(Author's note: It's amazing to go back to earlier Donutverse stories and read the dynamic between Kurt and Dave, and observe how it has evolved to this point. I'm relieved they're not adversaries anymore. Quoting here from 2x18 because Dave's storyline is accelerated in the Donutverse.
On the other hand, I kind of want to whack both Will and Toby upside the head. -amy)
Holly came in through the kitchen doorway when she arrived at the house on Wednesday afternoon, kicking off her shoes onto the tile. She didn't bother to knock, but Kurt didn't think this was a problem. By now Holly knew so much about all of them, there wasn't likely to be anything she could see that would surprise her.
"Sorry," she said cheerfully, "somebody's been gardening out there, and I got mud all over my pumps. Isn't it a little late in the season for digging in the dirt?"
"Carole said it's still warm enough for the annuals to stick around for a little longer," Kurt said sharply, then sighed at her raised eyebrow. "I'm sorry. I'm sure that sounded defensive."
"I was thinking more like she's crazy if she thinks they're going to survive past Halloween." Holly pulled up a stool at the counter, watching Kurt assembling dinner. "You might as well go first today, since you're already here."
"I think I'm going to be the only one today, actually. Finn's at play rehearsal until 6:30, and Dad and Carole are working late."
"Their loss," she said, shrugging. "What about Sarah?"
Kurt shook his head. "I don't know if you'll get her out of her room."
"She's been talking to the kids online, at least. I shouldn't even say that much to you. Technically you could be on there with them, since you're under eighteen for — what, another nine months?" She waited for Kurt's affirming nod, then went on. "Yeah, but… no. You've been tipping into the adult camp for a while now, and I'm not just talking about the bedroom activities."
"Some days I feel more like an adult than others." He carefully placed the fish on the broiler pan, painting each piece with sauce. "God, I miss Noah's cooking." He sighed, staring at the floor. "I miss… a lot of things about Noah."
"I take it there's been no word, then."
Kurt shook his head once. "Sarah said Jake's mother told her they were going to send in an officer to make an inquiry. Whether or not they'll make any headway will depend on what they find. Noah hasn't come up in any reports or police chatter. All we can do right now is wait."
"And you're so good at that."
Holly's voice was teasing, but her face was serious. Kurt felt another flash of anger. He slid the fish into the oven. "You really think I should be doing nothing?"
She leaned her chin in her hands, gazing at him. "I think you already told me what you should be doing."
This time the heat in his cheeks wasn't from anger. Kurt knew precisely what Holly was talking about. He opened the cupboard and took out plates and glasses, setting them on the counter in stacks.
"Have you spoken to Adam at all? About anything?"
"No. He's — busy. He's going to Hawaii next week." Kurt knew that was no excuse at all. Holly was just watching him, waiting. He closed his eyes. "I don't want him to know how bad things are here."
"Why not?"
"Because there's a chance he'd cancel his tour and come back."
"Wouldn't that be his decision?" she asked calmly.
"He's not rational about Noah," Kurt snapped. "Something like this would push him over the edge. And I can't be responsible for that."
She leaned toward him. "Since when are you responsible for what a grown man chooses to do?"
He took a steadying breath. It was almost impossible to consider putting what was going on with him and Adam into words, much less speaking it aloud, but he tried. "I… take care of him, sometimes."
To her credit, she didn't react, other than to nod. "So he agreed to make you responsible in this way?"
"No. No. It's — it's not like that. We switch, but lately he's… he's needing more from me. Or he did, over the summer."
She gave him a chiding look. "Kurt, I know enough about how this works to know: if it's not spelled out in advance, it ain't really happening. You need to clarify things with your partners. I'm gonna go so far as to say Adam would probably be surprised to hear you're feeling responsible for him in this way."
He winced. It hurt enough that with anyone else, he would have closed off, but Holly wasn't going to let him get away with that. He forced his hands down from his face and kept breathing, reminding himself this is safe, this is safe. "Okay. Maybe that's true, but —"
"And you're down a couple boyfriends, here, so I'm guessing you might need him more now than you did in August?"
"Okay," he cried. "I'll call him." Kurt paused long enough to glare at her. "I thought therapists weren't supposed to give advice."
She laughed. "You really think I'm not going to tell you what to do? Okay, that's one thing taken care of. What's all this about Finn in play rehearsal?"
Kurt outlined their plans for Rocky Horror, including Ms. Pillsbury's most recent involvement as costume designer. Holly seemed fascinated by the whole situation.
"You're okay with playing the supporting role?" she asked.
He gave her a fervent nod. "I would not choose to play Frank, and Brad isn't my part. I'm perfectly okay with a character part here. It's more fun anyway."
"Huh." She cocked her head. "You always struck me as someone who would fight to be the star."
"I have plenty of drama in my life right now, thank you," he said. That made her smile. After a few moments, he smiled back.
"You know, Kurt, you're one of the most focused young men I know," she told him. "I've met a lot of outrageously talented teenagers, including your boyfriend's brother, and not one of them is as driven to do the things you want to do."
"Like what?"
"Like strive to be bigger than yourself. To make something of yourself. You're going to get noticed, Kurt. Sooner or later, someone will recognize your potential."
He smiled weakly. "Would it be completely awful if I said I'd rather not be noticed at the moment?"
"No, but I think it wouldn't be true, either. You can be driven and exhausted at the same time."
He set the spatula down on the counter. "I think the hardest part is that the things I'm driven to want aren't things I can get alone. It's hard to take care of somebody if they're not around to let you."
She raised her hands to the ceiling. "Are you actually making my point about Adam for me? It's like I don't even have to say a word. Auto-therapy."
"I wasn't talking about him," he said, laughing. "And — yes. You're brilliant. Want to stay for dinner, oh miracle worker?"
She smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."
Dave still had twenty minutes left on the clock before his SAT study group was scheduled to be over, but he'd already made it through all of the material on his syllabus. He raised his voice to be heard over the quietly murmuring voices. "How about you try the strategy we discussed on these practice problems? Then we can pair up and talk about how it worked."
The last person he expected to see stroll in through the door was Santana Lopez. But she didn't seem surprised to see him. On the contrary, given her intentional movements toward him, it appeared she had come looking for him. She sat down at the empty table across from Dave. He gave her his best "Duke Stud" smile.
"Santana. I didn't see your name on the attendance list."
"There's a reason for that," she said. "It's because I'm not on it. I have a proposal."
He raised his chin. "Should have known you'd ask me out eventually."
"Give it up," she snapped. "I know."
"Know what?"
"About your friendship with Blaine."
Hearing Blaine's name from Santana's lips in the middle of his study session made him blanch. There was no question about which Blaine she meant. "What? Who told you that?"
"No one had to tell me." She gave him a withering look. "First of all, I was around when Blainers was still playing with My Little Ponies and reading Charlotte's Web every night. My mom was his housekeeper for years. Even if he didn't talk about you, I knew about the two of you. You know, you really should have been more careful with your secret library dates."
"I was just looking for something to read," he muttered.
She ignored that. "Second of all, I know about all the stuff you did to Kurt. That broken wrist, freshman year? And the truth about who stuffed him into his locker last year? Guess what. It's out."
"I didn't —" He had nothing he could say about that that wouldn't be a lie. "Okay, yes, I used to mess with him. I kicked his ass, more than once. But that's over now. I apologized."
Santana leaned over the table, giving him a sultry look. "Let's say I believe you. That maybe you and Kurt are pals now, or something. Not sure how you pulled that off, but who am I to question methods? Maybe you're a better liar than I am, I don't know. But the truth is, I need you, and you need me." She sighed. "And Kurt, and apparently Finn. And Puck, I guess, although who the hell knows if he's getting out of juvie any time soon."
He shook his head, trying not to panic. There was no way she could know about me. Matt liked her, but he never trusted her. He wouldn't have told her. "Why are you doing this?"
"We all play on the same team. Team Blainers." She dropped her voice. "He's in trouble. Have you even talked to him since he went back to school?"
"I — no. I don't talk to him." That was not quite true, considering how they'd seen each other twice over the summer, once at Blaine's performance of RENT, and once while laying hardwood flooring at Finn and Puck and Kurt's new place. Both times he'd heard Blaine sing, and like all the other times he'd ever had the fortune to hear him do that, the memories still haunted his dreams, months later.
"Well, the short version is, this summer he was actually happy, and now he's fake-happy. And not only is he not letting on that there's a difference, he's excluding everybody who made him happy this summer." She gave him a grim look. "You have any idea who I'm talking about?"
"You're…" He swallowed, staring back at her. "You know about them?"
Now she was staring back. "Wow, you really do know. Otherwise you wouldn't have said them."
"How do you know?" he demanded.
"Because I've had sex with two out of the three of them." Santana smirked. "One guess which gold-star gay hasn't made it into my bed. And I suppose you could say they're my friends, even though Glee club is super lame. Whatever. Blaine's the one who needs help here. If you care about him, you'll step up."
This whole conversation was getting completely out of hand. Dave scowled at her. "This is garbage. I don't care about him."
"Give it up, Karofsky." She wasn't smiling now. "Blaine's prick of a father is the enemy, and he's messing with Blaine's head. So here's my offer. I'm gonna start attending your stupid-ass study group every week. After you bore the crap out of every one of us, you and me, we're going to come up with a plan for how to dig Blaine out of his self-imposed prison."
"And what if I say no?"
She straightened up. "Then I'm going to tell Principal Figgins about how you broke Kurt's wrist freshman year, along with all the other stunts you pulled, and you'll be prosecuted for assault. So… you in or not?"
Somehow Dave managed to stumble back to the front of the classroom and finish leading the wrap-up discussion without passing out. Afterwards, Santana disappeared with the rest of the students without waiting for an answer, but it was clear he was going to have to go along with her scheme.
Once he was safely back in his car, with no possibility of anyone around him listening in, he called Kurt. He wasn't even sure if Kurt would pick up — since Puck's disappearance, Kurt had grown more and more distant — but it only rang twice.
"Hi, Dave." He sounded resigned already.
"Hey," said Dave. "Uh, look… I was doing my study group tonight, and… did you know Santana was going to see Blaine?"
"Finn told me she was going, yes." Kurt paused. "What is it?"
He drummed on the steering wheel and stared across the dashboard, his mind full of memories of all the things he'd done to Kurt freshman year. "She came to see me. It's bad, Kurt."
"I know." Now Kurt sounded annoyed. Dave cringed at his tone of voice.
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," he blurted. "I said — when your dad was in the hospital and you asked me to help, I told you no, I can't, and —" He swallowed the tears that threatened. "I should have said yes."
"I don't think there's anything you can do about that now."
No, he thought, gritting his teeth. I can. But he just said, "Yeah, maybe not."
"It's not as simple as it seems," Kurt said. There was a noise, like Kurt might be crying. Dave stilled his hands.
"Kurt, are you okay?"
"I don't think so." That was definitely a sniff. Dave shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to come over?"
He'd never offered to do that before, and as soon as he said it, he regretted it. Maybe Kurt wouldn't want him at his house. Maybe Kurt would rather he stopped calling entirely, if he wasn't going to help Blaine. The thought made him panic a little. I am. I have to. But he couldn't say it.
"I'd like that," Kurt said.
Dave wasn't sure he'd heard him right, but he didn't know if he could ask him to repeat himself. "Okay," he said slowly. "Is it too late?"
"No, it's okay. Sarah's already in bed, so don't ring the doorbell. Come to the front door. I'll meet you there."
He wasn't going to ask are you sure? He started the car, making the tires squeal a little as he backed up out of his parking spot and narrowly missing the bright red Corvette parked beside him. "I'm on my way."
It wasn't like Dave had never been to Kurt's new house before. It just hadn't been for such a friend thing. He was so distracted, he didn't even remember to hang up the phone until five minutes later. By then, Kurt had already disconnected the call. He hoped Kurt hadn't heard him humming under his breath in the meantime.
When Dave arrived, he pulled into the same spot his car had occupied that summer, along the shoulder of the long dirt stretch of Bellefontaine beside their house. Then he looked at the long, empty, paved driveway, let out an exasperated sigh, and put the car into gear again. This time he parked in the driveway where a pool of light was cast by the streetlamp above.
He could see Kurt sitting in the front window before he even climbed the steps to the porch. Kurt stood up, wrapping his bathrobe closer around his flannel pajama pants, and went to open the door. Dave supposed it could have bothered him that Kurt was standing in the doorway in his pajamas, but it didn't seem any weirder than seeing him in the clothes Kurt wore to school every day. His eyes were definitely red.
"Come in," Kurt said, holding the door open wider. He scrubbed at his face with what looked like a handkerchief. Dave didn't know any kid who actually carried a handkerchief, but if anybody did, it would be Kurt Hummel.
"Are you sure your dad won't care I'm here this late?" Dave asked, taking off his shoes.
Kurt gave him a look that was a mere shadow of his snarky self. "I'm sure. He's asleep. Finn's at Rachel's. Carole doesn't get home until ten."
Following Kurt up the staircase to his room felt a little surreal. It didn't really occur to him just how stupid a question that had been until he walked past Finn's bedroom, the door ajar. No one was inside, but he felt his face heat up. Of course Kurt would be allowed to have guys up to his bedroom. He was sleeping in a room that adjoined to his boyfriend's room by a bathroom. They were probably doing all kinds of —
"Uh, just a sec," Kurt said, holding up a hand, his voice coming out high and a little panicked.
Dave froze in Kurt's doorway, averting his eyes, but he couldn't fail to notice Kurt hurrying ahead of him, tucking something on the bed out of sight.
His face was more red than Dave's when he was done, and he sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress, glancing around himself. Dave tried very hard to keep his eyes in one place, not wanting to see anything else Kurt had forgotten to hide.
"Sorry about that. I don't usually have people in my room who aren't —"
Kurt stopped that thought before it could go any further, and laughed quietly to himself, but Dave could hear the unspoken words. Who aren't already having sex with me. He wiped his forehead off on his sleeve. Jesus.
"You've had Blaine here."
Kurt looked up at him, startled, and shook his head. "We haven't. I mean, he's been in this room, yes, but we — he and I, we're not—"
"That's not what I meant!" Dave hissed. "I seriously don't need details."
Kurt just looked away, wrapping his arms around himself and holding on. Dave hadn't seen Kurt this flustered in a long time. It didn't make him feel very good, but he did somehow feel a little less scared to ask questions.
"How much do you think he's actually missing you guys?"
Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know. I don't know anything. All I know is what his roommate Jeff told me, and what Santana told Finn. I can't… I have to see." He wiped at his face again. "Blaine sings at an open mic in Columbus on weekends, where his dad lives. I guess he's going home every weekend now, so his father can keep an eye on him. We had a report that he… he wasn't himself."
Fake-happy. Santana had said those words. He swallowed. "You want me to go and watch him?"
"No, I'm going to go myself. His father doesn't know about me." Kurt laughed, his voice hoarse. "Blaine might not, either. Apparently, he doesn't even remember the things we did this summer."
"Yeah, I doubt that." Dave wasn't about to sit on Kurt's bed, but he did grab the desk chair and pulled it up to sit across from him. He searched for Kurt's downcast eyes, and eventually reached out and nudged his hand with his knuckles. Kurt immediately reached out and grasped his hand. Dave stared at it, his heart stuttering a little, but he maintained a firm grip. The last thing Kurt needed was a wet fish. "You and him, after the musical? He, uh, really looked happy with you."
"I was really happy with him," Kurt whispered. He glanced up at Dave with a watery smile. "I have no idea what I did to deserve that kind of friendship, but… I fell in love with him."
Dave licked dry lips. He felt a little stab of anger in his gut, but it was manageable. The truth was Kurt didn't deserve any of his anger, no matter what Dave had said to him over the summer. "Yeah, well, I guess a lot of that is going around?"
"Yeah." Kurt's eyes went far away. "Noah did that first, even though we didn't know that boy in the bar he kept having dreams about was Blaine until this summer. And then Finn met him at the coffee house in Columbus, and he wasn't — it wasn't a romantic relationship. Until it was. All of us, we just… fell into place."
When Kurt started crying, Dave stayed where he was, holding onto Kurt's hand. He didn't know if it would be better or worse if he let go, but Kurt didn't look mad about him being there. He thought about saying Santana and I are going to come up with a plan, but it sounded so dorky, he kept it to himself.
"And now Noah's gone, too," Kurt went on, through his tears, "and I can't talk to anybody about it, and —" He shuddered, trying to control his reaction.
Dave had seen a lot of Finn and Kurt together, but almost none of Puck and Kurt. He guessed he could see Puck's appeal, in a very superficial sense, but he still hadn't figured out what would make Kurt so loyal to a guy like Puck. But this… it was almost like Kurt was being protective of him. Taking care of him. It didn't make sense.
"Do you have any more information about where he is?" Dave asked.
"We know it's in Oregon. Puck's half-brother's mom is a police officer. She's investigating."
"I can't believe his father did this to him."
Kurt started crying again. This time Dave let go of his hand, rising to his feet, and began pacing the length of the room.
"They're doing whatever they can to try to find him and bring him home, but…" Kurt sniffed. "He's there because he agreed to be. In theory, anyway. I think that's the worst part."
Dave stopped in front of Kurt's dresser, looking without really looking at the scattered pins and tubes of cream and the framed picture of Adam Lambert (that seemed kind of random, but whatever, Kurt could like all the stupid music he wanted). "I'm sorry, Kurt. That sucks so much. On top of your dad's heart attack, too. This has been a pretty shitty year for you guys so far."
"And you," said Kurt.
Dave shrugged. He noticed there was a signature on the Adam Lambert picture. "It hasn't been so bad. Kind of like it was last year."
"That's what I'm saying, Dave," Kurt said. He sounded miserable. "I don't want you to be an asshole to me at school anymore."
"Yeah, well, I'm not sure what the alternative is. It's not like we can be friends." The picture was signed Kurt — Take a step and fall into the glitter — Adam.
"We are," Kurt said. Dave turned around to see Kurt standing, staring angrily at him, his hands balled into fists. "We are friends, and I'm sick of pretending."
Dave took a step back and bumped into the dresser. The framed picture fell face-first, and Dave hastened to pick it up.
"I can't come out at school, Kurt," Dave said, trying not to sound panicked.
"I'm not talking about school. I'm talking about everything I'm keeping from you. From so many people, but — I don't want to keep things from you." He sounded perplexed, which Dave definitely got.
"Why do you even trust me?" Dave demanded. He was still holding the frame that had fallen, and he brandished it at Kurt. "Me? Why would you — after everything that happened? After everything I did to you?"
"Because you trusted me. You let me in, when I know you don't let anybody in." Kurt took three strides over and seized the picture from his hand. "Believe me, I spent years keeping everything from everybody. I got really good at being lonely and pretending it was normal. But now I know it's not. And now I've got this chance to be friends with a guy who's smart and funny and drops everything to come over to my house when I'm crying about somebody we both care about a lot."
"A lot," Dave echoed. He felt the words stick in his throat, and he pushed them out before he could stop himself. "You think I'm funny?"
"When you tell the punchline wrong," Kurt sang, immediately. His hand came up to cover his mouth, and they both started laughing at the same time.
"That fucking song," Dave said, between snorts. "I can't hear it on the radio without thinking about Blaine and Puck singing it this summer at your house."
"You don't even know the story about how it was written for Puck and Finn," said Kurt. He was smiling now.
Dave couldn't stop giggling. "You're totally making that up."
"I'm not. God, Dave, there's so much I could tell you, about so many things. And I know you would never tell anybody, because — you wouldn't." He gazed soulfully at Dave. Then he cradled the framed photo of Adam Lambert against his chest. "Noah and I have a secret boyfriend who lives in California. He's on tour right now."
"He's —" Dave choked off his laugh and stared at the picture Kurt was holding. "No fucking way."
"Yes fucking way," Kurt whispered. "And I haven't told him about Noah being gone. He just thinks he stopped calling because he's being resistant. He doesn't know anything about why —"
"Kurt," Dave protested. "You can't ask me to believe… that. Any of it. Who's delusional now? Isn't that taking celebrity worship to Ludicrous Speed?"
"You want me to get him on the phone right now and prove it to you?" Kurt snapped. "He'd be pissed, because he's in Australia, getting ready to fly to Hawaii on Sunday. Plus I didn't even ask him if I could tell you about him."
Dave stared at him, his heart thumping. "It's — it's not possible."
"My life is chock full of impossible things, Dave!" Kurt was shouting now.
Dave put his hands on Kurt's arms, shushing him, and Kurt just crumpled into his chest, quaking. Dave was forced to put his arms around Kurt to hold him up, or he would have fallen.
It was entirely possible this was the most terrified Dave had ever felt in his life. If Kurt hadn't been so wrecked, Dave was sure he would have been halfway across the room, yelling at him: what the fuck do you expect of me, huh? You steal the only guy I've ever loved and you want me to be your best friend?
But that was, apparently, exactly what Kurt expected. In fact, that was what had happened. Kurt was his best friend.
Dave grabbed Kurt in his arms and squeezed, hoping he wasn't doing it too tightly, but Kurt seemed to appreciate it. He buried his face in Dave's jacket, crying hard, and Dave just tried to keep breathing and holding on to him.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't want to make all of this harder."
"You're not," Kurt said, still crying, "I promise, you're not. It's hard all on its own. You're helping. This is helping."
Dave thought maybe it would be easier if Kurt could sit down, so he gave him a couple nudges toward the bed, and Kurt followed his lead. Dave sat next to him, still keeping one arm around him, watching him uncertainly.
"You're sure?" he asked, then grimaced. "I know, it's a stupid question."
Kurt sighed, laughing a little as he wiped his eyes on his sodden handkerchief. "It's not stupid."
He turned away, rummaging in a drawer by his bed and came out with a clean handkerchief, but not before Dave caught sight of several leather implements, a big bottle of lube and what had to be a sex toy in the drawer. He desperately hoped he would not actually collapse with embarrassment right there on Kurt's bed.
"I don't know how to do this," Dave muttered.
"How to do what?"
How to be a best friend. How to care about anybody like this. How to say the things I'm thinking. He shook his head helplessly. "How to — fix this. Any of this."
"Dave, I don't need you to fix anything. I just want you to listen." Kurt smiled, apparently done crying for the moment. "And you're doing that." He set the picture of Adam Lambert on the bedside table. "Maybe I shouldn't have thrown that stuff about Adam at you in the middle of everything. But it's related. I miss him as much as I miss Blaine and Noah. Maybe more. Right now I feel like I'm losing… everybody."
Dave tried not to squirm where he sat. "Well…" He swallowed. The obvious response felt like incredible hubris, but he made himself say the words anyway. "You're not losing me."
Kurt sighed again, this time not from despair, but from relief. His smile, turned on Dave, felt a little like staring into the sun. Dave tried not to squint and shield his eyes.
"I can't tell you how grateful I am for that," said Kurt.
"So…" He cleared his throat, trying to hang onto some semblance of sanity. "Do I get to hear the story about… Adam? Or maybe the one about the Katy Perry song?"
Kurt chuckled. "How much time do you have?"
He checked the clock by Kurt's bed, then took off his jacket, tossing it on the floor. "Maybe an hour before my dad starts to wonder where I am."
It was a long story. Dave didn't interrupt very often, except to ask for clarification about a few parts that were just too strange or too convoluted to figure out on his own ("Lady Gaga's house?"). He wasn't exactly sure at what point he shifted from skepticism to acceptance, but eventually, it stopped sounding like a soap opera and started to be part of what he understood was true about Kurt and Puck and Finn.
And Blaine, he added, and it didn't hurt too much.
"Okay." Dave took a deep breath, feeling his chest expand as something in his stomach loosened. They'd ended up sprawled on top of Kurt's bed, Kurt on his side and Dave leaning against the wall. "So you saw him at the concert this summer. And before that, at the beginning of the summer. That was after he stayed with Beth and N- Puck for a month."
"Yes, he brought Noah back to Lima for the reunion. That's when Noah gave Katy the ideas for her song. They did the demo, the two of them, on the beach — you know what, hang on…" Kurt browsed through his phone, then pressed play and set it down with a satisfied expression. Dave could hear Puck and another girl singing along to a guitar. It was rough, but it was definitely "Teenage Dream," and he guessed if he listened more to the radio, he'd recognize the girl's voice as Katy Perry's. Dave sat through the whole thing in silence.
Blaine sounded better, he wanted to say, but instead he said, "That's amazing."
"That whole week in the woods with Finn's family, it was eye-opening. Noah was incredible with Finn's little cousins. He just dove in and started parenting. I'd seen him with Brad's kids when we babysat, but I didn't really trust that he was ready to be a father until I saw him do that." Kurt shook his head, smiling. "We joked that Finn was the Papa Bear and I was the Mama Bear, but after that, I decided I would have to be the Baby Bear. Puck is definitely the Mama Bear."
Dave chuckled. "You're the Baby Bear?"
"Uh… hi."
They both looked up in surprise to see Finn standing in Kurt's doorway. Finn looked equally surprised to see Dave lying on Kurt's bed. Dave scrambled to get up.
"Dave, no," said Kurt, but Dave shook his head, snatching up his jacket from the floor.
"I have to go, anyway," he said, not looking at Finn. "I'll—I'll see you tomorrow."
The drive home was made somewhat more hilarious by the radio playing "Whataya Want From Me." Dave found himself listening rather than turning it off, and decided it didn't completely suck. He tried to picture Adam Lambert holding an infant and snuggling with Noah Puckerman, but that turned out to be beyond imagining.
His father gave Dave a little surprised nod as he came in the front door. Apparently he hadn't realized Dave hadn't yet returned home from teaching the study group.
Dave got ready for bed before sending Kurt a text. He waffled over the wording for far too long. At the last minute, he added Finn's number to the To: field.
I have some ideas about how I can help Blaine deal with his father's demands. Once I figure out the details, I'll tell you more.
Finn replied first. Anything you can do would be great. Thanks.
He didn't get Kurt's reply for another half hour. It came just as he was drifting off to sleep. I said you didn't need to fix this, Dave, and I meant it. But thank you.
Dave wasn't sure how to convey to Kurt that, no, he really did need to fix this, or that it was as much about Kurt and about himself as it was about Blaine. He certainly wasn't going to say the words there's nothing I wouldn't do for you to Kurt, but it was as close to how he was feeling as any words could get. He didn't even say you're welcome, which was something his father had always taught him to say. His father had also taught him that actions spoke louder than words, and he was going to get into action.
Toby took off his glasses — so far, he only needed them for reading, and he outright refused to try contact lenses — and rubbed his tired eyes, followed by a long sip of soda. The end of Toby's day had become the most stressful part. It was only October, and he'd already begun to field tearful office visits from Vocal Adrenaline members who couldn't deal with Dustin Goolsby's style of teaching. Mostly he avoided Dustin when he could, but Toby knew he was going to have to approach him at some point, and he was already dreading that confrontation.
His phone buzzed. When he picked it up and saw it was from Will, he paused. "Huh." But it was only for a moment. Even a couple weeks of silence between the two of them wasn't enough for him to avoid Will's calls entirely, not after the three years they'd spent apart after Will and Terri got married. He had no interest in going through that again.
He put the phone to his ear, not bothering to pretend to sound cheerful. "Hey, Will."
"Toby," said Will cautiously. "You got a minute?"
"I got several of them." He had to fight to leave off the endearments. Darlin' tripped easily off his tongue whenever Will was on the other end of the line. "What's on your mind?"
Will sighed, long and slow, and Toby stifled his own echoing sigh. He wasn't exactly interested in hearing more about Emma, but he resolved to sit through whatever Will wanted to tell him anyway. Whatever he and Will had always been, they were friends first and foremost.
"I don't really know how I got into this situation," he said.
"Do tell," Toby murmured, leaning on his elbow. Like I've never heard that from you before.
"I made a total fool of myself today in Glee. We're doing this musical… Mike Chang was the lead, but his parents pulled him at the last minute. Carl came in to try to save us."
"Carl — oh, he's Emma's beau, right?" He tried to remember what he knew about Carl. "The dentist? Brad told me about him coming to visit your kids at school. Apparently he's a pretty good singer himself."
"Yeah, but I didn't know that at the time. Why didn't she tell me he could dance and sing? He's even in a band." Will groaned, and Toby couldn't help but smile sympathetically. "So now he's Eddie in our show."
"Eddie." Toby sat up straight, his smile vanishing. "William. What show are you doing?"
"Oh, uh… Rocky Horror."
The silence went on for a while. He heard Will cough. Toby carefully set his soda can down on the desk.
"You're doin' Rocky Horror with your high school Glee club?"
"I'm — it's for Emma," Will protested, then stopped. This time the silence was more tense.
"You're doing our show with Emma?" Toby was trying his best not to yell, but it wasn't working very well.
"She's not in it! Toby, you know what kind of an effect that show had on me when we were in college. If there's anything that can get Emma to let go of some of her anxiety about sex, it's Rocky Horror." He sounded a little hurt, which fired Toby's anger further. He ground his teeth. "Come on, you can't tell me you never took any of your guys with you to Rocky Horror when I wasn't around."
"No, I don't think I ever did. I guess I assumed it was clear there were some things that were just for us." The more he put what he was thinking into words and spoke them out loud, the more unreasonable they sounded, but he was already too pissed to be rational. "What about Half Moon Bay, Will? You gonna take her up to the lake, too?"
"No! I wouldn't…" Will sighed loudly. "Look, this isn't what I wanted to happen."
"No, but it's what you got, ain't it? What exactly are you lookin' for?"
"I was just… I want her to trust me, but Carl seems to think I should be… I don't know, demeaning her or something. Putting handcuffs on her."
Toby frowned. "Didn't Emma tell you she liked that?"
"Well, yes, but — I don't know. It doesn't sound like Emma at all. How am I supposed to treat her that way? And if she doesn't know what she wants about sex, how does she know about this?"
"Who says she doesn't know what she wants about sex?"
"She's thirty years old and she still doesn't want sex from any man? Something is definitely holding her back."
He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You said Carl's making her better. You just can't handle that he can give Emma something that you can't."
He heard Will catch his breath, like Toby had hit him in the stomach. His phone buzzed, but Toby ignored it. He bit his lip.
"Will, this conversation ain't getting us anywhere. I'd better talk to you later."
He hung up before he could make things worse. Then he threw his phone into his gym bag and headed out the door, leaving his desk covered with papers. There was no way he was getting anything more done tonight.
An hour and a half and one grueling weight-lifting rotation later, Toby finally checked his messages while he dried off his hair. He swore to himself, and immediately hit the button to return the call.
"It's Davis," said the voice on the other end, amid the sounds of dining.
"I'm so sorry," said Toby, pulling his shirt over his head. "I plumb forgot we were gonna meet tonight. Is it too late to reschedule?"
"I went ahead and ate." Davis didn't sound upset. "If it's not too forward, I can just bring yours over to your house. I'm pretty sure I remember what you ordered last time."
"That sounds great," Toby admitted. "My cupboards are bare at the moment. I'm no good at being single."
"Well, I'll see what I can do to help make it more tolerable."
It was more flirty than Toby was used to hearing from Davis. Toby wasn't sure whether or not they were actually dating; this would be dinner number three, and although nothing had happened between them, the memories from their five-years-ago affair in London lingered. Davis wasn't easy to forget, and for all that he'd tried to convince Toby they weren't sexually compatible, it had been sweet between them for those weeks Davis had been at the RAB workshop.
Davis' car was sitting in Toby's gravel driveway when he arrived home. He climbed out and gave Toby a styrofoam container, a smile and a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks." Toby indicated the shiny blue Audi. "Don't think I've seen your ride before."
"It's not as fancy as Carl's Corvette," said Davis, "but I like it."
Toby led Davis around the porch to the kitchen door, holding it open for him. "Carl?"
"My business partner and ex. I'm sure I've told you about him before."
He paused, setting his gym bag on the kitchen table. "No — I mean, yes, I remember you tellin' me all about him, but… I didn't remember his name. Carl. It's just a coincidence. Will's friend at school, Emma, her boyfriend's name is Carl."
"Oh…" Davis took a step back, letting out a laugh. "Toby. I think we may be talking about the same man. Carl's girlfriend Emma? Counselor at McKinley High?"
There was a lot of gasping and exclaiming while Toby put on some water for tea and they uncovered more surprising connections between them. The fact that Emma's boyfriend Carl was the same person as Davis' ex-partner Carl made Toby laugh so hard, he had to sit down at the dining room table.
"Th-that means," he sputtered, "that Carl is also Shelby's ex-husband?"
"Well, technically, they were never married," said Davis calmly, grinning as he uncorked the wine, "but technically neither were we, and we had a wedding and everything." He cocked his head and regarded Toby thoughtfully. "I'm guessing you don't know what Carl does for a living."
"He's a dentist," said Toby. Then he stopped and felt another layer of realization settle over him. "Oh. You told me your ex, he's a professional Dominatrix. Er, Dominator. Dom-whatever. That's Carl?"
"I bet your Will doesn't know that," cautioned Davis. "I think you're going to need to be careful not to out Carl to him."
"Oh, no, Will knows something, I know, because he told me what Emma wanted from him. It ain't anything near vanilla. But —" Toby bit down on the words he was about to say about what Kurt and his boyfriends did, had done all summer up in his attic. That wasn't his story to tell, no matter what Davis already knew — and, in any case, it didn't have anything to do with Carl.
"Well, I'm Carl's partner in more than one way here." Davis handed him a glass of wine. "Yes, we were lovers, long ago, but we've been business partners for almost as long. We play opposite roles in the same practice."
"Opposite —" Toby felt his eyebrows knit as Davis smiled patiently at him, sipping his wine. "Is there a such thing as a professional submissive?"
"Oh, yes. We do a lot of work together, too. You'd be surprised how many people come looking for one and end up needing the other."
"I think I'm gonna have more questions eventually about that," said Toby, "but right now I feel like I don't even know where to start."
Davis ticked off his fingers. "No, I'm not a prostitute. No, I'm not a sex therapist. My own personal practice is irrelevant." He smirked. "But if you asked, I'd tell you exactly how much I like it and how hard I want it done to be able to get off."
"Oh, is that right?" Toby felt himself stirring as he sized up Davis' tall, muscular frame. "You're doing that on purpose, now."
"Yeah," he agreed. He held up the bottle. "More wine?"
As it happened, Davis ended up steering the conversation back to Toby after that. Toby told him how Will was doing Rocky Horror with the kids, and his and Will's own history with the show. Davis mostly listened, but when Toby made a comment about Carl playing Eddie, he shook his head.
"But Carl doesn't do Eddie," he said. "He plays Frank-N-Furter."
"He —" Toby paused. He'd never seen Carl in person, but this declaration radically shifted his mental image of the man. "Like, dressing up?"
"Like shadow cast and choreography and makeup and lines and for years, yes." He was clearly enjoying Toby's reaction. "He's the biggest ham I know. I've done Rocky, but mostly I play a Transylvanian."
"You do this too?" Toby shook his head, feeling dazed. "I didn't even know there was an active cast around here anymore."
"Toby, I'm guessing it wasn't Rocky Horror you really wanted to talk about." Davis settled a gentle hand on his arm. "You and Will have some history with that show. But you said he's doing it for Emma. That's bothering you?"
"It's not what Will's doing," he said slowly. "It's that he thinks he can make these decisions about having kids without me."
"But they wouldn't be your kids, would they? They might not even be Will's. They'd be Emma's and Carl's."
Toby opened his mouth to refute this, but he had to stop, letting out a stifled laugh. "I, uh." He smiled sheepishly at Davis. "I've done that for another couple. When I got back from London. It was for our best friend Brad and his partners, when they couldn't get pregnant on their own."
Davis's smile lit up his whole face. "You've got little kids, Toby?"
"But they're not mine," he protested. "It's just as you say. They're Brad and Andi and Laurie's kids. I'm no more than an uncle. Which is just the way I wanted it to be. I don't…" He licked his lips. "I don't think I want kids. Of my own."
"Oh," said Davis, in a different voice. "And Will does."
"… yeah," said Toby quietly.
Davis considered this. "So you don't want him to have kids at all, because he's going to want to have some with you, and you don't want to tell —"
"Look, don't be a lawyer with me." He knocked back the rest of his wine and poured another glass. "You're a father. Tell me having kids doesn't change you."
"Sure it does," Davis said. "Only in the best ways. Shelby and I weren't meant to be, but that doesn't mean I'm not proud of what came out of that union." His blue eyes were far too keen. Toby felt uncomfortably exposed. "Why do you think Will's doing this for Emma?"
"Because… he wants to help. Because Carl asked him. Because he loves her and he wants her to be happy." Toby held up a hand, forestalling more commentary. "None of that sounds bad. But believe me, if I know anybody, I know Will. He wouldn't be okay turnin' over all the control of his kids to Carl and Emma. He'd want some say."
"Sounds complicated," said Davis. He looked like he was trying to stifle a smile over his wine glass.
"And then there's Emma, and what she wants. Will says she wants him in control, which, trust me, Will don't have a dominant bone in his body. She's going to be mighty disappointed if she's hoping he'll come around and spank her bottom for her."
Davis wrinkled his brow. "But Emma's not interested in that kind of dominant."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't think I should be the one to explain it to you. That's Carl's responsibility, or Emma's." He shook his head and slid over to sit on the bench next to Toby. "I wasn't actually planning to come over tonight to analyze your relationship with your fiancé."
"Oh?" Toby eyed Davis' muscular thigh through his pants leg, resting very close beside him on the bench. "What exactly were you planning, then?"
"Two things had crossed my mind. One involves dancing." He gave Toby a slow smile. "The other also involves dancing, sort of."
"One at a time, then." Toby put a very deliberate hand on Davis' knee and rested it there. Davis' smile widened.
"All right. The first thing is for Carl's birthday in December. I want to put together a flash mob for him."
"Ooooooh." Toby squeezed Davis' leg in his excitement, and Davis laughed, scooting a little closer. He put an arm around Toby. "I've always wanted to choreograph one of those!"
"I was kind of hoping you'd say that," said Davis. "Would you help me plan it? I can probably find enough dancers, but we need a little direction."
"Say no more," Toby declared. "Consider it planned. With your input, of course." He felt the warmth of Davis' body, felt himself responding, and leaned into it. "What's the other thing?"
"Well, this would be thanking you for helping me with the choreography." He leaned over to put his mouth near Toby's ear, making Toby shiver. "Your studio."
"My — what?" It was a little hard to focus on the content of Davis' words when he was that close to Toby's neck.
"You said you were hoping to turn your carriage house into a dance studio, but you didn't think you had the time or the energy to do it on your own." Davis smiled. "I'd like to help with that. I'm pretty good with my hands."
Toby giggled. "You're serious?"
"Acts of service don't turn me on," he explained, "but they still feel good."
"That's right generous of you, darlin'. I'd welcome your help." Toby backed up far enough to look Davis in the eye. "So… I have to ask: what's going on here? Are you seducing me or what? Because I'm getting mixed signals."
Davis' smile went a little bashful. "I'm never going to make the first move, Toby."
"Oh. Oh!"
"I'm hoping you will, though."
Toby nodded understanding, then cupped a hand around the back of Davis' head, smiling at him before pulling him into a kiss. "Well, damn, that makes total sense. And you don't have to ask me twice."