning, because I don't want to get up and shower when you have to.'" He shrugs his shoulders and leans backward on the bench he's parked himself on in outside of a store in a shopping center. His long legs stretch out in front of him, his feet crossed at the ankles. "Oh, and I got my bunny today! He came in the mail. But I can't open the package and retrieve him until the Big Bad Wolf is asleep or gone, because that'd just be humiliating."
"You're the one who wanted your bunny at college," Mercedes reminds. "Although I can't blame you. That thing is damn adorable. And so fluffy, despite how old it is!"
"I took good care of my toys, for the most part," Kurt smiles. "And now I need one again, just to keep a piece of home with me and help spare me the anguish. I can squish all of my angst into the lovable stitching, and it'll be nice to have something to hold onto while I sleep."
"I swear, you are such a girl sometimes, Kurt. And I just love it," Mercedes giggles. "Why don't you have a boyfriend, again? There has to be more gay guys around than you're finding, because it's just a shame all your sweetness and fashion sense and overall cuteness is going to waste!"
Kurt flushes magenta. "Don't, Merce. You're making me feel silly."
"Sorry, hun. You know I love you," she informs playfully, "But you're just too fun to make fun of. I mean, you deserve somebody, Kurt! So why don't you get out there and go after him? He could be anybody. I'm surprised he wasn't Blaine."
"Blaine and I are too alike, I told you already," Kurt mumbles. He sighs. "And besides, I'm perfectly comfortable with focusing on my studies at the moment. I have enough stress with starting college right and dealing with my closet-case ex-bully for a roommate. I don't need any more drama, let alone interacting with a BF." He grins. "Although there was this one guy, Jason, at a Starbucks, who I flirted with. He was Irish and so0o0o yummy that I just couldn't help myself," he says, giggling a little. "But I think he might've been straight. He smiled at me, but he was being polite, I think."
"Too bad," Mercedes sighs, "He sounds dreamy. I love Irish accents. Actually, I love accents in general. I wish I had more than that… weird Midwestern accent."
"Amen to that, sista," Kurt replies. "Oh! Hold on, Mercedes. I've got another call." He glances at the his caller ID. It's Burt. "On second thought, I'll call you back. It's Dad. TTYL!"
"See ya, Kurt!" and she hangs up.
"Hello?" Kurt answers.
"Hey, son. Just checking in. Did you get your stuffed animal and the cookies Carole sent?"
"Cookies?" Kurt smiles, happy upon hearing this new information. "Yeah, I got it, but I didn't open it up yet. I get to have cookies?"
Burt chuckles, "Yes, of course. Carole thought you'd like some of the snickerdoodles and peanut butter cookies Finn requested we send him. You can even use them as a peace offering to that grump of a roommate of yours," he tells his son. "I'm still highly annoyed by that. I wish I could snatch you up and take you away from him, since he's such a dick, but –"
"No, Dad, it's okay," Kurt says with a light sigh. "I think things might get better, and as it stands as this very second, Karof– I mean, Dave – hasn't hurt me or anything. He's barely even made a comment about my sexuality, as far as slurs go. I think the peer pressure of high school got to him at the time, because even though he's still very much of an asshole, I think he has the potential to be less of one."
Burt seems to smile on the other end of the line. "That's great to hear, son."
"Well, Dad, I should really go. It's getting late and I should be getting back to the dorm to eat something and get ready for bed. One of my classes starts a bit earlier tomorrow." And while this last bit is a lie, Kurt is getting sleepy all of a sudden.
"Okay, Kurt. Goodbye and goodnight." And then he, too, is hanging up.
Kurt sticks his phone in his pocket and gets up from the bench, making his way back to his car. He cranks up the music in it on the way back, and by the time he reaches his dormitory, most of the streetlights have come on during the late summer sunset.
The soprano bursts in the apartment, chucking his keys into the basket on his desk by the door.
"Hey," Dave mutters from his place on his bed, looking over a printed packet of lengthy text.
"Hey," Kurt greets dully. He glances at Dave. "Homework on the first day for you, too?"
Dave nods. "Yeah. It's an intro packet about the class and what we need to start learning and stuff. It's like high school all over again, these stupid gen ed classes," he grumbles, referring to his general education version of history, which is what he currently is holding in his hands. "What do you have to do?"
Kurt locks the door and shrugs off the thin zip-up hoodie he'd been wearing; despite the nice weather, there still had been a breeze that reminded Kurt that an Ohio fall is just a few weeks away. "I have to read something as well. Nothing major."
"Hn," Dave hums in reply, and watches with secret interest over the rim of his packet (that he's only skim-reading anyhow) as Kurt bends over to retrieve something from his backpack. He then climbs onto his bed, and Dave tries not to think about how sexy it kind of looks, and then adverts his eyes once Kurt is settled at the head of his bed, turning to glance over at his roommate.
"…Dave?" Kurt addresses, and his roomie was right when he said that it wouldn't kill Kurt to say the name.
The hockey player feels himself become rigid at the sound of his first name on Kurt's lips. He's never heard it come from the shorter male before, and he really likes the sound of it. "Yeah?" he grunts, trying to act like he hadn't reacted to finally being called something other than 'Neanderthal' or 'Karofsky.'
"Uh… I'm… sorry, about earlier. We seem to always push each other's buttons, and I don't like it. I know we'll probably never be friends, but… I want to at least get along all right. We have to live together for an entire year, and within a week I've somehow managed to drive you to drink and you're succeeded in making me second-guess myself twice, which is an incredibly rare feat." Twice, Kurt has asked himself, 'what just happened?' and wondered what could have happened if he'd said something different to Karofsky.
Dave shrugs and sets down his packet, choosing to lean backward against his headboard. He blows air out his mouth. "I guess… I'm sorry, then, too," he mutters. He runs his hand through his short chocolate-colored hair. "So… does this mean we're, like, official acquaintances? Or something?"
"Or something," Kurt agrees, smiling, and the way his smile looks causes Dave's breath to hitch in his throat.
Dave quickly diverts his gaze and picks up his packet to distract himself. "Cool."
A/N: Progress, progress... but we're not out of the deep water just yet, kiddies. We can't be, not when there's so much loathing underneath it all. Or just well-disgused loving. Hurm. ;P
Also: HOLY FLYING PSYCHO COWS WITH DEVIL HORNS! The support from all of you is overwhemling! I'm about five chapters in (if you count the prologue), and already I have 50 reviews on the dot and 47 alerts and 18 favs! YOU GUYS MAKE ME SO VERY FUZZY AND WARM INSIDE. 8D