A/N: SORRY ABOUT HOW MEAN I AM TO BLAINE IN THIS CHAPTER, GUIZ. I know it's cliche and horrible, but... I dunno, I guess, in every Karomel fanfic, Blaine has to be a douchebag, and in every Klaine fanfic, Dave has to be an asshole. Otherwise they conflict too much with vying for Kurt's heart and it becomes a clusterfuck of emotion and gayness. D:

ANYWAY. Enjoy. This one was fun to write. :3

Almost done with this fanfic, now, I think... Yup, yup. Then I can get back to my remaining two LVB/U ficlets and maybe get back around to an Avatar: The Last Airbender and a How To Train Your Dragon multi-chapt fics that I've been neglecting due to my Glee phase/obsession. XD

Chapter 19.

"Got a date tonight?" Burt smirks as he watches Kurt fret around his room for something to wear. Unbeknownst to the middle-aged man, his son is scavenging about for an outfit that is formal and appealing, yet simultaneously fashionable and sexy. It's proving difficult to be all four things at once, but Kurt will manage.

"Actually, it's more than just a date. I'm meeting Dave's parents," Kurt relays a bit breathlessly as he tugs his robe tighter around himself, his wet hair dripping onto his neck in cool beads as he rummages through his closet and college bags. "Uhg, Betty White in a bikini!" Kurt curses aloud as he angrily, jerkily slides a shirt on a hanger to the other side of his closet. "Why can't I find anything worthy?"

Burt raises his eyebrows. "Oookay, I think I better skedaddle. I'll leave you to your… decision-making," his father says dismissively as he turns and heads back up the basement stairs. "Just pick up your rage-induced mess when you're done, son."

"Can do, Dad," Kurt grumbles. "I hate messes anyway."

Sighing, Kurt opts to go with a less-than-perfect outfit due to a lack of time to find the absolute-perfect one. For once, it lacks a bowtie or long tie or scarf, which is so unlike Kurt's usual style, but this time he wants to dress to impress and not simply dress according to some personal preference or runway-rip-off style.

Once his clothes are on, Kurt slaps on a limited amount of makeup (just enough to cover some blemishes and make his eyes stands out slightly more) and does his hair. Finally, finally, he's ready, and all he has left to do is slip on his coat and shoes. He's expected to be at the Karofsky's in twenty minutes, and being late is not as fashionable as others may think, as far as Kurt is concerned.

He's mostly out the door when his father stops him for a second, placing a hand on one of Kurt's shoulders. "Hey. I just wanted to tell you that parents might be stubborn, but they always try to see things through their kids' eyes for just a second because they love them. So even if his parents are a little reserved like he says, they still care about him enough to give anyone he likes a try. So don't be nervous, son; before you ask, I could tell by the way you flipped out over clothes more than usual that something was up."

Kurt makes a drawn-out exhale, his shoulders collapsing under the weight of his dad's hand, finally relaxing. "Yes, I suppose I am a little strung-up on a wire here. I think I know that they'll like me, but…"

"I know," Burt says understandingly, his hand falling from his son's shoulder. "As much as you try not to, and as… loudly as you express yourself, you still are intimidated by anyone's opinions against your sexuality. Trust me, son, I know how that feels; maybe not with sexuality, but other things. There are plenty of people out there who feel intimidated by disapproval of any sort – like a girl who's a but curvier than the rest, or a guy who knows one too many lines from the original Star Trek series off the top of his head – even if they are personally comfortable with themselves and have others who are comfortable with them. It's not necessarily an insecurity; it's just human nature to avoid conflict, that's all."

Slowly, Kurt begins nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I can see that." He gives a waning smile. "Thanks, Dad. You always know what to say. You give the best pep-talks."

"Hey, what are dads for?" Burt half-smiles, giving his son a light nudge with his elbow. "Now get outta here, or you're gonna be late."

"'Kay. Bye, Dad. See you later," Kurt says, and already he's out the door.

To himself, Burt remarks as he shuts the front door, "Don't sweat it, kid. Gay or not, you're great, and anyone who doesn't see that can come talk to Papa Bear." And he laughs a little under his breath.

Elsewhere, while Kurt sings in his car along with 30 Second To Mars's single, '100 Suns' (he blames Dave for getting him started on Jared Leto's rather addicting voice), Dave is back at home, rushing around the house, flustered beyond belief.

"David! Stop it!" his mother laughs at him, playfully smacking a leaning supply out of his hands. "What is wrong with you? Everything's fine~! Everything's clean and in its place. What are you thinking?" she jokes, all lighthearted and carefree.

"I'm thinking, Mother, that you and Dad are being way too casual about this, and that I'm the only one trying here!" Dave snaps back.

And just like that, his mother's bipolarity is triggered, medication or not. She turns pink in the face and hurls back, "Don't you dare talk to me that way! We're trying plenty, thank-you-very-much! If you think you're the only one who cares about making a good impression, then you have another thing coming, because your father and I planned on being as civil and polite and sweet as possible to this boy, because we want you to be happy, even if it takes away from some of our expectations! So shut up and go to your room until your guest arrives; and don't give me that, 'I'm eighteen and in college now, I don't have to listen to you or go to my room' speech, or I swear to the Almighty Lord above, I will spank you like the child you're acting like!"

Dave would like to shout something in rebuttal, but instead he swallows his noisy words and nods dumbly, marching aggressively up the stairs, his footfalls heavy. His mother shakes her head at him in her wake, brushing away the mental image of her son as a ticked-off little puppy as it flashes across her mind.

Ten minutes after this little episode, right as Mrs. Karofsky is getting the pot roast out of the oven, the doorbell rings.

"I got it!" Dave yells quickly, and he's racing out of his bedroom, taking the stairs two at a time until he jumps the last three steps. He slides across the hardwood floor on his socks, practically ramming into the door as he slips on the rug. He wrenches the door open, a rush of icy air smacking him in the face as he smiles at the visitor on the other side. "Hi."

The slimmer boy shivers, his gloved hands hugging his biceps. "Hi. Can I come in?"

"Of course! I mean, that's why you're here, so…" Dave says jumpily, and steps aside. "I can take your coat," he offers as he shuts the door.

"Thanks," Kurt murmurs, teeth chattering, and allows his lover to help him shrug off his winter-wear. Mrs. Karofsky enters the entranceway right then, a smile on her face.

"Hello, you must be Kurt Hummel," she says pleasantly, as if her brief, ranting episode earlier hadn't occurred at all. She steps forward and shakes his hand, but jerks backward in surprise. "Oh! Your hands are like icicles! Come into the kitchen and get warmer. You can wash your hands in the sink to heat them up. David? Why don't you set the table? Your father should be home soon." To Kurt, she adds, "Today's Paul's last day before his allotted time away from the office for Christmas. Would you like something to drink?" she asks as she escorts the soprano into the kitchen.

He shakes his head and turns on the faucet, getting the sink water nice and hot. Dave gets down four plates from the cabinet and starts setting them table with them, grabbing forks and knives and glasses to set down afterward. Kurt rubs his hands under the lightly steaming water, the prickle of his fingertips a nice, telling sign of the feeling returning to the digits.

"My car's heater is acting weird. I think it might be broken, pumping out air conditioning instead," Kurt remarks as he turns off the water and takes the towel Dave's mother provides for him. "It was so cold driving here."

"You poor, poor baby!" Mrs. K says sympathetically. "You'll have to have a mechanic look at it."

Kurt grins. "Nah, I can check it myself later. My dad's a mechanic, and has been teaching me the ropes since I could hold a wrench without dropping it or sticking it in my mouth."

Her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen in surprise. She smiles. "Really? No offense, dear, but just looking at you I wouldn't have expected to hear that."

"Most people don't," Kurt agrees with a short laugh, and Dave is secretly peering over around his chore at how his mother and dormmate are interacting. "But that's how it is. I can tell you just about anything that's wrong with your car if you tell me the symptoms, and I can fix half of the problems. But for the rest, you'd have to take it up with Hummel Senior."

Dave's mother actually laughs at this one, going as far as to snort a little. "My goodness. I never knew," she says. She glances over Kurt's shoulder at her son, who looks frozen now that his task is complete. "Davey? You need to keep this one. He'd save us a bunch of time and money on our cars."

The hockey player unexpectedly blushes, choosing not to respond to this comment. He clears his throat and declares, "I think I hear the garage door. I'm going to go see if Dad's home yet." And promptly disappears.

As soon as he's gone, Kurt cocks his head and looks to where Dave's mother is turning the gas off underneath a pan full of broccoli florettes. "Don't mind him, Kurt. I think he's just glad that you and I are getting along already."

"Is that what we're doing? I hardly noticed," Kurt teases as he moves to slip on an oven mitt. "May I? The bakes potatoes you have in there smell done."

"Aren't you a helpful little charmer," Mrs. Karofsky giggles. "Yes, of course you may. Thank you."

"No problem," Kurt says a she opens the door and retrieves the tinfoil-wrapped vegetables. "And might I say you have quite the meal planned out here; pot roast, potatoes, broccoli; the classic American triplet, unlike the rounds of pizza and KFC my family often gets because Carole is too busy to cook most nights and my father is incapable of preparing food that isn't frozen or pre-packaged. And don't get me started on Finn."

Mrs. Karofsky laughs. "Well, I'm not the best chef in the world either, but I know the basics. And I watch plenty of cooking shows to pick up on more little things. The Food Network is sometimes the only decent thing on my five hundred useless channels."

Kurt smiles. "Amen to that."

Soon, dinner is on the table and the two men of the household are entering the kitchen, father and son wearing mirroring blank expressions for different reasons. Paul looks worn out from work, and Dave looks like he's trying to remain calm. Kurt realizes, suddenly, that this must be just as stress on Dave as it is on Kurt, if not more-so, since Dave is seeking further approval from his parents than Kurt is seeking in the same people.

As they sit down to eat (pray first, which unnerves Kurt a little since he doesn't believe, but he goes along with it because it's the polite thing to do), Paul strikes up the conversation first, trying to make light of the situation.

"So I suppose things have changed drastically since the first time we met, eh, Kurt?" Mr. Karofsky remarks. "That day in the principal's office."

"Y-yes, I daresay things have," Kurt sputters around a piece of meat. He swallows, and then continues, "Thank you for that time, by the way. I meant to thank you, since you kind of stood up for me, even against your own son." 'Now, why would Kurt make that up?' he had said, and like Kurt, Paul remembers this.

Paul nods as he chews on a bite of broccoli. Clearing the way, he replies, "You're welcome, then. But I wasn't against my son; I was just being honest; doing what was right, what was fair. I knew that David had been lying. I can always tell when my boy lies, no matter how smooth he tries to talk." Dave looks uncomfortable at this, but it goes unnoticed. Paul goes on, "Still, I could tell that you were a decent kid even then, Kurt. It took guts to be in that room with two fathers and a kid who bullied you. I respected that, even if, at the same time, I suspected… well. Why we were there."

"What d'ya mean, you suspected why?" Dave says suddenly, his tone more stunned than angry or defensive.

Paul looks to his son for a fleeting moment before re-locking gazes with Kurt. "I didn't suspect you were gay just yet, in my defense. I noticed your… way of speaking, yes, but plenty of boys have softer voices. And you were dressed well, but not too out of the ordinary. What I was referring to was David's behavior; his acting out, his poorer grades, etcetera. And the fact that you had a very open, truthful face. I knew something was wrong, and that we were there because my boy in fact had been harassing you. But," he says curtly, straightening himself in his chair and stabbing a square of meat with his fork, "That's all behind us now. I hear that rooming with you has been a good thing for my son; he's not as violent or cynical about things now." And he pops the bite in his mouth, smirking lightly beneath the short beard that frames his mouth.

Kurt blushes, dropping his fork onto his plate with a startling loud clink-clankkk, because all he can think about is how Dave's behavior has improved and calmed down significantly because the closeted gay finally got laid. But he cannot say thing for a whole variety of reasons, even if it is the truth, so instead, Kurt clears his throat and replies, "Yes, well… I like to think I usually bring out the best in him, even when he's just about at his worst."

"Well said," Mrs. Karofsky approves with a smile. "Seconds, anyone?"

And minutes later, the Karofskys are cleaning up the meal, insisting Kurt not help because he's the guest, and Paul gets out a beer and starts sipping the foamy, amber liquid from a tall glass while his wife and child wrap up the last of the tidying. He gestures for Kurt to leave the kitchen table and join him in the living room for a man-to-man chat.

"Kurt, if you don't mind my asking… why do you like my son? I know plenty of reasons why I think he's a good guy, but I want to hear what you think," Paul says in firm severity, his expression stone-like but his brown eyes warm and sincerely curious.

Kurt glances down and away for a moment, his hands tying up in knots in his lap. When he looks back, there's a funny smile on his lips. "Well… I don't want to sound too disgustingly affectionate, but…" He glances up, holding the father of his lover's gaze. "There's so much I love about him. He –" Kurt lowers his voice slightly, no not to be heard by the boy in question (the singer knows how much Dave hates to be embarrassed) –"He's a little stubborn, but he's very determined and dedicated to excel in not only hockey and college to get a degree, but also to make sure that he comes to terms with himself and being with me, which is more than I could ever ask for in someone. To have him try so hard… it shows he really cares, even when we have out little disagreements.

"But it's not only that. There's the little things about him I love, like his funny, randomly-placed beauty marks, and the curve of his eyebrows, and the way he looks at me when he smiles, and the sound of his voice when he sings, or how he knows precisely when I need comfort or reassurance or something silly said or done to come along to cheer me up. I don't know how he knows, but he does, and it's… romantic, even if Dave's a bit of a bumble when it comes to romance." He quirks a smile, chuckling a bit to himself. "Actually, I used to think so little of him before. I used to only see him as this big, mean monster that had no heart and was always furious with everything and took out his hatred on the world on all of the people in it. But that's not Dave at all. He's thoughtful and is the sort who cares even when he acts like he doesn't give a rat's tail. Kind of like Sue Sylvester," he adds jokingly, but knows that the older man won't get the reference. "But it reminds me a bit of Disney's Beauty and the Beast: Beast was so ruthless at first, but once Belle got to know him, she realized that he isn't a bad guy after all, and that she could actually learn to love him past all of his 'ugliness.'"

Paul tilts his head, one hand coming up to idly stroke over his salt-and-pepper-haired chin in thought. In a serious and careful tone, he responds, "I asked why you like him, but you keep using the word 'love.' You're so young… Do you even really know what love feels like?"

"How do any of us know at any given time what love is, or whether or not we feel it for something or someone?" Kurt returns just as seriously. "It's just a natural sense we're born with, as people, and come to recognize and give a name over time. I felt love for my parents when I was a child, but didn't have a name for it until I was older. And I felt fondness toward my friends, but didn't realize how deep it went until I left New Directions – McKinley's Glee Club – and attended Dalton, finally feeling that ache of loss you get when you miss someone. And even now, I'm trying to discern if what I'm feeling is 'true love' or not, but I think it is. I've been around your son for a long while now, seeing all sides of him – high school, home life, hearing about his childhood, and then being around his everyday self – and I can honestly say that I accept all parts of him, the good and bad and ugly, and I love every square inch. He doesn't believe me, I don't think, and I don't know how smitten he is with me, but I don't care. I just want to be with him."

Paul is completely taken aback, his face open, shocked through and through, but not in a negative way. For the first time in years, Paul Karofsky feels like crying. This boy in front of him… granted, it is a boy, barely nineteen yet, nowhere near a grown adult, and definitely male, but he's besotted and mature, calm and collected, completely honest and respectful, and moreover, perfectly mannered. Almost too good to be true. But he's here, and he cares this much and has this strong of an opinion of Paul's son, and how can Paul ignore that?

This is a monumental moment. Utterly essential. Paul needs to mark this and inform his wife that what Dave has going on with this fellow Lima boy across from him – this is real. Homosexuals or not, what they have is real. And Paul just can't stand to dust it off like it's nothing.

"Honey?" he calls out to his spouse, his eyes finally unlocking from the blues ones staring at him as he stands up from the couch, his beer forgotten on the end table. "Can I have a word with you in our bedroom for a moment?"

And Kurt feels more than nervous, his fingers quaking as he unclasps them and moves them to grip the armrests on the chair he's seated in. He watches restlessly as Dave comes into the living room at the same time that his father exits it.

"What's goin' on?" Dave mutters to Kurt as he takes a seat near the slightly shorter man. Kurt shakes his head, blushing lightly, and waits until Paul is down the hall, saying something lowly to his wife, their bedroom door shutting behind them.

Kurt turns to Dave now that they're alone and blinks back tears. "I don't know if made everything a whole lot better or far worse," he whispers.

"Why? What did you say?" Dave answers eagerly, anxiously. "What did my dad say to you?"

"He asked why I like you," Kurt reveals softly, his eyes looking a little greener than usual as they tear up, but not a drop spills over his lashes. "And I happened to slip up, confessing how much I love you instead, and why."

Dave blinks, his full stomach churning happily for a moment before dread sinks down like a sickeningly cold, thickly green wash of pea soup dumped over his head. He breathes out shallowly and runs a hand through his hair, which is getting a little longer (and slightly curlier) on top. "Oh. Well, uh… th-this could be a good thing. I mean, I just hope you didn't say something gross about our sex life like I might've accidentally said if I were put in the same situation."

Kurt barks a laugh, dabbing his eyes with the corners of his sleeves. "Please. I have much more tact than that, Dave." He sighs. "Still, I wonder if I came on too strong. It would be a shock to any parent if someone – boy or girl, gay or straight – said to them that they're deeply in love with their child."

Dave's ears burn as he stutters the question, "D-do you really like me that much?" Because Dave's known for a little while now how wholeheartedly he's beside himself in love with Kurt, since Kurt is everything he's ever wanted, everything he's ever needed, and while Dave's a bit humiliated to admit it aloud, he has admitted to himself how dependent he is on the boy next to him to keep him content with and focused in life.

Kurt turns and stares at Dave oddly for a second before replying earnestly, "Yes, David. That much. I didn't think it possible, but… I do. I really do love you that intensely."

Dave's lips part and his jaw drops enough to be considered a gape. Then, slowly, his lids fall to half-mast and he leans over the space between their chairs to take the side of Kurt's face in his hand, his eyes closing entirely as he presses his forehead to Kurt's, murmuring, "You will never know how much that means to me." His heart feels like it just might explode into a hot, liquid gold little sun in his chest as he presses his lips to Kurt's, feeling the paler boy tremble in his grip, making small whimpering sounds in the back of his throat as he kisses Dave in return.

As they part, Mrs. Karofsky secretly enters the room, but ducks behind a wall and peers out when he realizes with a flush of embarrassment that the boys had been lip-locking a moment before. She blinks, finding the smallest rise of disgust nagging at her stomach, but she shoves it down for her son's sake.

"Godda, you are such a boy," Kurt smiles with a half-hearted roll of his eyes. He reaches into his pant pocket and withdraws a roll of chapstick, vanilla-flavored. He uncaps it and holds it up between their faces. "Pucker up, sweetie. Your lips are raw, almost chapped, and that just won't do. You need to take care of your skin the most in the winter, your lips particularly vital."

"That so?" Dave poses with an amused arch of an eyebrow, finally giving in and puckering his lips. Kurt applies the chapstick with care, and instructs Dave to rub his lips together before popping them. Dave does so, and his lips are looking and feeling better already.

Snapping the chapstick shut, Kurt smiles. "There. Much better."

Mrs. Karofsky chooses this moment to announce herself with a shy clearing of her throat, stepping fully into the room. The boys jump in their skins, immediately leaning away from one another.

"Mom!" Dave sputters.

"Mrs. K!" Kurt says at the same time. He gives a sheepish smile while Dave adverts his eyes. "Have a pleasant chat with your husband?"

Mrs. Karofsky's face is unreadable as she moves to the couch across from them. "Yes, I did. And, you know, I've always been skeptical about whether or not there can be love between two people of the same gender – I always thought it was all about the sex –" she doesn't miss how both boys wince at this – "But after hearing what Paul had to say and what I just saw –"

"You saw that?" Dave sputters.

His mother chooses to ignore him. "I can't believe it, but… you two are absolutely adorable. I've never seen a young couple so much in love or so oddly well-suited for one another." She grins brightly. "In other words, I fully approve. Consider my mind officially changed."

"Whuh… Really?" Dave murmurs, and Kurt looks touched beyond words.

"Yup! Now, who wants dessert? I bought ice cream, even if it's the middle of winter."

And the rest of the evening ends up being one of the absolute best of Dave's life, and Kurt can't believe how well things turned out.

That is, until Kurt gets a text from Blaine about half an hour before Kurt's meant to return home.

The text reads, 'Kurt, bb! Missin' you. Just broke up with Jason and saw him to the airport. I wish him well, but now I'm lonely. I know Jesse can be an asshole, but he can be really sweet too; think I should get back together with him? After all, he was very nice in bed, if I do say so. –Blaine.'

Kurt scowls at the text and abruptly stands from the family room where the Karofskys and himself have been watching a movie. "I'm terribly sorry, but I need to make a call. It's urgent," he grinds out.

Dave stands as Kurt flees the room, but his father lowers him back to the sofa while his mother reaches over and touches his forearm.

The three none-too-subtly attempt to eavesdrop, all of them remaining perfectly silent as they try to listen to what Kurt is saying in the other room. They're doing it out of sheer curiosity, mainly wondering what could make sweet, well-mannered Kurt suddenly scowl like an angry badger, and what is so urgent that he had to leave in the middle of Mission Impossible.

Suddenly, after lots of low murmuring, Kurt's voice escalates enough to be heard clearly by the three Karofskys, even over the still-playing action film:

"No, Blaine, I really do think you're a big, gay slut! You're always about being holier-than-thou, but you're actually just a huge attention whore who feels the need to have as many little puppies following you around as you please just to give your huge fucking ego a loving stroke! Well, you know what? I'm done with your little scandals. I don't want to be that friend you fall back on for an ego boost, or that little minion you use to do your dirty work like I did in high school, nor do I want to be that gay guy you know that you think you can try to 'date,' or should I say, 'get into the pants of' for that friends-with-benefits free fuck? No. Shut up, Blaine. I'm serious. How did I ever call you my friend? I thought you were a real dapper gentleman, but I see now you're just a waste of space. No. No! Don't try to talk your way out of this one, Blainey-dearest, because I'm through with you. We are no longer friends, do you hear me? I don't want another text or call from you ever again! Good bye!"

Kurt storms back into the family room, looking flushed with anger, his fists clenched, one of which gripping his iPhone until the knuckles are white. He plops down with a huff next to his boyfriend and attempts to settle back into the couch cushions, and reengage in the movie.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," Kurt murmurs tiredly, "But I was getting tired of Blaine's bullshit. He's someone I knew form Dalton," he adds as an explanation to Dave's parents.

But Paul Karofsky is smiling, and his wife is beaming approvingly.

"It's quite all right, Kurt," Paul says. "To be honest, I thought you might've been a bit of a pushover, a little too tender, but after hearing that… I see that you have real backbone. You're strong, and I respect you even more."

Mrs. Karofsky laughs. "Yeah! I mean, for a minute there, I had you pegged all wrong. You're a feisty little guy, aren't you?"

Kurt and Dave both blink in astonishment. "Wha– I am?" He straightens himself. "I mean, of course I am. No one messes with a Hummel."

And this only succeeds in making both parents laugh – Mrs. K a cute giggle behind a hand, and Mr. K a hearty, albeit short-lived chuckle.

Dave stares on in amazement, trying to wrap his mind around what had just transpired in the past ten minutes. Kurt getting a text; Kurt getting angry at that douche Blaine that Dave despises anyway; Kurt being acknowledged as feisty; and his parents now officially adoring Kurt.

The jock shakes his head. Nope, he simply cannot wrap his mind around any of it. But it does make him oddly happy, and that's enough.

That's enough.