A/N: This story has over 71,000 words in total, according to FF.n. That's fuckin' CRAZY. On my Word doc it just says it has over 69,000. BUT STILL, THAT'S A LOTTA WORDS. WHY IS THIS FIC SO MUCH LONGER THAN I HAD ANTICIPATED/INTENDED/ORIGINALLY WANTED? AND WHY CAN'T I STOP? Stupid brain. Stupid fingers. This is all going so very downhill so very fast and I don't understand it in the least.

On another note, someone approached me with an idea for a Butterfly Effect-esque Dave/Kurt fanfiction. Think I might do it, but in my own way and not like the book/movie much at all aside from the basic concept. Hurm, dunno. Would be fun to make, though... Sorta like a Glee AU-but-not. Huhuhuhu.

Anyway, enjoy this chapter. I'll be on Tumblr doin' random shit. Ciao~ XD

Chapter 20.

The holidays pass like a blur; there's that traditional family Christmas, then there's that parents-meeting-parents-between-a-couple that's awkward and comforting at the same time, then there's the celebratory sneak-off-and-have-New-Year's-sex thing, and then there's the long farewell among family and friends after New Year's when it's time for everyone to return to college in time for about half a week until classes start up again.

((Although there was that awkward moment during the farewell in which Mrs. Karofsky, on one of her bipolar med "highs" (meaning good spirits instead of bad ones), said, "And make sure that the next time you come back, you have an adopted baby in tow, because I remembered that I can still have grandkids and your father can still have someone carry on his last name if you two adopt! So do it."))

The ride home is full of singing – Kurt, mostly, with the occasional lyric or two coming from Dave – and constant other noise, like the commercials on the radio and idly chatter leaking from Kurt's mouth.

Suddenly, Kurt cuts himself off. "Come on, Dave, say something. You've been so quiet lately."

"I've got a lot on my mind," Dave admits. "More hockey when we get back. My parents being oddly… cool about things. You. Dealing with fangirly Alyssa again, although that's not as bad. Worrying about semester class changes, hoping that Tyler isn't in one of them, since I can't stand that prick. And then seeing what my grade is for all the finals we took before break started. Those sorts of things."

"Wow. That is a lot on your mind. But, uh… any particular notion attached to the piece concerning me?" Kurt says hopefully, a small smile making its way onto his face.

Dave rolls his eyes as he parks the car in the student parking lot. Turning off the ignition, Dave snorts with playful sarcasm, "Figures that out of all of that, you only hear about yourself." He unbuckles himself and leans over to give Kurt a peck off-center from his mouth, just below his cheek, right on that flawless skin. "You hurt my feelings."

"You know I care about your other worries, too, Dave," Kurt replies with a roll of his eyes as he, too, unbuckles. He pops open the door and continues talking as he and Dave exit the vehicle. "I was just wondering why you had an explanation for every other thought, but when it came to me, all you said was, 'you.'" They meet around back, Dave popping open the trunk and both of them taking their bags into their arms.

"Because my thoughts of you don't need an explanation, duh. I'm always thinking about you. I kind of have to; you're my roommate, I'm dating you, and my parents approve of you because you somehow convinced them – and me – about how much you actually love me, which is something I'm still trying to wrap my mind around, because saying the words 'I love you' sometimes isn't half as powerful as the meaning behind all of the words that aren't 'I,' 'love,' and 'you.'"

"Wow, Dave. I think that's one of the most intelligent things you've ever said. I guess you – and Finn, too, come to think of it – have your moments of genius like the rest of us," Kurt grins, walking alongside his lover to interlock their fingers with their only free hands. No one seems to be around, so Dave is fine with it.

"Shut up, Hummel. Man, every time I'm serious with you, you act like it's nothing." He says this, but he's smiling as well. Kurt simply laughs in reply and rests his head on Dave's shoulder while they walk closer to the dorm building.

"That break was so fun, though. I'm just in such a good mood because of it that I wonder how you can feel any dread. It's all so… warm and fuzzy-feeling, as if I ate an entire field of sun-warmed dandelions."

Dave snorts as he holds up his car keys – still in his hand from when they unlocked the trunk for their bags – and unlocks the dorm building door. "You're so weird. You come up with the weirdest analogies and similes and metaphors and all those other English terms I –" and he cuts himself off, frowning his catlike brows as he turns his head to glance behind them.

Kurt lifts his head from Dave's shoulder and tugs on their still-linked fingers. "Something wrong?"

Dave shakes his head. "No, I guess not. Just thought I heard something, or saw something move in my periph'. But it was probably a car on the street or a bird or something. Anyway, I was just saying that you always tack on little things at the ends of your sentences that are, like, indefinable shit I can barely remember learning in school, yet you use them all the time."

Kurt chuckles a little. "Yes, well. You said so yourself a while back that I have a poetic vocabulary. It seems that applies to my speech patterns as well." And he is so bright and cheery that Dave wonders if Kurt took something this morning, or if he genuinely is still glowing from the holidays.

"Your over-exaggerated happiness is kinda making me nauseous," Dave mutters huskily, opening the door to their room. They slip inside, dropping their traveling bags into the floor near the attached bathroom. Dave turns the tables on the moment and moves to pin Kurt against the wall on the other side of the closed door. "Maybe I should kiss that big, fat, dimpled smile off your face."

"Hmm, I don't think I'd mind that," Kurt hums softly, and wraps his arms around the beefier boy's neck, gripping his own wrist to solidify the loop. "I talk too much anyway."

"You really fucking do," Dave purrs as he leans forward and nips and licks at the tender spot where Kurt's jaw meets his neck, just in front of his ear. In fact, that little bit of flesh is such a temptation that Dave shifts over and takes Kurt's velvety-soft earlobe in his mouth, sucking lightly. Kurt sighs and presses against Dave, their chests meeting for a moment. Planting a kiss or two down Kurt's neck before moving to his mouth, Dave mumbles, "You know," kiss, "We should really," kiss, "Try that thing we did," kiss, "On New Year's Eve," kiss-kiss, "Again." And he pulls back enough to place Kurt's reaction to his suggestion.

Kurt blinks, then blushing a lovely shade of rose. "You mean… when I was pitcher, and you were catcher?"

"Baseball analogies again?" Dave whispers with a breathless, humorless laugh. "But yeah. That. It was… interesting. Sorta wouldn't mind testing that again."

"I will never understand you, David Karofsky; you're full of too many surprises," Kurt mutters as he lifts himself the remaining inch-or-so between them in height to connect their lips. "And this time, you're the one talking too much."

XXX

Right before the game, seconds before the fucking game was about to start, he just had to come in and ruin it all. He just had to.

One hour prior…

Tyler Jurcen comes crashing into the locker room, pre-game, a fierce looks on his face. People throw questions and greetings at him as he whizzes by, storming determinedly directly up to one single person.

"Karofsky!" he shouts, roars, like some Viking about to kill a beast, at the mentioned peer. He grins something ugly as he comes face-to-face with his target, looking down slightly.

"And what the fuck do you want, Jurcen?" Dave replies, cold and hateful as ever. But Tyler seems not to let it bother him. Instead, he gets up nice and close, so much so that Dave starts to twitch in anger beneath his hockey gear, and can almost smell the other college boy's disgusting breath. He smells like he might've been drinking.

"I know what you are, David," Tyler hisses, slurs, growls. He sticks his nose in Dave's face, glaring him down. "I know. I saw you two together. Friends my ass; roommates my ass! Friends – roommates – don't hold fucking hands and lean on each other and kiss in the car."

So it was Tyler who Dave saw in his peripherals that day he and Kurt returned from Lima. But it doesn't matter. Dave stands up straight, shoves with both hands on Tyler's chest until the boy stumbles back, and threatens, "I don't know what you're talking about, dude, but if you don't get the fuck out of this locker room you clearly don't belong in anymore within the next five seconds, I'll have me and some of the boys remind you what being rammed feels like."

"Ramming. Yeah, that sounds about right for you, doesn't it? You ram other players on the ice, and then when you get back to your dorm, you start ramming your boy toy's ass, am I right?" Tyler shoots back, and this time, people are attentive, listening, ever since the shove. Ever since they all fully realized that, oh yeah, Tyler's not on the team anymore, so he actually shouldn't be here, but hey, we'll all just want him throw down with Karofsky anyway.

"Dude, is he calling you gay?"

"Man, Tyler's crazy! Just look at him, he's drunk! Totally whack, man. We all know Karofsky's straight."

"Yeah, man. Stop accusin' Karofsky of stuff he ain't into."

"Isn't into?" Tyler says loudly, throwing up his arms, and Dave is two seconds from tackling his ass, foul-even-on-the-football-field style, to the fucking ground. To the fucking unforgiving, cement floor of the locker room. "HA, don't make me laugh! David over here is a fucking cocksucker, aren't you, Daaaaavid? You like that twink-you-call-a-roomate's cock in your mouth?"

"That's it, Jurcen, your ass is mine," Dave spits back furiously; and before Tyler can come back with a witty remark like, "That's exactly what you'd like to do, isn't it, gaybo?" and before anyone in the locker room can so much as blink, Karofsky is driving Tyler into the ground without mercy, his fist drawing blood from the busted nose and broken lip of the drunk below him.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" comes the coach, roaring into being like Bieste had about two years ago in a different locker room, in another lifetime, to break apart Same Evans and the same attacker on this locker room's floor. "Get your paws off of him, Karofsky! What the hell is your problem?"

"Coach, Tyler came in here and started calling Karofsky gay. It was totally uncalled for, man. Totally unjustified."

"Yeah! Tyler's just a drunk, man. Totally whacked out. Just get his ass outta here so we can play."

The coach absorbs these witness statements as he yanks the two wrestling boys apart. Tyler is the first to speak when the coach asks, "Do I need a good reason not to boot your ass out of here, Jurcen?"

"I have one if you do," Tyler sniffs, wiping blood from his upper lip, then moving to wipe more from his chin. "I might be a little drunk, but I'm not making this shit up. I saw them, okay? Karofsky fucking lied to me. Lied to all of you. Fucker isn't straight; fucker's gay. Just ask him. He hasn't denied it yet."

Some more remarks from the peanut gallery pipe up.

"Hey, wait a minute… Jurcen's got a point. Why didn't Karofsky say anything to, like, defend himself?"

"Yeah, all he did was tell Tyler to basically shut up…"

"Karofsky, man, he's not telling the truth, is he?"

"Yeah, dude, 'cause if he is, that's not cool."

"No way. Totally not cool."

The coach looks to Dave now, and all Dave can feel is the adrenaline racing through his system, and all he can hear is his heartbeat drumming in his ears, making them ring, and making all of the voices in the locker room echo.

His thoughts wash over his mind like a waterfall breaking from a dam:

Kurt's out there. He's in the audience with Alyssa, waiting to see me come out on the ice and take home another win for the team. People are counting on me. But what's more important? Kurt's approval, or the approval of my team? I would have chosen the last option in high school. Hell, I did choose that option back then. To me, sports were everything, and I didn't care if I got Kurt pissed or made him hate me or looked like the fucking douchebag coward of a closet case that I was. I didn't care because I was scared.

Dave swallows hard, his eyes turning to stone as he gazes directly back at his coach, about to give an answer.

But… I'm not scared anymore. My parents like Kurt, they still love me, and even Kurt's parents are okay with me. Even his friends don't mind me. So who really matters? Not these fucking people. Only Kurt.

"So what if it's true? I like guys. Actually, I really love one guy in specific, but hey, semantics. I'm as queer as a fucking rainbow, but I'm a goddamn awesome hockey player, and you all know it. So we can sit here and talk about how faggy I am, or we can go out there and play. What's it gonna be?" Dave retorts sourly, firmly, strongly. He's never felt so good about himself before; it's like a whole new door has opened (a closet door?), and suddenly the light is pouring in, and he feels so, so much better.

Tyler howls, screaming in frustration as he turns on his heel and exits that his plan to out and emotionally cripple Dave Karofsky failed so miserably, because they really are very different after all, because Dave is actually so much braver than Tyler, and it wounds Tyler in ways he can't express outside of a screech, because Dave is the guy Tyler can never hope or dream to be, and they both know it.

However, the angry, frustrated, overly-closeted jock exits too soon to hear the hockey coach's reaction to Dave's little speech.

"Karofsky… I can't have a homo on my team. I don't care how fucking good you are, that's just not right. And I think I'm actually saving you a lot of grief for kicking you off the tram now, before things get ugly and your teammates doing something God-awful to you," the coach says sternly, and a few players in the background frown seriously in agreement, or whistle their approval.

One even shouts, "You tell 'im, Coach! No fags in hockey!"

And really, Dave thought he'd be a hell of a lot angrier once this happened (if it ever happened, and it has). But he can't find it in himself to be half as disappointed or furious or ashamed as he had been in the past, because he's come to a revelation, has had an epiphany of sorts, and he could honestly care less.

Dave shrugs, strips off his borrowed padding and gear right them and there and shoves it in the coach's hands. "Here, take it back, then. I won't be needing it. You're all just homophobic freaks who need to get a life and realize that sports will mean nothing but a program to watch n TV in about three years, and that true love and all that jazz? Yeah, it's fuckin' real and limited to gender, and a whole lot more satisfying than playing with a bunch of puck-heads."

And he promptly storms out, eager to find Kurt and get the hell out of this place.

Presently…

Alyssa hands Kurt and Dave the ice cream cones she promised them the second Dave relayed the entire scene to them both, word for word, action for action. They're seated in a Culver's, the custard just as sweet and creamy and melty as ever, Kurt hurriedly lapping it up and ignoring (with a smirk) as Dave watches each and every movement.

"Kurt, if you keep eating your ice cream like that, I think Dave is going to faint due to lack of blood in his brain," Alyssa giggles around a nip at her cone.

Dave rolls his eyes. "Just because I find it adorable how he eats ice cream and am staring a little, doesn't mean I'm mega-turned-on and on the brink of jizzing in my pants, Alyssa."

"Uh-oh, Davey. I think we just succeeded in making Kurt the pinkest peach on the tree. Lookit his face: pricelessly mortified," Alyssa snorts a laugh, trying to cover her mouth to keep her food from spilling out. She swallows and shakes her head. "Oh God, you two. As much as I want to beat my ex's pathetic ass for outing Dave so rudely, I'm just way too amused right now to be very mad."

"Yeah… yeah, I know how you feel," Dave murmurs, idly reaching over to rub Kurt's back to sooth the embarrassment-induced choking sounds coming from his mouth as he sputters from inhaling his ice cream. "I mean, I just took some sort of huge step in doing that, right? It feels like I did. Feels like I hit some huge marker, or got handed some test, and I nailed it."

Alyssa nods around a lick of her cone. "Mm-hmm, mm-hmm!" she agrees, patting Dave's forearm for a moment. Swallowing, she clears her throat of the frozen treat to say, "I'm so proud of you, seriously. That takes so much courage I don't even –" and she cuts herself off, smiling. She looks to Kurt. "Right?"

Quietly, he nods. "Yes. I've stated repeatedly on the way here how proud I am of him. I'm still a bit in shock, actually."

"Why?" Dave wonders, and across from them, Alyssa looks on with keen interest.

Kurt's eyes flutter downward, then flicker over to the side to lock with Dave's as he turns slightly toward him in the sticky blue booth. "Because… that's something I wouldn't expect from you. It's shows how much you've come around, Dave. And… it proves how much you love me, all that you're willing to sacrifice; even your love of playing in hockey."

And Kurt looks away again immediately, not sure if he's going to blush again or cry, so he opts instead to focus on his ice cream. Alyssa silently melts on the other side of the booth, sighing softly to herself.

"I think I should go. I feel like I shouldn't be here for this. I'll see you guys again soon." Alyssa remarks gently, smiling warmly. She stands from her end of the table and takes a hearty bite of cone and custard. "Bye, lover-boys. Always stay this cute, okay?" And she blows them an air-kiss before skip-stepping out of the establishment.

The conversation carries on as Dave blinks away the realization that hey,. Alyssa actually knows how to read a situation sometimes. Then, slowly, he's shrugging it off and getting into the groove of doing that thing called responding.

"Hockey is just a hobby. I mean, yes, I like it a lot, but… I can always skate or practice on my own when I want to. Heh, I can even teach you the ropes sometime. It's not a big deal. I didn't lose much." Dave says, trying his best to make it out to be nothing, even though he is admittedly a little hurt by the one-eighty from his teammates, going from being on his side to another entirely, and just a little bit depressed that he won't get to be competitively in a sport anymore without at least one person shouting how a homosexual doesn't belong in a manly-man locker room. Pft.

Kurt glances at Dave again, his cone beginning to melt a bit in his hand since he stopped licking at it. "Dave… you don't have to pretend. I know how much hockey means to you. But you know, I find it so sweet that you stood up for yourself, and indirectly me, that I'm willing to overlook your I-care-not façade and take you up on that hockey-teaching offer, since I think it would be enjoyable for both of us. Agreed?" And he quirks an eyebrow, suddenly back to his usual self, his tongue flicking out to catch some stray drips of ice cream.

All of the tension lingering in Dave seems to disappear. "Deal. – Uh, I mean, yeah, agreed."

And Kurt simply smiles and nudges his boyfriend, saying, "Shall we return home, now?"

Around a nibble at his own custard, Dave gives a nod. "Yeah, I'm tired of this place. Let's go."