The Storm: Redemption
Chapter Ten
By Gayforkurt
Summary: Famous countertenor Kurt Hummel and billionaire entrepreneur Dave Karofsky must come to terms with the past but bitter feelings make a future for these two headstrong men highly unlikely. This fic is rated M.
A/N 1: Guys, I think I have the best readers/reviewers! Thank you all so much for your input. You really do inspire me so keep them coming. They only make me work faster.
Disclaimer: Messrs. Ryan, Falchuk, et al are the owners of my favorite boys. Only the OCs belong to me, alas.
KHDK
Wednesday's matinee performance came and went as they all did: wonderful music, spectacular singing and rousing applause. What made this Wednesday different from all previous Wednesdays since they'd opened in the West End was that Kurt's understudy went on for him.
When Rex, the company's director had asked Kurt if he'd been feeling alright, he hadn't seemed very convinced as Kurt's normally pale skin had appeared almost translucent. In addition, the shadows beneath Kurt's eyes had returned and the older, endlessly harassed man could only send Kurt back home to bed with the admonition that he should actually get some sleep.
Kurt assured him that he would be okay to perform that night and, indeed, the rehearsal earlier with his duet partner Padma had gone very well. So Kurt left the theatre and headed back to the flat, determined to relax, get some sleep and give himself a mini spa treatment before the gala at 8 that night.
If he were more into self-deception, he would say he didn't know what was wrong with him. However, as he was almost always painfully honest with himself at least, he knew the cause of his discontentment lay mostly with himself – and partially with David Karofsky.
When he'd fled the library, leaving a dismayed David behind and no doubt a confused Puck, Kurt had been struggling to contain not just embarrassment but what he felt was a wholly inappropriate arousal. He'd turned and seen David's hazel eyes almost devouring him as he stood there and his body had betrayed him by bringing up the memory of them getting each other off back on the island.
There'd also been an element of confusion further muddying the whole thing for him because a part of him couldn't understand why his body was so determined to derail his plans to keep Karofsky at arms' length. He couldn't remember the last time he'd reacted so quickly to anyone – and simply from a look, at that!
Damn! Now tonight was the gala, he was scheduled to perform at least three times, and there was no way he could either back out or, worse, avoid David. David and The Hon. Emma whatever-whatever, he sneered to himself. As he guided the car through London's midday traffic, he thought of all those blue-bloods who were still hanging out for an infusion of American cash, even in this day and age.
He had no doubt this Emma person did find David attractive – really, who wouldn't – but even without meeting her, Kurt could just bet she'd be the type to find the man's financial assets far more intriguing than his physical ones.
Kurt pulled into the curb outside his flat and thought about the night to come. He really wasn't looking forward to seeing David so soon after he'd embarrassed himself and behaved like a gauche child, after David had gone to all that trouble to not only cook a really great lunch but to bake his favorite dessert as well. Kurt slapped the steering wheel hard and cursed beneath his breath. He really had to get hold of himself. He was usually a much more composed person, not really given to blowing suddenly hot and cold or being vicious or bitchy. He did have a temper but that seemed par for the course for most stage performers who thrived on feedback from a live audience. It was totally different from performing and recording in front of cameras, which always seemed less personal and a bit less interactive.
Still, something about David Karofsky just stripped away all his hard-won self-control and made him react on a level he had never done with any other lover.
He caught his breath as his mind replayed that last bit. Lover.
Is that what David was in his mind? After that one stupid weekend on an island whose name he didn't even know?
Kurt leapt out of the car and tore upstairs, barely waiting to hear the street door shut as he searched for his house keys. He let himself in and immediately fixed a drink – whisky this time, not some blasted genteel sherry. He flung himself down on his couch, sipping and scowling into the middle distance while he tried to make sense of the bombshell his mind just dropped on him.
Was it possible that, because he knew David was in love with him, his mind saw him as belonging to Kurt? Was that where that anger towards The Honorable Emma and her ilk came from? Jesus! His mind was one fucked up place if that were true.
He couldn't deny that when Puck had shown him the picture of the beautiful blonde that the twinge he'd felt was pain. He'd buried it and ignored it because, seriously, that was just plain ridiculous. He was not supposed to care that Karofsky was probably going to marry the woman and churn out fat little blonde babies who would have their mother's blue blood and their father's amazing eyebrows.
What the f***?
Kurt choked as the fiery liquid went down the wrong way and he gasped and coughed until he'd cleared his air passages.
Oh, god, no, he really was going mental! Kurt was profoundly ashamed of himself for his mind's carryings ons and vowed to ignore it – at least until it came to its senses. Suddenly he started to second guess his decision to meet with David, wondering if maybe he hadn't been as emotionally ready as he'd thought. He brooded on that for a bit, drank the last of the golden liquid and headed back to bed, promising himself to get a good few hours' sleep if it was the last thing he did.
KHDK
The last seductively beautiful notes of Handel's Lascia Ch'io Panga resonated throughout the auditorium. Kurt had stood silently in the glowing light as the orchestra drew out the closing notes, knowing that as soon as they finished, the audience would erupt in a thunderous ovation. How did he know? They'd done it six minutes before, hence the current encore which he was happy to provide. He was in no hurry to get to the social part of the night where he had to meet and greet the members of the opera company's board and dignitaries from the city as well as the usual opera aficionados.
The applause rolled over him, lifting his spirits and bringing his beautiful, famously serene smile to his face. He acknowledged the shouts quite graciously tonight, spurred on by the thought that he'd never performed better and none of his nerves had shown through.
As the heavy curtains fell for the last time, he ran quickly backstage to his dressing room. The other performers had already changed and refreshed themselves before heading out to the foyer where the catering company had set up for the guests' arrival. The place was quiet and Kurt hurried to change, cleaning off the stage makeup and reapplying a light coating of his own more natural-looking base.
He slid quickly into his outfit for the night, deciding that after the magnificence of the costumes he would keep it simple and devastatingly elegant. This meant, for him of course, the outfit was all black. The pants fit him like a glove and settled perfectly over his high-sheen dress shoes. The top was extremely severe in cut – designed similarly to a matador's jacket but without the tail – and coming only to his waist. It had a high Nehru collar that framed his long, pale neck perfectly but the most interest feature was the fact that it had no closures except for one fastening made of braided black rope that slid over a gleaming black button.
Kurt examined himself from all angles in his full-length mirror and declared himself very satisfied. He liked the way the jacket hugged his shoulders without bunching but was especially pleased that the only time his gleaming skin peeked through the front opening was when he raised his arm. Standing still, nothing showed but if he lifted his arm to take a sip or nibble on the delicious canapés that were no doubt being served, one could glimpse skin from his throat down to his sternum.
The pants were perfectly tailered as well; the fit across his hips and backside was smooth but not indecently tight and he was satisfied that those who said his ass was his best feature would probably love the way the material hugged it.
The color in his cheeks was still fairly high from his dash backstage after that rousing ovation so he only added a touch of gloss to his lips and then declared himself ready. He headed out and up towards the front of the huge building, hearing the volume of the noise increase as he got closer to the foyer. It was a happy sound; the lighter ring of the women's laughter complemented by the deeper bass of the men and, overlaying all that, the sound of music piping through the system. He could also smell the food and he was looking forward to having something to eat as he was feeling ravenous.
He pushed through the swing door to the front of house and paused to look around, checking for familiar faces as he did so. Deciding to get himself at least a glass of champagne before starting his rounds, he headed over to the long tables set up at the far walls. He slid through the throng, nodding here and throwing out a 'hi' there and then he was standing in front of rows of wine glasses and gleaming buckets with bottles of champagne.
As he helped himself he felt someone sidle up to him but he took a quick sip before turning to greet the newcomer. His eyes slid up a broad chest covered by the obligatory designer tuxedo and bow tie, up a determined chin, past a smiling mouth and narrow nose until they collided with gleaming hazel ones. He blinked rapidly as he realized who was standing there smiling at him and he nearly choked.
He swallowed quickly, coughed a little and raised a pink face to David, trying for a smile that might just have turned out more as a grimace.
"Hello, Kurt." Dave found standing so close to Kurt to be intoxicating but it was unavoidable in the after-show crush. He couldn't stop his eyes from sliding down the younger man's exposed throat, noticing the thrumming pulse and fighting an insane urge to lick it.
Kurt for his part was unable to stop himself from noticing that David looked absolutely doable in his Tom Ford tuxedo but it was the warm expression lighting his hazel eyes that made his pulse leap.
"David, hi! Uhm…" he coughed again, wishing the floor would just swallow him and put him out of his misery. The memory of the last time he'd been in this man's company and how he'd left so precipitously popped up to mortify him and he only hoped no one else was witnessing his near spontaneous combustion.
David simply smiled and continued. "Do I need to tell you how great you were tonight?" His hazel eyes were almost gold as he grinned at Kurt. "Seriously, I'd heard Jaroussky sing Laschia Ch'io Panga about ten years ago and he was pretty good, but you blew us away tonight."
Kurt groaned to himself: Oh, Lord, kill me now! He had a kink for men who liked his kind of singing and David was definitely pushing several buttons right now. He had to do something to compose himself and as he muttered a thank-you to the man, he looked around at the other patrons, hoping to be rescued.
David grinned as he realized how discomfited his praise was making Kurt but it only amused him. He couldn't understand how Kurt could be so affected by compliments when he'd just stood on that stage for several minutes while people yelled "bravo, bravo" as if it were going out of style.
Kurt took a careful sip of the champagne and cleared his throat, his mouth taking over. "So, did your date enjoy the evening as well?"
He tightened his lips as he waited for David to respond, wanting to kick himself for even bringing up that woman! David immediately looked around for her over the heads of the crowd but apparently she wasn't in his line of sight. He turned back and told Kurt to wait, he'd go fetch her and Kurt nodded.
As soon as the other man moved off, Kurt turned to scan the room for the tables with the hors d'oeuvres. Seeing a line of people moving along another wall, he figured that was where the food was and headed there. He wasn't particularly interested in meeting the blonde and he was hungry so food was his current priority.
He pushed his way through the throng, stopping every now and then when someone grabbed him to utter more congratulations or introduce him to someone or other, but eventually he reached the line and took up a small plate and fork. He still kept one eye on the room, though, not wanting David to sneak up on him again. This time he'd probably choke on some little puff pastry thing, thereby expiring from both the food and embarrassment.
Having collected his food, he moved over to a mixed group of singers and musicians, sliding into a small gap so he felt as if he was safely ensconced behind a barrier of bodies. The group was in high spirits, congratulating each other on a good night and making plans for their upcoming break. The company was going to Italy for a three-week gig and the women in the group – and Kurt – were excited about the shopping opportunities there.
Kurt eventually relaxed his vigilance, getting caught up in the group's light-hearted chatter, but he still kept an eye out for David's whereabouts. When the others started to drift away and form other smaller groups as always happens at these huge events, Kurt found himself in a small pocket of silence. As he turned to look for somewhere to deposit his plate and cocktail fork, his eyes fell on a striking couple on the other side of the room.
David was standing with the same blonde Kurt recognized as The Hon. Emma Smythe-Heffley and his breath caught in his throat. As he watched she turned her face up to David, a stunning smile spreading across her face before she laughed at whatever he had just said to her. The thing that made a shaft of pain burn through Kurt was the way David looked at her. The affection was so clear for all to see, it was obvious they were a couple, and a beautiful one at that.
Kurt felt somehow cut adrift as he watched unwillingly, the two unaware of his scrutiny. Just as he thought to turn away, David looked up, still smiling, and his gaze locked with Kurt's.
He didn't know how long they stood staring at each other but someone passed between them and broke the connection. Kurt dragged in a deep breath, wondering if maybe he was coming down with something because now he felt queasy. Or maybe he shouldn't have had the champagne before eating something… maybe.
He spun around and headed for the front doors of the huge building, feeling as if the air was too close and as if he was near to tears. He placed the plate and champagne glass on the nearest table and headed out into the cool night air, thankful also for the sudden drop off in sound. He stopped at the top of the shallow steps and then moved to rest against one of the huge columns. Traffic whipped past but he couldn't seem to hear them, just as he didn't hear someone calling his name.
Kurt wondered what the hell was wrong with him. He'd never felt so under siege before; it was as if his own mind and body were in a war against him. His control was hanging by a thread and he could feel the tell-tale burn of imminent tears at the back of his nose. He leaned against the pillar, taking deep breaths to stave them off and looked up in shock when he felt his arm being grabbed.
He spun around, his other hand coming up swiftly to hit his attacker but it was grabbed just as he realized it was David who'd come after him. David stared at him in confusion and concern, taking in the pale face and wide eyes brimming with tears.
"Kurt, my god, what happened?"
Kurt only stared at him, unable to squeeze out a word to save his life, a tear spilling over and rolling down a smooth, pale cheek. David was frightened; he didn't know what was wrong. Kurt had left so abruptly and now he looked on the verge of collapse. He tried again.
"Are you hurt, sick?" He watched as Kurt tried to collect himself, the singer pulling away and wrapping his arms around his slender waist. He waited, hoping that he would eventually speak, all the while his heart was hammering in his throat.
Finally, Kurt looked back at him, his pink lips in a tight line. His voice was very soft when he said, "Sh-she's very beauti-ful," and David would have taken it as a compliment if only Kurt's voice hadn't broken on the last word.
He nodded before tilting his head, studying Kurt's facial expression and body language. Something was going on with Kurt and given the way the singer had left his house so abruptly on Monday, he was intrigued enough to try and figure it out.
Kurt, fidgeting under the scrutiny, decided to head back inside to collect his things before heading home. "I'm okay, really. I'll just go get my things and head home. I'm bushed," his voice sounded light but a little strained to Dave's ears.
Dave took a small device from his pocket and pressed it before looking up at Kurt. "This is to call my driver; I'm pushing off too." He paused at the enquiring look on Kurt's face.
"Did Noah drive you tonight?"
Dave looked at him, a little confused. "No, he left for the U.S. yesterday. Didn't he tell you?" That was odd behavior for people who were seeing each other, he thought, a little taken aback. Kurt's own puzzled face turned back toward him.
"No, why should he have told me? I haven't seen him since he dropped me off on Monday." He ducked his head as he hated bringing attention to his juvenile behavior.
Dave stared at him but Kurt's body language was so closed off, he didn't feel questioning him at the moment on his personal business with Puck would go over very well. He stepped closer to the other man, unable to help himself as he stared into Kurt's blue-grey-green eyes.
"I'm leaving for Dubai tomorrow. I should have left today but Emma wanted to attend this thing," he looked up at the theatre's façade and shrugged. "I don't get to see her often so I figured this was a small enough thing to do for her." He watched a number of expressions flit across Kurt's beautiful face, none of them staying long enough for him to figure them out.
Kurt nodded and wrapped his arms more tightly around his waist, the action tugging at one side of hid jacket and revealing more skin than he apparently realized. David's eyes dropped to the tantalizing flesh gleaming between the jacket's black panels and heat flared inside him, causing his eyes to darken.
His breath quickened and he took a step closer to Kurt, unable to help himself and the singer looked up at him quizzically. David stopped a few steps away, his eyes roaming Kurt's body hungrily before returning to his face. He started to say something, apparently thought better of it and glanced at the door.
Kurt held his breath, having finally recognized the look on David's face and wondered if the man was about to kiss him. They were standing in full view of the theatre's doors and passersby on the street below but Kurt knew deep down that if David had made another move towards him, Kurt would have met him halfway, damn any observers. David didn't move any closer, however, just stood there looking at Kurt longingly.
Kurt's head dropped but then he raised it quickly, about to damn his pride to hell as well as all propriety. His body seemed to be craving David's and though he didn't understand it, it was too powerful to resist. He licked his lips before parting them to tell David just that when suddenly the door opened and several patrons surged out, chatting and laughing. With them was Emma who looked around before sighting David.
"Davey, there you are!" Her aristocratic voice carried on the clear night air, breaking the tension between the two men. It felt to Kurt as if he'd been doused in cold water and he spun away, turning his face to look out at the street as if he were waiting on a cab.
David felt his heart sink; he had a feeling Kurt was about to say something important, judging from the look on his face and now he felt as if the moment was lost forever. He tried to smile as Emma glided over to him, one slender arm going around his waist and the other patting his chest possessively.
"Yes, I just needed some air. Ahm, let me introduce you." He waited for Kurt to turn back to them and continued. "Emma, this is Kurt Hummel; we saw him perform earlier. Kurt, this is the Honorable Emma Smythe-Heffley."
Emma was an intelligent, observant woman. When she had come out with the other patrons, she'd immediately noticed the tense way in which both men had been facing each other. She didn't know what was happening but she felt it would be wise to find out… and soon. The young singer looked at her with a face devoid of any emotion save that which was politeness itself and felt a little cold thrill run down her back.
Kurt smiled as he took the hand she held out to him. It was the same cool, beautiful smile he gave to the photographers, the interviewers, paparazzi, etc., with very little personality but a great deal of charm to it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you." She frowned slightly at the sound of his light, seductive voice, recognizing perhaps subconsciously that she was in the presence of a rival. "Did you enjoy the performance tonight?" His gorgeous eyes looked directly into hers as they squared off, David almost forgotten.
She smiled before answering, a slight coolness coming into her own features. "Immensely, though I must say..." and she paused as if a little puzzled by something that had just struck her as odd: "I am a somewhat surprised that the pieces you did were ones usually performed by women. You were quite superb, though."
Kurt dipped his head a little in acknowledgement of both the compliment and the jibe. It wasn't the first time someone had commented on his predilection for singing pieces presumably written for women, and it wouldn't be the last either. His answer was patronising in the extreme.
"I'm surprised how few people," and here he broke off to flick a quick admiring glance at David as if he couldn't help himself; "actually understand that the spirit that uplifts truly beautiful music is gender neutral. Love is love and – not to sound clichéd or anything – knows no boundaries."
Her smile this time was a little more forced but she nodded stiffly as if acknowledging the hit and turned to David. "Oh, well said!" Her pleasant little laugh would have probably appeared gracious to anyone watching from a distance, but Kurt knew better. She turned to Dave, that possessive hand rubbing up the man's sleeve. "Darling, didn't you say you were leaving early?"
David shook himself mentally and stepped back into the game. It had been very enlightening to see these two square off against each other. He was a little confused, though, as to why Kurt had been so passive aggressive and really, it was very out of character for Emma as well.
"Yes, I was telling Kurt that I'll be off tomorrow, actually, when you came out." He winced; it sounded almost as if he were explaining himself. When he saw two different eyebrows rise in an identical movement, he knew he'd been caught.
"Oh, I see. You know, sweetie, you didn't actually say how you happen to know Mr. Hummel," she paused and waited, knowing David would rush to fill in the silence, and she wasn't disappointed.
As Kurt looked at him with steely eyes, Dave swallowed and moved to take her arm. "Oh, didn't I? Yes, well, he's a friend of Puck's, actually."
He started to head down the steps, looking back at Kurt apologetically as he helped Emma towards the limo that had pulled up for them.
An imp of mischief landed on Kurt's shoulder and he called out in a clear, pleasant, ringing tone. "Oh, David," and when the man turned back to him, surprise on his face, he finished: "I was so sorry about Monday. You'll simply have to make me another cake soon, won't you?"
He turned and headed back inside, giggling as he heard a haughty, "Cake, what cake?"
Let him explain that and see if she believes him, he smirked to himself. The smile slid off his face though as he stormed backstage to collect his things. The man had said he was in love with him but he was courting some frigid, po-faced bitch and_ and_
He stopped in his tracks as he didn't realize either what he wanted or what he was going to do.
David Karofsky had him so confused he didn't know whether he was coming or going and if that woman had waited just one more damn minute, he would have got the chance to find out.
KHDK
In the back of the limousine, David had his face turned to the heavily tinted window, not seeing the passing scenery and not caring at all. His mind was reeling with Kurt's actions. If what he suspected were true, it seemed that Kurt wasn't so indifferent towards him after all.
He tuned out Emma's snobbish rant about "jumped up little singers" and smiled to himself. His trip was scheduled to last about two weeks but if he could work things out satisfactorily, he would get to come back sooner. He had a theory to test out and that required him seeing one temperamental singer named Kurt Hummel.
That beautiful, headstrong diva wouldn't know what had hit him but David Karofsky was determined now to do everything in his power to win his prize.
TBC