A/N: Please don't kill me for this chapter. D:
Chapter 12.
The night of the game.
Kurt is both enthralled and nauseous over the idea of attending. As he files into the filthy seats around the ice rink behind a shield of plastic a few feet away from his place in the front row, he can't help but feel completely out of his element, as well as feel as though others must be staring at him, somehow keyed in to the fact that hey, this freshman is totally gay, just look at how clueless about the sport he is, haha, haha, and the way he's dressed, haha, haha, and hey, do you think he has a crush on one of the hockey players? Haha, haha!
Except nobody is laughing, nobody is making snide remarks, and it's merely a figment born of paranoia in Kurt's brain.
He idly nibbles on a fingernail as he takes his seat and clutches his drink close to his chest; a low-fat hot cocoa, to help with the chill rolling off of the ice in waves.
Kurt spies his roommate in the lineup of hockey players on the home team's bench, all of them waiting for the game to begin. He's number fifteen, the black, red, and white of Cincinnati looking fantastic on him (the red reminding Kurt of McKinley), and accentuating his last name (Karofsky) quite nicely. Dave doesn't have his headgear on yet, and he seems to be scanning the growing audience for someone in particular.
The singer grins and makes it easier for his lover by quite subtly making a show of crossing his legs and loudly clearing his throat while glancing in Dave's direction.
The athlete's eyes fall on the pale boy and a smile briefly twitches on his lips before he turns serious and casts his gaze on his coach. But his eyes flicker back to Kurt every so often, and once, he winks, rousing a happy flip in Kurt's stomach.
A loud buzzer sounds, and soon, the teams are lining up in the center of the rink, two guys in particular centered around a hockey puck, glaring down one another.
Kurt leans over to the person beside him, a college girl, perhaps a junior, who is dressed in a jersey too large on her, most likely her boyfriend's. "Um, excuse me," Kurt murmurs to her, and when the blond girl turns to look at him, she smiles cheerfully.
"Yeah?" she asks, leaning over her armrest.
Kurt withholds a blush as he asks a tad diffidently, "I'm sorry, but this is my first game. Can you tell me what positions each of guys are in right now?"
"Over there, near the boys at the face-off is the offense. And back there, by the goalie, is the defense. They defend the goal, you know? Like in soccer. And the offense helps get the puck to the opposite side," she explains with a giggle. "You know, just looking at you, you don't seem like you normally get into something as rugged as hockey. You strike me as a badminton kind of guy."
"No sports strike my interest in general," Kurt admits with a lame chuckle. "But… my roommate is on the team, so I came to support him. He's… a good friend of mine, now."
"How sweet of you," the girl says with a smile. "My boyfriend is on the team. He's that one right there, number ten. He's on the offense." She beams down at him before calling out, "I love you, Tyler! WHOO!" The girl leans back in her seat before pivoting back to Kurt. "I'm Alyssa, by the way. What's your name?"
"Kurt," he tells her, grinning back. "And you know… I think I recognize you from somewhere."
She laughs a little, her brown eyes lighting up. "Do you? We might be in a class together, but with so many people in one lecture hall I can never be sure." She shrugs, ever smiling, and distractedly turns back to the game, shouting aggressively, "HEY, THAT WAS TOTALLY A FOUL! Come on, Tyler, honey! I know you got it in you to bash that guy's brains in!"
Kurt blinks, fully taken aback by the curvy girl. She's not at all chubby, but she has wide hips and large breasts hidden her that jersey of her boyfriend's (the name Jurcen printed on the back). Alyssa is surprisingly energetic and loud, and a bit of a tomboy despite her makeup and perfectly fixed hair.
"Goodness, I wasn't aware that I was supposed to call things out at every turn," Kurt mutters, completely astonished by the heated atmosphere despite the chilly temperature of the room.
Alyssa turns back to him and laughs, slapping his knee lightly. "Oh, don't sweat it, Kurt. This is just me and a few other die-hard fans acting crazy; we know it's not for everybody." She winks before turning back to watch the game. "Besides, I've always been more of a tomboy, getting my head into sports instead of celebrity gossip magazines." Her face turns sour, and this time, she leaps out of her seat. "Tyler! What'd you do to get benched this time?" She sighs in exasperation and plops back into her seat. "Sorry about that," she says to Kurt as their eyes meet again. "I always have to yell at him. He doesn't focus unless I keep him in line while he plays." She giggles to herself. "I guess I'm like his muse or something."
"I guess so," Kurt remarks, not sure what to say to this girl. She's out there, but he kind of likes her. She's got spunk.
"So, which one is your roommate?" Alyssa asks, now preoccupied with the other plays besides her boyfriend.
"Um, number fifteen," Kurt replies dimly. At this very moment, Fifteen is charging down the rink with the puck shuffling between back and forth bumps of his stick at shockingly fast speeds, Kurt's eyes racing to keep up. Then, with a large whoosh backward, keeping it below the waist, as is proper etiquette (something Kurt remembers being told to the gym classes of previous years repeatedly), Karofsky rears back and strikes the puck. It goes flying, a black blur, until it collides with the back of the goal's net, the goalie unable to block it with a single part of his body.
Kurt leaps up and cheers, because even if he doesn't know hockey, he knows a goal when he sees one. "Yeah, whoo-hoo!" he calls out meekly, his smile tearing ear to ear. "Did you see that? He did it!"
"Wow," Alyssa whistles lowly, "Your friend is awesome. He totally shoved that guy out of his way, but did it cleanly, and snatched the puck right out from under him! And he made a goal without even pausing! He's amazing, seriously. He makes my Ty-Ty look like a wimp." And she laughs like it's the best joke she ever heard. "Ahh, man. That's priceless." She shakes her head, still smiling. Glancing at Kurt, she adds, "Do you know if he's single?"
Kurt washes white, but before he can respond, Alyssa is laughing again.
"Nah, I'm kidding! I love Tyler way too much to dump him. But hey, whoever that guy is dating, she better not let him go, because around here, being a hockey star is almost as big as being a football star, and is just above being a basketball star." Alyssa turns back to the game, momentarily raising a drink to her glossy lips. It appears to be a Coke slushie. "Mm, I think I have to go to the bathroom. Tell me what happens when I get back, okay?" she says, and Kurt dumbly nods as he watches Dave skates back into position for another round.
Honestly, the gleek had no idea that Dave is so skilled at what he does. Kurt had an idea, sure, but he never thought he'd be witnessing it for himself. And while a teeny, tiny part of him is a bit intimidated by Dave's aggressions out on the ice, he's also mesmerized by Dave's grace (even in all that bulky hockey gear) and determination. It's awe-inspiring, and admirable, and just a wee bit of a turn-on.
Kurt shifts in his seat, adjusting himself to lock his knees together and shove his hands into his jacket pockets for warmth. He watches as number fifteen soars across the ice, weaving in between players and slamming a few within reason as he passes the puck to somebody, and that person scores. Kurt cheers again, but less loudly, since Dave isn't the scorer this time. He watches as the process is repeated, over and over, Alyssa returning at some point and Kurt mumbling some of what he saw to her while they both stare at the scoreboard, excitement running through them both.
"This is such a good game!" Alyssa states in a bubbly manner. She has her hands in little fists held up to her chest, her butt bouncing in her seat. "I haven't seen one this good since I was a freshman, and our senior players were around! I dunno what it is about this year's recruits, but we're on fire this season, baby! HUZZAH!" she fist-pumps into the air.
And while Kurt contemplates whom in their right mind still says 'huzzah' like some eighteenth-century colonial, a buzzer sounds and suddenly, like with football, it's half-time.
"Eeee!" Alyssa squeals as she gets out of her seat in a hurry. "Now I can go talk to Tyler real quick! See ya in a little bit, Kurt!" She rushes off.
Shaking his head slightly, Kurt stands from his seat and vaguely hears a radio station being played over the speakers high up in the rafters of the ceiling, the lyrics of Florence and the Machine's 'Dog Days Are Over' flowing out of them in the background.
Kurt stretches, takes a few steps along the aisle in front of the plastic shield, and nearly leaps out of his skin when someone crashes into it, knocking. Kurt turns and finds Dave there, breathless and grinning. "Did you see me out there?" he says, and with a smile, Kurt steps over to the plastic and places a hand over where Dave's glove is on the opposite side.
"Yeah. You were so great; why didn't you tell me that you're a badass out on the ice?" he quips.
Dave shrugs, dropping his arms. "I thought that was obvious." He lifts his chin, nodding in the direction of the seats behind Kurt. "Who was that girl you were chatting with just now?"
"Oh, that's just Alyssa," Kurt answers. "She's number ten's girlfriend."
Dave scowls. "No way. Number ten? He's that ginger jerk I told you about!" he snaps, and Kurt's eye go wide in shock, his mouth falling open for a faltering moment.
"Really? That poor girl!" Kurt gasps. He leans in closer to the plastic. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," Dave snorts. "How could I forget who my enemy is?"
"Touché," Kurt relents. He sighs. "Well, that's certainly a problem."
"Why's that?" Dave asks, peering over at his teammates for a moment to deduce whether or not he's been caught chatting with someone yet.
"Because she seems to really like him, but he's an asshole, unbeknownst to her. I feel like I should tell her how horrible he is, but it's not my place, especially since I've never met him myself." Kurt offers a weak smile. "And because, well, I was planning on becoming her friend. She's a bit wild, but she's so cute and fun. And I've missed having gal pals around to chat it up with. She even seems like the type who'd be open to my sexuality."
Dave shrugs, starting to pull away. "Well, don't crush her hopes about Tyler just yet. But go ahead and befriend her, I don't have any issues with that so long as you keep us a secret. Anyway, I gotta go back. See you afterward, Kurt. We're still going out to Applebee's, right?"
"Totally," Kurt smiles. He waves. "Play hard, Karofsky."
"I'll do one better and win, Hummel," Dave grins wolfishly as he slams his headgear back into place and skates effortlessly around the edge of the rink back to his team.
And as it happens, the home team does win, and by a good ten points.
Dave rushes out of the locker room, Kurt waiting amidst a clusterfuck of a hundred other bodies, his shoulders hunched closely to his body to be as small as possible and bump into as little of people as he's capable. Dave laughs and barges through the bodies to loop an arm around Kurt's shoulders.
"Let's get out of here!" Dave yells over other voices, acting casual as he removes his arm and yanks his roommate through the crowd. No one seems to notice or care that Dave is holding Kurt's hand instead of his wrist or arm, and Kurt flushes a little. Once outside, they pile into Kurt's car and put on Dave's iPod as Kurt drives to the Applebee's in town.
"That was so much fun," Kurt says breathlessly. "To be frank, Dave, I didn't think I'd like it. I thought I might get bored. But by talking to Alyssa the entire time, I got the rules mostly down-pat and… and I really liked watching you," he adds, his voice softer. He briefly sends his lover a smile before returning his eyes to the road. "You should have gotten a scholarship for your hockey playing."
"The sad thing is, I could have if my grades weren't so bad back in high school for the couple years I bullied you," Dave admits with remorse laced in his tone. He sighs and scrubs his scalp with his callous fingertips for a moment. His gaze then turns to the night outside the passenger-side window. "Good grades and sports go together these days; you'll get kicked off the team without a D- or C-average, depending on the school, and most colleges want the jocks that both play well and keep their grades up. I wasn't one of those jocks for a while, and so Cincinnati U didn't want to give me anything special." He shrugs. "But that's all over with. I'm doing what I like here and now, and that's all I care about."
"I'm glad you have that attitude about it," Kurt agrees with a small nod. His tummy rumbles, and he releases a low groan. "Gaga, I'm starving! I forgot to grab lunch, and all I had today was a waffle this morning from IHop."
Dave frowns at his roommate. "Kurt! I told you not to skip meals; it's not healthy," he scolds, and leans over to teasingly punch Kurt in the arm. It hurts a little, but Kurt gives no indication that it does.
"Sorry," he murmurs, and he stops at a light. He looks over at his boyfriend and offers a waning half-smile. "I'll try not to skip any additional meals. And speaking of food…" He grins as the light turns green and he tags along behind another vehicle into a turning lane. "We're here!"
"About time," Dave says. "It's getting late."
"Yeah, well, next time, don't waste time showering and changing just because we're going somewhere. You can just go into the restaurant all sweaty and in the clothes under your uniform," Kurt replies.
"Okay, okay; I won't complain, then, since it clearly bothers you how I look when I go out," Dave retorts as they park and unbuckle their seatbelts. Kurt is the first one out of the car, and Dave soon follows. The parking lot is mostly deserted.
"Hey, Dave," Kurt murmurs, ducking around a tree and dragging a stumbling Dave with him. "No one's around. Can I have a quick one?"
"So needy," Dave smirks, "But I guess I can comply since, y'know, I like 'em needy." And he grasps Kurt's chin in one hand, leaning down to place a slow peck on Kurt's lips.
Kurt hums his approval as they part and continue walking (a few feet apart, Dave's hands in the pockets of his new letterman jacket) toward the entrance of the food joint. They act casual, like two friends up to nothing in particular except getting a bite to eat, and sit at the bar while they wait for a table to open up in the non-smoking section.
Kurt orders a kiddy cocktail, Sierra Mist with maraschino cherry juice poured into it, a cherry on a plastic sword sheathed into the hole of the straw at the top. The soprano gladly removes the cherry, sliding it off with his teeth and chewing with a light smile on his lips.
Dave shakes his head at his friend, choosing to look in another direction. "I don't know you," he jokes, cracking a smile.
Kurt pouts. "No? Then how come we sleep in the same dormitory together?" he jokes right back, and Dave rolls his eyes.
"You're just… so obvious. It's a wonder Alyssa didn't –"
"I didn't what?" a girl's voice sounds from behind them, and they both swivel in their barstools to find Alyssa hanging from Tyler-the-jerk's arm. She giggles. "Hi, Kurt! Fancy meeting you here after the game. And oh! Is this your roommate, number fifteen? You didn't tell me he was such a looker!" She pokes Dave with a free hand. "What's your name, Hockey Hero? You totally saved our previously-sucky team, you know."
"I didn't know," Dave mumbles, clearly flattered but trying not to show it. "And it's David."
"So that's your first name!" Tyler grins, eying Dave is a manner that makes Kurt's eye twitch. Alyssa, on the other hand, is oblivious.
"Such a cool name! I've always liked it. My uncle's name is David. It's nice and strong and Biblical. Totally awesome." She takes a seat beside Kurt, forcing her boyfriend next to her. She laces her fingers together, her elbows resting on the bar while her shin rests on her hands. "So, Kurt: where do you and your roomie hail from?"
"Lima, Ohio," Kurt answers. "How did you know we came from the same town?"
Alyssa giggles and tosses her head to brush back her blonde hair without using her folded hands. "I didn't. But you two look like you know each other pretty well, so call it a hunch. Me and Tyler met in college last year; he ended up rooming with my brother, so when I came to visit him, I met my boo." She leans her head off of her hands to rest for a second on Tyler's shoulder. "We totally had a connection right away; Tyler and I like a lot of the same things, it's so great! We both played the clarinet in middle school, we both like Johnny Depp movies, and we both are DDR addicts!" She swoons. "Which leads me to ask: how did you and Dave here – is it okay if I call you Dave? – become friends?"
"Um…" Kurt tries to start, but he isn't sure how much Dave wants him to say. But it clicks in his mind: wait, he doesn't have to control his mouth because of Dave! He's his own person and though he wants to protect Dave's secrets, he isn't some doll that Dave has power over. So, a tad defiantly, Kurt states, "We went to the same high school, obviously, but we were mortal enemies then. He would pick on me, I'd press his buttons, and it was a never-ending cycle. But this year when we got assigned to room together, we were forced to get to know each other better and abandon our high school conceptions of each other. We wound up discovering that we have plenty in common."
This last part is partially a lie, and Kurt is keeping custody a boatload of information, but Alyssa seems not to need anything more than this explanation.
"That's so cool. I mean, it's like something out of a novel I read once! People forced to get along and end up being friends. It's so awesome when stuff like that happens in life! I love it. And you know, some of the best relationships are born out of loathing! Just look at Glinda and Elphaba from Wicked, if you don't mind the musical reference," she says, smiling, and Kurt immediately lights up.
"That's what I thought of when this first happened!" he says enthusiastically. "It was exactly like 'What Is This Feeling?' when they found out who they were roomed together with at the Shiz! I so need to be your best friend, now, Alyssa. You know Wicked, and that makes me exceptionally ecstatic."
Alyssa squeals, deafeningly, and both Tyler and Dave rolls their eyes at the girl-chat occurring between them. She reaches out and clasps Kurt's hands. "Ohmigod! Like, my dad is the only man I know who likes Wicked! Mind you, he only does because he saw it with my mom and the rest of our little family one Christmas, but still! You're awesome! Let's totally be friends!"
"Yay!" Kurt replies lamely, and Dave looks away, because as endearing as it is to see Kurt this happy, he's a little fearful about Kurt making it too obvious that he's gay. Because in Tyler's presence, Dave most certainly does not want to be considered gay by association (even though he is).
"Kurt?" Alyssa whispers suddenly, leaning in to the singer so she's heard by him alone. Their hands are still clasped between them, and she uses this connection as leverage to bring him close enough to hear her. "I'm sorry to assume this, but… are you gay? You're just… so sensitive, and you dress so well, and you didn't have a clue about hockey when we met, and even said that no sports interest you."
Kurt sighs, his hands sliding out of hers. "Why am I so easy for people to figure out?" he mutters, and he's startled when Alyssa suddenly squeals again.
"Squee!" she says in a high-pitched voice. "I knew it! That's so cute!"
Kurt stares at her incredulously. "It… is?"
"Yes!" the blonde answers wholeheartedly. She lowers her voice again so that Tyler in specific doesn't hear her. "Don't let Tyler know, since he doesn't seem to approve, but I adore homosexuals. I think they're all so brave for going against stupid Ohio and its stupid ideals in society, and I think so many of them are so adorable when they're all dressy like you, and I find boy-love so forbidden and romantic. I totally sneak yaoi manga into my house form my friends. Most of them involve boys in sports, too; I love sports, and gays in sports is so cool to me," Alyssa confesses with a smile behind her hand, and Kurt is beyond flabbergasted. Alyssa pulls back, blushing. "Oh, I'm so sorry if I embarrassed you! I tend to do that. I'm so, so sorry! I'm such a creep. I can totally understand if you don't want to be my friend now." And she offers an apologetic smile.
But Kurt slowly smiles. "No… no, it's fine. I was actually hoping you wouldn't mind me being that way, since you seem so nice. And it's not too terribly creepy; plenty of people have their fetishes, I suppose. I'm just glad you're so accepting."
"What the Hell are you to talking about?" Tyler suddenly cuts in. "No offense or anything, but I'm tired of being the odd-man-out, here. And I think poor Dave is, too."
Dave just shrugs.
Alyssa spins to face her boy. "Ohh, I'm so sorry, love! Kurt and I are bonding, that's all. And hey, is that our table alert thingy? It's lighting up."
Tyler looks down at it. "Oh, so it is." He stands up and walks over to a waitress, and shows it to her, and she smiles, gesturing to a free booth that can easily fit four people. Tyler pauses to glance back at Dave and Kurt at the bar. "You two comin'? There's plenty of room, and by the look of it, Alyssa would love to keep talking to you… Kurt, was it?"
Kurt nods, a smile taking over his features. He grabs his drink and stands from the bar. "Come on, Dave. You and Tyler can talk about hockey or something while Alyssa and I get our girl-chat in." He leans over and whispers hastily, "She knows about me, now." He doesn't stick around to catch Dave's subsequent facial expression. Instead, he simply follows the small group into the booth up a couple stairs and down a short aisle between tables.
The waitress seats them and asks about drinks. Alyssa gets a mango-lemonade, Tyler a root beer, and Dave only asks for a water, which surprises Kurt a bit.
Kurt and Alyssa make sure to sit across from one another so that they can talk openly while maintaining contact with their boyfriends (although the straight couple obviously doesn't know that Dave and Kurt are together in such a way).
Alyssa and Kurt chat idly about the game and Wicked and, eventually, about music. Alyssa can't sing to save her life, she says, but she offhandedly remarks that Tyler can play just about any wind instrument and can hold a note for a long time because of his practiced lungs, but he can't sing on key very well.
At one point, they order their food, and just before it arrives (it always takes a while when Applebee's is this busy), Dave suddenly stands from the table and states something about having to use the restroom.
"Okay," Kurt and Alyssa say at the same time.
A second later, after Dave is out of sight, Tyler stands as well. "I think I need to go to the bathroom, too," he says, and doesn't send a smile as he adds, "Be right back."
"Okay," Alyssa is the lone one to respond this time; Kurt's too busy frowning slightly at the dessert menu in his hands.
As Tyler takes his leave, Kurt idly jokes to his new friend, "How many calories do you think are in this chocolate abomination?"
Meanwhile, Dave is busy washing his hands in the bathroom, trying to recap what's happening here. He's on, like, a double date? He can feel his nerves battling in his chest, but he keeps stuffing them down, because he's not some pansy who gets nervous; he's not, he's not. He's not at all panicked about getting discovered as being gay by some random nobodies he doesn't care about. He's not worried whatsoever about being two beats away from jumping onto Tyler and beating the shit out of him because he's so damn obnoxious. Oh no, no.
The swinging bathroom door suddenly bursts open, and Dave stills while wiping his hands with a paper towel, his eyes finding themselves glaring at Tyler's form.
"Hey," Tyler says, and a weird smile lifts one corner of his mouth.
Dave glowers. "What d'you want, Jurcen?" he snaps.
"You're not very fond of me, huh?" the strawberry blond replies simply. He steps closer, and Dave eyes him suspiciously.
"Not at all," Dave retorts crossly. "You're such a bossy, stuck-up bastard!"
"Well, it's too bad that you think that," Tyler sighs, "Because it seems your friend and my girl get along great…" He steps closer, too close, pinning Dave against bumping into the garbage can or an open stall. "And I would love it if we got along, David, because I'm pretty fond of you."
And before Dave can duck out of the bathroom, before he can even react to the words, Tyler reaches outward and grips Dave by the shirt collar, yanking him forward, and before Dave knows what's happening, Tyler is pressing a bruising kiss onto the other hockey player's lips.