A/N: Like I told a few reviewers last chapter, you guys should know not to worry about Jason or the strawberry blond. They are simply OC characters I plan on using for dramatic purposes and then disposing of like a dirty condom. So no worries, eh?

On another note, enjoy more Dave and Kurt interaction. This chapter gets a little heated at one point, but it's brief and cute. (LOL, I just love the M-rating! It lets me do whatever my inner fangirl is pleased to do without worrying about much control. I just hope that I'm not losing the flow and am instead only keeping the sexual tension/passion? Eh heh heh...)

MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE! (Sorry if you celebrate something else or nothing at all, but Christmas is what I celebrate, so it's what I tell people. Haha, I am so awful; I respect other religions and all, but dammit, I will not be politically corrected just because I do have a religion I practice! :0 ) -rant. rant. rantttt. SORRY.

Chapter 11.

"You won't believe what happened to me today," Kurt groans the following week as soon as Dave returns from hockey practice. He has a game this weekend, and his team is getting in as much time as they can before it in order to perfect their plays.

"Do tell," Dave grunts as he strips off his sweaty shirt and limps into the bathroom, his muscles sore. Skating so much really takes it out of him. He starts running a bath, a steaming hot one, despite how warm he feels. But his muscles need it, even if his skin is on fire.

Kurt leans against the doorway, his arms crossed, while Dave sits on the closed lid of the toilet seat, watching the bathwater fill up. "I went with Blaine to Starbucks, and I know I told you he tried asking me out, but before you get jealous –"

"I'm never jealous of that guy," Dave lies gruffly.

Kurt ignores the remark and continues gracefully, "– We were only out as friends, getting some new clothes since I grew a little bit recently. I don't know if you've taken any notice, but I'm nearly a tall as you now." He smiles. "Anyway, we were getting some coffee and that Irish guy, Jason, was working the register. It was so weird, Dave; Jason got one look at Blaine and grinned really broadly, and in his accent, asked who my friend was. And I was so relieved, because I was thinking, 'Maybe this will get both of them off of my back.' But they clicked instantly, and now I'm a little peeved because Blaine just abandoned me and out time together to go on a spontaneous get-to-know-you-better date with Jason after his shift ended. How rude is that?"

"Very," Dave mutters, only saying it because he knows it's what Kurt wants to hear.

Kurt makes a gesture with his hands. "I know, right? It's such a douchebag move to make, too: ditching a friend for a guy. I never knew how frustrating it was when it happens to girls until it happened to me." He shakes his head. "I swear, sometimes I don't even know why I'm still friends with Blaine. He's so incredibly self-centered, even more so than I am! And as endearing I think him and Jason make as a couple, it makes me want to never speak to either of them again and get my coffee elsewhere." The soprano sulks and places his hands on his hips as a pout consumes his facial features. He takes a couple steps into the bathroom and leans against the sink. "What do you think, Dave?"

"I think, 'so long and good riddance,'" the hockey jock retorts with a jeering puff of air. "You don't need either one of those dweebs. One of them is just some random transfer student and the other is a pretentious prick. Stick with your gleeky friends, Kurt. They suit you better, and most of them actually give a damn and have a soul. Unlike Blaine, who only does things if there's something in it for him."

"You don't know that," Kurt murmurs partially in his mentor's defense, although he can't deny some of what his boyfriend said. He nibbles on a fingernail between his lax lips for a moment. Dropping his hand, he notices that the tub is nearly ready. "I'll leave you to your soaking. Feel free to use some of my bath salts for your skin. It helps." And he turns to leave, but Dave catches him by the shirttail.

"Wait, Kurt," Dave sighs, and as the other turns to face him, the athlete glances down at the tiled flooring. "Stay and talk to me some more. There isn't anything here you haven't already seen anyway."

Kurt cracks up, partially from nerves. "True."

Dave stands and offers the toilet to sit on while he undoes his fly and shrugs off his jeans, sticking to his skin from sweating. He drops them and steps into the tub-and-shower-combo after shutting off the faucet. He reclines back, his head resting against the wall. "Dump some of those salts in here, will ya? They actually sound like an okay idea."

"Sure," Kurt murmurs, and cranes his upper body around to reach the cabinet above the toilet. He selects the manliest scent he has, which is basically something lacking a flower in it, and turns back to scatter some of the crystals into the water. They're the sizzling kind, and they bubble with carbon dioxide on contact. Dave sighs and relaxes in the water.

"I take it back. The salts are a great idea." As Dave's eyes close, Kurt smiles a little, thinking how nice it is to see his lover so relaxed.

Kurt raises an eyebrow as he crosses his legs and holds them in place with both hands on his knees. He straightens his back and inquires, "So, was it a rough day at practice?"

"Fuck yes it was," Dave grumbles, his brows puckering in the slightest, but his eyes remaining shut. "I hated it. There's this guy on our team, a ging– uh, well, his hair is actually an orange-ish blond and he doesn't have freckles or anything, but whatever. Point is, he's annoying and his name is fucking Tyler, and he's obnoxious as hell. He always shouts an order like he knows better than us and he constantly makes these witty, usually sarcastic remarks, and he flaunts his skills like he's the only player worth having on the team. I swear, I want to knock his teeth in!"

His eyes flash open, and for effect, Dave pounds a fist into the water, making the level in the tub slosh around and spill out some. Kurt grabs the hand towel on the rack by the sink and mops it up. Tossing the towel into a hamper, he stays by the tub's side and folds his arms on the ledge. "Sounds like trouble," he comments idly. He lets slip a hand to skim the surface of the water, his fingers finding a scrap of still-frothing salt clinging to side. He plucks it out and pinches it between his fingers.

Dave rolls his eyes, casting his gaze at a random spot on the ceiling. He shakes his head minutely. "He's worse than you. It's like taking your confidence in yourself and amplifying it times, like, ten, throwing in athletic skill and dividing your intelligence in half. That's him in a nutshell, and I fucking detest him for it."

Kurt peers over at Dave's face as he flicks the crystal of salt from his fingers. "Well, let's just hope he isn't too much like me, or else this could evolve into a rival scenario."

The jock snorts. "Pfft, like I would even consider it! The guy is a jackass, and he said he was straight besides. And you know, he's not like you enough to be appealing. In fact, he's unlike you in all the ways that make me want to have nothing to do with him, so don't worry about it at all, Kurt."

"That's a relief," the singer grins, chuckling in the back of his throat as his lips remain closed. He casts his gaze from his arms to Dave's nude body inside the tub. "You do realize that you shouldn't have let me stay in here," he says seductively. Dave's eyes dart to connect with Kurt's. The jock visibly swallows. Kurt's smile transforms into a lustful leer. "Because now all I want to do is climb in there with you."

Dave grins sheepishly. "What's stopping you, then, Hummel? Afraid I'd boot you out and call you a pervert? You said so yourself that we're past all that, intimacy-wise." He gestures freely to himself as he sits up more. "There's room. Hop on in, if ya want."

Kurt laughs. "Don't mind if I do," he replies playfully, butterflies dancing in his stomach. He's never even considered something like this before, but the idea is appealing (if not embarrassing), so he decides to indulge. Kurt tosses off his clothing and timidly steps into the water, one foot at a time, and settles himself not on the opposite side, but instead between Dave's legs, his back coming to rest against Dave's sturdy chest. He snuggles into Dave's awaiting arms, liking the feeling of their wet bodies fitting together like this. It's comfy and sensual and all degrees of warm.

Kurt closes his eyes and allows Dave's hands to drip scented water onto his pale skin and run along his sides. The smaller teen hums in approval, and peeking his eyes open he moves to rub his hands along Dave's thighs, working the sore muscles that the athlete must use the most while skating. Dave emits a slightly pained sound, his muscles tensing, before slowly easing into the ministrations.

"You must work so hard," Kurt murmurs. "Hockey looks rough."

"It is," Dave agrees, "But that's why I like it so much." Dave pauses, licking his lips as his hands still against Kurt's soft skin. "Are you… coming to my game this weekend?"

Kurt blinks and then peers over his shoulder. "Of course I am, Dave. Why wouldn't I come and support my boyfriend?"

Dave makes a face at the title, always a little shy and resisting of it, because it implies all that it does: that he and Kurt are homosexual, romantically involved, together, etcetera. He likes the idea in the privacy of their dorm room, but outside of that, where other people are around… it's still a bit unsettling for him. Still he sighs, a small smile touching his lips. "Good. I want you there. Especially if we win."

The singer grins. "I'll be utterly lost while the game goes on, but if you just tell me which score to keep an eye on, I'll know when to cheer." He winks before turning his head to face forward again. "But if your team does win – which I have no doubts that it will – I want to know…" His smile falls, "Will you let me congratulate you? And by that, I mean rush up to you and give you a hug or something?"

Dave tenses; Kurt can feel it against his back, nearly every muscle in Dave's chest and abdomen and even in his legs going rigid. Kurt pulls away and turns in the tub, the water sloshing lightly around him.

"Dave?"

The larger male shakes his head regretfully. "No, Kurt," he whispers, his tone thick with an apology. He doesn't look the slimmer boy in the eye. "I… I won't. I don't want my team to… I mean, I don't think they'd react well, and I know I'd lose my temper and get kicked off the team for fighting if they said anything, and… I just don't want to face all that." He glances up uncertainly. "You mad at me, Kurt?"

At first, Kurt thinks that he is. He thinks he might be hurt, or disappointed, but once he tries stepping into Dave's shoes for a moment about it, he realizes that he isn't angry or wounded or let down whatsoever. So he simply shrugs. "No, not really. I can understand why you feel that way, and I respect you wishes. We can just meet up after the game for a personal celebration." And he smiles reassuringly, to fully convince the boy situated behind him. He turns back to face forward yet again and shifts in place, unconsciously rubbing his rump against Dave's member. The hockey player stiffens, suddenly aroused.

"That's fine and all, but you shouldn't be moving like that," he utters succinctly. He clears his throat once Kurt sends him a questioning look. "Stop, I mean it."

"You don't sound like you mean it," Kurt giggles, and presses his body closer, using his hands on Dave's thighs as a lever. Dave back up as much as he can, but he isn't going anywhere in the small tub. He tries to fidget to force Kurt off of him, but it only makes matters worse. Kurt playfully swirls a pattern on the water-slick surface of Dave's legs. "It's fun teasing you. It's also flattering to think that just by this simple thing I'm making you hot."

"You've always done that," Dave admits with evident irritation. "And it doesn't help that you're so candid about it, and so casual, too. It's fucking infuriating."

"Go on," Kurt encourages. He's blushing heavily, but he can't say he doesn't like the attention. "Since when have I casually turned you on?"

"How about right now by the way you're asking me that like it's no big deal while you're fuckin' grinding against me in a bathtub? Or when you ever-so-elegantly sang and danced to '4 Minutes' by Madonna in front of the whole school a few years ago, prancing around in that Cheerios uniform and acting so cavalier about how sexy your voice sounded with those suggestive lyrics?" Dave grinds out, sounding on the brink of either being really angry or about to come. "Seriously, Kurt, you might act all innocent but you're nothing but a damn cocktease."

"Funny," Kurt replies listlessly as he ceases his movements and reclines his head backward onto his lover's shoulder, "Because I would have never pictured – only dreamed – myself as such until you came around. And now the concept amuses me greatly, because it's all for show… and the show is all for you."

"Fuck," is Dave's sole response, his hands gripping tightly on Kurt's hips again, and suddenly, the water feels a little warmer and Dave's looking away, his face flushing, his body subtly spasming. Kurt smirks knowingly and slips out of Dave's grasp onto to turn around and lie chest-to-chest with the jock, whose raised problem is no longer present. "You're the devil," Dave hisses.

Kurt leans up and places a wet kiss on Dave's mouth. Rearing back, he murmurs, "I know I am," and proceeds to reach behind himself to drain the tub and yank the curtain inward as he turns on the shower to rinse them both off. "I think we're done here, don't you?" he winks.

"I hate you," Dave grumbles, forcing himself to stand like Kurt, the water level lowering and lowering from their calves to their ankles to their toes as they rinse off the bath salt and such.

"I love you, too," Kurt teases before stepping out.

The athlete makes a grunting sound before punching the faucet knob, succeeding in shutting off the water flow. The showerhead drips a few final times, and then, in one swift movement, Dave brushes back the shower curtain and steps out onto the mat below.

Kurt is already dying himself off with a fluffy towel. He reaches into the small linen closet and retrieves one for Dave, offering it between them.

"Lighten up, David," Kurt pouts as he turns the towel into a turban on his head and reaches for his lotion bottle. "Don't be like this. So I accidentally –"

"Purposely."

"– Purposely made you come in the bathtub; that's no reason to sulk."

Dave shakes his head. "That's not why I feel heavy. I feel guilty that you can pleasure me like that, care about me, but I'm such a wuss that I refuse to let you openly display your feelings for me."

"Is this about what you said when I asked about the game this weekend?" Kurt remarks as he glances up from his leg where his hands have stilled their massaging of the lotion into his skin. He frowns. "I told you I understand that, and forgive you for being so closeted about us. I even told you at the motel a while back that I'm not going to demand you come out to anyone unless you want to. No one ever forced me, so why would I force someone else?"

"I dunno. I just feel like I'm letting you down when I don't let you tell anyone outside of your close friends and family, and when I even refuse to let both of my own parents know, let alone anybody else I'm associated with." He scratches his scalp as he ties his towel around his waist. "G'dammit. I sound stupid."

"Not at all," Kurt murmurs, stepping over to Dave and placing a hand on the taller male's face. "So shut up. For a guy who pretends not to care, you seem to care way too much. It's no big deal."

"You're just saying that," Dave retorts, and unfortunately, he's correct. Kurt doesn't hold grudges like his stepbrother Finn sometimes does, but Kurt has to admit to himself that it is a little bit of a deal. Secretly, Kurt wishes he had a boyfriend that would proudly wear Kurt around like arm candy, but he knows that Dave isn't anywhere near ready for that, and he's fine with it, truly. He doesn't hold it against Karofsky in the least.

"Dave… just forget about it. Okay? Slap on some lotion, get dressed, do your homework, and stop worrying. I'll go to your game, cheer you on, and give you a high-five when it's over. And then we can sneak off to a restaurant or something and have dinner; even with some friends, if you're worried about appearances. Is that reasonable or what?" Kurt says with a grip of both of his boyfriend's shoulders and his blue eyes peering up into brownish-hazel ones.

Dave sighs and bats Kurt's hands away. "Yeah. Reasonable. 'M Sorry." And he goes about his routine as instructed, starting with the lotion.

Shrugging, Kurt resumes his own task and when they both emerge from the bathroom, nothing else is said about the matter. They switch off between using the Internet for homework purposes and even assist one another in subjects the opposite isn't as talented with. In the end, things return to normal.

But Dave can't shake the feeling that he's doing something wrong here, and that while Kurt can be bitchy and definitely stand up for himself at times, the smaller boy is actually too kind for his own good.