A/N: This is a fun, shorter chapter that somewhat follows the flashbacky pattern of chapter 5 (posted as the sixth chapter due to the prologuey first chapter). I hope you enjoy this one to take a break from the drama and get back to the humor that is the other genre of this fic. ;D
Chapter 15.
Kurt face-palms whereas Dave emits a groan.
"Remind me how we got into this mess, again?" Kurt whines mordantly, and Dave merely frowns, choosing not to respond. Kurt shifts uncomfortably. "Could you at least move your arm? Your elbow is poking into my ribs."
"Oh. Sorry," Dave grumbles, and attempts to squeeze his arm out of its uncomfortable position to something more suitable. Vaguely, the jock remarks, "Do you think they forgot about us?"
"Probably." The singer sighs heavily. "We need to figure a way out of this."
"Yeah. Because while I like seclusion and all – it helps me keep you to myself – this… is not what I had in mind when I initiated this," the taller of the two states with an aggravated lick to his lips. There's a short pause, and then: "Seriously, if they don't come back for us soon I'm going to hit something."
"There's no room to hit something! You're wind up hitting me instead!" Kurt growls, and he stomps his foot crossly.
"Ouch! Yeah, you have a point there," Dave mutters, "As you accidentally demonstrated right now."
"I'd apologize, David, but I'm too hot and irritated to care, because even your foot's pain is no match for my level of nuisance that is increasing with every waking moment we're trapped in here," the smaller college boy hisses darkly, and Dave's never seen him this annoyed before, and he's suddenly so glad that he's not in the line of fire, even if he's in the immediate vicinity.
It all started three hours ago…
"Do you think your parents will be okay with me? I mean, like most people, I kind of left a bad impression on your dad…" Dave frets in the angry-sounding way he does as he crosses his arms over his chest and watches Kurt speed down the highway toward Lima, Ohio. "I don't even know how you talked me into going on this damn trip in the first place."
"Oh, quit pouting, Karofsky; it's not becoming. And if you remember correctly, I didn't talk you into anything; I told you we were going and you didn't argue because you didn't want to piss me off because I oh-so-cleverly sprang the news of this trip on you after we pushed our twin beds together and we about to get down and dirty," Kurt clarifies with evident smirking added to his tone because he's quite proud of his brilliance.
"Oh yeah… I remember now," Dave says as the memory dawns on him. He instantly gets angry with himself for being conned like that. "Dammit, Hummel! You suck!"
"And swallow~," Kurt coos, one of his hands leaving the wheel to playfully tickle his lover's inner thigh over his jeans, his nails scratching gently. Dave squirms in his seat, hollering something incoherent before smacking Kurt's hand away while the paler boy cackles deviously to himself.
"You're the goddamn devil, Kurt," Dave affectionately mutters as he forces himself to stare out the window. "Now I remember, too, why we work so well sometimes: you're a bitch, I'm a bastard, and together, we have equilibrium." His stomach suddenly makes a noise. "Um… where are my Slim Jims? I'm hungry."
"By your feet, in the gas station bag," Kurt replies easily. "Could you hand me my Haribo gummy bears, too? I want to gnaw on a few fruity animals."
"So they finally made gay candy?" Dave quips with a snort of laughter as he makes a pun on the term 'fruity.' He hands over the open, golden bag of chewy candies and Kurt gladly takes them, muttering a sarcastic, 'ha ha, very funny,' under his breath.
The rest of the ride is without consequence, spent listening to the Wicked soundtrack on repeat, Kurt singing along with every word. Without consequence, that is, until they arrive at Kurt's house.
"Fuck-fuck-fuckity-fuuuuck! I really can't do this, Kurt. I can't fucking do this. Your dad hates me, and God knows if Hudson is somehow there he'll beat the shit out of me, and you wouldn't let me fight back if that happened because you think so damn highly of the guy, and – fuck, I can't get damn Defying Gravity out of my head because of you! This is fucking retarded, and I –"
"Damn it, David! Shut up!" Kurt snaps, reaching over and striking Dave across the face. "Get your act together! You barking swear words at me isn't going to make your irrational fears melt away, only escalate!"
Scowling, Dave scrubs his scalp with his hands, applying a bit too much pressure and nearly giving himself a headache. "Yeah. Okay. You're totally right. 'M sorry." Exhaling, he starts nodding repeatedly. "I just… I've never done this before. Faced other people besides you and my dad about being g-gay," he says, stumbling over the word, "And… and I've always cared too much about what others think of me. I mean, obviously I always have," he snorts, "Considering how I behaved pretty much throughout the entirety of high school."
"I know, Dave," Kurt murmurs, stroking Dave's arm comfortingly. "But that's why I'm here, remember? And besides, you seem to fail to recall the fact that they just want to see who I hold in such high regard these days. It's nothing personal, it's just… a way of them keeping up with what and who is in my life." He smiles. "So chill out, Babycakes."
"…Don't ever call me that again, and I'll be fine," Dave jokes, but partially means it.
Rolling his eyes, Kurt gets out of the car and insists that Dave doesn't sit out here in the driveway the entire weekend. With a reluctant groan, Dave exits the vehicle, slamming the car door shut. He shoves his hands into his coat pocket and takes heavy footfalls behind Kurt's lightly stepping form.
Kurt doesn't even knock on the front door, even though he technically doesn't live here anymore. He calls out into the household, "Dad? Carole? Guess who's home!"
"Kurtie!" comes a woman's voice, and before Dave can even figure out which direction in the house the sound came from, a short-haired woman comes out of nowhere and brings Kurt into a tight hug.
Laughing, Kurt hugs her in return. "Carole, it's been months!"
"Ooh, I've missed you, sweetie," Carole says, pulling out of the embrace to grip Kurt's face in her hands, studying him. "And look! You seem older already."
Burt enters the room at this moment, wiping his oily hands on a rag before tosses it over his shoulder. "Son, come give your old man a hug," he remarks, and Dave doesn't miss how his green eyes flicker over to where Dave stands as Kurt walks into his father's arms, clearly avoiding the rag covered in transmission fluid.
"Fixing cars even in the early winter, Dad?" Kurt jokes as he steps out of the hug with a clap from Burt's hand on his back.
"I have to; it's when some people need it most, you know, to help them get through all the snow and ice coming their way," Burt remarks as Carole steps up to his side and beams at Kurt. But as Burt's eyes land completely on Dave standing in the closed doorway, Burt finally acknowledges the tall college boy's presence with a brief nod. "I remember you."
The hockey player clears his throat. "Y-yeah, I'd expect you would. Um… hi."
Burt steps forward, breaking away from his wife and child. "You know… when Kurt first told me that his former bully was rooming with him, I was prepared to storm down to Cincinnati myself and pummel you into the ground to keep you from messing with my son." And there's a dark undertone there that makes Dave's gut wash with chilling fear. "But…" Burt relents, "You can't be all that bad anymore, since all I ever hear about you these days is how fucking fantastic you are." He sighs, stepping closer and holding out his hand. "So if continue to treat my boy right, I won't have to break out any moves on you, okay? We can put the past behind us, and you can get off scott-free for your wrongs if you swear on the blood of Christ that you won't lay a hand on Kurt that is anything short of violent. You hear me?"
Dave shakes on it, his grip firm, but his mouth dry. "I hear you, Mr. Hummel, sir. I know what I did before was wrong, and I haven't hurt him since, verbally or otherwise. And I won't hurt him in the future, either. I care about him too much," he adds, sending a quick glance over Burt's shoulder at the man in question before returning his sincere gaze to the balding older man.
Burt grins, letting go of Karofsky's hand. "Good, I'm glad. And with that law set firmly in place, I think it's safe to say that you and I will get along swimmingly, since you seem like a man of sports and mechanics."
Dave offers a shaky grin. "For the most part I am, yeah. Although less-so on the mechanics; I only know the basic there. But sports? Now you're talking my language."
"Great!" Burt says enthusiastically, clapping Dave on the shoulder in a hearty gesture. "Then let me finish up this vehicle for a client and then we can all sit down and watch a game. What're your fortes, David?"
"Um," Dave stutters, "Hockey and football."
And Burt seems genuinely pleased with this response.
Later, after dinner…
"Oh, Kurt? Could you put this pan away in the pantry? And be careful with the lock; the door creaks closed most of the time, as you know, but now that darn lock sometimes falls shut from the outside. I've admittedly gotten stuck in there before. Poor Finn had to get me out while you were away at Dalton." Carole warns, a smile playing on her lipstick-covered lips.
"Okay," the soprano shrugs, and takes the glass dish that previously held cheesy baked potato slices and marches around the corner, into the hallway, where the pantry lies. He's stretching on his tip-toes and inclining his body to try and get the glass dish up as high as it needs to go stacked on top of the others it's size, but he's not quite tall enough to get down the small ones and place it beneath them.
Sighing harshly in frustration, Kurt calls Dave to his side as the taller boy exits the bathroom just down the hall.
"Dave! Come help me put this way," he demands.
The jock smirks and waltzes up to his boyfriend. "What's the matter, Shorty? Can't reach?"
"No," Kurt grunts, blowing more air out of his mouth. He offers the dish between them. "So you have to do it."
"First of all, don't be afraid to get closer to it instead of leaning over all the stuff on the shelves; the dust won't kill you," Dave replies with a roll of his eyes. He stands directly behind Kurt and takes the dish from his hands, pressing his chest to Kurt's back as he reaches up and puts the dish away.
However, once the task is complete, Dave doesn't bother to remove himself. He none-too-subtly brings his nose close to the nape of Kurt's neck and inhales, soaking in Kurt's scent before wrapping his fingers around Kurt's wrists and pinning the boy's front to the rack fill of drawers full of housing things. He kisses along the back of the slightly younger boy's neck, leaving wet, warm ones on his skin before placing dryer, softer ones over the boy's shirt on his shoulders and upper back.
Kurt hisses into the stiff wood of the shelves in front of him, "Dave, don't. What if my parents see you?"
"Then I'll close the door; I like being in tight places with you," he grins, purposely letting slip an innuendo.
"B-but Dave –"
"Shh, I got it," Dave smirks as he pivots far enough and frees one hand long enough to close the pantry door on them and return to kissing Kurt's neck.
But Kurt is writing out of the larger boy's grasp. "Dammit, Dave! Why didn't you let me finish? I was going to say that you can't close the door because the lock is faulty and locks from the outside!" he hisses, and Dave freezes in place.
"Wait… so, you mean… we're trapped in here?"
"Yup, pretty much." Kurt retorts icily.
Sinking doubt creeps into Dave's belly. "Well… shit."
Present time once again:
"Heeeeelp! Dad! Carole! Get us out of heeeere! Ignore your stupid TV show or whatever and HELP US!" Kurt wails, shuffling around his boyfriend to bang on the pantry door. It really is locked, and they keep jiggling the doorknob anyhow, hoping they might be heard.
Finally, after what feels like a claustrophobic's nightmare version of forever (even though it's been a mere twenty minutes of entrapment in actuality), Carole throws open the door, her eyes as wide as a doe's as she blinks them at the two boys.
"How did you two wind up –?"
"Don't. Ask." The two growl in unison, and it only succeeds in making Carole laugh.
Shaking her head at their shenanigans, she informs them that she and Burt are about to watch Inception, and the two boys are welcome to join. After twenty minutes of yelling for a way out, their started make-out session completely forgotten, the two are eager for something different, and agree straight away.
The four sitting down on the couch in a long line, Kurt doesn't miss how Carole giggles and leans into Burt, murmuring, "Boys will be boys."